Second Star to the Right

by Mary Alice Monroe

  Faye was numb with shock, realizing what she’d hoped he might say-- and didn’t.

  “Yes,” she blurted, turning her face to look at Nana, “of course you may keep her.” Maddie jumped up and clapped her hands. Being a child, she would take what she could get. She might be losing Jack, but oh joy! She could keep Nana! She bent to snuggle her face in the puppy’s.

  Jack was studying Faye’s face, his lips pursed. “Maddie, go on up and tell Tom,” he said. When she didn’t and remained romping on the floor with Nana, Jack lifted her to her feet by the shoulders then bent to lift Nana into her arms. Then with a gentle shove he sent her on her way up the stairs. She ran calling out Tom’s name at the top of her lungs.

  Jack next extended his hand to Faye easing her up, not releasing her when she rose a breath away. He moved his hand to her chin and gently turned her head, forcing her to face him. Stubbornly, Faye kept her eyes averted.

  “Faye,” he said.

  The magnetism was there again, she couldn’t help herself. Sighing in resignation, she followed the sound of his voice.

  “You’re upset. You didn’t want the puppy?”

  “Oh Jack,” she sighed with exasperation. “The puppy? You asked the wrong question! I would have said yes to so many things tonight. A puppy was the least of it.”

  His face went very still. He asked, “Are you giving me your permission?”

  She laughed lightly. “For a kiss? My one special kiss?” She released a short, sad laugh. “Mrs. Darling gave her kiss to Peter. She understood.”

  “Understood what?”

  “Peter’s nature." Faye shook her head. "Jack, what I’m trying to say is that I know that you’ll be flying off soon to who knows where. I don’t expect a commitment. I won’t hang on to your sleeve. You’re like Peter Pan to me. You’re adventurous, curious, brave, noble, naughty, incorrigible.” She smoothed his collar with her fingertips. “You’re as fleeting as youth.”

  She leaned back in his arms and looked into his eyes. “Don’t you see? I’ve waited for you for so many years. I want to give you my kiss. Come, take it. And even though you won’t be here in the morning when I wake up, I will have my moment of bliss. Yes, you have my permission. Kiss the girl, Jack. And take the woman."

  Jack swept her in his arms, wrapping her tightly, lowering his head to cover her lips with his. She was small and slight like the girl she had just described. But she kissed like a woman.

  The smell of his skin filled her senses, the brusque chafing of his late-afternoon beard pinkened her cheek, awakening her to the passion she’d long denied. The fierce possession of her mouth by his caused her head to swirl, her knees to weaken, and she swayed in his arms. Her head fell back, and she gasped as his tongue traced its way along each sensitive neuron in her neck to return to her open mouth. He dueled with her tongue like an avenging pirate, clever with his thrusts, sure of his win. She wrapped her arms around his neck, stretching on tiptoe to offer more of herself to him. Tiring of the parry, he stepped closer, grasping her rear and pressing her close.

  On the stove the water was roiling, steam was whistling, and the metal teakettle jiggled with the power of the sizzling hot water.

  “Jack, wait,” she said, pulling back. She took deep gulping breaths. “The teakettle.”

  “I don’t think I want any tea just now,” he said, his lips stretching to a smile.

  “Me neither,” she replied, smiling too.

  His arms drew her in, kissing her again, and still the pesky kettle insisted on being heard. Yet neither one of them broke apart.

  “I suppose I should get that,” he said, moving his lips against hers.

  “I suppose,” she replied, punctuating her comment with a nip.

  They moved together, lost in the ferocity of this third embrace.

  “Doesn’t anybody hear the teakettle?” Maddie called out as she pushed through the door.

  Faye and Jack clumsily stepped back but not, Faye feared, before Maddie caught them in some semblance of a clutch. She could tell by the way Maddie stood at the entrance with a strange look on her face, as though not sure of what she saw, and whether she should run back up the stairs.

  “Let me get that kettle,” Faye said, her hands fluttering to smooth her hair, tuck in her shirt, check her skirt. She ducked her head so Maddie wouldn’t be able to continue her sharp scrutiny of her cheeks and lips, both of which she felt sure were flushed a telltale red. The kettle gave off a final, angry whistle before peace was restored.

  “Would anyone like a cuppa?” she asked, clearing her throat. The invitation was lame, she knew, but her mind was blank. Both Jack and Maddie shook their heads vigorously in the negative.

  “Well then,” Faye said, clapping her hands together, feeling enormously awkward.

  Maddie squinted, then turned heel and ran back up the stairs.

  “I sure have a bad sense of timing,” Faye said, leaning heavily against the Aga.

  Jack came closer, taking hold of her hips and drawing her close. “I’d say your timing was perfect. We almost missed this.” He tugged her nearer so their hips joined. His lips hovered over hers so she could feel his warm breath against her cheeks, as hot as steam.

  “I want you.”

  “Yes,” she whispered through parched lips. Then, “No. Not here. The children.”

  “We’ll go away. To the seashore. One night, Faye. No ties, no commitments, no history.”

  No future, she thought. A small bite that stung, then she brushed the thought away.

  “Just you and me, Faye. One night before I leave.”

  She understood what he was saying. One night and no more. He was giving her the chance to back away. To say no. Weeks ago, that would have been her only option. Now, however, she would grab this chance. She’d achieved her goals, hadn’t she? She’d provided a secure home for herself and her children. Maddie was smiling, Tom was speaking. Rob hadn’t chased them across the ocean. At last, she was an independent woman. Couldn’t an independent woman go away with a man she loved for one night? No strings attached?

  Yes, of course she could, she answered herself. She would go away for one night. Just for herself. She’d open up, allow the joy and pleasure in. Who or what could it hurt? Just one night.

  * * *

  Maddie and Tom hooted for joy at the prospect of spending an entire night in the nursery. Leaving her children, even for one night, represented a great leap of faith for Faye, and when she confided this to Jack, he assured her that the doctor had given Wendy a clean bill of health and that she was up to the task. And there was Mrs. Jerkins.

  “Nothing will happen,” he said. “Faye, no stalling. This is our time together. It’s only one night.”

  Faye had wrapped her arms around him and conceded, her heart breaking that she’d found someone she could love again and she only had one night in which to love him. And he was right of course. Nothing would happen to the children in one night. But being the worrier she was, she planned for every contingency as though she were leaving for a month.

  On Saturday afternoon she stood by the front door with her bags at her heels and papers in her hand, each one filled with lists.

  Jack felt no worries or fears. His eyes were dancing with excitement and his mind was already on the road ahead. “We’re leaving before dinner, and we’ll be home after breakfast. It’s only for the time that they sleep,” he said, picking up her overnight bag.

  Faye nodded, chewing her lip, thinking things through. Faye had left Mrs. Jerkins and Wendy a long list of instructions and phone numbers for her cellular phone, for the hotel where they had reservations, for the children’s doctors, the chemist, and God forbid, the police. She’d engaged Mrs. Jerkins as the official sitter, someone to monitor the evening from the command post of their flat. But the children were spending the night with Wendy in a great fort constructed of sheets and mattress and bits of treasures from all three flats. It was to be a great holiday.

  “Fly off, now!” Wen
dy said to them wistfully, gently hustling them out the door. “Ah, I remember the days when I flew away with someone I loved. Be happy, children! Be carefree. And not to worry about Maddie and Tootles.”

  With a twinkle in her eye, Wendy said before closing the door, “I shall give them a night they will never forget!”

  Chapter 19

  It was a night Faye would never forget.

  They left on a gray London afternoon and arrived in the deep darkness of a coastal night. Far from the city lights the stars twinkled in a crisp, clear sky. The moist, cold air nipped their cheeks and smelled of sea salt, chimney smoke, fresh fish, and dank wood. She couldn’t see much in the darkness save for the lurking shadows of trees thick with leaves and enormous shrubs as dense as a stone wall. She had the sense of green lushness that she’d not felt since her arrival in London. In the rear of the hotel the land dropped sharply, giving the impression that they’d reached the end of the earth. One more step and they might catapult into space. Seeing the wilds of nature again made her realize how much she’d missed it.

  Jack had made reservations at one of England’s grand hotels. It was a historical place, full of marble floors, crystal chandeliers, elaborate gilt mirrors hung over faded wallpaper, and European charm. Jack stepped up to register at the front desk backed by ancient wood mail slots, all intricately carved from thick mahogany, a skill long gone. Faye couldn’t bear to stand beside him and pretend that she was Mrs. Graham, so she strolled down the narrow corridor lined with small display windows and feigned a keen interest in the impossibly expensive and chic clothing, bags, and jewelry in the glass cases. She looked up in time to see the clerk reach for a huge brass key from a wall of polished brass hooks and hand it to Jack. As she watched Jack’s long fingers enclose the key, she shuddered, wondering what it would be like to feel those fingers upon her body, to be with a man again, after so long a time.

  A uniformed porter hurried up and insisted on carrying her one, small, battered leather bag. Faye blushed to her toes, feeling certain as they rode up two floors in the mirrored elevator that the jockey-sized young man with the averted eyes knew why they had come with so little luggage, to stay but one night. An old scene perhaps, but new enough for her.

  Their room was large with high ceilings, yet cozy, recently renovated with bright, floral wallpaper that coordinated with the fabric on the upholstered sofa and the plump bedding. French doors opened to a private balcony obscured now by the cloak of darkness. The bathroom was enormous with shiny, modern plumbing, a marble sink, and a claw-footed tub so large even a man as tall as Jack could stretch his legs. Seeing the real linen towels and sheets, a gracious nod to the past, Faye realized that Jack had chosen a first class hotel, a place with ambience and style, for their one night together. A smile flitted across her face and turning, she watched Jack tip the porter and order champagne, chilled, and strawberries, fresh, immediately sent to the room. All with the familiarity of a man who had done this before.

  Truth was, she would never know. Jack was a man who felt comfortable in all surroundings, a five-star restaurant or a pub, at an academic meeting or a sports event and she would not know him long enough to cleverly pry into his past, to ask if he’d been at this very hotel before, with some other woman. Those were not the kinds of questions an independent woman would ask an independent man.

  After the porter quietly closed the door behind him Jack prowled the room, opening drawers, checking out the minibar and the bathroom. Faye saw only the bed. The enormous, four-poster, king-size bed that dominated the entire room. It was more than a bed—it was a statement.

  Jack yanked open the doors to the balcony and stood, jacket off, his tie loose and hanging around his shoulder, staring out at the blackness of sea and sky. He’d thought he was jaded, but tonight he was as nervous as a teenager about to make love for the first time. He wanted everything to be perfect. For her. He wanted tonight to be memorable.

  He knew she was nervous too; he’d caught her expression when she saw the four- poster bed, and almost called it off when he saw her lips tremble. Goodness should be rewarded with goodness and he wanted more than anything else to make her happy, to show her that he loved her. Perhaps they should go to the dining room first, he wondered? To give her time to feel comfortable. And if she didn’t, well... He rubbed his jaw. If it meant securing another room, being satisfied with nothing more than sharing a fine meal and a walk on the beach with her, so be it. He’d settle with being her friend.

  Then turning, he saw her smile. The sweetness in her expression shattered his illusions. Liar, he told himself. He didn’t want just to be her friend. He wanted to be her lover. He wanted it all.

  The champagne came and they laughed when the cork popped and hit the ceiling. He filled two glasses, amazed that his hands were calm despite the blood throbbing in his veins. Then they raised their glasses and toasted each other.

  He wore an amused smile, she a shy one.

  “Here’s to my best friend,” she said.

  He swallowed deep, then refilled their glasses and offered, “Here’s to a wonderful, unforgettable night together.”

  She drank her glass quickly, her gaze darting discreetly to the bed.

  Electricity vibrated between them like the waves of the ocean crashing on the rocks outside their window.

  There followed an awkward silence as they drank from their glasses, intensely aware of each other sitting shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee. Looking around at the pretty room in the soft glow of the filtered light, the enormous four-poster, Jack felt as though the stage was set for the final act. He lowered his brows and stared at her over the rim of his glass. Her small, delicate hands were clutching tight the crystal stem while her eyes kept glancing toward the four-poster. Sympathy and desire collided in his heart, and with a sudden move he swooped to his feet. Hell, he never liked performing expected roles.

  “Grab the glasses,” he said, grasping the champagne bottle with one hand and her hand with the other, dragging her up behind him as he walked quickly toward the bed.

  Approaching the bed he grabbed hold of the heavy down quilt and yanked it off while she watched with widening eyes. Next he gathered more blankets, then the pillows into his arms and crossed the room to the French doors and swung them open to the balcony. A breeze whistled through the room and she could hear the thundering of the waves upon the rocks below. Curious, she followed Jack out to the balcony, wondering what he was up to, shivering in the cool, fragrant night air. Jack shoved the table and two iron chairs to the side and began spreading out the blankets on the floor, placing the pillows at one end near the bottle of champagne.

  “Now turn off the lights and come back out,” he said over his shoulder, spreading out the down coverlet over the blanket. “It’s a clear night and this far out from the city we can really see the stars.”

  Stargazing, she thought? Her tension lightened as a slight giggle escaped. “Why, Jack,” she said, her lips curving. “I haven’t lain out and looked at the stars with a boy since I was in high school at Lee Street Beach in Evanston. It was a classic make out ploy.”

  “Who said we weren’t going to make out? But I happen to like looking at the stars, too. Don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do,” she replied, her heart suddenly light. “And look Jack, it’s a full moon!” Even as she said this, she felt a shiver of foreboding. Didn’t Wendy say Peter Pan always came when the moon was full?

  “Hurry and turn off the lights,” he called with excitement, climbing under the coverlet. “No point in freezing when it’s nice and warm under here.”

  One flick of the wrist, and it was suddenly pitch-black. Jack called her name, and she followed the sound of his voice through the dark room like a ship follows the horn, guiding her past all dangers of rocky memories to come safely on a straight course to him. He lifted a corner of the coverlet and she slipped into the warm den of down and body. She caught the scent of salt air and sweet skin and heard the sounds of fabric rustling,
bodies shifting as they burrowed like animals into the blankets. He reached under and around her, nestling her close, rubbing her arms to warm them, placing her head on his shoulder, his cheek against her hair.

  Faye closed her eyes for a moment, sighing heavily, relishing the feel of Jack’s arms tight around her, her cold nose against his warm neck. Her fingertips splayed against his chest, flexing like a cat’s paw against the cotton shirt and playing with the hard plastic buttons.

  Eventually they settled, their heads together, their breaths making long plumes of vapor. They stared out at a sky so vast and filled with so many stars that they were struck with awe.

  “All my life I loved looking at the stars,” he said. “I suppose that’s why I studied them as an adult. Some people feel overwhelmed by their infinity. Not me. I look out there and am inspired."

  “It’s all so...endless.”

  “That’s what’s so exciting. Researchers have been examining the distant light from stars that exploded before the sun was even born. Think of it,” he said with his eyes shining and wonder in his voice. “Our universe is much older than we’d thought it was, and it just keeps on expanding. On and on and on. We’re 95% sure that the universe is going to expand forever.”

  “That kind of infinity is the kind of thing I usually associate with God.”

  “Yeah. Makes you realize your own mortality, doesn’t it? We’re just blips on the map of time.”

  Faye shivered and held on to him tightly as they stared at the sky. Not just the body, but the soul inside. The more insignificant they seemed in the enormity of the cosmos, the more meaningful they were to each other, two souls clinging together as they navigated the sea of stars. He pointed out the constellations: Andromeda, Pisces, Ursa Major, and directly overhead Ursa Minor. They gasped in unison when they caught the fiery descent of a star.

  “Stars live and die, like everything else,” he told her as he looked out, his voice distant. “Some are hot and dense, burning their fuel at an incredible rate. Others are cool, consuming fuel more slowly, doling out their energy in miserly bits, staving off the inevitable. All struggling against the forces, just as we do. In the end, though, they all collapse, and their light is snuffed out.” He paused and squeezed her shoulders, and she felt his smile against her cheek. “Ah, but while they live, they shine.”