“For dinner, if you’ll accept my invitation.”
They ate at an Italian restaurant within walking distance. Unlike the pizza joints she had often gone to with crowds of other students, the little restaurant had clean tablecloths and soft music. At least when she thought about it later, that was how she remembered it. More important, she remembered Justin’s resonant voice and his carefully chosen words. And she remembered the new feeling of wishing the evening could last forever.
He was glad to find she was twenty-one and starting her senior year, and she realized he had serious qualms about robbing the cradle. She was delighted to find he was only twenty-seven, with a thoughtful maturity that had been missing in the men she was acquainted with.
“You’ll be here for a month, then?” she asked as she finished up the last bite of a huge plate of spaghetti.
He nodded, watching her in amusement. “When was the last time you ate?”
“When the temperature dropped below ninety. I think it was early spring sometime.” She laughed at his expression. “No, I snack all the time, but I guess being with you has made me unbearably hungry.” The implications of her words washed over her at the same moment she knew a blush was coloring every visible inch of her pale skin.
Justin sat back, a slow grin lighting his features. “If it’s any consolation, Bethany, I feel hungrier than I have in a long time myself.”
Later they walked, hand in hand over the graceful sprawling campus as Bethany identified the softly tinted brick buildings by name. Not because he needed to know, but because it gave them an excuse to be together. Pausing to rest on Landis Green, a tree-shaded oasis in the center of campus, they sat on a stone bench beneath a mimosa tree, and Justin, his arm casually resting on her shoulder, turned her face to his.
“You feel it, too, don’t you?” he asked.
“This is a magic place,” she said. “Inch for inch, more kisses have been exchanged, more vows of undying love have been made here than in any spot in the state of Florida.”
“I’ve always believed in helping statistics.” He bent the tiny distance to cover her lips with his.
It wasn’t that she’d never been kissed. She had. She’d been kissed by experienced and not so experienced men of different shapes, sizes and coloring. But nothing had prepared her for Justin’s. It wasn’t like kisses that came later, not core-melting and erotic. It was a gentle kiss, full of promise and patience, and it unnerved her completely.
When he drew back, her eyes were lifted to his, holding back none of the feeling he had uncovered. Somehow she had always known it would happen this way for her, that when she fell, it would be sudden and complete. That knowledge must have shone in her blue eyes, for he shook his head and frowned.
“Proceed with caution,” he warned her. “I’m only here for a month.”
A month wouldn’t be long enough; a lifetime wouldn’t be long enough. But with the abandon of the artist who gives herself completely, Bethany put his words out of her head. Now was enough. . .for now.
Justin had come to Tallahassee to do research for a case pending in Chicago. Although he based his temporary home in the capital city, he was gone intermittently on side trips throughout the state and back to Illinois. When he was in town, he spent every second of his free time with Bethany.
Bethany threw herself into her job at the law school, depending on hard work to get her through the moments they weren’t together. When she was with him, she thought of nothing except him and her intensifying feelings. He was fast becoming the center of her universe, the key to the empty space inside her that she had only been peripherally aware of.
They spent time exploring Tallahassee. They prowled through the National Forest, swam deep in the woods in deserted sinkholes, watched Canada geese fly across the sunset over Lake Jackson. Often they spent quiet evenings in Bethany’s little apartment, Justin working on his research, Bethany unobtrusively researching him. Their times together were almost idyllic. Except for one thing.
“Justin,” she said one night in early September as he lay on her sofa, head pillowed in her lap. “I have to ask you something.”
“Mmm. . .” was his reply.
Glad he couldn’t see her face, she stroked the shiny black hair from his forehead. “Do you find me attractive?”
“There’s probably not a male this side of eighty-five who doesn’t find you attractive, Snow White.”
She winced at the nickname, pinching his ear between her fingertips. “I just wondered.”
His laughter rumbled over her lap and caused tantalizing vibrations. “What’s the question behind the question, Bethany?”
That question she was not forward enough to ask, and she murmured, “I was just curious.”
He sat up, pulling her close. “It’s time we talked,” he said seriously. “I’ve been putting it off, too.”
Suddenly she was sorry she’d spoken, and she pulled away to stand. “Let’s not get serious tonight. I’ll make you some coffee so you can get some more work done.”
In a split second she was back in his arms, this time on his lap, held securely against him. “You want to know why I haven’t tried to get you into that monstrous bed in the corner?”
The bed, a simple double with a simple double bedspread covering it, did loom like a monster in the tiny one-room apartment. She felt the heat of embarrassment and something else spreading over her body. “All of a sudden,” she said faintly, “I don’t think I want to know.”
“It’s because,” he said his mouth close to her ear, his warm breath sending signals to each separate nerve cushioned under her soft skin, “I’m afraid that once I’ve made love to you, I might never be able to stop.”
It was the declaration of commitment she needed. Turning, she kissed him. Without a word he lifted her and carried her to the bed. When he pulled the camisole from her unresisting body, he made the sound of a man who sees his future. “God, I knew you’d look like this.”
His lips explored every bare inch. Inexperienced to an embarrassing degree, she had no idea what to do, except enjoy everything he was doing to her, everything he was giving without his usual restraint. “Justin” was all she could say, but it seemed to be enough.
Then his shirt was off and her breasts were caught in an exquisite friction against his chest. Still his mouth found new ways to send feeling through her. She thought he might swallow her, make her a part of him so totally she would never find herself again, and then she was afraid he wouldn’t.
His hands were dark velvet on white silk, and her thin cotton shorts simply disappeared. A moment later his hand was on the elastic of the bikini pants she wore, then they were both undressed somehow, and he lay almost covering her body.
Time seemed to stand still, although she was aware how much time Justin was taking to be sure she was ready for him. Pleasure was building so quickly she became frightened that somehow she was not giving enough in return. “Tell me what you want,” she gasped.
“Only you,” he said as he slid between her legs and slowly, carefully, entered the one part of her that was still unexplored.
It was a perfect moment for her. She was so intent on giving pleasure, on making him hers, that the brief flash of pain went almost unheeded. Not so for Justin, whose strong body went rigid with surprise. That surprise was communicated to her as he attempted to withdraw.
“No,” she protested, clasping him tighter. “Please.”
“You should have told me,” he said, still rigid against her. “I had no idea.”
“It doesn’t matter. Please. . .it really doesn’t matter.” Afraid she was losing him, that the incredible pleasure would end forever, she began to move slowly underneath him.
It was an ageless dance, the need of a woman for the man she loves, and Bethany knew by instinct he wouldn’t resist.
He didn’t. Sensation gradually overtook conscious thought until at last she fell apart in his arms and felt him do the same.
Later as
they lay satiated, she only knew that no words could begin to touch the miracle that had occurred.
“What am I going to do with you?” he said finally as he played with her long hair spread across his chest.
“You can stop calling me ‘Snow White,’“ she said.
“That should have been a clue,” he admitted.
“Is it so awful to have been the first, Justin? Was my inexperience so awkward?”
He pressed tiny kisses along her shoulder. “Were you protected?” he asked finally. “Because clearly I didn’t protect you.”
From what, she wondered? From falling in love, from needing him more than before, from wanting him always? “‘Protected’?”
“You don’t know what we just did can result in a nine-month bonus package? Are you really living in a fairy tale?”
Pregnancy hadn’t occurred to her. Being prepared hadn’t occurred to her. This was a major oversight, and she was humiliated at her own foolish innocence. “I’ll be protected next time. I’m sorry. This kind of took me by surprise. I just didn’t think about it.”
“And if you’re pregnant already?”
“Then I hope the baby looks like you.” She felt him stiffen, and she knew her teasing had gone too far. “I’m sorry, Justin, but I’m sure I’m not pregnant. It’s the wrong time of month for that. I’m at least sophisticated enough to know that much.”
He relaxed again, pulling her closer. “Are you sure? Because in that case. . .”
“Absolutely sure.”
But she wasn’t sure. She had lied about their timing. Honest almost to a fault, she had lied to keep him from regretting their private miracle. Telling herself that one slip-up wouldn’t be too great a risk, she put the thought of pregnancy out of her head until the next day, when she and the drugstore could deal with it constructively.
And she did deal with it. Never again did they take chances. With an almost superstitious fanaticism she took elaborate precautions, as did he, feeling that if she was extra-careful one mistake might go unnoticed.
There were other things to be concerned with, too. Justin’s time in Tallahassee was drawing to a close, even though he had managed to extend his stay a week. The remaining weeks coincided with the end of her job and the beginning of her final year at the university. Although no words of commitment were spoken, she sensed that he, too, realized how difficult parting would be. No longer did he return to his motel room after an evening together. Quietly, without either of them bringing up the subject, he began to stay overnight, finally moving his suitcases to her apartment.
Bethany rushed home every afternoon when classes were finished. They shared details of their day like the good friends they had become, and later, after dinner, they shared their bodies.
“Justin,” she ventured one night as she lay locked in his arms. “You’re getting close to being done here, aren’t you?”
His fingertips were lightly brushing her stomach, finding the ridges of her rib cage and connecting them with invisible lines. He paused at her question. “I’m due to leave on Wednesday.”
She counted days. . . and nights. She could count four more of each. “It won’t be the same without you.”
“I’ll miss you,” he responded, his fingers beginning to wander her body again.
It was the most revealing comment he would make before he left. Bethany, ever the optimist, wasn’t concerned, however. Early in their relationship she had realized that this man wasn’t given to expressing his feelings. Polite, kind, with a sophisticated formality bred of his background, he kept his thoughts to himself. In fact, she was aware that her own generous warmth overwhelmed and often dismayed him. Where she was open and giving, he was cautious and closed.
She had fallen in love with abandon, and she hadn’t tried to hide it. When he brought her to orgasm, she cried words of love. In hundreds of ways she showed him what he meant to her, none being more obvious, however, than the joyous emotion that shone brightly from her blue eyes.
Justin said nothing. Obviously he desired her—his need was insatiable. He seemed to find her amusing and fun to be with. She knew he was genuinely fond of her. The rest she had to surmise for herself.
On Tuesday in her ceramics class, standing with her arms buried up to her elbows in wet clay, she began to count the little things he had done to show her that he, too, was in love. She remembered the way his fingers stroked her hair and the sweet words he would often whisper after their lovemaking. At times he would surprise her with presents, small tokens that reminded him of her. Some mornings he woke her with a breakfast cooked and the kitchen cleaned; he showed concern over her hectic schedule; he admired her talent; he insisted she give him a sketch she had made of herself for one of her classes.
And once she had caught him looking at the small charcoal drawing, tracing the lines of her face in the air with his index finger, as if he were trying to memorize each feature. Justin Dumontier might not be able to say he loved her, he might not even be sure, but when Bethany washed the clay from her hands she consciously washed away her concerns, as well. He needed time. He was a cautious person caught up in a whirlwind love affair, and he needed time to catch up with himself.
Since Tuesday night was their last night together, Bethany skipped her final class of the day and went home early to prepare a special dinner. Justin had been silent about his New Orleans background, leaving her with the impression it was something he needed to put behind him. But she had noticed he loved seafood, and as a surprise she cooked a spicy batch of shrimp jambalaya. The casserole was just coming out of the oven when he arrived home, and she was rewarded by having the dish returned to the oven to stay warm while Justin took her to bed.
It was with a hint of desperation that he made love to her that night. He couldn’t be satisfied, as if he were storing up memories for the months ahead. Bethany wasn’t frightened, but further convinced he was struggling with himself and only needed time to reach the obvious conclusion: that he was in love with her.
Perhaps her patience also hid a hint of desperation. The smell of the shrimp in the tiny apartment had upset her stomach. It was added evidence to prove a suspicion she had been trying to ignore. She, whose menstrual cycle was invariably on time, was almost two weeks late. She, who was steady and stable, found herself wanting to cry over everything.
But it was early, and all the symptoms could be explained by the turmoil she felt at Justin’s leaving. She was to think later that if he had stayed with her several weeks more, she would have told him her suspicions. But it was too early to worry him, too early to force him to make a decision about their relationship.
“Bethany,” he murmured that night as they were falling asleep in each other’s arms. “You haven’t had your period in the time I’ve been here.”
She started, pulling herself sharply awake. “You’re just lucky,” she said finally. “I’m not due for a few more days.”
“Are you sure?” His voice was fading into sleep.
“Absolutely. “
But somehow, without understanding how she knew, she was completely certain that she was lying to him. A part of her, that ancient tribal woman of her prehistoric past, in tune with the cycles of the moon and the tides, was sure without a doubt that she was carrying Justin’s child.
CHAPTER THREE
THE FLEA MARKET was wrapping up for the day, and Madeline, perceptive to a fault, was gazing at Bethany with concern. Tousled, permed hair was just visible under a wide-brimmed straw hat, and her brows were drawn together in question. A Florida native, today she looked like a beachcomber squinting into the sun.
“Are you all right, Beth? If possible, you look paler than normal.”
Bethany managed a smile. “I’m fine. Just a little tired, maybe.” She hurried on to divert her friend who had just arrived. “We sold eight masks today. Oh, and don’t pack up right away. There’s a man who’ll probably come back in a few minutes to buy the coque-feather mask.” She pointed to a black shape
in the display case. “He’ll probably try to talk you down, but don’t let him. That one is rock bottom already.”
“Wasn’t Abby with you?”
“She went to the square with Lamar. I’m going by there on my way back to the shop, but I’ll bet he’s taken her off exploring.”
Bethany shook her head at the question she saw forming on Madeline’s lips. The two women were such close friends it was impossible to hide their feelings from each other. “No more now. You’re right, something happened. But I’m not ready to talk about it.”
“I’m here if you decide to.” Madeline patted Bethany’s shoulder. “Valerie’s minding the shop until you get back, and then she’s going to finish a mask she’s working on. Send her home if she stays too late.”
With a wave to Madeline and a murmured goodbye to Mrs. Hastings, who was also preparing to leave, Bethany began the long walk back to Royal Street. The sights and sounds of the streets she trudged along went unnoticed. She didn’t stop to buy Abby sugarcane at the French-market vegetable stands; nor did she stop to enjoy the music of the piano player hoping for tips. The gaudy window displays of Decatur Street received no more than a passing glance.
Searching the square for Lamar and her daughter, she decided he had indeed taken Abby exploring, and she continued toward home. Along the flagstone sidewalks, under the brightly colored flags flying from the roofs of brick hotels, she trudged on and her memory could not be silenced.
Justin had been gone for three weeks when Bethany finally dragged her exhausted body to the campus infirmary to receive the positive result on her pregnancy test. The results didn’t surprise her. The infirmary doctor, overworked and hardened to the plight of young girls who should know better, made only a halfhearted attempt to offer guidance. She refused even that, walking across the campus to an afternoon psychology class and taking notes on the lecture as though nothing had happened.
Convinced that Justin loved her and would be back, she somehow managed to put the implications of her condition out of her mind. Yes, she was pregnant. And no, she wasn’t married. But she remembered Justin’s insatiable hunger for her body and her company. The tale of Snow White and the handsome prince would have a happy ending.
The Unmasking Page 3
