Forever and a Day

by Linda Lael Miller

  “Lovely, isn’t it?”

  Carly turned, a little startled, to see Edina Peters, the film agent. “Yes,” she said. “I could look at it forever.”

  Ms. Peters, a petite, well-dressed woman in her mid-forties, smiled, the spring sun glinting in her bright brown hair. “Who knows? Maybe you lived here in another life and were very happy. That would account—at least in part—for that look of controlled sorrow I see in your face.”

  Pushing a lock of windblown hair back from her forehead, Carly changed the subject. “Have you known the Holbrooks long?”

  “Yes,” she answered simply.

  Carly was never sure, when she looked back on that moment, what made her say what she did then. “Mark wrote a play, and it’s fabulous.”

  Edina’s interest was obviously piqued. “I’m not surprised. After all, he has achieved a certain amount of success. Did he ever tell you that he was writing potboilers for detective and science-fiction magazines before he was even out of high school?”

  Carly smiled and shook her head. She could easily picture Mark in that room where he’d made love to her, hurriedly penning stories on a yellow legal pad. “He’s remarkable.”

  “Is he going to show the play to anyone?” Edina asked carefully.

  Still leaning against the terrace railing, Carly interlocked her fingers and sighed. “He gave it to me,” she said.

  “Gave it to you?”

  Carly shrugged, drinking in the view, taking solace in it. “I wouldn’t put my name on it, or anything like that.”

  “Of course not,” agreed Edina, who had no way of knowing what Carly’s scruples were.

  “I’d like to show it to someone, just to find out whether or not my instincts are right. Would you be willing...?”

  Except for a glint in Edina’s eyes, there was no outward sign of her eagerness. “I’d be happy to. And, naturally, I wouldn’t do anything without talking to you first.”

  Carly nodded, went upstairs by the back way and took the manuscript from her suitcase. Edina was waiting in the kitchen when she came down, and her slender white hand trembled slightly as she reached for the play.

  “Now remember,” Carly said firmly, “I’m only looking for your opinion. I don’t have the authority to sell Mark’s work.”

  Edina nodded, gave Carly her card and left the party five minutes later.

  Carly returned to the brunch to find that Mark had finished his talk with Jeanine. She knew it hadn’t gone well by the strained look in his eyes and the muscle that kept bunching along his jawline.

  She slipped her arm through his and pulled him into an alcove. “Well?”

  “She said no.”

  Carly reached up to still the angry muscle. “You didn’t really expect her to say yes so easily, did you? Good heavens, Mark, Nathan is her son.”

  He let out a ragged sigh. “Jeanine’s an alcoholic,” he said.

  “That doesn’t mean she doesn’t love her child,” Carly reasoned. “What you’re asking is the hardest thing in the world for a woman to do.” She thought fleetingly of the play, and felt an ache inside—and an urge to run after Edina Peters and ask her to give the manuscript back.

  Mark pushed back the sleeve of his forest-green sweater and checked his watch. “We’ve got to catch a plane in two hours, Scoop,” he said in a lighter tone. “Maybe we’d better start inching toward the door.”

  Carly stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. “It’s so nice of you to keep me advised of our schedule,” she mocked with a twinkle in her eyes. “First you tell me we’re coming down here because of the piece on fathers’ rights, without giving me any idea of how long we’re staying, then you present me to your family, then you calmly announce that we’re leaving in two hours. Is there anything else I should know, Mr. Holbrook?”

  He leaned toward her and grinned, lifting his eyebrows a degree. “Yeah. You should know that when we get back to Oregon, I’m going to take you to bed and make love to you until you collapse in exhaustion.”

  A blush colored Carly’s cheeks, and she turned away, infuriated that he could arouse her so thoroughly in a room full of people, then leave her to wait hours for satisfaction.

  Forty-five minutes later, after Mark had spent a little more time with Nathan, he and Carly said goodbye to his family, got into a cab and headed for the airport.

  The fact that she’d given the play to an agent was preying on Carly’s conscience by then, but she didn’t have the courage to confide in Mark. She pushed the subject to the back of her mind and the two of them brainstormed the fathers’ rights issue during the flight back to Oregon.

  “Are you coming home with me?” Mark asked as they landed.

  Carly twisted the exquisite gold bracelet on her wrist. “No,” she said after nervously running the tip of her tongue over her lips. “I think we need some space.”

  He didn’t comment on that until they were out of the plane and on the way to the baggage-claim area.

  “What’s going on, Carly?” he demanded as they rode the escalator. “I thought things were pretty good between us.”

  Carly felt sad. “They are,” she answered. “But they’re volatile, too. I don’t want this relationship to go up like a bomb and crash to the ground in flaming pieces, and it could if we push too hard.”

  He gave her a weary grin. “I hate to admit it, Scoop, but you may be right. But damn, I really wanted to make love to you tonight.”

  Again Carly blushed. “Well—you could come to my apartment for dinner. It’s just that I don’t think we should live together. Not yet.”

  His brown eyes caressed her. “Fair enough, but what about that baby we talked about?”

  Carly glanced anxiously around to see if anyone was eavesdropping on their conversation. “I think we should forget that, at least until after this thing about Nathan’s custody is ironed out. Creating a child isn’t something you do on impulse, Mark, and besides...” She paused, swallowed and averted her eyes for a few moments before going on. “You can’t replace one child with another.”

  He sighed, slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her close against his side. “All right, Scoop, you win. But we can at least practice, so that when we do make a baby, we’ll get it right.”

  Carly laughed, but inside her there was a great sadness. For all her sensible decisions, what she really wanted was to pack up everything she owned, move into Mark’s house and start a baby right away.

  What she didn’t want was to end up divorced in a few years because they’d tried to do things too quickly.

  After collecting their baggage, Carly and Mark drove to his place. Carly waited in the car while he collected his laptop and a change of clothes. They stopped briefly at a Chinese restaurant, then retreated to Carly’s apartment.

  The light on her answering machine was flickering, and Carly had already pushed the button and started to play the message before she realized there might be messages she didn’t want Mark to hear.

  Sure enough, Janet’s voice filled the living room. “I’ll bet you’re off in some romantic hideaway with that fantastic man you’re dating, you fink. Call me when you get back.”

  Mark, who was sitting on the couch, opening the bags from the Chinese place, paused long enough to polish his fingernails against his shirt and toss Carly a cocky grin.

  Subtly she went back to the machine and pressed the Off button. Then she kicked off her shoes and curled up beside Mark on the cushions. They watched an old movie on TV while they ate casually from the cartons, occasionally feeding each other, and the progression to the bedroom was a natural one.

  Carly went in to change her clothes, and in the ancient way of men, Mark followed her.

  “Remember what I told you in San Francisco?” he teased, his voice a low, throaty rumble as he stood behind her, his lips moving against her nape.

 
; In spite of herself, Carly trembled. His words hadn’t been far out of her mind since he’d spoken them. “Yes,” she managed as he lifted her tank top and closed his hands over the bare, full breasts beneath.

  He nipped at her earlobe. “What did I say?”

  Carly wondered if there were other women in the world who’d gone from virgin to vamp in one easy lesson. “Y-you said you were going to t-take me to bed and make love to me until I c-collapsed.”

  Mark turned her in his arms and pulled the tank top off over her head. Her plump breasts bobbed with the motion, and two patches of color throbbed in her cheeks. He lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms encircling his neck.

  He was kissing her collarbone, the warm, quivering tops of her breasts. He found her nipple and suckled, and she flung back her head in ecstatic surrender, pulling in her breath. His glossy brown hair was like silk between her fingers.

  “Tell me what you want, Carly,” he paused to mutter.

  “You,” Carly answered in a helpless whisper. “On top of me, inside me—part of me...”

  Mark laid her down on the bed and pulled away the shorts and panties she’d just put on. His eyes glittered with desire as he entered her.

  Their time together was everything it had ever been, and more. Carly thought, at times, that she could not endure the pleasure, that she would be unable to survive it. When the tumult had overtaken them, when glory had been reached and shared, they lay quietly for a long time, shadows slipping over them. And Carly wept.

  “What?” Mark asked gruffly, brushing away her tears with his thumbs.

  “I want this to work,” Carly managed to respond, feeling silly and bereft. “I want so much for this to work.”

  Mark kissed her, not in a demanding way, but in a gentle, reassuring one. Then he got up and held out his hand to her. “That part of it is up to us, Scoop—it’s not like we’re at the mercy of a whimsical fate or anything.”

  He led her to the bathroom and they showered together, then Mark dried himself with a towel and began putting his clothes back on. Carly, wearing her pink robe, stood in the doorway, watching him, thinking what a marvel he was. His body was beautifully sculpted, like one of Michelangelo’s statues come to life.

  “You’re leaving?” she asked softly.

  He paused in the hunt for his other shoe long enough to plant a kiss on her forehead. “Yes. You’re all done in, babe. You need some rest.”

  Carly swallowed. “I guess loving you is exhausting work,” she said.

  Mark stopped and recoiled comically, like a victim in one of the old Frankenstein movies. “Did I actually hear it? The L word?”

  Carly nodded. It was so hard, taking the risk, laying all her feelings on the line when he might just walk out and never come back. “I love you, Mark.”

  He came to her, gripped her shoulders gently in his hands and searched her face. “Carly, I’m going to owe half of next year’s income when I say this, because I bet all my friends I’d never let it happen, but I love you, too. And it’s not like anything I’ve ever felt before.”

  She was too moved to speak, so she just nodded again, and he kissed her lightly and went back to the search for his shoe.

  “Get some shut-eye, Scoop,” he said. “Tomorrow we start working in earnest.” After that, he kissed her once more and left.

  Carly locked the apartment door after him and let her forehead rest against the wood.

  Presently she turned around and made her way to the desk. She listened to a series of messages while she gathered up the cartons and bags left on the coffee table from their Chinese meal. Abruptly she stiffened when Edina’s voice filled the room.

  “Carly, you were right—this play is wonderful. I read it at one sitting. We’ve simply got to persuade Mark to let me market it. Call me back at the number I gave you on Monday morning, and we’ll formulate a plan.”

  Carly’s knees weakened as she imagined what would have happened if she hadn’t stopped the machine after Janet’s message played. She dropped the debris from dinner into the trash and made her way somewhat shakily to the telephone.

  Janet answered on the third ring.

  “It’s me,” Carly said, and then she began to cry.

  Her friend was there in less than a minute. “What’s wrong?” she asked, taking in Carly’s mussed hair, bathrobe and tear-reddened eyes.

  “I’m in love with Mark!” Carly wailed.

  Janet smiled gently as she pressed her friend into a chair and then went to the kitchenette, talking loudly to be heard over the sound of water running into the teakettle. “Now there’s stunning news,” she called. “Nobody would have guessed you were crazy about the guy or anything.”

  Carly got out of the chair and followed her friend’s voice, watching as Janet took mugs and tea bags from their respective places. “I’ve done something sneaky and underhanded,” she went on, sniffling. “He’s probably never going to forgive me.”

  Arms folded, Janet leaned against the kitchen counter to wait for the water to boil and sighed. “What could you have done that was so bad?” she asked skeptically.

  Carly bit her lower lip for a long moment before answering. “I showed his play to an agent without telling him first.”

  Janet’s pretty eyes went round. “You did what?”

  “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Carly reasoned fitfully. “And I told the agent I didn’t have the power to sell it. But she called back a little while ago—it was just lucky that Mark didn’t hear the message—and I have an awful feeling she’s not going to be able to control her enthusiasm.”

  The teakettle whistled, and Janet poured boiling water into the two mugs and carried them past Carly to the table, where they both sat down.

  “You’re right,” Janet said. “I think you’re in very big trouble.”

  Carly nodded miserably, her fingers curved around the steaming mug. “I thought it would be okay,” she said. “I mean, he said I could do what I wanted to with it, and his mother and I tacitly agreed that somebody in the business ought to look at it. That might even have been why she invited Edina to the brunch.”

  Janet didn’t pursue the subject of the Holbrooks’ brunch. “You’ve got to tell Mark what you did before he hears it from somebody else,” she said. “It’s your only chance, Carly. If the agent calls him and starts raving about what a hit the movie’s going to be, he’ll be furious with you.”

  Carly’s throat ached, and she was on the verge of tears again. “Do you suppose I did this on purpose, Janet? You know, to sabotage myself, to keep things from being too good?”

  “You’ve been watching too much trash TV,” Janet said, dismissing the idea with a wave of one hand. “You did it because you love the man, and you want to see him get the recognition he deserves. Thing is, your methods leave something to be desired, kid.”

  Mark’s laptop was still sitting on the coffee table—they’d never gotten around to actually using it—and the sight filled Carly with guilt. With shaking hands, she lifted the mug full of tea to her mouth.

  “He’ll probably be mad at first,” Janet went on when Carly didn’t speak. “But he’ll see that you meant well when he calms down.”

  Remembering how Mark had exploded when she’d confessed that she’d read the play, Carly had her doubts about what his reactions would be when he learned she’d shown it to someone else. Now, she guessed, she’d see how much—or how little—Mark loved her. She grimaced.

  “There’s always the sneaky way out,” Janet suggested. “You could call the agent, tell her to send back the play and never breathe a word about it to anybody—after which you conveniently forget to mention the blunder to Mark.”

  Carly dismissed the idea with a shake of her head and, “I’d never have a moment’s peace for worrying that he’d find out.”

  Janet gest
ured toward the phone. “Call him. I’ll be down the hall if you need me.” With that she got out of her chair, carried her cup to the sink and then left the apartment.

  Carly stared after her, her thumbnail caught between her front teeth, but she didn’t make the call. No, she reasoned, she wouldn’t do that until after she’d spoken to Edina in the morning and asked her to send the play back.

  She made herself another cup of tea, selected a book from the shelves underneath the living room window and went to bed. It seemed lonely without Mark.

  Fluffing her pillows behind her, Carly opened the new adventure-espionage novel she’d bought at the grocery store and began to read. By the time she’d gone over the same paragraph for the third time, she gave up.

  There were dark circles under her eyes when she got up the next morning, and no matter how skillful she was with her makeup, she couldn’t hide them. She had tried Edina’s office number twice, without success, when Mark showed up.

  The moment he got a look at her face, he frowned and put a hand to her forehead. “You’re not looking so good, Scoop. Are you sick?”

  Yes, Carly thought miserably. “No,” she said out loud.

  He didn’t look convinced. “I can start the interviews without you,” he said. “And I’ll bring my notes by later, so we can go over them.”

  “Mark, I’m new on this job. I don’t want to mess up—”

  “One day won’t make a difference, Carly. And, like I said, I can get the legwork done without you.”

  Stubbornly Carly shook her head. She grabbed an orange while Mark reached for the laptop, and they set out to begin their day’s work. It was ten o’clock before she got a chance to sneak out of Mark’s office at the Times, where they’d been arranging interviews with divorced fathers, and put a call through to Edina.