"See, even then I was sending you secret messages."
She laughed. "Sure," she said. "How did you ever find me?"
"It took some detective work. I had a shoot in Kansas City, so I decided to take a little side trip one day. Of course, your mom was gone, and nobody knew how to get hold of either of you. So I went to see your Uncle Ralph and got your address and phone number. And voila."
"I can't believe it's really you. After trying to find you for years, I finally gave up. To think you were here, so close all the time, and I didn't know it. What does your wife think of this?"
"I never married. And I'm sorry, because I regret not having children. How many do you have? You had one the last time I heard from you."
"Three. A girl and two boys; Vicki, Scott, and Zach. They're all grown now, and I'm even a grandmother. Vicki has a beautiful little three-year-old girl. Scott is married with no children, and Zach is still single."
"And your mom?"
"Pretty senile. That's why I'm here. I live with her and take care of her. She gets along pretty well in the daytime, and I have a neighbor who comes in with her while I'm at work. But I think she's developing Alzheimer's and will need to go into a nursing home one of these days. Poor darling, she gets so disoriented."
"God, I'm so sorry. She was a beautiful woman."
"Still is, but enough of that. When are you coming to see me?"
"How's tomorrow sound?"
"Fantastic. I can't wait to see you."
She gave him directions to her house, and they talked for almost two hours before they finally hung up. She told him she was divorced, but he didn't ask for any details, nor did she offer any. They had more interesting things to talk about, especially since they hadn't seen each other in so long. The excitement she felt was indescribable. After all these years, she would see the love of her life, the one man she loved more than life itself.
Shocks of delight rippled through her, and her mind was ajangle, too excited to work right. That afternoon she rummaged through her closet, wondering what to wear, and settled at last on a pair of cream-colored slacks and a pale peach sweater, which she hung on the closet door. Too restless to sit still, she asked Judy from next door to sit with her mother while she went for a run.
That night, she hardly slept at all. Every time she rolled over in bed, beating her pillow to make it more comfortable, her heart pounded so violently she had to sit up and take deep breaths to calm it down. She had no idea how she would live through the hours until he finally arrived.
What would he look like? She closed her eyes and saw him at twenty, the way she remembered him. He'd be fifty-six now. Did he have gray hair? Would he still love her in some way? He must, or he would never have tried to find her.
She thought of the willow tree at Waters End and her first trip to California. Every time she looked through the window at the night sky, she thought of Juliet's speech about Romeo in the stars. When she squinted, she could see David's face in the night sky.
Shamelessly, Anne remembered the nights with him beneath the willow tree. The willow tree, always the willow tree, was so much a part her memories of him. If she thought of love, the willow tree appeared before her and she saw his face, unearthly in the moonlight, a Michelangelo in the flesh.
When the doorbell rang and he actually stood there before her, the years fell away. She was nineteen again, and before her was the man she had always loved. Now he was all silver-blond hair and bronzed skin. But the eyes were the same, and the smile could belong to only one person on the planet. He opened his arms and she clung to him, not quite believing what was happening.
"David, are you really here?" she asked as he kissed her cheek.
"Sure feels like it." He held her at arm's length. "Let me look at you. Beautiful as ever," he said. "Are you going to invite me inside, or are we going to stand out here all day and scandalize the neighbors?"
She led him through the front door. "Sorry, darling. I've made a pot of coffee. Let's go out back," she said, leading him to a wicker chair on the sun porch overlooking the garden.
"Are you sure we're not caught in some kind of time warp?" David said. "You look the same, and this is just like your house in Kansas. Did a tornado pick it up and carry it here?"
She laughed. "Maybe is the answer to both questions."
"Where's your mom?"
"You'll see her later. She's in bed right now; she seems to be sleeping her life away," she said. "But then she's in her eighties, so I guess I have to expect it. It's just hard to accept, I suppose because it means I have to accept my own mortality, too. And your parents?"
"We lost my mom in 1974. Cirrhosis of the liver," he said, looking away. "She always drank too much. It got worse after I was born, but she hid it well."
She touched his hand. "I'm so sorry. I loved her."
"And she loved you. She always hoped we'd marry. But she wasn't what she seemed, you know. I spent half my childhood dragging her out of bars. It was easier once I was old enough to drive. Sober, she was adorable. Drinking . . . not so nice."
"I would never have known," she said. Tears stung Anne's eyes, but she blinked them away, thinking how little she really knew about his family then. "And your father?"
"Never liked me much, but that's not important," he said. "His health is not good; he has dementia. Doesn't recognize me. He's in a nursing home in Arizona. I don't see him much because this business I'm in keeps me traveling all over the world doing shoots.
"There have been a few movies, too, but I'm a lousy actor. Have you seen Corporate Blues? I was in that one," he said
"Sure. It was a stitch, but I don't recall seeing you, and I would have remembered."
"No you wouldn't. I'm the guy in the hospital, all wrapped up like a mummy," he said. "I couldn't remember my lines, so they let me play the accident victim."
Anne laughed. "Oh, I remember that scene. Didn't you have your leg in traction?"
"Yes. Now every time the film plays I get a big seven-dollar residual check." He chuckled. "There are definite advantages to being a card-carrying actor."
"You know, it's eerie. Here I've looked for you for years and years, and never found you. Then you find me with no effort at all. I used to come out here every summer to see Mom, go to libraries and look through phone books, run around trying to find your family, but I found nothing. Not a thing. And suddenly, here you are."
"I've had you on my mind for so long," he said. "It's about time I found you."
All she could think about as she sat there in the soft summer breeze was holding him, touching him. How she desperately wanted to jump up out of her chair and throw herself into his arms, but she didn’t dare be so forward. If their love sparked again, it would have to come from him.
"There's a spectacular cove near here that I think you'll like," she said. "Let's drive over there. My neighbor Judy will come over to sit with Mom."
She called Judy, who was at her door in minutes. Anne introduced David and said they would be gone a couple of hours at the most.
He took her hand and led her to his car. "Let's go. I owe you an explanation for the way I treated you."
You certainly do, she thought.
Chapter 21
As they drove along the coast north of Santa Barbara, Anne stroked the white leather seat of David's BMW. "I can tell you've been successful," she said.
"I've done all right," he said. "My acting skills have improved, and commercials pay pretty well. Plus there is always plenty of photography work."
"So you live in Hollywood now?"
He nodded. "Laurel Canyon. And I have a little place in Palm Desert where I spend a lot of weekends."
She let out a low whistle. "Wow. Didn't know my old boyfriend was rich," she said.
"Nah," he said. "Just got lucky and bought before California turned into a real-estate gold mine. But that's another story. Tell me about you. What happened to Tully? I thought he was the love of your life."
"He was
n't. We ended up divorced, and he died in a car accident about six months ago. We'll go into that some other time." She touched his arm. "Now I know who the love of my life was, you." He didn't say anything but kept his eyes on the road, so Anne decided not to say more.
Keeping her eyes off him wasn't easy. So many years had passed, and she never thought she would find him. Now that he was here beside her, she couldn't see enough of him. She wished she could just sit and look at him forever.
Age had ripened him, adding character to his chiseled face. The laugh lines around his eyes and mouth gave him even more warmth, and the silver in his hair contrasted vividly with his skin. He was bigger than she remembered, obviously a late bloomer who had filled out and grown up late. Although his hips were still slim, his chest and arms were large and well developed now, and she thought he was perhaps an inch taller.
Years ago, when they were lovers, David was a boy. Now he was a man, and she found him even more appealing than before. He was still the most beautiful man she had ever seen.
"We're there," she said. "Make a left at that dirt road."
They wound down the narrow trail to a cleft in some boulders, then turned to the right and came upon a quiet cove with a narrow wooden bridge at the end. A man with a big German shepherd ran along the water, but otherwise the cove was deserted.
"God, Annie, this reminds me of our Water's End."
She took his hand. "That's what I call it. It's like a little piece of us has been transplanted here. I come here often to write in my journal or paint. It's a good place to set up an easel."
They walked out on the little bridge, which traversed a small stream that ran down to the sea, where gulls wheeled above huge whitecaps. David looked out toward the horizon. "I've thought so often about Water's End," he said. "And you."
As hard as she tried to contain the joy she felt, she knew it probably showed. Judy, her next-door neighbor, had noticed it when she came over after David's call the day before.
"Well, aren't we all smiles today?" Judy said. "You look like the cat that just ate the parakeet."
"Don't you mean the canary?"
"Nah," Judy said. "My cat prefers parakeets. They have more meat on them."
As she walked along, holding David's hand, she quivered inwardly. Play it cool, she told herself. Take it easy. Don't seem too forward. Let him be the one to take the lead.
He stroked her hand, sending chills of delight up her neck. "I have to tell you something," he said.
She leaned toward him, perhaps too eagerly. "What is it?"
"I love you."
It was what she had waited almost a lifetime to hear. If lightning struck her right now, she wouldn't mind, because she would die fulfilled. She had gone from love to emptiness and back to love. Her search was over.
"But that's not what I came here to tell you. You deserve to know that what happened to us had nothing to do with you; it was me."
"What was it, then?" Anne said.
He blinked several times and cleared his throat. "Remember when I started losing all that weight and you were so worried about me after we broke up? I met a wealthy man in Kansas City and had an affair with him. I wanted to be done with women.
"We were staying up all hours, going out to bars, and drinking way too much. I liked the attention and the lifestyle, but I couldn't stand making love with him. Besides, I was working two jobs and driving back and forth from the city. No wonder I looked like crap."
He cleared his throat. "He was my only gay affair."
Anne felt let down. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I just couldn't," he said. "It all sounded so sordid, and you know how hush-hush such things were then."
"But you said you loved me."
"Yes. If I have ever loved any woman, it is you, but I can't love you the way you need to be loved. I wish I could." He turned back toward the sea.
Surely this had to be a joke. Was he telling her he was gay? She had never met a more masculine man in her life. Why was he doing this? "But you've lived with women, haven't you? You sent me pictures of you with that starlet."
"Yes. When I first moved back here, I lived with a couple of women, but it never worked because I was still in love with you. But by then I heard you were married, so there was no chance for me."
Anne was astonished. "Why did you leave without a word if you loved me so much? I only married Tully because you didn't want me."
"I thought you loved him."
"It was youth and hormones," she said. "I thought I would never love anyone again the way I loved you, so I settled, and it was a horrible mistake. When the ring went on, he changed, turned into a control freak and a verbal abuser. Then he started hitting me. I don't know which was worse, the verbal abuse or the violence. The last time he hit me, I left him. I was afraid he would kill me eventually. He might have if I stayed."
"Why didn't you leave him sooner?"
"I had three children and no education. How was I supposed to support them?"
David touched her shoulder. "It would have been hard, but you could have done it."
Anne shook her head. "Not really. My therapist says I had learned-helplessness syndrome. If you put a mouse in a box with a shelf in it, then electrify the bottom of the box, the mouse will leap up on the shelf to escape being shocked.
"If you take away the shelf," she said, "the mouse will try to jump off the floor for a while, but since it can't escape, it will finally just lie down and give up. That's learned helplessness. In humans it is the end result of gradually escalating abuse, both verbal and physical."
"I'm so sorry, darling." He drew her into his arms. She put her arms around his neck, but he pushed her back and looked into her face. "I love you, always have, and always will—but it's too late for us."
"What do you mean?"
"Anne, I can't ever make love to you or anyone else again. Five years after I left the army, I had prostate cancer, and I've had so much radiation and chemo that nothing works anymore." He looked away.
"It doesn't matter, my darling." She put her arms around him but felt him stiffen and pull away, just as he had so long ago.
"It matters to me. You deserve better. I've had several recurrences, the last one only four years ago, and I never know when it will be back. It keeps popping up in different places. The last time was in my stomach, but they got it all, I hope. We can be friends, but you can't expect anything more from me."
"David, I'm so sorry. Thank you for telling me," she said, feeling dead inside. "I do need to leave now. I told Judy we'd only be gone an hour or so, and I should let her get back home. She's so good to sit with my mom so I can get out from time to time."
Just as they had in their youth, they chatted aimlessly as they drove back to her house.
"I had forgotten how much I loved being with you," he said. "And you're even more fun now." He fixed his eyes on her, then leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "Friends?"
"Forever."
Without knowing how, she got out of the car and into the house. She knew she walked there under her own power, because she ended up in her living room, where she sank down on the sofa and cried what felt like gallons. After she ran out of tissues, she resorted to using paper towels, which scratched her nose.
For the next week she was a sleepwalker, aimlessly drifting through life. She went to work, took care of her mother, wrote in her journal, talked with Judy, but all the time she knew there was a block of ice where her heart had been, and nothing would ever thaw it.
Although she was a prolific writer and had sold lots of poetry during the past few years, her muse disappeared. But surprisingly, instead of falling apart the way she usually did, she thought about what David had told her, replaying their conversation over and over. Then logic began to take hold. So what if he can't make love anymore. I don't care. What matters is that I love him, and he loves me. At this point I'll take what I can get and be thankful for it.
He phoned two weeks to the day after
his last call. "Anne," he said, "I want you be my guest at my house in Palm Desert for Valentine's Day. I've arranged for a nurse to take care of your mom, so she'll be fine. Now all you have to do is pack a suitcase, and I'll pick you up Friday morning."
"Sounds wonderful." Anne thought it was another one of her crazy dreams, but reality sank in when her mother asked who was on the phone.
"It was David, mother. You remember, my old boyfriend."
"Who?" Agnes asked, and promptly fell asleep in her rocking chair without waiting for an answer.
Was it possible that David Hawkins really had called her, invited her to his house for Valentine's Day, and told her he loved her? It was too unreal. She didn't understand, nor did she know what to make of it, so she turned it into what she wanted, what she hoped for. This man loved her; he had said so. How or why, she didn't care.
Waiting was an agony for her. Lord, how I hate to wait for anything, and how I love instant gratification. She jogged, she shopped after work, she set up her easel in the back yard and painted—anything to make the time go faster.
After what seemed like eons, Friday finally rolled around, the nurse arrived, and David was there to pick her up. They became reacquainted as they drove across I-10 to Palm Springs, where they rubbernecked a bit.
"Palm Springs is no longer the place to live," David said. "Now Palm Desert is in and the Springs is out. But there are a lot of old stars' homes here," he said, as they went down some side streets. They passed the first house Bob Hope built in Palm Springs, which looked rather modest. "Look," he said, "there's Bing Crosby's original house. And that's where Louie Prima and Keely Smith lived."
The quaint main street reminded her of her little hometown, with its one-story buildings and storefronts. "Oh, there's the Follies," David said. "I'll have to take you there sometime. The stars are all former showgirls. Senior citizens, but they look so young you'd never know it. And they're all wonderful," he said before they headed out to Palm Desert.
Water's End Page 18