Chapter 19

He worked late, cleaning up his in-box. He walked into his house carrying an elaborately wrapped box. With a mock bow, feeling slightly foolish, he presented it to Carolyn. Surprised, laughing in delight, she placed the box on the bar and removed the huge red bow and silver paper. She held up by its spaghetti straps a sheer nightgown the color of eggshell.

As he saw her widening eyes, her pleasure, he felt less guilty. Margie had done a wonderful job. After all, he had told her what to buy, and with all that had to be done before he could leave his job for two weeks he hadn’t had any time to spare. “It’s been too long since I bought you anything like that, Princess.”

“You’ve never bought me anything like this.” Stroking the filmy fabric, she walked toward the bedroom. “It’s the first thing I’m packing. But it’s too expensive, too pretty to wear to bed.”

He sat on the side of the bed; she leaned down to kiss him. He pulled her down with him. “Honey, we have to pack,” she protested as he kissed her throat.

“In a minute.”

She stole a look at the clock. Ten to eight. If she were next door she might be playing a game with Val and Neal, maybe cards. And loving Neal’s playful competitiveness, his uncomplicated honesty, the uncluttered seriousness of his mind, his joy in her attention to him.

“Paul,” she whispered as he groaned and came. “Dear Paul.” He lay motionless as she stroked the disheveled gray hair at his temples.

They were packing. By now Neal would be getting ready for bed. If she were there, she would be curled up on the sofa talking with Val, or watching the early channel nine news, or asking about art, or maybe talking about her own job. Sounds of baseball, or perhaps rock music, would emanate from the radio in Neal’s room. Another comfortable evening of blending into the two lives in which she had been absorbed as one of their own.

“Was it something I said? Or did?” Paul asked. “All the sparkle you had when I got home seems to be gone.”

With guilty vehemence she protested, “Honey, what we just did was a little tiring. I didn’t take the catnap you did.”

“I want to make you very happy this vacation,” he said softly. He snapped the fasteners on a suitcase and carried it into the living room.

Her friendship with Val—this new, deeply felt pleasure in her life—how could she remove the one abrasive grain of sand, his glum, passive acceptance, his pained martyrdom?

Perhaps if he was reassured in every way of her love…Perhaps when she returned, if she could see just a little less of Val…Maybe, with herself as a conduit of goodwill, over a period of time the hostility between the two of them could break down. Maybe, just maybe it was possible.

If he was that determined to make this vacation wonderful for her, she would do her best to make him happy as well—in every way. These next ten days she would concentrate all her being on him, his pleasure, his happiness.

Date: 2015-02-03; view: 510