‶James, I′m glad you′re coming with us.″ Opal Hill came into the room. Her gown was a glittering green as she lifted her cheek for his kiss. She rarely asked her sons for explanations. James′s parents had instilled the values of right and wrong in their two sons. She accepted whatever they did as the right course of action at that time. Going to her husband, she reached up to fix his tie. Winton Hill lifted his chin and his wife tied a perfect bow. ‶You know Elizabeth is going to be there,″ she said, glancing over her shoulder.
‶I saw her tonight.″
Opal′s hands stilled. Slowly she turned to face him, the room completely silent. Three pairs of eyes bore into him.
‶Where?″ Mark was the first to speak.
‶She came by the house.″
Opal took a step toward him. He could see a mother′s concern in her eyes. At thirty-seven he knew he′d always be her little boy and she′d always try to prevent anyone from hurting him. He went to her, putting his arm around her shoulders and looking down at her. ‶I′m fine,″ he said by way of explanation. ‶It was merely a case of misdirected mail or I should say a misdirected package. Invitation to Love sent a package to me by mistake. She came to get it. That′s all.″
It sounded simple, even to his ears. As if the earth shattering kiss they shared hadn′t occurred. As if her presence hadn′t changed his conviction to forget her. Three years and he hadn′t found another woman to take her place. Three years and all he ever did was remember Elizabeth, reliving the nightmare that had begun with Claire.
‶How did she look?″ Mark asked.
‶I saw her a couple of weeks ago,″ his father said, relieving James of the need to tell them she looked better than cotton candy. He knew Mark saw Elizabeth regularly. ‶I bumped into her as I was leaving my office.″ Winton Hill was an economic advisor for the State Department. ‶We had lunch. She told me about her company. I′m proud of that young lady. She′s really come a long way. It′s too bad about that sister of hers. I′m amazed that two people growing up in the same house could be so different.″
His mother concurred as James and Mark exchanged knowing glances. ‶I′m sorry things didn′t work out between you two.″ She looked at James. ‶I′d have liked having her as a daughter-in-law.″
‶You know they call her ″the impossible lady″ on the hill,″ James′s father told them.
‶They discuss Elizabeth on the hill?″
‶You know Washington gossip, James. And anyone who′s set up a parachute drop over the restricted airspace of the White House, arranged a wedding reception in the Capitol Rotunda, erected a waterfall at Carter Barron and convinced the Buffalo Film Committee to allow a first time director to use the Wilcox Mansion, will be discussed on the hill. And then there′s--″
‶Enough.″ James put his hands up.
‶We′d better be going,″ James′s mother said. His father lifted her coat and helped her into it. Minutes later James′s father drove competently through the streets of the District. Wisconsin Avenue passed by in a blur. James′s thoughts were on Elizabeth. He knew her accomplishments without his father itemizing them and without Mark′s reports. Impossible missions were her trademark. He′d had an impossible task of his own -- he′d tried to forget her. It was like forgetting he had a right hand...or a heart. Elizabeth made other peoples dreams come true. She had dreams too. James could only hope hers weren′t impossible and he could convince her to try and make them come true.
***
The red and white gown slapped against Elizabeth′s legs as she swirled to the music. The pounding in her head hadn′t eased since she′d left James′s house, although she had taken two ibuprofen tablets in the cold confines of her car. Kyle Gardner pulled her back into his arms, swirling her around as if she were a marionette. She′d been here an hour. One more and she could leave. Smiling at her partner, she followed his steps but felt no joy at the music. She had enjoyed dancing before Claire died. Now Christmas only brought painful memories. Yet she went through the motions of buying and wrapping gifts, attending parties and smiling bravely.
She and Claire used to have the best Christmases. Losing their parents when Elizabeth was only thirteen; Claire barely over legal age, had supported her, made sure they always had food and clothes, a small apartment and money to send her to college. Claire had taken care of her, made sure her Christmases were happy and she always had at least one present. She could almost hear Claire telling her that somehow they would ‶find″ the money.
Then things had changed, all because of --
‶James! James Hill!″
Elizabeth lost her footing at the excited call of his name. Stepping on Kyle′s foot she looked toward the entrance. Lidia Hereford had just reached the three steps which separated the sunken ballroom from the entrance hallway. James′s entire family stood in the archway. Lidia threw her arms around James′s neck. Elizabeth stopped dancing and stared at the group near the door. Winton Hill, at fifty-seven had only a few grey hairs. He stood an inch shorter than James′s six foot three inches. Elizabeth had no doubt what James would look like when he was his father′s age. Opal, James′s mother, a petite woman with a wide smile that twinkled in her dark eyes, smiled at her hostess. In her green sequined gown, she looked more like a mature fashion model than a physics professor, yet she commanded several classes a day in the Death Valley building at Howard University. Elizabeth had liked her since she′d tasted her sugar cookies the first Christmas her family had moved to the house on Cathedral Avenue. And Mark, despite his antics and constant reports on James, she liked him. A happy guy, building a reputation as a remarkable surgeon, Mark could charm his patients into getting well. They were a perfect family portrait framed by their love that seemed to protect them. Even Elizabeth could see it from her vantage point. A stone ached in her heart for her own lost family.
‶Elizabeth?″ Kyle tried to recapture her hand and resume the assault he passed off as dancing.
Elizabeth pushed him away. ‶Excuse me, Kyle.″ She offered no further explanation, just turned and searched for an escape route.
‶What is he doing here?″ Elizabeth fumed as she slipped into a darkened room. The tiny men inside her head with sledge hammers stepped up the pace. She sat down, holding her head. She wasn′t going to make it another hour. She needed to find Charles and Lidia and make her excuses now. Waiting in the darkness, she hoped the pain would ease a bit. Minutes later she rose. By this time James and his family should no longer be standing by the door. She could get out without them seeing her, she hoped.
Opening the door to return to the ballroom, Elizabeth blinked at the light. She′d find Charles and Lidia and use her headache as an excuse to leave early. Shading her eyes, she walked into a solid mass. Instinctively her hands came out to support herself. Grabbing hold of the arms that reached out for her, she looked up and into James′s dark brown eyes.
‶There you are, Elizabeth. I′ve been looking for you.″ He spoke as if they were the best of friends and had only been parted for a short time. ‶Dance with me.″
Elizabeth wasn′t given time to refuse. James took her hand and started for the crowded dance floor. He threaded through the crowd until he reached the center then turned her into his arms. She wondered what he was up to. Before the dance ended, she knew they would be the talk of the town, but his arms around her felt good. For a moment her headache eased. She held herself stiffly, knowing if she relaxed, she′d melt into him. She wanted to melt, wanted to let him support her without conviction.
Her eyes closed a moment. James ran his hand up her back. She felt his fingers on her skin and warmth spread through her.
‶Relax,″ he whispered in her ear. ‶It′s a crowded floor and it′s only a dance.″
Elizabeth couldn′t fight the pain anymore. She relaxed just to give her head comfort. James′s arms criss-crossed her back and he held her close until the last chords of Phyllis Hyman′s Somewhere in my Lifetime ended. Even then Elizabeth didn′t move. James le
aned back and looked at her contorted face.
‶Dancing with me couldn′t be that bad.″
She tilted her head back. Pain shot up her crown. She opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out. A moment later she whispered, ‶Migraine.″
‶Come on,″ he said. ‶We′re getting out of here.″
Elizabeth didn′t remember saying goodnight or seeing any stares follow them as they left the ballroom. The cold stabbed her bare shoulders as James wrapped her in the rough wool of his overcoat and took her out into the December weather.
‶Where are your keys?″ he asked.
‶My purse,″ Elizabeth answered clutching the small bag in her hands.
James pried it away, found the keys and opened the door. He pushed her into the passenger seat. Elizabeth recognized her car. As they drove along, it took a few minutes for the heat to reach her. Even then Elizabeth kept her eyes closed to the flash of oncoming headlights and passing street lamps.
‶How long have you been having migraine headaches?″ he asked. His voice was disembodied and distant.
‶I don′t know?″ she murmured, her head pounding too much for her to try to think coherently. ‶Since...Claire...″ she trailed off.
‶Do you have any medicine?″
‶I took it,″ she said, her head lolling back and forth. ‶After I left you.″
James reached across, placing the back of his hand on her forehead. ‶Just relax,″ he told her. ‶Sleep.″
The gentle rolling of the car over smooth road lulled her. After a while the light and darkness stopped mixing and only blessed darkness remained. The road became smoother and shifting. James cradled her against his shoulder and she fell asleep.
Elizabeth opened her eyes to bright sunlight. Disoriented she sat up in bed. A thick white satin comforter fell away from her like a cascading waterfall. She had on a pink night gown. Her own night gown. She hadn′t worm it in years, and this wasn′t her bedroom. ‶Oh my God!″ she said aloud. She was in the guest room; James′s guest room. Memory came back. She remembered the party, leaving with James and the blinding headache. It was gone now. Sleep usually took them away. Why hadn′t James taken her home? Why did he bring her here? She looked at the gown again. Had he kept it all these years expecting her to return?
Surveying the room, done in shades of green and white, she found her dress and cape lying over a brass butler at the foot of the bed, the cape she′d left the previous night after her hasty exit. She paused unsure what to do next. She had to get out of there. She didn′t want to see James, be near him, have anything the do with him. Just as she stuck her foot from beneath the coverlet the door opened. She pulled her foot back, instinctively raising the comforter to her chin.
‶Good, you′re awake,″ James′s greeting sounded as if they were old friends who′d said goodnight only hours ago. He held a tray in his hands. Setting it across her lap, Elizabeth pushed her way up in the bed. She felt trapped. Her escape route had been blocked. Why did she sleep so long? Why hadn′t she awakened, dressed and left?
‶What do you want, James?″ Elizabeth didn′t beat around the bush. James cocked his head to one side as if he were contemplating an answer. She realized the open implication of her question, but refused to drop her gaze. ‶It′s not like you to put up this show of masked enthusiasm unless you want something.″
‶I want you to eat your breakfast.″ He reached for the silver coffee pot and poured coffee into one of the two bone china cups.
‶Did you cook this?″ Elizabeth looked at the perfectly fried eggs, crisp bacon and buttered toast. A single red rose in a crystal bud vase stood next to the linen napkin.
‶Mrs. Andrews is in the kitchen,″ he smiled.
‶Was she here last night?″ Elizabeth dropped her head to glance at the night gown. She wanted to know if he′d taken off her dress and put her in this night gown.
‶No,″ James said, all playfulness gone from his voice. ‶It′s not the first time I′ve dressed or undressed you.″ He raised an eyebrow. ‶I must say undressing you is more fun.″ He smiled that devastating smile that had first attracted her to him.
Elizabeth lifted her fork, covering her twitching lips. She liked the housekeeper and loved her cooking.
‶Aren′t you going to eat?″
‶I had breakfast an hour ago.″ James pulled the Queen Anne chair from the antique desk and straddled it, careful of the delicate cup in his large hand. His casual jeans and white ski sweater didn′t seem out of place across the century′s old chair. ‶I′m willing to share yours.″ He reached for a slice of bacon. Elizabeth′s fingers instinctively tapped his hand. They′d often done that in the past. The gesture wasn′t thought out or conscious, it was just there and both of them knew it. She then picked up the bacon and offered it to him. He took it, carrying it to his mouth. Elizabeth couldn′t help her gaze, drawn to his lips. They moved sensually as he chewed. She remembered them being on hers, the way they moved with such intimacy. Swallowing hard she dismissed the image.
Elizabeth poured a cup of coffee, added cream and sugar and drank, using the action to shadow the confusion she felt over her thoughts.
James stared at her. He still loved her. After three years, Elizabeth was the only woman he wanted in his life. She looked beautiful in the large bed. He imagined her in his bed. It was where he′d wanted to put her last night, not in this guest room. This morning would be quite different if she′d wakened to find herself wrapped in his arms. He knew that′s where she′d be if he′d carried her to his room.
She finished her breakfast and a second cup of the Irish Cream coffee Mrs. Andrews brewed each time she came. James took the tray and set it on the desk. Coming back he sat on the satin cover next to her. Elizabeth quickly moved away from him. James noticed, but said nothing.
‶You asked what I wanted?″ he began.
Elizabeth′s gaze was level. The question was in her eyes, but she said nothing.
‶There are eleven days left before Christmas. On Christmas Eve I′m throwing a party. I want you to come.″
‶That′s what this is about? You want me to come to a party?″
‶It′s more than that. I want you to come and enjoy yourself. Enjoy Christmas.″
Elizabeth dropped her head. The riot of black curls were slightly straighter after sleeping on them, but they still made him want to slip his fingers in them.
‶I know what it′s been like for the past three years,″ he paused. ‶I know you go through the motions as the holidays approach, smile in all the right places, attend all the right affairs, but you′re having a miserable time.″
James had always been able to read her. She thought she had hidden her real feelings under the act of enjoying herself. She wanted to deny his words, but knew he could see through her lies too.
‶In less than two weeks you expect me to learn to enjoy the season again?″
James noted she didn′t deny his statement. ‶I hope so.″
‶Are you suggesting therapy?″
James stared at the window. ‶In a manner of speaking.″
‶Therapy takes years. What could eleven days accomplish, even if I agreed?″
‶It could change your entire life.″ He held his breath, knowing how much he was counting on changing her life.
‶Why should this matter to you?″ she asked.
‶It matters,″ he said quietly. ‶I never wanted to hurt you, Elizabeth. And I don′t want to be responsible for you disliking this time of year or only remembering the accident and Claire′s death whenever Christmas approaches.″
‶I see,″ she said. ‶This therapy is really for you? You feel guilty and you′re transferring it to me.″
His gaze came back to her. He hadn′t thought of it like that, but in a way it was true. If he′d left Claire alone that night, she might still be alive. And he′d be in jail.
‶I′m not transferring it to you, Elizabeth, but we′re both involved in this and it′s only fair that we try to
work it out.″
‶Exactly what are you suggesting?″
James looked directly at her. ‶In the next eleven days, I want to two of us to do some Christmas things. Remember the holidays we had before Claire died. Let those be the ones that carry us from season to season.″
Elizabeth threw the cover aside, preparing to get out of bed. ‶No,″ she said.
James quickly put his hands on either side of her, trapping her in the satin folds. She looked back at him. She was close enough to kiss, close enough for him to smell her unique scent, feel her warmth. His mind suddenly filled with memories of her. He wanted to touch her, pull her into his arms and take her pain away, but if he acted it would shatter any influence he had over getting her to agree to his plan.
Slowly he moved his hands and sat back on the bed. ‶Is this how you want to live the rest of your life; pretending you′re happy and suffering through migraine headaches?″
Elizabeth turned completely away from him. Her shoulders slumped. James wanted to comfort her, but he did nothing. He hardly breathed.
‶What did you have in mind?″
Chapter 3
The Stanford Arms Apartments sat on Connecticut Avenue within striking distance of the Washington Hilton Hotel, where Ronald Reagan was shot during his presidency. Elizabeth occupied the corner apartment on the top floor of the pre-World War II building. The sand-colored brick structure looked stately and elegant in a neighborhood of stately and elegant apartment buildings. For all it′s old world charm, Elizabeth′s apartment had modern overstuffed sofas and carved cherry wood tables. Her kitchen was state of the art. The windows let in light and air and gave the place a feeling of openness. Living here was a far cry from the tiny two rooms she and Claire had occupied after their parents died, leaving them debt-ridden and mortgaged. The book cases were filled with books on handwriting, drawing, stenciling and calligraphy. One of the extra bedrooms had an easel she often used to dabble in painting. Yet not a single Christmas decoration could be found in the two-bedroom suite.
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