by Margaret
Rachel was still thinking about Zanus as she headed toward the elevator. She really needed someone to talk to so she could sort out her feelings. Perhaps she should talk to her mother. No, that wouldn’t work. Her mother would like Zanus the moment she heard about how much money he was worth and the trip to France for champagne. Her mother would, of course, expect Rachel to quit her job and stay home to raise the children. She’d never understand Rachel wanting her own seat on the exchange. Besides, Mom was somewhere in the South Pacific by now.
Her girlfriends? For one thing, she could never call them at this hour of the morning! Rachel imagined Lana, complete with eye mask, groping about for the telephone and swearing a blue streak. Lana never woke up before two p.m. on Saturday if she could help it. Beth would have either been up all night with the baby and just got her to sleep or she’d be up early with the baby who had finally slept all night. As for Kim, she was going to be out of town this weekend, off visiting her parents who lived in Wisconsin.
Rachel wasn’t really sure she could talk to them anyway. They had all called to make sure she’d made it home after their adventure at the restaurant. They liked Zanus, but they were far more interested in what was going on with Derek. In the end, Lana held out for Zanus, who had behaved like a perfect gentleman about keeping Rachel’s name out of the paper. Beth thought Derek was being wonderfully mysterious and was so chivalric and good-looking! Kim took the practical viewpoint.
“It’s as easy to marry a rich man as a poor one,” was her advice.
Of course, Rachel wasn’t planning on marrying either one of them at the moment.
I’ll go running and figure this out for myself, she thought.
The weather was nice, with a warm breeze coming off the lake. The sun was already hot on the back of her neck. Rachel was wearing her exercise clothes—black stretch Capri pants, tank top, jacket, and running shoes.
She was kind of hoping Derek would be around, so she could make her apology and let him know the interesting news about the vanishing purse snatcher. He wasn’t there, however, and she realized he must have Saturdays off.
Still, he lived in the building, didn’t he? Maybe he would come outside for a brisk walk or maybe he worked out at the gym. She hung about outside of her building, stretching her calf muscles. Derek didn’t show. She wondered with a grin if he was on the early morning talk shows, discussing his heroic rescue of her purse via satellite with Wolf Blitzer.
Stretched out and ready to run, Rachel set out at a slow jog around the block, then headed toward the park. She was about ten minutes into her run, when Rachel saw a familiar figure walking ahead of her. It was Derek, and trailing behind him on a leash was a dog. A sheltie, she thought, though she’d never seen one quite that rotund.
As she came closer, she saw that the sheltie was old and arthritic. The little legs moved stiffly, though, by the grin on the dog’s face, it was enjoying the walk.
Derek and the sheltie were moving so slowly, and Derek looked so ludicrous—a big strong man with a little pudgy dog. Rachel had to stifle a laugh. Derek must have been walking that dog for an hour to make it this far. She could not pass up an opportunity to rib him for this, and, besides, she could make her apology.
Rachel stopped to catch her breath and smile at Derek, who looked astonished to see her.
“My hero!” Rachel joked. She leaned down to pat the sheltie, whom she now recognized as belonging to one of the older ladies in the building. “Is this your new partner in fighting crime?”
Derek looked relieved. He must have thought she’d still be mad at him.
“Yes, this is JoJo the Wonder Dog. Faster than a speeding bullet.”
“I’m glad to see he’s getting some exercise,” Rachel stated. “The vet keeps telling Mrs. Pomfrey to quit feeding him foie gras and smoked salmon and biscuits dipped in sherry, but, by the looks of him, she hasn’t done that.”
Derek grinned. He brought out a plastic sack filled with chopped liverwurst. “This is his treat for walking this far. Of course, once he gets it, he sits down and refuses to budge. I generally have to carry him back.”
He sat down on a bench and opened the plastic sack. “Watch this. He does the Liverwurst Dance.”
Derek held out a piece of meat. JoJo began to yap and spin around in a circle with more speed and agility than Rachel would have thought possible. He was rewarded with the treat and Derek ruffled the little dog’s fluffy ears.
Seeing Derek like this, walking patiently with this fat little dog, made Rachel realize that he couldn’t have beaten that kid to a pulp last night. She had intended to apologize for her behavior yesterday, but she felt suddenly uncomfortable. She couldn’t find a way to get the words out.
An awkward pause fell between them. Derek looked at the dog and Rachel looked furtively at Derek. Then, of course, they both spoke at once.
“Listen, Rachel, about last night—”
“About last night, Derek—”
They both stopped to laugh self-consciously.
“I feel terrible about that kid,” Derek began.
“No, please don’t say any more,” Rachel said, flushing. “I overreacted. Besides the police called me last night. The kid wasn’t hurt badly after all. Seems he was well enough to jump out of the ambulance and run away.”
“Really,” said Derek. He had a thoughtful look on his face.
“I’m sorry. You caught the thief and saved my Gucci handbag and kept me from having my credit cards stolen and identity theft and I don’t know what else. And I behaved like a…a—”
“Distraught woman who has just had her purse stolen?” Derek suggested.
“You’re being kind. I’m sorry.”
“So am I.”
He held out his hand. Rachel laughed and put her hand in his and they shook on it. He held on to her hand a little longer than necessary. Rachel felt a tingle in her blood and she drew her hand away only when she realized she didn’t want to let go.
“Well,” said Rachel, “I guess I better finish my run…”
In truth, she wasn’t in any hurry to leave. Little JoJo had polished off the liverwurst, and, true to form, he plopped himself down in the grass and refused to stand back up. Derek tugged halfheartedly on the leash, but he wasn’t really paying attention to the dog. He looked as though he were making up his mind to something.
He said suddenly and awkwardly, “Are you busy this afternoon?”
Rachel stared at him, startled. “Why do you ask?”
“I have this afternoon off,” Derek continued, red-faced and flustered, “and I was wondering if you would like to have lunch with me?”
Rachel thought about the rest of her day. Zanus had not called her. She didn’t have any plans, and the thought of spending another weekend working on her charts suddenly did not appeal to her.
“It’s going to take me awhile to get my partner here back to Mrs. Pomfrey, so you could finish your run. We could meet here at noon.”
He was being thoughtful and considerate. If they met here, no one in the building would see her going out with the doorman. Probably just as well for him, too. Mr. Fraym would not appreciate Derek fraternizing with the tenants.
Zanus would be furious if he found out, but then why hadn’t he called her anyway? That irked her. She could have been killed last night. It was all over the news. Even if he was still angry with her, she deserved a call. He should be checking to see if she was all right.
“Lunch would be great,” she said.
Derek looked pleased, so pleased that Rachel felt a little flutter in her pulse.
To cover her own flustered feelings, she pointed to the hot dog cart at the corner of the park. “Maybe if you put sausages in your pocket, JoJo would get up and move?”
“Now, there is an idea.” Derek laughed. “I will meet you here at noon.”
Rachel continued her run. She was looking forward to having lunch with Derek. She told herself it was because she was glad the awkwardness between
them had ended. She didn’t want to have to spend all her time trying to avoid the doorman.
“Makes leaving the building difficult for a girl,” Rachel said to herself with a laugh.
She wondered where he’d take her for lunch on a doorman’s salary. Probably that very hot dog cart. Rachel didn’t mind. She loved hot dogs, as a matter of fact. Sometimes nothing tasted better.
Back home, Rachel showered, fixed her hair and her makeup, and picked out something suitable to wear. She would not dress up. He’d think she expected him to take her somewhere fancy. Jeans, a fitted long-sleeved T-shirt, and her flip-flop sandals. She loved her flip-flops. They screamed summer, but Rachel simply couldn’t wait for summer to wear them. Today was warm enough and, besides, maybe Derek wouldn’t find her choice of footwear silly this time. She just had to remember not to mention what she’d paid for them.
Rachel walked to the park, carrying her jacket, just in case. Derek was waiting for her. He was holding a well-stuffed, heavy backpack.
“Hello,” Rachel greeted him. “What’s in the bag? You haven’t dog-napped JoJo, have you?”
“No,” Derek said, laughing. “The sausages worked, by the way. We made it home in record time. Under two hours. The liverwurst gave me an idea. I thought we might have a picnic.”
“A picnic sounds wonderful,” said Rachel. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been on a picnic.
They set out, walking side by side, companionable but not too close. Making it clear they were friends, not lovers. The park was crowded. The weather was lovely, and people were out enjoying it. Footballs were being tossed back and forth. Some enterprising young people had put up a volleyball net. Others were flying kites or throwing Frisbees. Children and dogs were running around everywhere.
Derek picked a secluded spot beneath a tree whose green buds were just starting to show. He put down a small blanket that Rachel wondered secretly if he’d stolen from JoJo for her to sit on. He sat on the grass, heedless of grass stains on his blue jeans.
He opened the backpack and pulled out small packages wrapped in wax paper and tinfoil. There was brie cheese, Greek olives, crackers, bread, and ham. Rachel’s eyes widened at the sight of so much food. He’d bought enough for an army. To finish it off, he brought out chilled white wine in a box and two plastic cups.
Rachel found it all charming and endearing. She couldn’t help but think how Zanus would have done a picnic for her. For one thing, he probably would have never invited her to a picnic in the first place—he might ruin his pants. Second, if he did, there would have been a table with fine linen and champagne in a bucket and caviar and prime rib and a waiter to pour, and it would have all been very correct and not nearly so much fun.
She tried to picture Zanus drinking wine out of a box from a plastic cup. The thought made her giggle.
“So, Derek, how do you usually spend your free time?” she asked.
“I read books. I come to the park. On Sundays, I go to museums or the library.”
Rachel had noticed a book in his backpack.
“Do you mind if I’m nosey?” she asked, reaching for it.
He shook his head, and she pulled it out.
She had expected to find him reading someone like Tom Clancy. Instead, the book was a weighty tome on the Knights Templar.
“Wow, this looks intense,” Rachel said. “Are you studying for a degree?” That would explain why he was a doorman.
“No,” said Derek, smiling. “I just do this for myself. I enjoy history, especially medieval history.”
“Why that particular time period?”
Derek hesitated, flushing slightly, as though he found the question difficult to answer. “It’s…um…well, I guess you could say…it’s the paintings of that time period. I look at them and imagine what it would have been like to have lived back then.”
Rachel was astonished and then felt ashamed of herself. She was a snob, as he’d accused her of being the other night. It had never occurred to her that a doorman could be studying medieval history and spending Sundays at the Chicago Art Institute or Field Museum.
“I don’t know much about history,” she confessed.
“The paintings depict a different lifestyle and a different way of thinking. Men were honorable back then. If a man gave his word, he would be willing to die rather than go back on it.” He looked intently at Rachel as he spoke. “If a man loved a woman, he would do anything in his power to keep harm from coming to her.”
Rachel gave a self-conscious laugh, tried to look as if she were unconscious of his meaning. This was hard, for her heart was beating fast.
“Men are different now,” Derek added, his brow darkening.
He glanced at her, and she knew he was talking about Zanus.
She was mildly annoyed. “I don’t believe all men of this era are dishonorable. Some know what it means to be a gentleman and not follow women into the ladies’ room,” she said archly.
Derek glanced at her, troubled. Seeing her grin, he realized she was teasing, and he winced and pressed his hand over his heart.
“You have struck to the quick, my lady,” he said. “I am bested in the field. You win the tourney.” He solemnly handed her a grape.
She just as solemnly took it and popped it in her mouth. She was seized with a sudden crazy desire to kiss him. Shocked at herself, she looked back at the book.
“Is the writer any good?” she asked hastily. “Does he know his stuff?”
Derek shrugged. “Fairly accurate. Of course, he was not there. He couldn’t know what it was like. He doesn’t understand…” He fell silent, lost in thought.
“You talk as if you were there!” she said teasingly.
Derek glanced at her, then he smiled. “I think I would have liked living back then. Life was a lot simpler. More brutal and rough, but simpler. Take courtly love, for example.”
“What kind of love?”
“Courtly love. Men of that time period courted women. There was none of this pay for a couple of dinners and let’s go jump into bed. Knights wrote poetry to their ladies. They worshipped them from afar. They sang songs to them and went on quests to prove their love. And sometimes all they received in return was a little smile, a sweet glance, a favor at a joust.”
“Not even a kiss?” Rachel asked.
“Not even that. Many times the women were married to someone else. A true knight would never besmirch the honor of the woman he loved. He suffered for his love in silence, sometimes never even telling her. If, by chance, she loved him in return, she could not dare tell him. No such thing as quickie divorces in those days. The two loved from afar. Courtly romances were rarely consummated.”
“That must have been hard on the women. They couldn’t go off on quests for the man they loved. What about marriage?”
“Marriage and love were mutually exclusive at the time. Marriages were generally arranged by the families for either business or political reasons. Sometimes the bride and groom met for the first time on their wedding day. If the couple was lucky, they learned to love each other. If not, they suffered in silence. If a man fell in love with a married woman, he had no control over it. He was prey to love’s passion.”
“But discreet about it, yes?”
“Oh yes,” Derek said. “That was the most enjoyable part—the secrecy. The danger, even.” He gave an ironic smile. “In some cases, romance would have probably ended in a minute if the two ever really got together. She would find out that he was a dolt who paid someone to write the poetry he gave her and he would find out she smelled of garlic.”
Rachel laughed. “So it was noble to be sneaking around?”
“A man was discreet because he should not boast of a conquest, thereby cheapening it. He is ennobled by love and so is she. Their love for each other makes them better people.” He looked away from her, gazing far off into the distance.
“Is that what it was like for you?” Rachel asked quietly.
Derek jumped and spill
ed his wine. He looked at her, startled. “What do you mean by that?” he demanded.
She was surprised by his strong reaction. “Nothing,” she said. “Only you told me that I reminded you of someone. I thought maybe—”
“Oh, yeah, right.” He smiled, seemed unaccountably relieved. “Yes, you could say that, I suppose. I was young. She was much older. And she was married.”
He pulled up some new blades of grass and began tossing them away, one by one.
“I’m sorry,” said Rachel, seeing him deeply affected. “Did…” she hesitated, feeling awkward.
“Yes,” he said, encouraging.
“Did your love for her…ennoble you?”
He smiled, soft and gentle. “I like to think it did. I think anytime you love someone, that love should make you feel as though you want to do great deeds, be brave and heroic. You want to strive for perfection, for the sake of the one you love, not your own. That way, if anything happened, and you lost the person you loved, you would feel pain, but you would also feel pride and gratitude, for you would know that because of the loved one, you are better, wiser, stronger.”
He looked at her as he spoke.
Rachel drew in a shivering breath and realized that she’d stopped breathing while he talked, so as not to miss a word. She’d never heard a man express his feelings like this. She was speechless. She had the feeling he was talking about himself and about her. Especially the part about losing the person you loved.
“More wine?” he said, and he reached for her plastic cup.
“Yes, sure, thanks.” She handed over the cup.
The box of wine was down by her feet. He started to pour the wine, but at that instant, he snatched off her flip-flops, jumped to his feet, and dashed off with them.
“Hey!” she cried. “Shoe thief! Stop!”
He let her catch him. She seized the flip-flops out of his hand and smacked him on the wrist with one of them.
“There’s never a cop around when I need one,” she said, laughing. Pointing to her flip-flops, she asked, “Say, do you like my shoes?”