A Wilder Name

by Laura Resnick

  “Oh, Nina,” he said with a sigh, “that was incredible.”

  She squeezed his hands in response. Nina stared at the ceiling, somewhat stunned. She had previously only made love at night and never anywhere but in bed.

  “Do you want a blanket?” she asked softly.

  “Are you cold?” he asked lazily.

  “No...”

  Luke raised his head to look at her questioningly. Her cheeks reddened. Luke moved up to look down into her face. He was amused.

  “Do you expect me to believe after that, you shameless woman, that you want sex to be tidy and elegant, too?”

  She blushed, but she was able to laugh at herself. “No,” she agreed. “I’ve just never made love on the floor in the middle of the day before. It’s a bit new to me.”

  “Are you sorry?” he asked gently.

  “No.” It was the truth. Nina stretched luxuriously, enjoying the warmth of being between Luke and the rug, “No,” she said more forcefully and laughed brightly.

  * * * *

  When Nina left his apartment the next morning, she was limp with exhaustion and glowing with happiness.

  Elena had noticed the difference in her the moment she walked in the door. Nina finally felt able to tell her old friend about Luke. Elena’s own love affairs were notorious.

  “I’m glad to hear it. You cannot feed your soul on art alone,” Elena said. “So what’s he like, this beautiful rock star?”

  “He’s ... he’s ... oh, he’s impossible. He’s incredible. I’m losing my mind. He hates my wardrobe.”

  It was not a very helpful description, but it was the best Nina could do.

  Luke spent that night at Nina’ s, grumbling about the decor of her apartment until she turned his attention to more important things.

  On Friday night he came to see her in Il Turco in Italia and took her to dinner afterward.

  “I couldn’t follow the plot, but you were terrific,” he said, kissing her hand.

  As long as he respected her work, she was learning not to mind that he didn’t like opera.

  He had given her two dozen white roses.

  “Oh, Luke, they’re beautiful.”

  “They were hard to find but, like you, they were worth the effort. I can be a gentleman.”

  “Only sometimes.”

  They painted the town that night. In Nina’s mind it was a mistake, since that was when the press first caught on. They were photographed coming out of Rootie’s. Luke got rid of the reporter, but Nina had an uneasy feeling that that wouldn’t be the end of it.

  It was on Saturday afternoon, as they were lying companionably together on his couch, that he broke the news to her.

  “I’ve been putting off telling you,” he began.

  “What?”

  “I’m going away for a while.”

  “When? Where?”

  “Day after tomorrow. Detroit, Chicago, Cincinnati.”

  “How long will you be gone?”

  “About ten days.”

  “Oh.” She laid her head on his shoulder. He kissed her hair. “Well, it’s only ten days,” she said after a while.

  “I wish it wasn’t so soon.”

  “It’ll be all right.”

  “I just don’t want to leave you so soon after we’ve just started—”

  “Yes?” she asked archly.

  “Getting to know each other better,” he said loftily.

  “My, my, aren’t we euphemistic today?” she teased. Luke pinched Nina, which was a thing no man had ever done.

  “I’ll be thinking about you,” he said.

  “Don’t worry about me, Luke. I’ve got plenty to do while you’re away. It’ll be the first peace and quiet I’ve had since we met.”

  “Will you feed my fish while I’m gone?”

  “Fish? I figured you for a dog lover.”

  “I am, but can you see me walking a dog in Central Park, carrying an umbrella in one and and an old newspaper in the other?”

  “No, I see your point. Okay, I’ll feed your fish. I’ll leave a light burning in the window. Everything will be fine. Are you always this jumpy before you go away?”

  “Not until I met you.”

  She kissed him.

  “Stop trying to distract me,” he said.

  She kissed him again.

  “Don’t stop,” he whispered.

  Seven

  “Have you seen this?” Nina demanded, throwing a pile of magazines and papers on Elena’s piano lid.

  “‘Is the Prince of Wales in communication with extraterrestrials?’” Elena read aloud. “Nina, I can’t believe you read such trash.”

  “Not that. This!” Nina pointed to a picture of herself and Luke outside Rootie’s. The caption read: Luke’s New Lady Love—How Long Will It Last? “And this! And that!”

  One magazine had printed a photo of them together at the awards ceremony where they’d met. This was accompanied by a coy article in which “sources” revealed their unfolding love story. Another magazine simply ran an old photograph of Nina with her vital statistics—including her astrological sign.

  “Where did you find these?” asked Elena.

  “At the supermarket!” Nina shrieked.

  “Does he know yet?”

  “I don’t know. He’s still out of town. I suppose he’ll call me today or tomorrow. Ooooh, and then I’ll give him a piece of my mind!”

  “Nina, be reasonable. How could he—”

  “He must have known. This must happen to him all the time. But he didn’t tell me because he knew I wouldn’t like it. Wait till I get my hands on him!” she raged.

  It was one thing to appear in the papers because she had sung well or had sung badly or had refused to sing at all. It was quite another thing to be smeared across the pages of the scandal sheets and gossip rags where half-witted writers with nothing better to do used slick, coy language to speculate about her private life. She was infuriated when she realized that every person who bought milk and eggs this week would see those headlines.

  “Nina, did you really say, ‘He makes me happier than any European lover I’ve ever had’?”

  “No!” Nina howled. “I didn’t say any of it! That’s the point. None of it’s true.”

  Elena seemed fascinated. “They describe you as a ‘lush Italian beauty.’ Someone should tell them you’re American.”

  It was too much.

  Elena tried to calm and comfort her, but she would have none of it. After thirty minutes of refusing to listen to her friend reasonably, Nina stormed into the street and headed home.

  There was a reporter waiting outside her building.

  “Miss Gaggarelli,” he called.

  “It’s Gnagnarelli, you bloody idiot. Nya-nya-rel-li. And if you come near me I’ll scream for a policeman!”

  She went inside. Luke telephoned two hours later.

  “Nina? I’ve just seen the papers. Are you okay?” He sounded worried. As well he might, she fumed.

  “Yes, I’m fine. I’ve barricaded the door. I’m changing my name. I’m dying my hair. I’m dropping out of public life. And I don’t ever want to see you again!”

  “Nina—”

  “You knew this would happen, didn’t you? But you also knew you’d be safely in Cleveland—”

  “Chicago.”

  “—wherever—when it happened! I went through this kind of foul, tawdry, seedy slime when I divorced a French playboy, and I won’t go through it again!”

  “Nina, get a hold of yourself.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m doing. I must have been crazy to get involved with you!”

  They were both silent. Her head was pounding. Suddenly she wished he were there with her.

  “Oh, Luke...” she said miserably.

  “I’ll be home in four days,” he promised. “We’ll work it out.”

  “I ... okay,” she said feebly.

  They talked for another half hour. She was still cradling the phone when he finall
y hung up.

  The next four days were hectic. She had to unplug her phone—the only Nina Gnagnarelli in the book was suddenly getting phone calls from all sorts of people. She made arrangements for an unlisted number.

  Someone in Chicago had got hold of Luke’s hotel bill. Three itemized long-distance telephone calls to her apartment confirmed the rumors. Scandal reporters followed her in and out of the opera house—the uncultured slobs couldn’t be bothered to buy tickets though, she noticed. Her picture was taken at odd moments of the day: in the grocery store, hailing a taxi, at the beauty parlor and, of course, going to Luke’s to feed his damned fish.

  One young man with a pleasant, naïve face seemed to have taken up permanent residence on her sidewalk.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” she pleaded.

  “Nothing personal. It’s my job,” he said and took her picture.

  Nina smashed his camera.

  * * * *

  Luke came straight to her apartment when he got back to New York. She threw herself into his arms, needing his strength and comfort.

  “Hi,” she said inadequately.

  He wrapped his arms tightly around her and held her for a while.

  “Will you believe me when I say it will all die down in a few days? They bite something new, they chew on it for a week or two, then they drop it.”

  “And I’ll never appear in those papers again?”

  “I didn’t say that, Nina. That’s part of my life now, and it affects anyone who’s close to me. I can’t change that.”

  “At least you’re honest,” she said unhappily. She moved away from him, running her hands through her hair.

  “I didn’t realize it would bother you this much. Was your divorce that messy?”

  “You didn’t know?” He shook his head. “It was a disaster. Our lives were smeared all over the gossip columns. Even our sex life—or rather my lack of one and Philippe’s extravagant one. He was the oversexed French Romeo and I was the frigid workaholic he’d married. It was ... horrible.” She shivered with the memory of it.

  Luke took her in his arms again and pillowed her head on his broad chest. “I didn’t realize,” he murmured.

  Luke looked as tired as she felt. The strain of the past few days was beginning to tell.

  “Look, you’re not singing again till next week,” Luke said. “Why don’t we go away together? Jesse has a country cabin upstate we could use for a few days. If we left tomorrow morning we could be there by lunchtime.”

  Nina agreed readily. She had to get away. And it would be good for their relationship. She realized how little time they’d spent alone together.

  She also realized how much she had missed him, and the cares of the moment were forgotten as she demonstrated it to him.

  * * * *

  Jesse had been happy to let them use his cabin for a few days, though he loudly wondered what a fine lady like Nina saw in a country bumpkin like Luke.

  They left town early after a slight altercation on her sidewalk.

  “If you hit reporters,” Luke explained in exasperation as he drove, “it only encourages them to print more about you.

  “He insulted me.”

  The drive north was beautiful. Autumn lingered on, and the trees were still glorious with golden leaves. They stopped at a small general store for supplies, then drove straight to the cabin.

  “Oh, Luke, this is wonderful,” Nina exclaimed as they pulled into a private, sunlit valley. Jesse’s cabin, simple and sturdy, was nestled in the middle.

  They unpacked their groceries in the small kitchen. Nina dusted the furniture and laid out the bed—“That’s the important part,” Luke had said—while he went about turning on the water, the heat, and the electricity.

  After lunch they took a long walk hand in hand. The fresh air and tranquility were exactly what Nina had needed. She felt her normal strength of spirit return as contentment flooded her body.

  That night Luke courted her on the porch swing like a country schoolboy.

  “You’re prettier than a speckled pup,” he said in a heavy Midwestern accent.

  “You couldn’t have gotten many girls with lines like that.”

  “I’m making up for it now.”

  “We could try stargazing,” she teased, firmly removing his hand from her thigh.

  “I see all the stars I need to in those twinkling violet eyes,” he said extravagantly.

  “That’s awful,” she groaned.

  “I do better with a guitar,” he admitted.

  “Oh, bring it out now, Luke. Serenade me.”

  “You’re crazy. It’s freezing out here.”

  “Please,” she pleaded. “You always play to thousands, Luke. Couldn’t you play just for me tonight?”

  “Of course,” he whispered, brushing his lips across hers. “But let’s go inside.”

  Nina built a blazing fire in the big old fireplace while Luke sang to her.

  “Where’d a city girl like you learn to build fires?”

  “My dad loves camping,” she explained. “I was too small to chop firewood and too smart to dig the outhouse, so I made the fires.”

  Luke sang her some of his own songs, some of his favorite songs by other people, and some folk songs that she told him she liked. With some effort they discovered songs they both knew and could sing together. The pleasure they found in that forged a new bond between them.

  “You sing like an angel,” he said, stroking her hair. “You make me feel inadequate.”

  “Not inadequate, I hope,” she said suggestively. Her hand found its way inside his shirt.

  His eyes glittered. “Want to fool around?”

  “Now that’s a good line,” Nina said, as Luke drew her closer.

  * * * *

  Nina woke up before Luke the next morning. She showered and washed her hair while he slept.

  Wrapped in a towel, she kissed him awake. Luke was interested in pursuing the matter, but Nina resisted.

  “Go make breakfast,” she ordered. “I’m starving. Must be all this fresh air.”

  “Or all the exercise we got last night,” he added wickedly.

  She was fully dressed and blow-drying her hair when he came into the room with her orange juice. She was taming the damp curly mass when he took the blow dryer away from her and rumpled her hair.

  “Hey!”

  “Can’t you just leave it? There’s no one here to see you but me, and I already know you’re not perfect.”

  “But I like it to be smooth.”

  He ran both hands through her hair and jumped on top of her as she fell back onto the bed. Soon they were rolling around, tickling and undressing each other, breakfast forgotten for the moment.

  Nina’s hair was wild and curly for the rest of the weekend.

  That night when Nina asked for dinner, Luke told her it was her turn to cook. He’d cooked all of their other meals.

  “But I can’t cook.”

  “You can’t cook?” he asked incredulously.

  “Honestly; Luke. My mom cooked when I lived at home, and Philippe had a French chef in the house. When would I have learned to cook?”

  “But you live alone now. What do you eat?”

  “Salads, mostly. Or carry-outs. And, of course,” she added hopefully, “gentlemen take me out.”

  “We’re not going out for dinner.”

  “Oh, come on, Luke. It will be fun. I’ll buy,” she added.

  “Nina, trust me. It’s not a good idea in a small town like this.”

  “Don’t be so melodramatic. There must be one decent place to eat in this whole town.”

  “That’s not what I meant. The problem—”

  “Get your car keys,” she insisted, putting on her jacket.

  “You’ll be sorry,” he warned.

  They chose a small, quiet restaurant with home cooking, linen tablecloths, and romantic candlelight. Jazz music played softly in the background.

  “This is just like an old movie,
” Nina said cheerfully. “Stop looking so glum, Luke. What are you worried about?”

  It didn’t take long for her to find out.

  Nina and Luke were sitting with their heads close together, holding hands and talking softly like lovers. This time was special, private, their vacation from the pressure of their real lives. Tonight they were just another couple enjoying a romantic dinner together.

  “Aren’t you Luke Swain?”

  Luke looked up. A young couple who had been eating at the next table stopped by Luke’s table on their way out. Luke looked at Nina, who looked back at him. She was vaguely annoyed to have their intimacy disrupted like this, but sometimes it was inevitable. She smiled reassuringly at him.

  “Yes, I am,” Luke admitted.

  “I knew it!” said the young woman excitedly. “Oh, please, Luke, could we have your autograph?” She dug through her purse for a pen and a piece of paper.

  “Sure,” Luke said politely.

  “I’m so sorry to interrupt your dinner, but this is just such a thrill for us! I have every one of your albums. I think A Wilder Name is the best album of the decade!”

  “Thank you,” Luke answered with a smile. He handed the autographed slip of paper back to her. She pressed it against her chest and continued to stare raptly at him.

  “Well, thanks a lot, Luke. This has been just great!” said the young man, at last. He and the woman said goodbye and left.

  Luke looked apprehensively at Nina.

  “It’s okay,” she said, slightly amused at his attitude. Was she really such an ogre around him? “Really. So you were recognized. So what? It’s bound to happen. They were perfectly polite. Anyhow, I got recognized on the street that day we were walking back to your apartment, so I can hardly complain, can I?”

  “You may find this a little different,” Luke warned.

  “Are we going to be ripped to shreds like we were the night of that concert?” Nina couldn’t believe that, not in this discreet restaurant.

  “No ... But I get a lot of exposure. I get recognized a lot. And ... these aren’t opera fans.”

  “Well, that’s not—”

  “Luke Swain? Luke Swain! Tell me, tell me, really, really, you’re Luke Swain?”

  “Yes,” Luke said glumly to a pretty girl who had been working at the bar only a few moments ago.