Sunshine and Shadows

by Pamela Browning

  The phone rang. "Oh, Lisa, may I answer the phone?" Connie hopped up and bounced restlessly on the balls of her feet.

  "Go ahead," Lisa said.

  Connie ran into the kitchen, grabbed the phone out of its cradle and said, "Hi, Jay! I kind of knew it was you. Are you coming over? Oh, good! Here's Lisa."

  Lisa took the phone eagerly.

  "What's on the agenda for tonight?" he asked.

  "Adele and Connie are going to plant seeds, and Connie is going to draw a picture of flamingos," she said.

  "Adele and Connie? Have I missed something?"

  "I'll explain later. Anyway, tonight I happen to be free," she said.

  "How free? Can we go skinny-dipping in the river?"

  "Where do you get these ideas?" Lisa asked.

  "They occur naturally whenever you come to mind. If you're not interested in swimming, how about if I bring Hildy over and we all go for a walk along the river road? Would you mind?"

  "No, and I'm sure that Connie would enjoy it," Lisa said.

  "I hope Hildy will. She's perked up in the last day or two, so I think the exercise will do her good. We'll see you in an hour or so."

  "I'll tell Connie," Lisa said.

  "I love you," he told her.

  And she said, "I do, too."

  "Can't you say it?"

  "Not at the moment," Lisa said cautiously.

  "At a later moment, then. And I expect you to show me just how much."

  "I hope you won't be too disappointed," she said, watching Adele out of the corners of her eyes. Adele had begun to stack the plates at the table, but Lisa knew she was avidly listening to every word.

  "I'm never disappointed with you. 'Bye," he said, and the dial tone buzzed in Lisa's ear.

  "Tell me what?" Connie said close behind her, and Lisa, taken by surprise, jumped.

  "Jay will bring Hildy over and we can all go for a walk," Lisa told her.

  "I love Hildy. She's almost like a real person. Better, maybe," Connie said with a happy grin.

  "Hildy can count better than most people," remarked Lisa.

  Adele raised her eyebrows. "A dog that does arithmetic?" she said skeptically.

  Lisa explained, and Connie laughed. "Hildy can't add. I know how Jay does it," she said.

  "How?" Adele asked, sounding interested.

  "He holds the dog biscuit in front of Hildy's face, and after she barks the correct number of times, he drops his hand just the littlest bit, and Hildy knows to stop barking," Connie told them gleefully.

  While Lisa was still mulling over this revelation, Connie confronted Adele.

  "Aren't you going to show me how to plant the dill, Adele?" she asked.

  "Well, I thought maybe tomorrow," Adele said.

  "You said before that you'd show me tonight. Tonight, tonight, tonight!" Connie said playfully, grabbing Adele's limp hand and pulling her toward the door that led to the garage. When the door swung shut behind them, Lisa could have sworn that Adele was holding back laughter.

  Lisa listened to the two of them in the garage for a moment, decided that Connie's banter was exactly what Adele needed, and hung her apron up behind the kitchen door. With Connie and Adele keeping each other busy, she hurried to her room and chucked her work clothes in favor of jeans and a black turtleneck topped with a favorite sweater.

  She stopped for a moment to stare at herself in the mirror. She looked like the same person that she'd been a few weeks ago, but she certainly didn't feel the same. She was in love. She loved Jay so much that to be apart from him caused her to ache physically, created a hollow in her very soul, made her conjure up constant thoughts of him.

  She heard a car door slam outside, ran to the window and saw Jay coaxing Hildy out of the back seat. She hurried to let them in, but Connie had seen them too. They both stood at the door, waiting while Jay urged Hildy along, and when at last they were inside, Connie knelt on the tile floor, burying her face in Hildy's silky fur.

  Jay captured a quick kiss and smiled down at Lisa. "Let's ask Adele to go on our walk," he said.

  At the sound of her name, Adele appeared in the entrance to the kitchen. She was carrying two clay pots.

  Connie jumped up. "See, Lisa? See, Jay? Adele and me planted seeds in these pots and we're going to put them in the sun and water them so they'll grow. It's better than our garden at school because they'll be inside. Come on, Adele, let's put one in your window and one in mine."

  Adele didn't say a word. She merely shrugged and followed Connie down the hall to their rooms, an amused expression on her face.

  "Well, that's something," Jay said, pulling Lisa into his arms and kissing her properly this time. Hildy sighed and lay down across their feet, resting her chin on her paws.

  "Mmm," Lisa said, slipping out of the circle of his arms before Adele and Connie reappeared. If Adele's look was suspicious, Lisa pretended not to notice;.

  "How about it, Adele? Would you like to go for a walk with us?" Jay asked.

  Connie danced around them. "Please go! It'll be dark and scary and Lisa and Jay will want to walk beside each other and whisper, and you and I could walk together."

  "You could walk with Hildy," Adele told Connie in a small voice.

  "Hildy may be able to do arithmetic, but she sure can't talk to me. Adele, please?" Connie was irresistible as she eagerly waited for the answer.

  A ghost of a smile flickered over Adele's lips. "All right, I'll go. Is it cold out?" she asked.

  "You'll need a jacket," Jay said.

  After they had all put on something warm, the four of them stepped out into the cool night air. Overhead the stars shone in sharp brilliance and the moon flickered through the pine branches. An uncertain breeze wound around the house and blew the soft green scent of the water into their faces; Lisa and Jay smiled at each other, a secret smile sharing their own special happiness, and Hildy even managed a few frisky steps before settling down to a more sedate pace.

  Connie pulled Adele along until they were walking ahead of Lisa and Jay, and Jay took Lisa's hand. The road was deserted; houses here were far apart, and the only indication that anyone else lived nearby was the glow of incandescent lights along the edge of the river.

  Connie ran back to them. "Let me take Hildy's leash," she begged. "I promise I won't let her get away."

  Jay handed the leash over. "I'm not worried about that," he said. "It's been a long time since this old dog has wanted to get away from anyone."

  "Especially me," Connie said with a great deal of satisfaction. "Hildy loves me."

  Connie and Hildy soon caught up with Adele, and Jay and Lisa deliberately lagged behind.

  "What happened with Adele? She seems much better," Jay said.

  Lisa explained, and Jay laughed. "I didn't think she'd be able to hold out forever," he said.

  "There's no figuring Adele's moods." Lisa took Jay's hand and wound her fingers through his.

  He pulled her close long enough to kiss her temple. He would have liked to do more than that. Perhaps later; maybe they could steal a few moments together after Adele and Connie went to bed.

  Up ahead, they saw Adele and Connie stop. It was so dark that they couldn't see what was happening; perhaps they were merely waiting for Lisa and Jay to catch up.

  But then Connie knelt, and as Jay was beginning to wonder why he couldn't make out Hildy's shape, Connie called, "Lisa? Jay? Come here! Hildy's lying down in the middle of the road, and we can't make her get up!"

  Chapter 11

  The cold fluorescent lights in the waiting room of the veterinarian's office showed no mercy; they illuminated the anguish in Jay's eyes.

  "How long has Hildy been in there?" Jay asked impatiently.

  Lisa glanced at her watch. "Thirty minutes, more or less," she said, shifting uncomfortably on the hard seat.

  "It seems like hours."

  Lisa reached for his hand. "Surely Hildy will be all right."

  Jay expelled a long sigh. "With her health proble
ms, I'm not too optimistic. Maybe I shouldn't have taken her out for a walk tonight. She wasn't eager to go anywhere."

  "She looked better by the time we got her to the vet's," Lisa said encouragingly. "I'm sure of it."

  "She licked my hand when I helped the doctor lift her onto the table. I thought that showed some of her old spirit." Jay leaned forward in his chair, frowning and staring at the floor.

  They must have waited another half hour or so before the door to the waiting room opened. They both looked up, trying to read Dr. Stith's expression. The vet, a round, ruddy man with a kindly light in his eyes, rested a heavy hand on Jay's shoulder.

  "I'm sorry, Jay," he said. "Hildy's gone. I did all I could."

  Jay stared at him for one long, black moment before burying his face in his hands.

  Lisa slid an arm around Jay's shoulders and bent her head close to his.

  "I'm all right," Jay said quietly after a moment. He stood up.

  "Like I said, Jay, I tried. Her old heart gave out, that's all," the vet said.

  "Hildy was a good friend," Jay said, half to himself.

  "Sometimes the best thing to do when you've been together as long as you and Hildy is to get another dog right away," said the vet.

  "I'll think about it," Jay said vaguely, but Lisa knew that at that point, all Jay wanted was to get out of there.

  They stepped out into a sharp-edged wind cutting suddenly around the corner of the building. Jay shoved his hands deep into his pockets, and they walked silently to his car. Once inside Jay sat with his hands resting on the steering wheel and staring straight ahead. It wasn't until Lisa's eyes adjusted to the dim lights in the parking lot that she realized that tears were streaming down his face.

  Without a word, she turned to him and gathered him into her arms. He lowered his forehead to her shoulder, and she stroked his hair. He made no sound, but she felt his hot tears through the thin fabric of her turtleneck.

  After a few moments, she pulled a tissue out of her pocket and handed it to him.

  "How am I going to get along without Hildy? She's been my best friend, the only one who's stood by me through—well, through a lot of things." Jay's eyes were dry, but his expression was bleak.

  "It isn't easy to lose a pet," she said. How well she remembered when her own dog died; she'd hardly eaten for a week.

  "Losing Hildy is like a death in the family," he said, his voice sounding hoarse and strained. He dug the heels of his hands into his eye sockets, and Lisa's heart ached for him.

  "I don't want to be alone," he said heavily. "Can you come to my place for a while?"

  Connie was with Adele; they seemed to be hitting it off. There was no reason why Lisa shouldn't be with Jay.

  "I'd like that," she said.

  Jay started the engine and backed the car out of its slot. "Did you know that I found Hildy when she was a puppy? That she was abandoned behind the used car lot where I worked when I was in high school?" he said.

  "It's hard to imagine Hildy when she was small."

  "I loved her from the beginning. Sometimes I felt that she was the only friend I had." In the aftermath of the accident when he was seventeen, Jay's buddies denied that they'd asked him to buy more beer. His mother acted as though she wished he'd never been born, and his aunts had whispered about him behind his back.

  He'd been desolate when he'd had to leave Hildy behind when he went to the University of Florida. After his freshman year there, he'd lived in an off-campus apartment and had been able to bring Hildy to join him. That was when he'd finally begun to pull himself out of his depression over the accident.

  He didn't talk about any of that; this didn't seem like the right time. He drove directly to his town house, but when they stood in Jay's darkened living room, the place seemed empty and unnaturally quiet without Hildy.

  After switching on a light, Lisa went into the kitchen and, without asking, poured Jay a glass of iced tea. She came out and handed it to him.

  "Do you feel like eating anything?" she asked.

  He shook his head and sipped the tea. "I feel exhausted," he said.

  "Let's lie down for a while," she said, leading him into his bedroom.

  He felt blurry-eyed and overwhelmed with grief. He hoped that Lisa wouldn't want to make love, which was a fair measure of how upset he was. He sat on the edge of the bed, noting in the mirror over the dresser that he looked as awful as he felt. His eyelids were swollen and red, and his feet felt like two lead weights.

  Lisa bent down and untied his shoes as she would have untied a child's. She slipped them off, then tugged his socks off after them.

  "Lie back," she said in a soft voice, and he was only too glad to follow her instructions. He stared up into the darkness. Hildy, he thought. Hildy is dead.

  Lisa lay down beside him and curved her small body around his. It fit in all the right places, and he rested a hand over hers where it nestled on his chest. It was a comfort, such a comfort, having her there. His eyes drifted reluctantly closed, he slipped into a state of half consciousness and must have slept after that, because he lost all sense of time and place.

  When he woke up, at first he didn't recognize the solid warmth nestled against his right side, but after a few seconds, he realized that it was Lisa. Then he remembered—Hildy was gone.

  "Jay?" Lisa said, her voice a mere whisper in the darkness.

  For an answer he rolled over on his side and drew her close.

  "I'm glad you're here," he said.

  Her lips were soft upon his, and tentative, and gentle. At first he held back, feeling inept, thinking that on this night, he could not be interested in making love. Her lips persisted in their ministrations, sweetly seeking, opening to his like a spring flower to the dew. He felt himself responding, much to his surprise, and after a few minutes the world went away.

  It was so good to hold her, to feel her compact body pressed close to his. He couldn't feel happy on this of all nights, but he felt a glimmer of pleasure blossoming in the far regions of his consciousness. She ran her fingers up his arm, along his neck, across his lips. He closed his eyes, swirled down and into the feelings, swam up and slid his leg across her body, drawing her even closer with the firm pressure of his thigh.

  Certainly this way of making love wasn't filled with a sense of overwhelming passion; this was something else.

  This was nurturing, and comfort, and succor. It was a gift.

  He was awash in gratitude; it felt strange to be kissing Lisa with any feeling other than unbridled lust. But as her hands began to move more purposefully across his body, his feelings evolved into something else. He rolled over, taking charge, thinking how kind she was, how sweet, and how lucky he was to have found her.

  His hand reached up and found her breast. Her nipple felt like a small, hard berry beneath his tongue. Slowly he slid his hand under her shirt.

  She said, "Wait," and shimmied out of her clothes with a fluid motion that he found unbelievably titillating. When he stroked open her thighs he realized with surprise how ready she was. Her desire for him excited him even more. Her hands worked feverishly at the buttons on his shirt, and her fingernails scraped his skin as she tried to find the zipper of his pants.

  Then he was free of his clothes, the cool air a balm, and his legs were entwined with hers, and she was staring up at him, her eyes glazed with a kind of luminescent wonder. For a moment he hovered over her, taking in her face flushed with love, her breath coming in bursts, thinking that never had he been so mesmerized by a woman, and then he plunged into her again and again until she begged for release.

  She arched beneath him, her body in perfect tune with his, and his hands adjusted beneath her hips to urge her on. He would have stopped again, but he was incapable of it. She was a fire in his veins, pulsing, convulsing until he couldn't bear it any longer.

  Her whole body clenched around his, her damp skin melded with his, and then he found her seeking mouth and drank from its sweetness until they fell apar
t, weak and sated and gasping for breath.

  Afterward, they lay quietly in each other's arms, half sleeping, half awake, stirring occasionally to kiss and from time to time touching each other with fitting reverence.

  She slept, stirring only when Jay got up and went into the kitchen. When she heard him rustling quietly, she got up and put on his bathrobe. She paused at the entrance to the kitchen and waited for him to turn and greet her, but he was preoccupied with the teakettle. He was wearing nothing, and the dim hood light over the stove illuminated the ripple of the muscles in his back, the indentation of his waist, the contours below. Her heart overflowed with love for him and with gratitude for the happiness he had brought into her life.

  She padded silently up behind him, opened the robe and wrapped it around him. He leaned into her for a moment, perfectly still, then turned within the confines of her embrace, breasts brushing against back against arm against chest.

  "Oh, Lisa, my dearest love, how did I ever live without you?" he whispered in her ear, and his hands reached around and lifted her to him, his arousal evident. She wound her legs around him, wanting more, feeling him hot against her, floating feather-light in his arms. The robe fell away, leaving them skin to skin, breath to breath, and then he was inside her again, his mouth moist against her cheek.

  He gasped with pleasure, shuddered, and she felt her own body tremble and convulse in ecstasy. Her tears were wet against his neck as the keening of the teakettle began. It whistled for a full two minutes before he impatiently reached behind him and shoved it from the burner.

  They stood trembling in each other's arms until Jay picked up the fallen robe and slowly and deliberately draped it around her shoulders.

  Lisa lapped the robe in front and retied the belt, still shaken by the suddenness of their lovemaking. She had always wanted a relationship that encompassed the entire love spectrum—the right man for her would be father, mother, child, friend and an I-like-you-even-when-you're-being-a-bitch kind of lover. The one thing she had left out was passion, and now she couldn't imagine how she had overlooked such an important ingredient in the relationship.