by Unknown
"Stacy, we're waiting for you to model for us." She heard Drew's voice come from just beyond the curtains. Admiring herself in the mirror was one thing; facing Drew was another. She swallowed, gathering her nerve, pushed aside the drapes, and stepped out. She saw Drew leaning nonchalantly against a rack of clothes, his hands thrust into his pockets, straining the fabric across his muscular thighs.
Dorothy spoke first. "That's a darling jacket, perfect for a pool or the beach."
"How 'bout the suit?" Drew drawled his words.
"It's fine… it fits."
"Aren't you going to show us?"
Tapping his shoulder reprovingly, Dorothy said, "Stop it, Drew."
"Mother, I thought Stacy might value our opinion," he finished audaciously as he stepped in front of Stacy. In a blink of an eye he had untied the bows and was pushing the fabric back over her shoulders.
"I'll do it myself," she hissed. "Move back."
"Anything to oblige." His lazy smile was unrepentant, and he never let his eyes stray as she shrugged off the jacket.
Stacy could feel the heat from the blood rushing to the surface of her skin while Drew's eyes wandered down her body.
"All you need is a tan."
Dorothy was enthusiastic. "It looks marvelous. Oh, I envy you young girls. You can get away with wearing a suit like that."
"Should we buy you one, Mother?" He winked at Stacy. "I'm sure your figure is a lot better than many we see on the beaches."
"Oh, no… my days for a bikini are over."
"I'll go change," Stacy told them, holding the jacket in front of her like a shield.
"It's a shame to cover it up. We'll plan a trip to the beach as soon as the weather warms up." Drew's eyes captured hers and she was unsure how to take his offer. He sounded sincere… but perhaps it was affected just for his mother. She wrenched her eyes away, mumbled her agreement, and then scurried back behind the curtains.
Once she had dressed, she carried the articles over to the cash desk and wrote a check for her purchases, refusing to consider when she might have the opportunity to wear them.
The three of them had covered several more shops when Dorothy checked her watch. "I think we should start walking to the Houston Oaks Hotel. If we take these stairs, we'll come out near the lobby. I arranged to meet the Campbells there at four."
They reached the hotel lobby in a few minutes and her son asked, "Will I see you again before you leave?"
"No. I plan to drive home first thing in the morning."
"Do you have enough gas? Many stations are closed on Sunday."
"Yes, dear, I filled the car yesterday. After dinner the Montgomerys are stopping by and they'll take me back to their home. Satisfied?"
He gave a lopsided grin. "Yes, as usual you have everything well organized."
"Where do you think you got your organizational ability?"
"From Dad," he quipped.
"Oh, ho… thanks." She turned to Stacy. "Do you think you can handle this patronizing son of mine?"
"I'll try."
"Well, I wish you good luck." She gave her son a baleful glance. "I like this young lady, so don't scare her off before the wedding… I think I'm even looking forward to being a grandmother."
"Slow down! First I have to get the ring on her finger."
"Well, don't take too long."
"I won't."
Drew's words acted like a swift blow to Stacy's heart. She understood it was all part of the act, but simultaneously she wished he had spoken the truth.
While they were talking, Dorothy's friends pulled up outside the glass doors, and Drew's mother, observing their arrival, said to Stacy, "I'm glad we had this chance to get to know each other a little better." She hugged the girl. "Let me know when the wedding is to be."
"Yes, of course. Have a good trip back."
"Thank you, dear." And to Drew: "Take care of yourself, son." She kissed him lightly on the cheek. "You've found yourself a wonderful girl."
Drew put his arm around Stacy's shoulders, drawing her close. "Yes, I know." He glanced down at Stacy and then back to his mother. "Thanks for making the drive up, and thank the Montgomerys again for all their trouble."
"They were happy to do it. Well, good-bye for now."
Drew's and Stacy's voices blended as they bade her farewell. He kept his arm where it was even after Dorothy had waved and the car moved away.
He gave her a considering look. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"
"No, of course not. I like your mother."
"Good… Well, where would you like to go now? And don't say home. This weather is too good to waste."
Inordinately pleased, Stacy suggested, "We could go for a drive in the country."
"What! Haven't you heard of the gasoline shortage?" His eyes crinkled as he grinned. "I have an idea…"
"What is it?"
"I'll let it be a surprise."
A little frustrated, she said, "You like surprises, don't you?"
"Yup. Anticipation is half the enjoyment. Come on, let's go find my car."
Stacy was kept in suspense as Drew drove around the highway loop and exited downtown. It wasn't until they drove north past the medical center that she began to have a glimmer of an idea.
As the tires crunched through the loose gravel in the parking lot, Stacy said enthusiastically, "I haven't been to Herman Park in ages."
"Well, it isn't the country, but there are plenty of trees."
The grass was springy beneath their feet, and Drew imprisoned one of Stacy's hands in his own brown one as they strolled under the great old oak trees.
Everywhere she looked she saw children—playing, laughing, fighting. There were even a few people on horseback from the nearby livery stable.
"Just a minute." Drew dropped Stacy's hand and loped away. She followed him with her eyes. His slacks outlined his muscular legs with each stride and the knit shirt stretched over the whipcord muscles of his back. As he slowed to a stop before the hot dog stand, he brushed his blond hair back from his forehead.
Within five minutes he returned, carrying three hot dogs in one large hand and a can of soft drink in the other.
"Hungry?"
"What if I said no… ?"
"Then I'd eat them myself."
"Oh, no, I can't let you do that." Playfully, she grabbed one and skipped back, biting into the end with her strong, white teeth. She made a face as the mustard oozed out and ran the tip of her tongue around her lips.
"You missed a spot." Drew leaned forward and with his tongue flicked the spot beside her mouth. "Hmm. Interesting flavor." Drew licked his own lips and smiled impudently as Stacy, her pulses racing from the fleeting contact, recovered her equilibrium.
"Didn't you bring any napkins?"
"Don't need any, do we?" He gave her an amused glance.
"Guess not." She diverted her eyes and watched the playing children. She munched on the rest of her hot dog and then, in the absence of napkins, licked her fingers. Drew had opened the can of cola and offered it to her.
"Thanks." The effervescent bubbles cooled her mouth and throat and she handed it back to him, absently listening to some pre-schoolers at the nearby swings. She smiled to herself as she heard a little girl who looked to be about five instructing her younger brother.
"Hold on, Stuart, so I can push you."
"No," came a surprisingly deep voice.
"I won't be your sister anymore," she tried threatening.
"No!"
Shaking her head in amusement, Stacy walked over and offered, "Can I help?"
The big brown eyes gazed soulfully up at her. "He won't hold on so I can push him."
"Maybe he doesn't want to swing," she suggested seriously, crouching down to the child's level.
"Yes, he does; he won't obey me."
"Can I try?"
This was met with a vigorous nod. Stacy turned to the little boy and said, "Stuart, do you want me to push you?" He just gave her a blank look, so she
tried again: "Do you want to swing?"
Slowly, he nodded his head. Hallelujah! She had found the right phrase. Putting one small hand around each of the swing's chains, she warned him, "Hold on tight!"
She pushed, gently at first, and a bit higher when he proved he could stay on. Finally, he scuffed his feet in the dirt, effectively stopping the swing. "Well, at least he's got that right," she muttered softly with a wry twist of her lips. He turned to look at her, offering a wide smile, before he ran off to one of the slides.
"Looks like you've been deserted," came a voice close to her ear.
"Yup, seems that way," she said somewhat wistfully. The little boy's straight blond hair had unexpectedly reminded her of Drew.
"Ready to go?" Drew's voice dispelled the enchantment.
"Lead on."
Fifteen minutes later, Drew pulled up before Stacy's home.
"Wow, what a day," she said.
He switched off the ignition and turned to look at her. "I'm glad it worked out."
Stacy, affected by the disturbing expression in his eyes, decided to steer toward safer waters. "I like your mother."
"Most people do."
"Well"—she lowered her lashes—"I'd better be getting in, or Dad will wonder what's keeping me."
As she started up the stairs she heard his firm footsteps right behind her. But then her attention was caught by the sound of the telephone ringing inside the apartment. She ran up the rest of the stairs, fumbled with the key in the lock, and pushed open the door.
Sprinting to the kitchen phone, she grabbed it and, drawing a deep breath, she said, "Hello. Davidson residence."
"May I speak to Mr. Pitman?" The feminine voice on the line was elusively familiar, and for a second Stacy feared it was Jennifer. She was still trying to place the voice as she handed the phone to Drew. "It's for you."
While he listened to the caller, Stacy, restless, got a glass out of the cupboard, filled it with ice and tap water. She heard the ice cracking and, trying not to eavesdrop on Drew's side of the conversation, she focused her concentration on the glass, swishing the cubes around and then sipping the cooled liquid.
After hanging up, Drew came over and stood before her. Stacy looked up and noticed his grim expression.
"Where's your liquor?"
A little shocked, Stacy mutely pointed and stood unmoving as he found a bottle and then searched until he located the glasses. He poured a bit in the bottom of a glass and handed it to her. "Drink this," he ordered.
"What?"
"Drink." She obeyed, realizing he wasn't going to offer any explanation until she had complied.
She grimaced after she swallowed the bitter spirits. "Now, tell me what this is about."
"That was Muriel Goodwin on the phone."
Her mind fit the piece in place and she said intuitively, "Has something happened to Dad?" She watched Drew hesitate. "Please… tell me!"
"He's had a heart attack."
"Oh, my God!"
Drew's hands shot out and supported her slumping body against his chest. "He's alive and under his doctor's care at the hospital."
"I've got to go to him." Her voice was little short of a wail.
"I'll drive you. You've got to pull yourself together. You can't see him like this." His voice was a firm command.
She took in a shuddering breath and, pushing away from him, said steadily, "Okay. I'm ready."
He surveyed her quickly. Then, taking her by the arm, they rushed out into the twilight.
Stacy never remembered much about the journey to the hospital. Stunned, she sat there whispering over and over to herself a prayer for help. Once they arrived, Drew took charge, and he led her through the maze of corridors.
Stacy felt cold, numb, chilled by the sterile, antiseptic hospital smells. Muriel and Katie were already there in the intensive-care waiting room when they arrived.
Stacy felt herself enfolded by Muriel. "I'm so sorry this happened. The doctor just told us that his condition has stabilized. Each minute he holds on improves his chances."
Standing back, Stacy quietly wiped her tears away before asking, "What happened? He was so chipper this morning."
"Your father's been under a lot of stress lately. His blood pressure has been way up, but he didn't want to worry you. I guess he just did too much."
"I've warned him about taking it easy—oh, why didn't he listen! I should have watched him better."
"Now, Stacy, you can't blame yourself. He's a grown man."
Stacy started to weep again and Drew guided her over to a sofa. Pressing her face against his shoulder, he held her securely, stroking her back.
At last she raised her head and he wiped the tears away with his handkerchief. Stacy gazed into his eyes, indescribably comforted by his silent understanding.
She saw him glance up at someone behind her and she twisted around. There stood Dr. MacIntyre, their family physician.
Reading the mute question in her eyes, he said, "He's doing as well as can be expected. Is this your fiancé?" At her nod, he continued: "Good. Your father specifically asked to see you both."
They followed him down the long, pale green corridor. Just before he pushed open the heavy door, Dr. MacIntyre warned her, "Don't be frightened by the equipment. It's all part of the monitoring system. I don't want you to stay more than five minutes, and whatever you do, don't upset him. You'll have to be brave… Ready?"
"Yes, Doctor." She lifted her chin and tried to smile.
"Okay." He held open the door for them to pass through and then led the way over to her father's bed.
Drew squeezed her hand, but she could not look at him. All she could do was stare at the strange sight of her father lying so still in the bed and the bewildering assortment of machines. Drew spoke first. "Hi, Bob." His voice was easy, his mouth curled in a smile. "Seems to me you're trying awfully hard to skip out on some work."
Bob smiled wanly. "Drew… thank God you're here."
"Hi, Daddy." Stacy kissed his pale cheek.
"Hi… kitten."
She smiled, blinking back the tears that threatened to overflow. "Daddy, you don't need to talk."
"Rest easier… knowing you're taking care of her, Drew." His eyes pierced the younger man.
"Glad to do it." He slipped his arm around Stacy's waist and gazed down at her, then back to Bob. "By the way, you'll be happy to hear we've set the date for the wedding."
Stacy smothered a gasp and, looking at her father, saw the stricken man's spirits visibly lighten. "Good… When?"
"Four weeks from today."
"I'll be there… need to give the bride away."
"Right."
"You have to leave now. Bob should rest." Dr. MacIntyre's voice sounded behind them.
"Bye, Daddy. Sleep well." She bent to kiss his gaunt cheek once more before turning away from the bed.
Dr. MacIntyre came out behind them. "It should be just a matter of time before he's home. He suffered minor damage to his heart, but if he clears the next forty-eight hours, the prognosis is excellent."
"Is there anything we can do?" The anxiety was clear in her tone.
"No, but your news helped. It gave him something to hang on to. Convalescence isn't pleasant for a man who is used to being active. Go home now and get some rest." He inspected her shrewdly. "Do you want me to prescribe a sedative?"
"No, thanks. I'll be all right."
"Good. Now if you'll excuse me, I have several more patients to see. Good night." He shook Stacy's hand and then Drew's before walking briskly away.
Muriel stood up as they went back into the waiting room. "How's he doing?"
"As well as can be expected," Stacy replied, repeating the doctor's words. "We spoke with him for a few minutes."
"I'll bet that made him feel better. He's been so anxious about you. While we waited for the ambulance he talked of you."
Overcome, tears choked Stacy's throat. Drew said, "I think I set his mind at rest. In four weeks Stacy b
ecomes my wife."
"Oh, how nice!" Muriel exclaimed. "I'm sure that pleased him."
"You can find out for yourself when you visit him," Drew told her.
"Oh, I think they're only allowing the immediate family to see him." She spoke levelly, but her eyes gave her away.
"I'll speak to Dr. MacIntyre," Drew said. "He might make an exception for you. Bob's health is what's important, and to see you would be good for him."
"Thank you. I'd like to see him." Then, turning her attention to Stacy, she said, "Why don't you stay with us tonight?"
Stacy sighed. "That's very nice of you."
"Not at all. Drew can drive you home to pick up a few things and I'll inform the nurses' station where you'll be." Muriel did not need to explain why the hospital might want to get in touch.
"We'll meet you there in about an hour," Drew said, and he and Stacy left.
When they were in the relative privacy of the car, Stacy confronted Drew. "Why did you lie to my father?"
"You heard the doctor. Your father shouldn't be worried about anything, and your future was obviously preying on his mind."
His tone was persuasive, his logic irrefutable, but Stacy objected. "But to lie so blatantly…"
"Who says it's a lie? We're getting married in four weeks."
Stacy gasped. His face was shadowed and she couldn't read the expression in his eyes. "You must be kidding. If this is your idea of a joke…"
"Not at all. I've told him we're getting married, and we are."
"What if I don't go along with it?"
Even in the dim light she saw him quirk one eyebrow. "You will to please your father. You won't risk another heart attack by calling it off." Then he set the car in motion, terminating the discussion.
As they drove, Stacy wondered about the repercussions of tonight's announcement. She felt cornered. First, there were her father's expectations and the subsequent effect on his health; and then there was Drew's presumptive attitude. Added to this was the knowledge that she loved him! Under other circumstances if he had asked her to marry him, she would be bursting with happiness. But she did not understand what his motives were. He didn't profess to love her, and he hadn't known her father very long. Why did he want to marry her?
She tackled him on that score as soon as they were back in her living room.