by Carol Grace
Finally she and Rafik were alone together outside the mansion on the front steps. “We don’t have to look at the classroom, you know,” she said.
“I’d be honored if you’d show it to me,” he said. “That way I can picture you at work. After all, you’ve seen me in my office. Although you perhaps don’t have exactly a happy memory of that occasion.”
She couldn’t deny it. The very thought made her shiver. “I can’t imagine what everyone in your office thought of me that day,” she said. “Or what conclusions they had drawn. There was your father, your brother, your receptionist…And there I was in my bridesmaid gown and bare feet. Everyone must have been shocked.”
“No one, not even Father, ever mentioned it again, and he’s pleased about the engagement to say the least, so I guess it didn’t hurt your reputation at all. As for mine…I don’t think it could have been worse than it was. This engagement has done a lot for it and I have you to thank.”
“I thought you were proud of being a playboy.”
“Did you?” he asked. They walked in silence down the winding sidewalk from the reception center to the classrooms. “I suppose I was,” he said thoughtfully.
The classroom did look good with its freshly painted walls and new carpet. Her desk was back in place along with the little chairs and tables for the students. But the walls were bare and it lacked the warmth and color that only a roomful of six-year-olds and their books and their equipment and her own personal touches could provide.
“Of course it will be more cheerful with posters on the walls and the pictures my students draw.”
“I can picture you sitting at your desk with the children sitting quietly, looking at you from their seats, awaiting your instruction,” he said.
Anne smiled at the false picture he had of American classrooms. “Actually, they very seldom sit in their seats for very long,” she explained. “Sometimes we all sit on the rug and I read a story or we sing a song. They’re very lively and restless at this age so I try to keep them busy with a choice of various learning activities. Reading, writing, counting. Last year I set up a play storefront over there in the corner with pretend products and play money. Some children were customers and others clerks. They had a good time and didn’t even realize they were doing math.”
“That doesn’t sound like the kind of elementary school I went to in my country,” Rafik said. “We had individual desks and never got up or spoke without the teacher’s permission. Math was learned from a book.”
“Things have changed,” Anne said, leaning against her desk.
“For the better,” he said. “I think it would be an enjoyable experience to be in your class.” His lips curved in a smile that could only be described as sexy. He must not be aware of the effect it had on her. Of how fast her heart was beating and how the sparks traveled through her body right down to her toes.
“Thank you,” she said briskly. “Well, now that you’ve seen it….” She couldn’t imagine anyone being that interested in a classroom unless they were a student or teacher, but Rafik didn’t seem to want to leave. He kept looking around the room and back at her, until finally he was only looking at her. She tried to look away, but she couldn’t. The room seemed so small with him in it. He was so big and so out-of-place. He was so far away from her. She felt alone and small. Almost like one of her students. It must be the lack of furnishings or the new paint and the carpet. He kept looking at her. She didn’t know what that look in his eyes meant. She just knew she couldn’t look away. She also knew she was trembling inside. Before she started trembling on the outside, too, she ran her damp palms against her skirt and started for the door.
“I’d like to come again, when you have your posters up and the art work on the walls…if I may,” he said.
“Of course,” she said, pushing the door open. “There’s an open house in September.” By September their false engagement would surely be over and he would have no reason to visit her classroom. For one thing he was probably not sincere, merely expressing his good manners. She didn’t know exactly how long this engagement would last, and she didn’t want to ask. One of these days it would become clear. It would be over as fast as it had begun. With as little warning. So she’d better be prepared.
When they got to the car, Anne reclined her seat, leaned back and closed her eyes. She was mentally exhausted. But Rafik seemed to be energized.
“You’re fortunate to have a nice group of people to work with,” he said.
“I know, but it’s the children who make it all worthwhile.”
“I can see you enjoy your job very much.”
She nodded, too tired to speak.
“If we had a wedding, would you be obliged to invite the entire staff?”
She sat up straight and stared straight ahead. “We aren’t having a wedding. We aren’t even engaged. Remember?”
“Of course I remember,” he said.
“I wish you hadn’t mentioned our children going to school there.” Just saying the words made the heat rush to Anne’s cheeks once again.
“What do you mean? Wouldn’t you want our children to attend your school?”
“Of course, but we aren’t having any children. We aren’t engaged and we aren’t getting married.” She emphasized each word in turn, as much for him as for herself.
“Obviously you feel quite strongly about it,” he said stiffly.
“Don’t you?” she asked.
He gave her a long thoughtful look, then opened his mouth to say something, but didn’t.
Surely he must know how she felt. How embarrassing it was for her to think of having children with a man who wasn’t interested in marriage, either to her or anyone else. A man who could have any woman he wanted. If he wanted to get married, it would certainly be to someone rich and beautiful and socially acceptable. Why not?
“I have to thank you for the wonderful job in there, by the way. But did you have to be so agreeable?” she asked, deliberately mimicking his earlier words.
“Did you expect me to be arrogant and egotistical?”
“No, of course not. It’s just that now that they know you, and they obviously like you, everyone will be asking about you and the wedding and you know…”
“Indeed I do know,” he said. “It seems that we’ve unleashed a genie from out of a bottle. We’re both in the same situation. For better or for worse.”
For better or for worse. The words from the wedding ceremony hung in the air. She didn’t know if he knew the significance of them, but she did. She wished she could forget about weddings, especially her own imaginary wedding, but everything and everyone seemed to remind her.
“Anyway it’s over,” she said. “I won’t see any of them until fall, except for Jean who will be at the same conference at Asilomar next weekend.”
“You’ll be gone all weekend?” he asked, driving down the steep hill on California Street.
“Yes, at a conference center on the beach in Monterey. It’s a secluded spot not many people know about with views of sand dunes and the sound of crashing waves and fireplaces in every room. I’m looking forward to it.”
“Is it only for teachers?” he asked.
“The conference is, but if they’re not fully booked the rooms are available to visitors who appreciate the solitude and rustic atmosphere.”
“It sounds romantic,” Rafik remarked.
“You would think of that,” Anne said. She would never admit that she’d thought of it, too. Too many romantic thoughts were in her mind these days. Not to mention those romantic dreams. “But no one will be thinking of romance.” Especially not her. Not if she could help it. “We’ll be too busy discussing teaching reading to children.”
“Do you need a ride down there?” he asked.
“My friend Jean is driving.”
“I’ll miss you.”
“You don’t need to say things like that,” she said with a frown. “There’s no one around to hear.”
“I me
ant it.”
She didn’t know what to say. He sounded sincere. But why would he miss her? It didn’t make sense. He took her home and walked her to the door. He looked as if he was reluctant to leave. He kept making small talk until she took out her key and opened her front door.
“I haven’t seen much of the inside of your house,” he said. She’d run out to meet him when she heard his car pull up in front of her house earlier that day. The night of the gala, he’d come in to the living room only.
“Yes, I know. If I didn’t have a headache, I’d invite you in, but…”
“I didn’t mean to force myself on you,” he said. “If you have plans, I understand. You don’t have to make up a story about a headache. You can be honest with me.”
“Thank you,” she said stiffly. “I do have a headache and I am being honest with you. I’ve told so many lies in the past few days, I couldn’t possibly manage another one. Maybe that’s why my head hurts. Thanks again.” She let herself in and closed the door behind her.
Rafik drove away reluctantly. He had more things to say to Anne. Many more. He had questions to ask her. He felt he scarcely knew her at all. When he’d seen her in her classroom, she seemed to be a different person. Her eyes sparkled and her face glowed when she described her job. He’d always thought her attractive, but she was more than that. The more he got to know her, the more appealing she was. Today she was so beautiful he could hardly take his eyes from her.
He could picture her on the rug with her students gathered around her, their eyes on her as she read to them. How lucky they were to have such a fine teacher as she must be. Just as the headmistress had told him. He wondered how many sides to her personality there were. It seemed he’d have to know her for a long time before he found out. He was envious of Anne’s weekend plans. For some reason he felt as if he really was engaged and his fiancée was going out of town without him. He knew it didn’t make sense, but he felt left out. Now that he was supposed to be engaged he could hardly call other women. Not that he wanted to.
That week he had to endure his mother rhapsodizing about what a wonderful girl Anne was, about the kind of small, garden wedding she wanted and how she was going to try on his mother’s wedding dress until he didn’t know how much more he could take. Anne had never told him she wanted a garden wedding. Though now that she mentioned it and he’d seen her garden, he had no trouble imagining it. He didn’t know why she hadn’t told him herself, instead of having to hear it from his mother.
That wasn’t all his mother said. She told him that a fiancée needed an engagement ring. She insisted on giving him a ring that had belonged to his grandmother that she thought would be appropriate.
“Although if you want to choose your own…”
“I don’t know, Mother. I’ll check with Anne.”
She pressed the small jeweler’s box into his hand. “Just see if she likes it. Your grandmother would be so happy if she knew.”
“Yes. All right. Fine,” he said, putting the box into his pocket.
At least he could let down his pretenses with his brother, the only one who knew the truth about his engagement.
“How’s it going?” Rahman asked on Friday afternoon. “Got a big weekend planned with your fiancée?” He grinned at his brother.
Rafik crumpled a sheet of paper and threw it at his brother. “My fiancée is going out of town.”
“Without you?”
“Yes, without me. She’s going to a teacher’s conference in Monterey.”
“I hear it’s a beautiful place,” Rahman said. “Sand dunes, crashing surf, sea lions. Why don’t you go along?”
“It’s for teachers. They’ll be doing whatever teachers do. Besides she didn’t invite me.”
“Since when do you need an invitation to go to Monterey, to book a room at the same place she’s staying? Maybe she was too shy to invite you. Maybe she’s dying for you to join her there so she can escape all those boring teacher-types. Anyway, she can’t be doing her teacher thing every minute, can she?”
“I don’t know. What are you doing?”
“Golf tomorrow. Strictly business. A group of investors. Of course if you’re not busy, you can join us.”
Rafik had used to like playing golf. But playing with a group of investors sounded dull compared to walking on the sand dunes in Monterey. He knew it wouldn’t be very exciting walking there alone. But if he was walking hand in hand with Anne, that was a different story. It shouldn’t be impossible if they were both staying at the same place.
He pictured her hair curling in damp tendrils in the ocean spray, her cheeks pink from the breeze off the sea. His brother was right. He didn’t need an invitation to visit Monterey. If he ran into Anne while he was there, it would be a coincidence. He’d soon get the hint if she didn’t want him around, in which case he would tactfully disappear back to his room with his own fireplace where he would read various prospectuses from his briefcase which were piling up on his desk.
He couldn’t get the image of the wood-burning fireplace in the rustic cabin out of his mind. If he really had a fiancée it would be only normal for them to spend a weekend together on the ocean, making love in the cabin in front of the flickering flames. But with Anne, who was not only not his fiancée, but a virgin to boot…there was no chance. Maybe it was time he found a real fiancée. On the other hand, the last time he had had a real fiancée, it had been a disaster. His parents had been thrilled, just as they were now, for a while. He’d been happy, too—at least he’d thought he was. Until it ended.
But he hadn’t known the woman. He’d just thought he had. When she’d walked out, taking his ring and his joie de vivre and his trust with her, he’d sworn he’d never do it again. Never fall in love, never get engaged and never, never get married. He still felt the same. But that had nothing to do with his urge to see Anne this weekend in a different setting. He couldn’t get the image out of his mind: the wind in her hair, her cheeks glowing from the walk on the beach…
“I don’t know, Rahman. I’m in a tough spot. I’m not really engaged, but I have to act as if I am. I can’t play the field, but I don’t have the benefits of a real fiancée either.” He ran his hand through his hair.
“Well, you have the parents off your back.”
“Hah. Now they’re pressuring me to get married. And it’s all your fault. This was your idea, remember? Why don’t you get engaged? That would distract them.”
“Sure, if I could find someone like Anne, I might think about it. But I suspect she’s one in a million. Sweet, high-spirited…”
“Kind, beautiful, smart, sexy…” Rafik murmured.
“What was that?” Rahman asked.
Rafik got out of his swivel chair. “Nothing. Enough of this. I’ve got some phone calls to make. See you later.”
“Wait a minute. How much later? Are you going to take my advice? Where are you going?”
“Nowhere.” He put one hand on his brother’s shoulder and ushered him to the door and closed it behind him. Outside he could hear Rahman protesting.
“You can’t get rid of me so easily,” Rahman complained from the other side of the door. “Answer my questions. I’m your brother.”
Rafik laughed quietly and picked up the phone.
Chapter Seven
Instead of having his secretary do it, Rafik made the reservation at the conference center himself. They asked if he was a part of the teachers’ group, he said no. He was afraid they’d say they were booked up, but they found an ocean-view cottage for him, only steps from the beach. He wanted to ask how far that was from Anne’s lodgings, but he didn’t. At the hotel in the city where he was staying along with Rahman until they found an apartment, he packed his bag. Tossing casual slacks and sweaters into a duffel bag, he felt more excited than he had any right to be. He told himself she might not be happy to see him. She might not have time to see him. He told himself it didn’t matter. He was seeing a part of the state he hadn’t seen before. But what
he wanted was to see a part of Anne he hadn’t seen before.
Of course, he’d seen quite a bit, considering she was a virgin and she wasn’t engaged to him at all. But he wanted more. He wanted to break down her reserves. He wanted to know how she really felt about him. But what if she asked the same thing of him? What would he say? He didn’t know. He only knew his feelings were changing by the day, by the minute. Every meeting with her revealed a new layer of her personality. It was like peeling an onion. He’d only just begun, and he didn’t want to stop.
What else did he want? He couldn’t deny he wanted to make love to her. There was a chemistry between them; there had been since he’d first set eyes on her at his cousin’s wedding. She wasn’t his type, he’d known that from the beginning also. That didn’t stop him from pursuing her. She must feel the attraction, too, no matter how hard she tried to put him off. He couldn’t be the only one. But he didn’t know if she’d continue to resist him. Or how far he would go, knowing she was a virgin.
He left on Friday afternoon, choosing to drive on Highway One, taking the scenic route south from San Francisco. He thought about calling Anne before he left, but he was afraid if he told her his plans, she’d express surprise and no pleasure. He didn’t know what he’d do then. He could go anyway or stay home. This way if she didn’t want him there, it would be too late. She’d have to deal with his presence, unless she just ignored him. He didn’t like that idea and he had no contingency plan, unless it was to walk the dunes by himself, a lonely figure tramping about in the mist, which might encourage her to feel somewhat sympathetic toward him. But he couldn’t count on that.