the Promise (1978)

by Steel, Danielle

  She got a cab just outside the terminal, gave the driver her address, and settled back, with a sigh, against the seat. She was tired. It was almost eleven o'clock, and she had gotten up at five that morning to take pictures. She looked at her watch and promised herself to be in bed by twelve. She had to. Tomorrow was another big day. She had stayed away right up to the last moment. At nine the next morning, Peter would remove the last of the tape. No one else had been aware that she was still wearing tape. But she knew. And now even that would be gone. She was going to spend the morning alone after she left his office, and then they were meeting again for a celebration lunch. No more operations, no more stitches, no more tape. She was just like everyone else now. Her new name had even become legal. Marie Adamson had been born.

  The driver let her out in front of her building, and she walked slowly up the stairs, as though expecting to find a different apartment than the one she had left. But it was the same, and she was surprised to feel a sense of anticlimax. Then she laughed at herself. What did she want? She had told Peter not to meet her. Did she expect a brass band hiding in her bedroom? Peter under the bed? Something. She wasn't sure what. She peeled off her clothes and stretched out on the bed thinking of what she had come home to. She had a lot on her mind. What would it mean now that Peter's work on her face would be finished? What if she never saw him again? But that was crazy and she knew it. He had arranged the exhibition of her work, which opened the day after the final unveiling of her face. He cared about her as a person, not just as a reconstruction job. She knew that. But she felt oddly insecure as she lay there in the dark, wanting someone to tell her that everything was all right, that she wasn't alone, that she'd make it as Marie Adamson.

  Oh damn. What does it matter if I'm alone? She stood up briskly and stared at herself in the mirror as she said the words, and then in irritation she picked up her camera and almost caressed it. That was all she needed. She was just tired from the trip. It was stupid to worry about being lonely, about her future, about Peter.' With a sharp sigh, she climbed into bed. She had better things to think about, like her work.

  She woke up shortly after six the next morning and was dressed and out of the house by seven thirty. When she arrived at Peter's office at nine, she had already been to the produce market and then the flower market to take pictures. She had added another shot to her series on Chinatown. And she had picked up Fred at the vet.

  My, don't you look chipper this morning and beautiful. That's a marvelous coat. Peter looked admiringly at the full-length coyote she had bought at a bargain price on a reservation in New Mexico. She wore it over jeans with a black turtleneck sweater and boots. And she had worn the black stetson until she got to his office. Now she held it in her hand for a moment, smiled at him in a way he had never seen before, and then poised over the wastebasket for only a fraction of a second, before crushing the hat into the bottom.

  And that, Dr. Gregson, is the last time I will ever wear a hat.

  He nodded. He understood just how important the gesture was. You won't ever have to again.

  Thanks to you. She wanted to kiss him, but her eyes told him what he needed to know, and as she looked at him she realized that she had missed him on her trip. He was someone different to her now. He would no longer be her doctor after that morning. He would be her friend, and whatever else she let him become. They had not yet resolved that, no matter how often he told her he loved her. She had not yet taken the last step, and he had never pushed her. I missed you, Peter. She touched his arm softly as she sat down in the all too familiar chair, closed her eyes, and waited.

  He watched her for a moment as he stood there, and then he took his usual seat on the little swivel stool in front of her. You're in a hurry this morning.

  After twenty months, wouldn't you be too?

  I know, darling, I know. She heard the clink of the delicate instruments in the little metal pan, and she felt the tape being pulled slowly from her forehead and her hairline. With every millimeter of skin it freed, she felt that much freer, until at last she felt nothing more, and she heard the little stool whoosh softly away from her. You can open your eyes now, Marie. And go look in the mirror. She had made that trip a thousand times. At first only to see a tiny glimpse, a hint, a promise, and then bigger pieces of the puzzle. But she had never seen Marie Adamson's face free of tape, or stitches, or some reminder of what was being done. She had not seen her face completely bare since it had been the face of Nancy McAllister nearly two years before. Go on. Take a look.

  It was crazy. She almost afraid to. But silently, she stood up and walked slowly to the mirror, and then she stood there with a broad smile, and a narrow river of tears gleaming on her face. He stood behind her, at a good distance. He wanted to leave her alone. This was her moment.

  Oh God, Peter, it's beautiful.

  He laughed softly. Not it's' beautiful, silly girl. You're beautiful. It is you, you know.

  She could only nod and then turn to look at him. It wasn't so much that her face had changed without the few strips of tape on her forehead, but that it was over. She was entirely Marie now. Oh Peter ' Without saying more, she walked into his arms and held him tight. They stood there that way in his office for a long time, and then he pulled away and gently wiped her tears. Look, I can even get wet and I don't melt.

  And you can take the sun, though not excessively. And you can do anything you want to for the rest of your life. What's first on the agenda?

  Work. She chuckled and sat down on the little swivel stool he had abandoned, and with her legs tucked up under her chin she spun herself around.

  God, she's going to break a leg in my office. That's all I need.

  If I do, I'm walking out of here anyway, love. I have a life to celebrate this morning.

  I'm glad to hear it. And apparently Fred was, too. He jumped up, wagged his tail, and barked, as though he had understood what she had said. They both laughed and Peter stooped to pat his head. Are we still having lunch?

  There was an anxious look in his eyes and she was touched. She understood what he was feeling, too. Abandonment Anxiety. Would she still want him in her life when she didn't need him anymore? He looked very vulnerable to her as he stood there, and she held out a hand to him. Of course we're having lunch, silly. Peter ' Her eyes held fast to his. There will always be time in my life for you. Always. I hope you know that You're the only reason I have a life.

  No. Someone else is responsible for that. Marion Hillyard. But he knew how much she hated to hear the older woman's name, so he didn't say it. He never understood why Marie reacted that way, but he humored her on that point. I'm glad I was around to help. I always will be, if you need me' for' for other things.

  Good. Then see that you feed me at twelve thirty. The conversation had been serious enough. She stood up and shrugged her way into the new coyote coat. Where shall we meet?

  He suggested a new restaurant down at the docks, where they could watch the tugboats and ferries and tankers cruising by on the bay, and the hills of Berkeley beyond. Does that sound all right to you?

  It sounds perfect. I may just hang around down there all morning and do some shooting.

  I'd be disappointed if you did anything else. He swept open the examining room door with a bow, and she winked as she left, but she did not go straight to the docks as she had said. Instead, went downtown to shop. Suddenly, she wanted to buy something fabulous to wear to lunch with Peter. It was the most special day of her life, and she wanted to enjoy every bit of it. In the cab, she glanced at her check-book and was grateful for the money she had made before Christmas on some of her work. It would allow her to be extravagant for herself, and to buy Peter something as well.

  She found a pale fawn cashmere dress which molded her figure breathtakingly beneath the fur coat, and she stopped at the hairdresser and let him do her hair. It was the first time in years that she had worn it back, revealing her whole face. She bought big wonderful gold earrings at the costume jewelr
y bar, and a beige satin rope with a gold seashell on it. Beige suede shoes and a bag, and the perfume she had always loved best, and she definitely looked ready for lunch with Dr. Peter Gregson. Or just about anyone else. She was a woman who would have stopped any man's heart.

  Her last stop was at Shreve's where, as though by prearranged plan, she found precisely what she had wanted but hadn't known she would ever find. It was a little gold face made up as a watch fob, and she knew that Peter had a pocket watch he was fond of and occasionally wore. She would have the date engraved in it for him later, but for the moment this would have to do. She had it gift wrapped, hailed a cab, and arrived at the restaurant just as he was sitting down. She thought she might explode with joy as watched his face while she approached. There were a number of others in the restaurant who watched her appreciatively too, but none with the tenderness of Peter Gregson.

  Is it really you?

  Cinderella at your service. Do you approve?

  Approve? I'm overwhelmed. What did you do all morning? Run around shopping?

  But of course. This is a special day.

  She did things to his feelings that he had thought couldn't be done. He wanted to kiss her there, in the restaurant. Instead he held tightly to her hand, and smiled a long happy smile. I'm so glad you're happy, darling.

  I am. But not just because of the face. There's the show tomorrow, and ' and my work, and my life ' and ' you. She said the last word very softly.

  The moment meant so much to him that he could only make light of it. I come after all those things, eh? What about Fred?

  They both laughed and he ordered Bloody Marys for the two of them, and then he thought better of it and changed the order to champagne.

  Champagne? Good heavens!

  Why not? And I closed the office for the afternoon. I'm as free as can be unless, of course He hadn't even thought of it you have other plans.

  Doing what for God's sake?

  Working? He felt sheepish for even asking.

  Don't be ridiculous. Let's go do something fun today.

  He laughed at her answer. Like what? What would you like to do most?

  She tried to think and couldn't come up with anything, and then she looked at him with a broad smile.

  Go to the beach.

  In January?

  Sure. This is California after all, not Vermont. We could drive over to Stinson, and go for a walk.

  All right. You're certainly easy to please. But beach walks with him had become special to her and she wanted a special place to give him her gift. She wasn't sure if she could hold out till then. But she did. She waited until late that afternoon, when they were walking hand in hand along the windswept beach. The furcoat protected her from the stiff breeze that was coming in with the fog.

  I have something for you, Peter. He looked at her in surprise as she stopped walking, as though he didn't quite understand, and then she pulled out the little gift-wrapped box. I'll have it engraved, if you like it.

  Marie, that's outrageous. You shouldn't ' I didn't want.' He was touched and embarrassed as he opened the little box, and delighted when he saw the beautiful fob. He put an arm tightly around her shoulders. Why did you do a thing like that? he scolded softly.

  Because you're such a creep and you never do anything for me. He laughed at the mischievous look in her eyes and this time took her in his arms for a long, tender kiss that told her all that he felt. And this time, she kissed him as she never had before, with her body as well as her heart. It made him hungry for her in a way he could barely control.

  You'd better watch that, young lady, or I'll rape you here on the beach.

  She swept open the coat with a teasing smile and laughed. So?

  He only laughed back and pulled her into his arms again. What an extraordinary girl she was, and how well worth the wait she had been. He could let his feelings soar now: she was no longer his patient. Darling ' Marie' . She silenced him with a long hungry kiss, and he pulled away for a moment, wondering if he was reading into her response the feelings he wanted to be there. But a current of desire was running between them that he knew he wasn't imagining. Shall we ' maybe we'd better go back.

  She nodded quietly and followed him back to the car, but her expression wasn't as somber as his, and when they reached her apartment, she turned and looked at him with a smile. I have something else for you, Peter. I'd like you to come upstairs if you have time.

  Are you sure?

  Absolutely.

  She walked up the stairs ahead of him in silence, and when she opened the door of the apartment, she didn't turn on the lights. She walked straight across the living room, turned her easel away from the window, and then turned on the light. What he saw was her landscape with the boy sitting partially hidden in the foliage of a tree. She had finished it for him before she left on her vacation, but she had been saving it for this day, if not for this moment. He looked at her now as though he didn't understand.

  It's for you, Peter. I started it a long time ago. And I ' I finished it for you.

  Oh darling He walked toward it with bright eyes and a gentle look on his face, as though he couldn't believe what she'd done for him. It had been a day filled with emotion and surprises. For both of them. I can't take that I already have so much of your work. You give it all to me, and then you have nothing left to exhibit.

  You have photographs, Peter. This is different. This is a sign of my rebirth. It's the first time I've painted again. And' this painting used to mean a great deal to me. I want you to have it. Please. There were tears in her eyes now, and he walked toward her and took her into his arms.

  It's exquisite. Thank you. I don't know what to say. You've been so good to me.

  You don't have to say anything. And then she kissed him in a way that said it all, and this time he was sure, too. He didn't need to ask. He simply walked into the bedroom with her and, trembling with desire, slowly slipped off her clothes. And in the soft light of twilight, with the music of the foghorns bleating softly in the distance, they made love.

  Chapter 20

  Darling, can you zip me up? She turned her graceful ivory back to him, and he kissed her shoulder.

  I would much rather zip you down than up.

  Now, now, Peter, we don't have time. Marie looked at him warningly and they both laughed. He was wearing a dinner jacket, and she had just put on a beautifully cut black dress with soft dolman sleeves and a narrow waist in a fabric that allowed one to see her silhouette but nothing more. It was a striking dress, and Peter was suitably dazzled.

  I hate to tell you this, my love, but no one is going to be looking at your work. They're all going to be looking at you.

  Oh yeah?

  He laughed at her obvious disbelief and straightened the tie he wore with a soft blue shirt and his dinner jacket Together they made a very striking couple.

  Did they hang everything the way you wanted them to? I never got time to ask you. When he had awakened at eight that morning, she was already gone. But late that afternoon he had arrived at her apartment, and an hour in bed had shown them that they had only begun to feed their hunger for each other. Then they had shared a half hour in the bath, catching up on each other's day. It was almost as though they had lived this way for years.

  She smiled at him as she watched him finish dressing. Yes, they put everything up exactly the way I wanted. Thanks to you. I get the feeling you told them to do it my way or else.' You or Jacques. The gallery owner was one of Peter's oldest and closest friends. I feel thoroughly spoiled. The complete artiste.'

  That's how you should feel. Your work is going to be very important, darling. You'll see.

  And indeed she did. The reviews in the paper the next day were spectacular. They sat around in her apartment over morning coffee, and grinned at what they read.

  Didn't I tell you? He looked even more pleased with himself than she did. You're a star.

  You're crazy. She plunked herself on his lap with a grin and rumpled
the paper.

  You wait. You'll have every photographer's agent in the country calling you by next week.

  Darling, you are out of your mind. But he wasn't too far off. She was getting calls from Los Angeles and Chicago by the following Monday. She couldn't get over it, but she was thoroughly enjoying the whole thing. And she was amused by every phone call she got. Until the call from Ben Avery. It came on a Thursday afternoon, when she was developing some film. She heard the phone ring and she wiped her hands and walked into the kitchen to answer it. She assumed it was Peter. He had said he would call to let her know what time he could see her that evening. He had some kind of meeting scheduled for late afternoon. But she had plenty of darkroom work to keep her busy; there was a veritable avalanche of orders coming in as a result of the show.

  Hello?

  Miss Adamson?

  Yes. She didn't recognize the voice, and the smile she had been wearing for Peter rapidly faded.

  I don't know whether we've met or not, but I met a Miss Adamson the last time I was here. At I. Magnin's. I was doing some Christmas shopping' . I bought some luggage, and ' He felt like a total ass, and for what seemed like an eternity she said nothing.

  So it was Ben. Damn. How had he found her? And why had he bothered to?

  I ' was that you?

  She was tempted to say no, but why lie? I believe it might have been.

  Good. Well, at least we've met. I'm actually calling you because I've just seen your work at the Montpelier Gallery on Post Street. I'm enormously impressed, as is my associate, Miss Townsend.