Faltering Page 9

“It was pretty easy to track me down then. It just took talking to a couple of people,” I interrupted her. For some reason, she was making me really nervous.

  “What’s your point? Did you want me to struggle in frustration for days, unsuccessfully tracking you, while you rotted away wearing that hideous yellow bathrobe, in that repulsive little rat infested apartment?” she asked.

  “I just thought I’d done a better job of covering…”

  “Stop talking,” she said sharply. “You’re making me crazy.” I swallowed back the rest of what I was saying. “I’m trying to explain that I’m deeply in love with you. I have been all this time.” A knot was forming in my throat, so I just nodded. “I adore you. This separation has been torture for me.” My eyes started to sting and I willed my tears not to touch my cheeks. “I’ve been in love with you forever, since you were a scrawny, slightly awkward, girl. I loved you even when you were too young to be loved that way. All those years I waited for you to see me, and to feel this connection we have. The countless hours you were in my home, close to me, working for me, these feelings were simmering inside of me, this craving for you.” I bit down on my lower lip trying not to react. “Once I finally had you, it was almost unbearable. I knew I could never hold onto you, that your head would be turned by someone else, someone who was less trouble, and without a husband, someone who could marry you, and provide for you.”

  “You could have left him,” I observed, squeezing the words through my suddenly tight throat. She shook her head.

  “I know you believed that. I’m sorry,” she said softly, “but I couldn’t. For what it’s worth, I wanted to. I even started packing more than once, thinking I’d leave everything, that I had to be with you, that you were all that mattered. Reality has a way of overwhelming me, though. I would have lost everything. I can’t lose everything. Would you have ever wanted me if I were poor?” I watched as her eyes turned red. “Wasn’t my status part of the attraction, Sylvie? And divorce would have meant severing my ties to my entire social circle, even my family; especially once it became known what you were to me, what I am. It would have come out, you know.

  “The only reason no one saw us before was because they had no reason to suspect. Even my resignedly tolerant mother would wash her hands of me if people knew about us. I’d have received nothing from my husband. Without money I’m not sure I have much to offer you.” I shook my head, not buying it. “And I wanted a child so badly. I really believed if I could just have a baby I would be able to stand my life, that I could…” She stopped as if confused, a strange expression on her face as she appraised me, then she added quietly, “You’re right, Sylvie. I should have left him. I was a coward.” I nodded my complete agreement with her assessment. “And now you despise me.”

  “I don’t despise you, Lara. I could never despise you.”

  “Okay. Wonderful. That’s a start. Do you think, in time, you could feel for me something akin to what you felt before? Can you forgive me?” She looked frightened as she asked, and I thought she might have started shaking slightly, but I was so nervous I couldn’t be sure without touching her. Touching her would be risky.

  “I’m not that girl you loved,” I answered in a calm clear voice. “I’m older, less naïve, or less optimistic rather. I understand the rules now, that people like me must live by.” Her hand rose quickly to cover her mouth as her gaze widened. In the next instant she was looking at the bedcoverings.

  “Okay,” she whispered through her fingers. “I understand.”

  “Really?” I asked, surprised. She nodded her head slowly, her eyes fixed on the bedspread, one hand still covering her mouth, the other moved to her throat as she shifted over onto her back, without looking at me. “Well, I don’t. Maybe you can explain why the slightest sign of vulnerability from you can twist me in knots. You rejected me, Lara, and for someone you hated. You broke my heart. It doesn’t matter, I guess. I’m not sure I’m capable of not wanting you. I can’t remember what it felt like not to have this chronic ache inside of me.” She turned her head to stare at me, her eyes dampening as if she might cry. She laughed instead as she reached out to shove my shoulder playfully.

  “Jesus,” she said, exhaling quickly. “You really had me scared. You’ve enjoyed this, haven’t you, torturing me?” she asked. I tried to imagine how she could have gotten that impression. I was extremely uncomfortable. How could she see that as enjoyable? I was watching her with, I’m sure, a very confused expression when she leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. In a continuation of the movement, she collapsed down close to me, watching me with obvious amusement. She slipped an arm beneath my neck, her other hand finding my stomach. Unaccustomed to being touched, I flinched as her cool fingers spread across my belly. She was studying my reaction with an intensity I found unsettling.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, still feeling defensive.

  “Loving you,” she whispered in a breathy voice. She raised her hand to my shoulder and pinned me back on the bed before impatiently kicking the covers away from us. Straddling my hips, she gazed down at my belly again before arching over me. She kissed one breast, and then the other, before her lips trailed to my stomach. “How pregnant are you, honey?” she asked between kisses. When I didn’t answer right away she looked up at me with an expression of expectation, as her fingers moved over me.

  “Almost four months,” I gasped as her velvet tongue touched my neck.

  -CH 4-

  All week she kept me with her at The Drake, sharing her bed and meals, her driver taking me to work and retrieving me at the ends of my shifts. That last week of work had gone by far more easily without the worry of public transit, and finding the energy to cook for myself, but I was beginning to wonder how long she was planning to keep me as her pet. During my drive back to her hotel suite, after my final shift at the hospital, I started skimming through possibilities for my next move. I had only five and a half months of funds saved, and only if I was careful, so I needed to figure out what direction my life would take, and quickly.

  When the car stopped at the front entrance of The Drake, I moved to get out. Phil, the driver, was there, opening the door, before I could shift my weary and bloated body from the seat. He offered his hand to assist me to my feet. As I stood on the sidewalk outside the hotel, I realized I was bone tired. It had been my fifth ten-hour shift that week. He seemed aware of my exhaustion and kindly extended his elbow to walk me to the door. As I took his arm, I noticed Lara waiting inside, just beyond The Drake’s enormous revolving door at the entrance. I thanked Phil and released his arm, making my way purposefully toward her. Her gaze lightened as she smiled at me, as the revolving door spit me out in the entryway.

  “Congratulations, beautiful!” she offered cheerily.

  “For what?”

  “Becoming a member of the idle class. No more work!” She slipped an arm across my shoulders and guided me toward the elevators. An elevator attendant waited as we stepped on. I expected her to tell the attendant the floor, but she didn’t even glance his way, her complete attention remained focused on me. It didn’t seem to matter though, because he pushed the button for our floor before I had the chance to tell him the number. “I have the entire evening planned for us to mark the occasion.”

  “I’ll have to find another job when this is done, you know. I’m in no way a member of the idle class,” I clarified.

  She didn’t comment but only squeezed my shoulder. “That uniform suits you,” she offered as her eyes quickly skimmed my body. “I think it’s the empire waist.” I looked down at my belly, obvious to me though apparently invisible to my friends at work, and shrugged. “I found you a dress today with that same waistline. It’s really beautiful, and sort of a topaz blue, to match your eyes.” There was something so soothing in her tone. I let myself feel how much I wanted her, allowing her beauty to tear through me. She held my gaze for a moment, a nervous smile playing at the corners of her mouth, before she stared down at my round-toed whi
te shoes with the thick rubber soles. When her eyes returned to mine she seemed uneasy. The elevator came to a stop and slowly the doors opened. She stepped away from me onto our floor.

  “Sylvie, my love, you can’t look at me that way in public,” she whispered when the elevator doors were closed. My eyes were on her lips. I nodded, unable to respond at first.

  “How was I looking at you?” I asked after a moment, my reaction too slow. She didn’t answer but shook her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize,” I offered. “I just…”

  “The elevator attendant was watching,” she interrupted. I nodded. “We have to be careful and not stand out.” I nodded again. I wondered if she realized how impossible it was, what she was asking. Everyone looked at her, always. She was too striking to blend in, no matter how she might try.

  “It was a long shift. I’m a little out of it,” I explained in an effort to placate her. She nodded.

  Lara opened the door to our suite and glanced back at me, smiling indulgence as she waited. She sort of herded me into the bedroom where the new dress she had described was laid out with a pair of matching pale blue heels. I approached the bed and touched the dress. It was made of thick soft velvet. The shoes were delicate and utterly impractical for late fall in Chicago, but I refrained from pointing this out. Her pleasure was so apparent she nearly trembled.

  “Where are we dining?” I asked. Her eyes ran over me from head to toe, stopping briefly at my belly before returning to my face.

  “We don’t really need to go out tonight. I know you’re tired, baby,” she said, her tone soothing. She wrapped her arms around me and I finally felt the weight of the day leaving me as I exhaled. “I’ll run you a bubble bath instead. We can order room service and find something to watch on television.”

  “That sounds wonderful, but I’d rather we went out tonight,” I replied.

  “Are you sure you’re up to it? We could just as easily do it tomorrow,” she said, her manner unconvincing. Clearly, she wanted an evening out.

  “I’m fine, Lara.”

  “Have you had any cramping?” she asked. I shook my head. “What about bleeding?”

  “No. Please, stop worrying. Honestly, I’m fine,” I insisted. She wasn’t satisfied with my answer, pressing on.

  “I just wasn’t thinking. I’m so excited about this being your last day of work. That dreary hospital has been stealing you away from me all week. But it’s silly, really. We’ll stay in and celebrate in private. I’ll order something from downstairs. The Coq d’Or has a good menu, and…”

  “Lara, I’m not humoring you,” I said abruptly, interrupting her rambling. “I really do want to go out tonight. I’ve been going crazy, working and staying in all the time,” I explained. “Do you know the last time I actually dined at a restaurant?” She shook her head as a slow smile spread across her delectable lips. “It’s been months.” I didn’t want to tell her it was with Anders.

  “All right then, if you’re sure,” she replied. I nodded. That small smile transformed into a beaming one. “Terrific, I made an 8:30 reservation at Berghoff’s. The concierge says it’s quite good.” I nodded.

  “I’ll start my bath, then.”

  Because we had a couple of hours, and because I was a little uneasy, I took my time bathing, washing away the smells of the hospital for the last time, and wondering if I’d ever see some of my friends from work again. I experienced a twinge of guilt for not confiding my situation to any of them, especially Mary. She had always been so generous with me, my self-appointed protector. But you can’t always predict how a person will react, and I couldn’t risk damaging my professional reputation.

  There was actually a little going away party for me. I’d experienced a bout of nausea and hardly touched the cake, but no one seemed to notice. I was relieved I’d not eaten after all. I wanted a real date with Lara. In all our time together, we had never been out publically, just the two of us, for a meal together. I got a little thrill imagining her eyes candlelit and dancing over me. Picturing what she would wear was the impetus that finally drew me out of the tub. I was hoping for something low-cut, or strapless, maybe a pale gold lamé dress to cling to her shape and reflect her eyes.

  When I wandered into the bedroom I was still damp, wrapped only in a towel. I spotted her immediately, on the other side of the bedroom, leaning forward, and fastening the garter on a stocking. When she finished she glanced over at me. I noted she had gained a pound or two that week, leaving her less gaunt and quite a bit younger in appearance. There was a subtle edginess to her expression, which ran counter to the celebratory mood of the evening. I continued to watch her for a moment, waiting for her to speak, aware there was something behind that expression, but hesitant to probe her. Before I could work up the nerve to question her, her countenance changed, and she carried on dressing herself.

  While I was fussing with my hair, worrying over how I should wear it, she came into the bathroom. She watched me for a moment in the mirror before interrupting. “What are you doing, Sylvie? Not like that.” She carelessly messed up the neat knot I had worked my hair into. “Why do you always try to hide your hair in a frumpy old lady bun?”

  “Is that what I do?” I asked, grinning at her.

  She moved her hands through my hair, freeing it completely, and then meticulously fastening pins in a looser, haphazard manner, allowing a few loose curls to form around my brow. I wasn’t certain I liked the change, but the way her gaze moved over my shoulders and then locked onto my eyes convinced me to leave it. She reached both hands back around her own neck, unfastening her single strand of pearls, then lifted them over my head and fastened them at the back of my neck. Her pale hands claimed my shoulders, cool fingertips gripping my skin as she leaned forward and pressed her lips to the sensitive flesh below my ear. “You take my breath away, Sylvie. You always have.”

  She left me to finish my preparations in peace. My dress, my stockings, and my shoes were all neatly set out for me on our bed. I dressed in a dreamy sort of fog. When I emerged from our room I found her absently flipping through a magazine in the sitting area, crumpling her exquisite, ivory tuxedo. My eyes traced the line of her leg to where her slender ankle peaked out from the pant cuff, above her delicate linen colored stiletto heal. She tossed the magazine on the cocktail table and stood expectantly, her eyes moving over me.

  “You ready?” she asked.

  “I’ve never seen you in pants before,” I commented, rather than answering her.

  “No?” She glanced down at her suit, running her hands across her thighs as if to remove any wrinkles. “I guess because I never wear them. When I saw this suit I had a feeling you’d like me in it.” She winked at me and grinned as if laughing at herself. “Am I right? You like me as a boy, don’t you?”

  “You look like Marlene Dietrich in Blue Angel,” I observed. She shook her head. “All you need is the matching top hat and walking stick.” She stepped around the cocktail table and closed the distance between us.

  “I knew my outfit was missing something," she joked. “Where were you when I was shopping? Oh yes, working in that smelly hospital.”

  “You do know who she is, right?” I asked. Lara rolled her eyes.

  “An actress from way back in the dark ages,” she replied. I nodded.

  “She absolutely oozes sex,” I explained, earning a chuckle from Lara. “Not unlike you.”

  “What a thing to say. Do I ooze sex, Sylvie?” she asked in an exaggerated, seductive, voice. “I guess if I must ooze something...” She laughed and put her hand in the small of my back guiding me toward the door. I waited for her to retrieve our coats from the coat closet. She came back with a full-length shiny black mink and I stepped back.

  “When did you get that?”

  “Earlier this week, Tuesday, I think. They just delivered it this afternoon though. It had to be monogrammed.”

  “Oh.” I stared at her holding it out as if for me. “What are you doing?”

 
; “Come, baby, put it on,” she suggested. I took a step back from her. “Come on. We’re already running a little late.”

  “You want me to wear that?”

  “Of course I want you to wear it, you goose. Why do you think I bought it for you? Why do you think I’m holding it out like this? Now hurry up. I’ve been waiting all week to see you in it.” I sort of stumbled as I moved to her, turning to allow her to lift it onto my shoulders. I didn’t know what to say. “Perfect. The exact match for your hair.” She turned away retrieving a long woolen ivory coat and her pale gloves. “I bought you some gloves too. I noticed you haven’t been wearing any. Do you know what this harsh wind and cold weather can do to your hands?” She handed me buttery soft dark leather gloves.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “We should go. Our reservation is in twenty minutes,” she replied, ignoring my hesitation. A slight pressure on my lower back ushered me out the door as my mind reeled.

  Because we actually arrived early for our reservation, the maître d. showed us to the bar area to wait for our table to be made ready. Luckily, we found two seats together at the bar. The light was dim and smoky. The sweet acrid smell of pipe tobacco and cigars was overwhelming me, and piquing my ubiquitous nausea, as I took in my surroundings, rich with dark wood. Lara stood out against the shadows, the dim light glimmering against her pale hair, making her appear light from within. She was powerful, beautiful, magnificent even, and entirely in her element, while I felt a bit out of place. I was leaning in for reassurance when two men approached us. One offered his name, Jim, and he called his friend Robert. Jim asked if they could join us. I was about to refuse them, but Lara spoke up before I found the words, saying, “Why not?” and laughing with a husky sort of flippancy. My temperature spiked a few degrees as she smiled at Jim. I had to turn my glance away to keep from acknowledging my uneasiness.

  Jim immediately launched into a conversation with Lara about, of all things, the stock market. He was bragging about the buckets of money he was making trading in gold. Robert, on the other hand, started pontificating at me about snow skiing in the Rockies. I was tempted to tell him I really didn’t care about his enthusiasm for playing in the snow, but Lara seemed fascinated by the conversation with her Jim. I tried to appear mildly interested in the inanity Robert was spewing. Occasionally, Lara’s gaze drifted over me, her eyes moving over my neck. Her hand traveled continuously along my thigh under the bar, lightly caressing, and mollifying me. I was relieved when the maître d. finally appeared, politely interrupting the absurdity that passed as conversation to usher us away.