She wondered if she were losing her mind. Each day was torture, sitting in the same office with him, just across from his desk, thinking all sorts of things. When Betty was out of the office, he seemed to gaze out the window a lot, lost in thought.
Every night at home, she tried to fill the empty hours, eating a solitary dinner in front of the fire, staring blankly at the television or listening to music.
Sometimes she tried to read but found the pages a blur; she couldn’t concentrate. The empty chair next to hers, the bed with no one in it except her, all underlined the abandonment she felt, and she gave in to great waves of sobs.
What caused her to attract men like Joe and David?
She wasn't needy. In fact, she really didn't ask for anything. Perhaps she had given too much, losing herself in trying to please the man she loved. Did she talk too much? Joe was naturally quiet, but not David, who talked as much as she did, more sometimes.
Every night was the same. She wrestled her mind into exhaustion, alternately crying and attempting to understand what had gone wrong. But no matter how she tried, none of it made any sense. Finally, she simply gave up, mechanically getting up every morning and going through the motions of working every day. At least I'm functioning, sort of, she thought.
The first of November, David showed up at the office looking distraught and came straight over to Anne's desk.
"Can you take me to the airport tonight? My Grandma Hawkins had a stroke," he said, voice trembling, "and they don't expect her to live. Mom called me last night. I have compassionate leave. The chaplain called the airline and reserved me a ticket."
That night, as Anne drove David to the airport in Kansas City, they were lost in thought, and neither of them said a word. Remembering his grandmother's lively spirit and engaging smile, Anne prayed silently. Before he boarded the plane, she threw her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek with tears in her eyes. For an instant, he held her close, and then hurried to the gangway.
After David left, Anne was lonelier than she had ever been in her life. Staring at his empty desk at work only made it worse; before, he had been physically present, even if he had retreated somewhere inside himself. Now he was really gone. Missing him with every fiber of her being, she was on the verge of tears most days.
The next ten days passed with no word from David. She wondered how his grandmother was, how his family was holding up, and how he was. She felt as if she had lost him forever, and now she herself was lost.
Interrupting her thoughts, Major Cord, one of the few bachelors who worked in the Adjutant General's office, walked into her office. The day before she had sent him a note through the message center, telling him about some corrections made to his personnel record.
"Thanks for getting everything straightened out," he said. "My records have been a mess for a long time now, ever since I was at Fort Bragg." He flipped approvingly through his personnel file. "Why don't you let me buy you dinner tonight to show my appreciation?"
"Sounds good to me," she answered. Anne liked the tall young fellow who had been in her office several times in recent weeks. He was nice looking in a Germanic sort of way, with dark hair and dark eyes like her grandmother Snyder, whose parents were Bavarian. And he told funny little anecdotes that cheered her up. Perhaps if she went out with him, it would make David jealous, wake him up.
"I'll pick you up at seven. By the way, please call me Louie. Everyone does."
"Okay, Louie it is," she said. Smiling, Anne gave him directions to her house, but after he left, she wondered if she could be insane. Why, she asked herself, am I going out with another man when I am in love with David?
That evening, Louis arrived at her house promptly at seven o'clock. "I thought we'd go to the club since we have work tomorrow," he said, opening the door of his red Corvette for her. "If it's all right with you. Next time, we'll make it someplace nice, in the city."
She had never been to the officer's club and was surprised at how plush it was. The hostess showed them to a glassed-in porch overlooking an Olympic-sized swimming pool. They sat at a table with a white cloth, gold-rimmed china, fine crystal, and sterling silver. Candles in hurricane lamps lit the porch and glowed in the adjoining dining room.
Through the window she could see across the pool to the golf course and the hills beyond as the sun sank low in the sky beneath pink cotton-candy clouds. Suddenly, she felt sad, remembering that Water's End lay just beyond those hills.
Louis droned on and on about his career and his tour of duty in Germany, but she was so bored she was afraid she would fall asleep. What if I nod off and my head falls in my plate? I wish this evening would end. Hurry up, Louie, eat your dinner and be done with it.
Here she was, living out the local girls' fantasy, dating an army officer, but she wasn't enjoying it. Louie was nice enough; in fact, he was a lovely man.
Trouble was, he wasn't David, and she compared everything about him to David. It wasn't fair; not to Louie, not to David, and not to her. And she felt guilty, even though she hadn't done anything wrong. After all, she and David weren't engaged. Still, she was glad when the evening was over.
"I'll call you next week," Louie said at her door.
Dodging his attempt at a kiss, she said, "Thank you for a lovely evening." She quickly stepped inside her front door. She wished she hadn't gone out with Louie, and she wished David were home. It didn't matter if he wasn't ready for marriage yet.
Nothing mattered except being with David. Perhaps fate does design one perfect person for us, she told herself. And once we find that person, the important thing is to hang on for all we're worth. Because it may never happen again.
David was gone for another week. When Louie called her that weekend, Anne said she had a cold and didn't feel like going out. She decided not to tell David about her date with Louie. Given time to think about it, she knew her plan to make him jealous was stupid, and she couldn't believe she ever thought such a ploy would work.
When David finally came back, she was so glad to hear his voice on the phone that she could think of nothing but being with him. "Rough trip," he said. "Just wanted to let you know I made it back okay."
He yawned out loud. "Gram's doing better. She's home now with a live-in nurse. Can't talk any more right now; I'm too tired. Dogged out after flying the redeye. See you tomorrow," he said.
The next night he followed her home from work, and she cooked his favorite roast chicken. Instead of eating dinner, though, they wound up making love on her living room floor.
"I can tell you missed me," Anne said afterwards, slipping back into her button-down shirt and an old pair of jeans.
"Yes," was the only word he said as he reached for her again, tugging until he had her jeans off. He knelt on the floor before her, his arms wrapped around her knees, kissing her legs and thighs. As she shuddered with delight, he slid her panties down and ran his hands up under her shirt, unbuttoning it from the bottom up. Before she knew it, she was back on the floor with him, matching and returning his passion with a new intensity.
As he entered her, she looked up at his face, lit by the moonlight that streamed through the high windows beside the fireplace. Anne knew that no matter where she went, no matter what she did, she would always see him like that in her memory, filled with love, the expression on his face sublime.
He kissed her eyelids, her ears, her neck, before returning to her lips. His searching, insistent tongue did magical things to her mouth while his hands caressed her breasts. Each touch brought her closer and closer to the edge. Then, as wave after wave of sensation arched her back, she felt him shudder, and his heat filled her.
As if from a distance, she heard a sob and realized it had come from her. She was crying.
"My God," he gasped, pulling back from her. "Have I hurt you?"
"No," she said as tears slid down her cheeks. She pulled him close again, raising her body toward him. "It's just so beautiful. I've never felt like this before. I can't help cryi
ng."
"I'm glad, so glad," he said, tenderly brushing the tears from her face.
Later, they bathed together, slipped into just their shirts, and built a fire in the fireplace.
Her grandma's old walnut table, lit by two tall candles, glowed with her best china and crystal. "Let's eat," she said. "It's been warmed over but still tastes pretty good."
He ate ravenously. "Good, good, good," he said, grinning slyly at her, "and the food's pretty good, too."
After they finished eating, he helped wash the dishes and plopped down into a wing chair by the hearth. "Come here, woman I love," he said, pulling her into his lap and rocking her like a big rag doll. He kissed her nose and each of her fingers. "Just look out the window at all the stars up there tonight."
"They make me think of Juliet's speech when she's waiting for Romeo to come to her on their wedding night, '. . . and when he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars, and he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night and pay no worship to the garish sun.' Beautiful, isn't it?"
"Romantic, but rather grim, don't you think?"
She hugged him. "I'm glad you're back. I've missed you so. Stay here tonight. You don't have to go back to the post, do you, since it's Friday?"
"Sorry, babe, but I've got a GI party tonight; we're cleaning the barracks. Inspection tomorrow." He looked at his watch. "Wow, I'd better get back."
"You aren't working this weekend are you? I'm not."
"No, I saved this weekend just for you," he said. "I'm all yours tomorrow afternoon and all day Sunday. No photo shoots, no nothing. Just us two. What say we have a picnic here in front of the fire tomorrow?" His eyes sparkled in the candlelight. "We can have leftover chicken . . . and other good things."
Nodding, she giggled and hugged him.
"I'll call you tomorrow morning," he said, standing to go. "Love you."
Reluctantly, she led him to the door, and he almost made it over the threshold. But their kiss led him instead to her bed, where they hurriedly made love again. When at last he left, Anne was too exhausted to move and fell into a deep, love-drugged sleep.
The next morning, she thought of all the errands she should be running while she waited for David's call. She was content to clean house instead. But he didn't call. Worried, she finally phoned the barracks about three o'clock, but David's friend Gary, who answered, said he wasn't there.
"Do you know where he went?" she said. "He said he'd call me."
"No, I haven't seen him."
"Oh," she said, disappointed. "If you see him, would you ask him to give me a call?"
"Okay."
By five she still hadn't heard from him, and she climbed in the car and drove out to the barracks. His car was in the parking lot, so she went back home and dialed the barracks again.
Once again, Gary answered the phone. "No, I haven't seen David," he said.
"But his car is out front."
"Yeah? Well, maybe he's out with someone else."
She couldn't understand it. David had never done anything like this before. The rest of the evening and on into the night she paced the floor, waiting for a phone call that never came, and crying. Sunday was the same.
She decided not to call the barracks again. Either he really wasn't there, or if he was, no one would tell her. So she cried all day, until her eyes were swollen and her nose all red. Monday morning she looked so awful she called in sick; she couldn't imagine going to work like that.
By Tuesday she felt better, and the swelling had gone down, so she went to the office. She had to know what had happened, but David avoided her all morning.
Finally, when Betty and Sergeant Traynor went to lunch, Anne walked over to his desk. "David, what's going on?” she asked. “Why didn't you call this weekend? You promised we'd spend some time together."
"Why?" he said, bringing his fist down on the desk. A cup of pencils flew to the floor and scattered.
She was taken aback. "David."
"Why did you go out with some officer while I was gone? My friend Dale saw you drive by the barracks in a red sports car with him. What's the matter, an enlisted man not good enough for you?" Jaws clenched, he looked off to one side but wouldn't meet her eyes.
"Don't think you own me, David Hawkins," she said. "We're not married. We're not even engaged. In fact, I don't know what we are. Are we going steady? Is that it? And for how long? Forever? Or am I supposed to just be your woman until you are transferred, and then it's on to another one? Am I just another one of your flings, like your Korean girl? I thought we had something special."
"You were something special. I loved you, but the minute my back was turned, you were out with another man."
"No, it wasn't like that."
"No? Then what was it like?" he said, striding out the door.
She ran after him. "David, I'm sorry. I was trying to make you jealous. I shouldn't have gone out with him."
He turned to her, white-faced. "Go out with him all you want. You have my blessings. Just stay away from me." He turned on his heel and strode out the door.
Chapter 13
She had endured, survived things that could break many women, but nothing had prepared her for this shunning by the man she loved. Her stupid plan, innocent though it was, had backfired.
It wasn't as if she had slept with Louie or entertained ideas of a romance with him. She had simply wanted to jar David awake, get his attention.
Now he wouldn't forgive her. Worse yet, he would never trust her again.
"'Morning," David muttered to her when she came in to work the following day.
He probably wouldn't even have said that if she hadn't run into him in the hallway just as Sergeant Traynor arrived. For the next three days he didn't say another word to her. She was back to being invisible, where David was concerned.
She was an empty vessel, contents splattered across a wall of indifference. Nothing could be as intense or as painful as what she was feeling now that she was forced to spend each workday in the same office with the man who no longer loved her, but whom she knew she would love until her last breath.
Contempt glinted in his narrowed eyes when he accidentally looked at her; it was evident in his body language and the way he avoided her. Even worse was the hurt that clouded his face, tugging down at the corners of his mouth. His sadness was obvious, not only to Anne, but to others, who asked him what was wrong.
"Nothing. I'm okay," was his standard reply, but he wasn't very good at faking it.
Knowing she was the cause of his anguish pained her more than his silent treatment. She could see the change in him, see the dejection in his sagging posture. When he sat pensively staring at a spot on the floor, his thick, sooty lashes downcast, he looked so miserable she wanted nothing more than to rush over and hold him in her arms. Knowing she couldn't comfort him was an exercise in agony.
Her pain couldn't have been worse had she cut out her own heart with a piece of jagged glass. She ached for him, and for the second time in her life, thought of killing herself. The first time had been during her marriage to Joe, before David came to work in her office. She had felt hopeless then. This was different, though. Now she just wanted to stop hurting. Death would be a welcome release from her constant, unendurable pain.
There were all sorts of ways. She could drive off the bridge into the muddy Missouri River or run her car into a tree at high speed. She could think of hundreds of ways. Yet, in spite of the many times a day she thought of dying, she was never able to move herself to actually do it. Instead, day by wretched day, she began to heal.
For the next couple of weeks he continued to ignore her, but she could tell his anger was beginning to weaken. The man didn't have the heart for it, and soon they were exchanging a few pleasantries here and there. She was able to hope again.
One afternoon they happened to meet in the parking lot after work. "David, I can't stand this anymore,” she said. “Please forgive me."
He looked away. "I don't know if I can. We can never go back to where we were."
"I know. But you have to know I didn't mean to hurt you."
Through gritted teeth, he said, "Do you really expect me to believe that? You remind me of that woman Elizabeth Taylor played in Butterfield Eight."
The movie was about a call girl; saying she was like that character was the same as calling her a whore. Anne looked away, but not before David noticed the glimmer of tears.
"Hey, I take that back," he said. "I was angry. It was low of me to talk to you like that."
Wordlessly, she ran to her car.
He caught up with her as she unlocked her car door. "Hey, Annie," he said, holding out his arms. "I'm sorry."
With a sob she flung herself into his arms, oblivious to the other people heading for their cars after work.
"Annie," he said, pushing her away, "we're providing quite a show here. Let's get in the car. Slide over."
They drove to the lake and parked, sitting in silence for some time. Anne took his hand in hers. "I know I really hurt you," she said. The expression on his face confirmed it. "And I'm sorry."
His hand lay limply in hers. "I know, babe, it's just that I've been hurt too many times. I can't forget what's happened, no matter how hard I try. No matter how much I want to. Why couldn't you have believed in me?"
Sighing, Anne laid her head on the steering wheel. "I didn't think you loved me. Down deep, I thought you were just using me, I guess."
"You were wrong," he said, touching her shoulder. "I've just had a lot on my mind."
"Oh, God. I've ruined everything." Anne quietly began to cry.
"Hey, take it easy," he said. "We can still be friends. Okay? Let's go out with others and then see how we feel about each other. We'll take it from there and see what happens."
Although she clung to him, craving his embrace, she sensed things would never be the same. No matter how she tried, there was no real response from him.
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