Now & Forever 3 - Blind love

by Joachim, Jean C.

  “But we dance so much better together when we are lovers, chérie.”

  “Andres! Back off. Dancing…only.” She mopped her face with the towel.

  Peter was still steaming, but Lara was handling it.

  “Okay, okay. But if you change your mind…or need a massage, let me know. I still like you, chérie. We were good together.”

  “I love Peter and won’t be needing any massages from you, okay?”

  “Another hour, eh, chérie?”

  “One more hour, then that’s it for today.”

  “Soon you will be good enough to perform for Madame Fouret and it will be because I came here to train you. There are lots of ways you can repay me, Lara…”

  “Back off. There are lots of women in the ballet. Find someone else.” She stretched her legs and got into position.

  “Ah, yes, there are lots of women there…but none so…so…responsive…so sexy, chérie. I remember…”

  “Forget it. Now let’s do this step again,” she said, focusing on the dance.

  Peter was boiling over. How dare Andres talk about her like that? He wanted to punch him. Lara was his now, even if he hadn’t proposed to her yet. He tried to flush from his mind the idea that she had been “sexy” with Andres. He made up his mind to wait until Andres put so much as a finger in the wrong place on Lara again, then he would punch him out.

  Peter tried to concentrate on his piano but gave up as the ballet across the way was too distracting. He set up papers to grade on the table facing the window but couldn’t focus. Keeping an eye on Andres became watching Lara dance. Her grace and determination held his attention.

  The constant repetition showed her progress to be painstakingly slow. She was rusty.

  At five thirty, Lara returned to Peter’s house. Peter was in the living room, marking papers. Lara kissed him, then headed for the shower. Afterward, she came out in a robe with a towel on her head and plopped down on the sofa.

  “Andres is a slave driver.” She rubbed her head with the towel.

  “It looked more like he was trying to drive you into bed.”

  “Oh, did you see all that?” She blushed.

  He nodded.

  “You weren’t spying or anything, because maybe you’re worried or jealous?”

  “Right.” Peter penned a B+ on a paper and turned it face down, focusing on the next one.

  “Peter, are you going to watch all our rehearsals?”

  “Only the ones where Andres is feeling you up.”

  “Come on, I stopped him before he did anything.” She unwrapped the towel.

  “Not from where I was standing. He had his hands on you.” Peter put down his pen.

  “For a few seconds. Calm down. I can handle him.”

  “I hope you can, before he handles you.”

  “You need to get over this. Andres and I will be working together for a few more weeks and you’re going to drive yourself crazy worrying about him touching me. He’s not going to do anything.” She rubbed her hair briskly with the towel.

  Peter joined her on the sofa. “What will you do when your training is done?” He pulled her closer.

  “I’ll probably try out for Madame Fouret, but I won’t get chosen.”

  “Why not? You’re a great dancer.” He massaged her shoulders.

  “I’m not a great dancer anymore. Three years is a long time to be away from the dance, bear.” She pulled his hand to her lips for a kiss then turned to face him.

  “What if she does choose you?” He raised his eyebrows.

  “Then I’ll return to New York and dance, I suppose,” she tossed off, running her hand up his chest.

  “What about us?” Peter grabbed her wrist and stilled her hand.

  “It will only be for one season. I’ll come back when the season is over.”

  “When will that be?” He continued to keep her hand immobile.

  “In June.” Lara shot him a quizzical glance.

  “By June, I’ll be gone.” He let her hand drop.

  “I forgot you’re going back,” she said, her brows creasing.

  “What happened to teaching dance instead?”

  “I’d like to…but if you get picked by Madame Fouret…well it’s a great honor. I won’t though, so don’t worry. I’m too old.” She retrieved a hairbrush from the pocket of her robe and began to brush her damp hair.

  “Too old at twenty-eight?”

  “Most dancers are nineteen or twenty. I’m not in my physical prime anymore.”

  “You are for me,” Peter snickered.

  “Peter!”

  “Besides, it’s dangerous for you to go back to New York. The guy who attacked you may still be there. He’ll recognize you but you won’t recognize him. He could kill you, honeybee,” Peter said, his arms closing protectively around her.

  “I guess you don’t want me to go?” She put down the hairbrush.

  “I don’t.” He kissed her head.

  “What about the opportunity for my career?” She squirmed around to face him.

  “You gave up dancing three years ago, why?”

  “It was hard work and often exhausting. Lots of rehearsals. I couldn’t drink or party and still perform. I made a mistake and chose a bad path. I’d have been better off staying until I was too old, about the age I am now.”

  “Did you sleep with a lot of men when you were partying?” Peter took the brush and ran it through her hair.

  “Don’t change the subject. We were talking about dance.”

  “You said dance didn’t leave you time for a private life. What about us? Would you have time for me if you were dancing?”

  “Not a lot.” She straightened up.

  “And you’re still going to go? I thought you said you loved me?” He continued brushing her hair.

  “I do. But I should at least try out.”

  “You can’t do that without considering the possibility of getting chosen. You can’t go in without a back-up plan.” He put the brush down.

  “I should have a back-up plan.”

  “How about teaching and living with me in South Africa?”

  “Maybe.” She adverted her gaze from his.

  He turned away as a dark mood engulfed him. Lara reached for him.

  “Don’t go to New York. Stay here with me,” Peter said, kissing her neck.

  “Dancing is what I do, bear,” she said, closing her eyes. “I probably won’t get chosen anyway. Let’s not worry about it now. Let’s make love,” she whispered. before the phone rang. Lara picked up her cell phone and walked into the kitchen.

  “Who was that?” Peter asked when she came back, standing up and stretching.

  “Andres. My audition is set for December twenty-first. Come on.” Lara tugged on his hand, leading him to the bedroom.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Across town at Johnny and Rebecca Novacek’s house

  Thanksgiving was four days away. Rebecca planned the family celebration with Jakub’s help.

  “I suppose Johnny and I are going to have to start getting up and taking care of our own kids in the morning,” Rebecca said, smiling at Jakub.

  Johnny was out collecting rent.

  “Maybe.” Jakub blushed and nodded.

  “Is she pretty?” Rebecca opened another cabinet, searching for something.

  His face reddened more and he smiled shyly.

  “Yes.”

  “I’d like to meet her sometime.” Rebecca scribbled two more items down on the list.

  “Maybe.” Jakub didn’t know how long Marcia might be in his life.

  ”Here’s the list.” Rebecca gave Jakub the shopping list for Thanksgiving. Nika’s youngest brother lived nearby with his wife and teenage child and they were coming for the celebration.

  “Would you like to invite your pritelkyne to have Thanksgiving dinner with us?”

  “I don’t think. Thank you, Rebecca.”

  “Why?”

  “She will be at hospital with…with
…someone to take care of.”

  “It’s not my tenant, Mrs. Wilton, is it?” Johnny tossed off as he came through the door. “She’s married. Are you sleeping with a married woman whose husband is dying?” Johnny took off his coat, eyeing his father.

  “Oy! None of your business, Johnny.” Jakub strode out of the room.

  “Johnny!” Rebecca said.

  “I know, I know. Respect.”

  “If he wasn’t living with us, we wouldn’t know any of this. Don’t pry into his life…or judge him, either.”

  “You’re right. I know. But I don’t want him to get into trouble.”

  “Maybe you don’t want him to find happiness with someone and leave us?” She rested her hands on her hips.

  “Maybe. If I can’t make love to you in the morning, I’m going to get grouchy, Rebecca.” He took her in his arms and kissed her.

  “Maybe it isn’t fair we can make love in the morning and he can’t?” She softened against him.

  “He’s an old man. He had his time, with my mother. Now it’s my time.” Johnny ran his hands up and down her sides.

  Rebecca laughed.

  “So you think I’m old man? Too old for young woman? I don’t think and she don’t think,” Jakub said, returning to the kitchen.

  “Papa, I didn’t mean…” Johnny let go of his wife.

  “You did mean. I’m still a man.”

  “But Mrs. Wilton, Papa…she’s…”

  “She’s living same thing I live with your mama. I help her.”

  “Yeah, Papa, you help her…you help her into bed!”

  “You show disrespect!” Jakub’s hands clenched at his sides.

  “How can I show respect, Papa, when you’re sleeping with a married woman?”

  “It’s not like that. She needs me. We not hurt anybody.”

  “What does her husband say?” Johnny cocked his eyebrow.

  “He doesn’t know.” Jakub shook his head slightly.

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “I suspect he does not know.”

  “Did you sleep with another woman when Mama was dying?” Johnny stepped closer to his father.

  “No.”

  “Did you?” he asked, pulling on his father’s sleeve.

  “No! I had no one. I was alone. Nika wish…Nika wish…none of your business. What do you know about dying? What do you know about living with dying person? What do you know about love?” Jakub’s voice rose.

  “I don’t sleep with other men’s wives,” Johnny spat out at his father.

  “You judge me? You judge her? You don’t know anything. No talk anymore.” Jakub stormed out of the kitchen.

  The atmosphere at Johnny’s house became strained. Johnny had not spoken to his father since their fight. Jakub was away from the house as much as he could be. He spent every night with Marcia. They watched football games, ate together and made love. Marcia started to put on some weight because Jakub was taking good care of her.

  Jakub needed money, so he did some odd jobs for another landlord, painting apartments and fixing things and stayed away from Johnny’s other houses. He brought food to Marcia’s house. They cooked together, Jakub teaching Marcia how to cook Czech style and Marcia teaching Jakub about American cuisine.

  * * * *

  Marcia got the call on Thanksgiving morning. Jay was dead. It seemed to her he was hanging on to make sure she was taken care of. Marcia was numb. She called Jay’s mother, the funeral home and her sister. Then she went in the bathroom and threw up.

  * * * *

  Thanksgiving dinner at the Novacek house was festive except for Jakub avoiding Johnny and Johnny avoiding his father. Jakub played with his twin grandchildren, Annabeth and Joey. They missed their grandfather so at Thanksgiving they took every opportunity to climb into his lap and steal his attention.

  During the meal, the phone rang.

  “Leave it, Johnny. It’s Thanksgiving. Who could be calling?” Rebecca said.

  When the answering machine picked it up, Jakub recognized Marcia’s voice. He ran for the phone and picked it up before she hung up. He spoke in a low tone.

  “I have to go. I’m sorry,” he announced, picking up his plate and taking it to the kitchen.

  “Why, is there a married woman who needs your…assistance?” Johnny asked in a snide tone.

  “A widow,” Jakub said, closing the door behind him.

  * * * *

  Marcia answered Jakub’s knock and was instantly in his arms, crying. She didn’t know if she wanted it to all be over for Jay or to hold on to him forever, watching him disintegrate before her eyes. She was dazed, she didn’t know which end was up. He held her tightly and let her cry, while he stroked her head.

  “We don’t have much time. They’ll be here soon.” Marcia dried her eyes.

  “Who?” Jakub eased her down into a chair.

  “Jay’s family. You shouldn’t be here. They wouldn’t understand.” Marcia pulled a hanky out of her pocket to dry her eyes.

  “Understand what? We are friends.” He shrugged.

  “We are lovers, Jake. They won’t understand.”

  “What do I do?”

  “Go home. Wait for my call.”

  * * * *

  Jakub did as she asked.

  When he returned to Johnny’s house, the meal was over.

  “Back already? What happened? She toss you out?”

  Jakub looked at his son with angry eyes and walked out. Rebecca threw the sponge into the sink and put her hand on her hip. “If you keep this up, he’ll leave us.”

  “Maybe he should.”

  * * * *

  The family descended on Marcia within an hour of each other, telling her what to do and making arrangements. Her sister and sister-in-law barged into her bedroom and began cleaning out Jay’s clothes.

  “We should bag everything for the Salvation Army,” Anne said, opening the closet door and grabbing a fistful of hangers.

  Stephanie, Marcia’s sister, took down an old suitcase.

  “Don’t take that one, the clasp is broken,” Marcia said.

  “It looks fine to me,” Stephanie replied.

  Jake must have fixed it.

  “Anne, Stephanie, wait, wait. I can do that,” Marcia pleaded.

  “Why should you have to do that? That’s why you have family.” Anne smiled at Marcia.

  “Don’t throw that away,” Marcia said.

  “I understand how you feel, but it’s best to make a clean break.” Anne patted Marcia’s arm.

  Marcia put her hand on her sister-in-law’s shoulder.

  “Wait. This isn’t Jay’s. It’s too big,” Anne said, holding hangers with Jakub’s clothes on them in her hand. She looked at Marcia. Stephanie stopped and looked too.

  “Whose clothes are these?” Anne asked.

  Marcia was silent, but red crept up her neck. She folded her arms across her chest.

  “Whose clothes are these?” Anne repeated the question.

  “Did you have an affair…while Jay was dying?” Her face turned a ghostly white.

  “Those clothes are none of your business. Please leave my bedroom.” Marcia shoved the clothes back in the closet.

  Anne and Stephanie went downstairs in silence. Marcia stayed upstairs as long as possible. When she finally felt ready to face them, the buzzing of voices quieted as she descended the stairs.

  Anne had her coat on. “I can’t be in a room with the woman who cheated on my dying brother.”

  Mark, Jay’s cousin, looked at Marcia with accusation in his eyes.

  “I’ll be back for the funeral,” Jay’s mother said, getting up and going to the door.

  Marcia’s head was swimming. After the door slammed, she turned to her sister.

  “What do we need to do for the funeral?” Stephanie asked.

  “I’m not sorry. I needed Jake. I still need him. Jay knew and he was happy I wasn’t alone. He begged me to find someone. And I did. I’m sorry if this offends you,
Steph. None of you know what’s it’s like to watch the love of your life die over five years. And where was everyone? Not here…but Jake was.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  Stephanie took Marcia in her arms for a hug.

  Marcia picked up her cell phone and dialed. She spoke briefly to Jake then hung up.

  “Can I stay here and handle…things?” Stephanie sank down into a chair.

  “Sure. I could use the help.”

  In ten minutes, the front door opened up.

  “Stephanie, this is Jake. Jake, my sister.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  At the Caldwell house

  Thanksgiving was one of Callie’s favorite holidays. Every year she celebrated with Danny and Eliza. They’d fill up their table with students who had to stick around school. This year she was more excited than usual as she’d been looking forward to celebrating with Sam and Peter. One night about two weeks before the holiday when they were in bed, Mac broached the subject.

  “I know how you are about holidays and Thanksgiving is almost here.” Mac rolled onto his side.

  “This is the first year we will have real family with us.”

  “With a murder charge hanging over my head, I don’t want to have a big celebration at our house. Couldn’t we be the four of us, like any other day? Maybe watch a movie with the kids?”

  “You don’t want to celebrate Thanksgiving?” Callie sat up.

  “I know it’s selfish of me, but with everything in my life threatened…I guess I don’t feel very thankful right now.” Mac avoided her gaze.

  “If that’s what you want I guess I could miss it this year. I love you.”

  “I love you too, baby.”

  Callie was disappointed to miss the holiday, but she didn’t let it show. He switched off the light. She pulled Mac’s arms around her and closed her eyes, hoping sleep would come easily, which it rarely did these days.

  * * * *

  The square envelope with something stiff inside arrived a week before Thanksgiving. It felt like an invitation to Callie and she saved it to open when Mac, Jason and Kitty were seated at the dinner table.