by Susan Wiggs
“Perfect.” Elaine rummaged in her purse. “I’ll call my service. There’s someone on 24/7.” As she took out the phone, her key ring came with it. Her special key ring, the one with the silver skate. Before she could catch it, the trinket fell through the iron grating, disappearing into deep blackness.
She imagined the small splash as it hit the water. She shut her eyes briefly, telling herself it didn’t matter, it wasn’t a portent of bad luck. Then she speed-dialed her twenty-four-hour travel service and secured a seat on the next flight out. “You’re all set,” she said to Bobbi. “It’s time you headed for the airport.”
Bobbi stared down at the river, seemingly fascinated by the descent of the key ring. Finally in a tiny, pathetic voice, she said, “I’m scared.”
Somewhere behind her, Elaine heard traffic sounds. A car, coming from the other direction, she thought. She was terrified Bobbi would panic and fall.
Bobbi’s designer boots wobbled on the slippery narrow ledge of steel. How on earth would she ever turn around?
Elaine heard a car stop but didn’t dare turn to look.
“I got her.” A tall, swift-moving man strode past her.
Elaine nearly melted into a puddle of relief. “Tony.”
He barely glanced at her as he approached Bobbi. He was totally focused on saving her. He squeezed through an opening that had been bent in the fence, then climbed over the rail and edged toward her.
“We’re both going to fall,” Bobbi wailed.
“No, we won’t. Don’t even say that.”
Elaine held her breath. The shiny cold steel framework was encased in ice. Tony wrapped one arm around the pole and reached out with the other. “Take my hand,” he said. “There you go. I got you.”
Trembling with panic, she reached back blindly. Tony took hold with his bare hand. “It’s okay,” he said quietly. “You’re okay now.” Safe in his grip, Bobbi turned and let him coax her along the pipe, feet scraping along. She slipped, and her arms flailed. Elaine crushed her knuckles to her mouth to keep from screaming. Tony grabbed Bobbi and tugged, until she pitched forward into his arms.
Elaine rushed forward and hugged Bobbi. Heartsore, she took off her coat and settled it around Bobbi’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry,” Bobbi said. “What I did was wrong.”
“But I was wrong, too,” Elaine admitted. “I didn’t listen to you.”
Bobbi shivered uncontrollably. “No kidding.”
Elaine remembered looking at the glossy black window in her parents’ apartment. She’d seen a reflection of herself at the party, with her perfect career and perfect clothes and perfect jewelry—and a loneliness in her eyes that reminded her of two empty bowls.
The cabbie tapped the car horn. “Let’s go already,” he called. “It’s another fifteen minutes to the airport.”
Elaine bundled Bobbi into the cab and pressed a wad of cash into her hand. “Should I come to the airport with you?”
“No. I’ll be all right,” Bobbi said with a sniff.
As the taxi pulled away, Tony scratched his head. “That cabdriver. Isn’t he the guy—”
“Don’t ask,” Elaine said. “He’s magic.”
Traffic started up again. Tony settled his jacket around Elaine’s shoulders and held it in place with a firm embrace. She could have stayed like that all night, warm and safe and protected.
“How did you know?” she asked. “How did you know to find me?”
“I was driving to church, and a dispatch came over the radio.”
The cabdriver, she realized.
“What are you doing here, Elaine?” he asked.
“You left your gloves.” She fished them out of her purse and handed them over.
“You were coming all the way over to Brooklyn on Christmas Eve to give me my gloves?”
She nodded.
With a laugh that was deep and pure, he brought her to his car and turned on the heater full blast. “So I guess you need a ride home.”
She started to nod her head, then looked him in the eye. “I don’t want to go home.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ELAINE ST. JAMES was the last person Tony thought he’d be spending Christmas Eve with. At the same time, she was the only person he wanted to spend Christmas Eve with. He led the way out of the underground parking and up the block to his building, situated on a quiet Park Slope street. He glanced at the silent woman beside him. She was coming into his home, into his life. He hoped he hadn’t left the place too much of a mess.
The old brownstone wore garlands of holly on the stair rail and around the door. In the foyer, someone had suspended a sprig of mistletoe over the mailboxes. There was a Santa hat on the newel post. The scent of bayberry candles spiced the air. It was late, so they didn’t speak until they were inside his third-floor apartment.
He let her in and watched her, trying to gauge her reaction. At some point in his life he had figured out how not to be a slob. The place didn’t look too bad or smell like a hamster cage.
But it also didn’t look like the kind of place Elaine St. James belonged in. She was like some exotic flower standing there, completely out of her element. But then she smiled.
She took off his parka and handed it over. “Thanks,” she said. “I would have frozen without it.”
The fancy coat she’d given her friend was probably worth a month’s rent.
“So … am I keeping you from something?” she asked, surprising him by seeming a little nervous.
“I skipped mass tonight,” he said. “But I suppose that can be forgiven, seeing as how we had to help out your friend.”
She nodded and gave a little shudder. “I hope she’s going to be all right.”
“Helluva thing, seeing your friend like that.”
“I’m not sure she was ever my friend, but I’d never want to see her hurt herself.”
“That’s up to her. You did a good thing, Elaine.”
“Did I? What about at lunch, when she asked me for an advance and I turned her down? That’s what started this whole mess.”
“You don’t always get it right the first time. Nobody does. How about you have a seat?” He indicated the brown corduroy sofa. His scrawny Christmas tree was set up on a table in the window, a little lopsided thing sagging with too many colored lights.
He left a message on his parents’ answering machine as he poured two glasses of wine—he hoped she liked red—and handed one to her. “So, are you all right?” he asked.
“I guess.” She wandered through the apartment, much as he had hers. When she studied his collection of framed photos, the expression on her face broke his heart. Glancing up, she saw him watching her. “Pictures of friends and family,” she said wistfully, sitting on his rumpled sofa. “It’s nice.”
She deserved friends and family of her own, Tony thought. She was a good person. Yet, somehow, she’d wound up stuck in a life that was less than she deserved and more than she wanted.
He wasn’t to blame for that, but he’d played a part. Years ago, he’d abandoned her because he felt that, without a pro hockey career, he didn’t measure up to her standards. He’d really believed that. But then he’d come to terms with the end of his dream and made a new life for himself.
It occurred to him that Elaine was still rich and sophisticated. But he no longer considered her out of his league. Life had sent him a bum shot, and he’d made his peace with that. Now life was giving him a second chance.
He watched the way her throat moved as she took a swallow of wine. She had the kind of face that would always be beautiful, at any age, glowing with youth or softened and lined by years. He knew he wanted to be there for that transformation, no matter how crazy it seemed and how different their worlds were. And he wanted it all to start now.
The air between them was hot, electric. Some things never changed.
“Elaine.” He took her glass and set it with his on the coffee table. “What are you doing here?”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ELAINE wasn’t sure how to answer him. She clenched and unclenched her hands as she watched him, his attention focused wholly on her. Even though they weren’t touching, she could feel his warmth; he glowed with it. She wasn’t sure how to answer his question. What are you doing here?
She wanted nothing. She wanted everything. And he would never understand.
Silently, deliberately, she slid toward him on the sofa, pressed her hands to his chest. He took in a quick breath, then grabbed her wrists. At first she feared he was going to push her away, but he gripped her hand and lifted it to his lips. Then his mouth lowered over hers, brushing lightly and finally pressing, exploring. It was the kind of kiss she didn’t experience anymore. It was fierce and deeply honest, sharing emotions that could not be shaped into words.
She felt as though someone had touched a flame to a fast-burning fuse. Everything welled up inside her and spilled over, as though all her longing and desires converged in this single desperate moment.
She clung to him, her hands smoothing the big shoulders, fingers tangling in the thick hair curling against his collar. She had not realized she could feel this way anymore. She was young and giddy and hopeful again, filled with the knowledge that she was, finally, in the right place with the right man.
He stood and drew her up with him, holding her by the upper arms and gazing intently down into her face. “Just so you know,” he whispered, “I don’t do one-night stands.”
“That’s not what this is,” she said.
“So what is it?”
Oh, she needed him. Not just in her arms, but in her life. Not just for tonight, but forever. She needed soft searching kisses and warm flesh against warm flesh. Endless conversations about things only they understood. The simple joy of building a life together, moment by moment. It was amazing, the way she and Tony seemed to know and crave each other. They were intimate strangers who had been dreaming of this meeting for years, moving toward it without knowing it.
“It’s what should have happened years ago.”
He smiled. “That’s what I thought, too.” He kissed her again, keeping their mouths joined even as he walked her slowly backward. The hardwood floor changed to carpet under her feet, and she pulled back briefly to gather fleeting impressions of his bedroom. King-size bed. Old-fashioned dresser with a framed photo of his family. A shoeshine kit left out. Several neckties draped over the back of a chair.
He grinned sheepishly. “I wasn’t sure what to wear tonight. I was a little nervous.”
She took his hand, held it over her thumping heart. She was so glad he’d admitted it. “I’m nervous now.”
“Yeah,” he said, his thumb tracing the line of her collarbone. “Me, too. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.” He plucked ineffectually at her dress. “I didn’t picture you wearing chain mail, though. Geez, Elaine, you got a chastity belt under this?”
She laughed softly and reached back to unclasp the mesh overdress, letting it slide down her torso and pool like fallen coins around her feet. She stepped toward him, into his arms, and when she looked into his eyes, she saw herself reflected there, and the love and wonder on her face was startling.
After that, there were no more awkward moments between them, not even as they undressed. She felt only a searing anticipation and breath-held awe at the realization that finally, unexpectedly, she had rediscovered something real, something to give depth and resonance to her life, to fill the empty spaces where cold loneliness had taken up residence, to make her matter in a way she had never mattered before.
He turned back the covers and brought her against him. Shivery heat coursed through her. She reached out and caressed him, discovering the shape and texture and warmth she had only imagined before. He returned the caresses with exquisite tenderness, wringing wonder and emotion from her as her lips formed a wordless cry of startled joy. She couldn’t believe how deeply she felt each intimate stroke of his hands, his mouth, how profound it seemed with him. Her heart was engaged, hopelessly tangled, and it made all the difference. When their bodies joined, she clasped him tighter, wishing for a way to bring him closer still. And then she found it, whispering love words into his ear while ecstasy lifted her up, transported her and held her high and light in some exalted place she thought she would never have reached. When after long blissful moments she returned to herself, Elaine knew she was a different person.
She felt the change deep in her bones. After this night, she knew, nothing would ever be the same.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE SMELL of freshly brewed coffee teased Tony awake by small degrees of awareness. Elaine. The thought came to him like the last precious shred of an almost forgotten dream, and for a second he thought maybe he had dreamed her. But no. She’d been with him. Her presence was still there, a faint warmth in the hollow in the bed next to him where she had slept in his arms all night. The smell of her hair lingered on his pillow.
And in his heart lived the feeling that no morning in the history of the world could ever be as good as this one.
Elaine St. James. Finding her again was a small miracle, like coming across a diamond glittering in the snow.
She stood in the kitchen, seemingly mesmerized by the fragrant drip of the coffeemaker. She wore a pair of his socks and an ancient hockey practice jersey. Her makeup was gone and her hair was a mess. She looked like a goddess.
“Merry Christmas,” he said, coming up behind her. He slipped his hands around her waist and kissed the side of her neck.
“It is,” she said softly, pressing herself back against him. “I was going to find some Christmas carols on the radio.”
He reached across the counter and clicked it on, then fiddled with the dial. “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen,” drifted through the room.
“Good idea,” he said, turning her in his arms and pulling her back toward the bedroom, where the bed was still warm and inviting. His heart soared, because he knew exactly what he was going to do—in the next few moments, and for the rest of his life. He had never been more sure of anything.
“I was trying to make coffee,” she protested.
“That thing takes forever.”
She started to protest again, but then her face softened, and she looked up at him with her heart in her eyes. “Good.”
* * *
“DO YOU THINK it’s ready now?”
“What’s ready?” Elaine felt a smile spread across her face. It simply would not go away. It was as though she had been born this way and would live the rest of her life this way.
“The coffee.”
“I think it must be. I started it over an hour ago.”
He rolled to one side, offering a tantalizing glimpse of all of him, and grabbed the clock from the bedside table. “Oh, man.”
“What’s the matter?”
“I’m supposed to be at my folks.”
She deflated a little but hid her disappointment by looking away, shaking her hair across her face. Just because everything had changed for her didn’t mean it had for the rest of humanity. One of the painful discoveries she’d made as an adult was that the world did not revolve around her. And, this morning, reality lay in wait, ready to spring like a predator on her happiness.
“You’d better head for the shower,” she said, being practical. “I’ll phone for a taxi.”
“It’s walking distance.”
“For you. I’ve got to get going.”
He turned back to her, pulling her against him. “Going where?”
She hesitated. Her family usually slept late on Christmas, exchanged tasteful gifts, had a champagne brunch and then took off on vacation, to ski or sun themselves somewhere exotic. They liked to travel on Christmas Day, because it was less crowded than just before or just after the holiday. This logical program did not appeal to her in the least and hadn’t for a long time. She simply went along with it because there was nothing else to do.
“To my parents’ apartment, I suppose,” she felt obl
iged to say.
“Call them and say you can’t make it.”
“Why can’t I make it?” she asked, eyeing Tony.
“You’re coming with me,” he announced. “You’re going to love my family. They’re going to love you.” His face, shadowed by the night’s growth of beard, wore a lopsided smile that took all her willpower to resist.
“No way,” she said, getting up from the bed. One by one, she retrieved articles of clothing, feeling tingles of remembered pleasure as she picked up each discarded piece.
“Remember what I said.” He stood and pulled her against him. “I don’t do one-night stands.”
“I remember.” She shuddered in his arms, now feeling the burden of her decision to change her life. She was different. She was brand-new, she reminded herself.
“So,” said Tony, “that’s what it’ll turn into if you leave now.”
* * *
A HALF HOUR LATER, in her couture dress minus the chain mail, and a shapeless borrowed coat from Tony’s hall closet, Elaine stepped out into Christmas morning. Church bells clanged with joyous abandon and, somewhere in the distance, carolers sang. The snowstorm was over, and the sun peeked through a crack in the clouds. A sparkling carpet of dazzling white lay over everything, turning parked cars to anonymous giant marshmallows, heaps of garbage to glistening ivory sculptures. Laughing children played in the streets while their parents, cradling steaming mugs in their hands, looked on from stairways and stoops. Kids tried out new sleds and skis and radio-controlled trucks.
They encountered a dark-eyed girl with a shy smile who carried a large box as she walked along with her mother. “Tony,” she said, “look what Santa brought.” She lifted the lid to show off a brand-new pair of hockey skates. He winked at her mom and tugged at the end of her stocking cap. “You must have been extra good this year, kiddo.”
“We’re going to Prospect Park to try them out right away.”
He waved at them as they headed for the bus stop. “She’s one of my best left wings,” he said.
“So she’s in your hockey league?”