Love, Albert

by Simmons, Lynda

  He put the fish on the dresser and she stepped back, already alert, wary.

  “Reid,” she said, but he only shook his head.

  “I don’t want to talk,” he said, taking his cue from her. Remembering when he’d kissed her on the beach and she’d stopped his words with a touch of her finger.

  He lifted her hand and kissed her fingertips, her palm, the need in his eyes as stark and clear as her own. Standing in front of her with his heart on his sleeve and a goldfish in a jug, waiting for her to choose, to decide. Impractical, irresponsible, Reid. Not a man for all seasons. Just a man in love with her and her children, and she’d been so lonely without him.

  Her fingers tightened on his and her feet moved of their own accord, taking her closer while her heart pounded too hard, too loud—drowning out the voice of reason, the voice of Rita, telling her all about gray areas, and misty areas, and all the places where women can get lost forever.

  She saw the flicker of surprise a moment before he cupped her face in his hands, tracing his thumbs across her cheeks, her brow, her lips. As though she were new to him, as though they hadn’t stood together just this way a thousand times before. As though their breaths had never mingled, their hearts never beat in time. When he slipped his arms around her, she felt the touch of his body against hers like a shock—sudden and electric and completely new.

  His eyes were on her mouth, his lips parted, his breath warm, sweet, but he didn’t kiss her. Waited again for her to decide. Her hands trembled as his had before, awkward herself now as she reached up, pushing her fingers into his hair and drawing him down, tasting him slowly, deeply. Letting herself take what he offered, if only for tonight.

  Reid unsnapped the clip that held her hair, dropping it on the bed as he moved his hands into the silk. Tangling his fingers in the curls as he kissed her face, her throat, the ticklish spot behind her ear. Breathing in the scent of her skin, her hair and consciously resisting the urge to crush her to him, to love her. Needing to go slow, to court. Feeling his control slip another notch when she rose up, molding herself to him, and pressing her soft sweet belly against his erection.

  He ran a hand up under her shirt, over her breasts, feeling her arch into his touch, push against his palm, and watching her frown when he drew his hand away.

  He waited until she opened her eyes, found her footing. With every cell still straining toward her, every instinct urging him to stay, he stepped back. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said softly.

  Her eyes were wide, puzzled, her lips still softly swollen from his kiss. “Where are you going?”

  “To my room.” He turned away while the will was strong, stepped past her while he could, knowing that if he stopped now, if he touched her again, he’d still be there when morning came. He paused at the door and looked back. “Isn’t that what you want?”

  She nodded, slowly at first, then more vigorously, as though she meant it. “Of course, yes.” She smoothed a hand over her hair. “Let me know if the police call.”

  He smiled. “I’ll do that.”

  Vicky didn’t trust her legs just yet and stood by the bed, watching him turn the knob, step into the hall.

  “What are you doing to me?” she whispered and was shocked when he turned and flashed her that wicked grin.

  “I’m courting you,” he said, and she was sure the moon laughed when the door clicked softly behind him.

  Nine

  “I just got your message.” Rita’s voice was tense, her words clipped. “Please tell me Reid is not there with you.”

  “He’s on the other side of the wall.” Vicky switched on the lamp and tried to focus on the clock. “What time is it?”

  “Six.” Vicky heard Rita closing a door, dragging over a chair. “I waited until after my run to call. But I was so worried the whole way. I thought maybe you’d done something stupid, like agreed to try again. Or even worse, slept with him.”

  Vicky yawned and Rita’s tone was instantly suspicious. “You didn’t, did you?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Thank God for good sense.”

  “Right.” Vicky figured this was not the time to tell Rita that good sense had nothing to do with it. In her heart, she knew she would have let him stay the night if he’d only pushed a little. She’d even gone into the hall twice after he left, almost knocked on his door. Then lay awake most of the night, acutely aware that she was naked under the sheets with her underwear dripping in the bathroom. One ear tuned to the radio she’d left on so she wouldn’t hear him, and the other listening for him anyway, wondering how he could sleep when she couldn’t even get comfortable.

  Tossing, turning. Too many pillows. Too few. And who decided the restaurant would close at midnight? Didn’t they know people needed coffee?

  “What are your plans now?” Rita asked.

  “I haven’t thought past a shower.” And dry underwear. She glanced over at the bathroom door. Please don’t let it be sopping wet still.

  “Then you’re not thinking of reconciling?”

  Vicky threw her feet over the side of the bed. “Are you kidding? It was just a strange night, that’s all. What with the moon, and Kira’s wish.” She looked over at the dresser. “And then there was the fish.”

  The goldfish blew Vicky a kiss and darted up to the top of the water jug. Not only had the silly thing survived, she seemed to be thriving in there. Swimming up and down, nibbling bits of food from on the surface—

  “What wish?” Rita demanded. “And what fish?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “With Reid around, what else is new? Vicky, you don’t have time for his nonsense. You have to focus on yourself and the kids, and what’s best for the three of you.”

  She sighed and flopped down on her back. “That’s just the problem. I think about it all the time. And sometimes I wonder if I’m making a mistake. Every time I hear him laugh, or watch him smile, I can picture the four us together again. Building castles at the beach, canoeing on the lake—”

  “Carrying groceries up in the elevator. Picking cigarette butts out of the sandbox.” Rita blew out a long exasperated breath. “Look, I know you love him. And I understand how hard this must be, but you have to be realistic. Has he said or done anything to make you think he’ll change?”

  “He gave me the name of someone to take down the mirror tiles.”

  “So your deal closes, you buy the house. Will he move into it with you?”

  “I haven’t asked.”

  “How about a van?”

  “The van is negotiable.”

  “It wasn’t last week.”

  “Some things change.”

  Rita’s voice softened. “And some things never will.”

  Vicky heard a thud followed by a loud curse. Reid was up, and hadn’t turned on a light. She rolled over on her side, wondering which it was this time, his toe or his shin, while she watched the fish swim round and round, getting nowhere.

  “Vicky, you know I respect Reid as a person. He’s funny and caring, exciting as hell. But he’s sort of like chocolate. Sweet and wonderful. Makes you feel really good for a while, but you can’t live on it. Can’t build your life around it, because after a while it will make you sick, rot your teeth—”

  “And leave you holding the fish,” Vicky whispered.

  “What is it with you and this fish?”

  “It’s not important.” Vicky sat up. “Thanks, I needed that.”

  “What are friends for if not to keep each other from having sex?”

  Vicky laughed and wrapped the sheet around herself. “I take it your love life hasn’t changed since we last spoke.”

  “Just as rich and fulfilling as ever.” She went quiet for a moment, a rare occurrence for Rita. “You know what’s funny. Even though I’m reminded every day that love stinks, sometimes I envy the fact that you found it once. And if there was any way you could get it back without compromising yourself, I’d be the first to help you out.” />
  “I know you would,” Vicky said, and only hoped that love didn’t give up on Rita just yet, because no one deserved it more.

  “When you’re finally ready to move on, I still have this cousin—”

  “Frank the computer whiz.” Vicky rose and grabbed a brush from the nightstand. “How can I forget?”

  “Don’t knock it till you try it. Frank is steady, dependable, and a good place to start again. I’m not saying marry him, just go out with him.”

  Vicky dragged the brush through her hair, and tried to imagine herself dressing up, going to dinner. Letting someone court her, as Reid was trying to do now.

  Court her. She let the words linger in her mind, conjuring up images of suitors in high-neck shirts and chaperoned visits in the parlor. Smiling when she tried to put Reid in the picture.

  Vicky laid the brush down. “Maybe in the fall.”

  “You want my advice? Stop torturing yourself and come home.”

  “We have to find Willy.”

  “Reid can find Willy on his own. And from everything I’ve heard about Albert over the years, I think he’d understand if you left right now and never looked back.”

  Rita was right. Albert’s approach to life had always been simple: Don’t do anything that hurts. Which explained why he had no tattoos, never took up jogging, and would definitely have told Vicky to go home. Because being with Reid hurt.

  “You know I’m right,” Rita said.

  Vicky was about to agree when the phone in Reid’s room rang.

  “Hold on a second, Rita.” She dropped the receiver, stepped closer to the wall. The words were muffled and indistinct, but there was no mistaking the tone. And she wasn’t at all surprised when she heard a knock on the wall beside her.

  “Vicky,” he called. “They found the car. How fast can you be ready?”

  “Ten minutes,” she called back, and darted into the bathroom, finding everything dry—surely a sign of good things to come.

  She dashed back to the bedroom and picked up the phone.

  “They found the MG,” she told Rita, squeezing the phone between her ear and shoulder while she tugged and fastened, dressing in record time.

  “I still think you should come home.”

  Rita was probably right about that, too. But for all that it made sense, she simply couldn’t bring herself to leave, to make Reid take Albert to Seaport alone.

  “I’ll be okay,” she said, stepping into her jeans while she looked around for shoes. “Once we get the car, everything will go quickly. We find the spot, scatter the ashes—”

  “What about the key?” Rita asked. “How long will you keep searching for this Willy person?”

  “Just today.” She shoved her feet into her sneakers and snatched her T-shirt off the floor. “Tomorrow at the latest.”

  “You do realize that the chances of him being in the area are slim.”

  “Two days, max. I promise.” She heard a door close, footsteps in the hall. “I have to go. I’ll call you.” She hung up and jogged to the door, refusing to look in the mirror along the way.

  She swung the door open. “I’m almost ready. What did they say?”

  He looked taken aback, his hand poised, ready to knock. Then he smiled and rested that hand casually on the door frame as though that’s what he’d intended all along. “They said the car was abandoned not five miles north of here. Everything was still in the trunk. Highway Patrol will be here shortly to take us there.”

  He hadn’t shaved, had barely dragged a comb through his hair, yet he looked sexy instead of rumpled. Like a man who had slept well and was looking forward to the day. She wasn’t sure she would ever forgive him for that. “Albert’s all right?” she asked.

  “Their exact words were, ‘the box is intact,’ at which point I stopped worrying and hung up the phone.” He smiled. “Good morning to you, too.”

  She folded her arms. “Is this part of the courting ritual.” She knew she was being small, and was prepared to get downright tiny if that’s what it took to get through to him.

  “I don’t think so.” He slid that hand from the frame, curled his fingers around the nape of her neck, and drew her to him. “But this definitely is.”

  He tasted of mint and smelled like soap, and he was already making her forget what she needed him to remember.

  She shoved him back, pushed her hair out of her eyes. “Who’s picking us up?” she asked, as though he hadn’t disturbed her in the least. If she hadn’t lost her footing when she tried to strike a casual pose, it might have worked, too.

  “Highway Patrol,” Reid repeated, making her wish she’d asked something more intelligent. But it seemed a moot point since he was already walking past her into the bedroom.

  “I’ll meet you downstairs.” He grabbed the picnic basket and glanced over at the fish. “At least one of you had a good night.”

  “I told you she wouldn’t do well,” Vicky said evenly, and headed into the bathroom, locking the door firmly behind her.

  “She says she’s looking forward to the trip,” he called.

  Vicky turned the water on hard. “I can’t hear you.”

  She walked out of the bathroom a few minutes later, tasting of baking soda instead of mint. “Have you decided what you’re going to –”

  But he was gone. Nothing but a note leaning against the jug. “Went to lobby. Love you.”

  Love you. The man was hopeless. Even when he was trying to prove how right he was, he did everything wrong.

  She dropped the note in the wastebasket and looked down at the fish. “I can’t take you. It’s out of the question.” She picked up her sweatshirt from the nightstand and stuffed the list of expenses into her pocket. “He has to learn to take responsibility for his actions.”

  She headed for the door, tossing the door key on the dresser as she passed. She glanced back at the fish. “This is not my fault.”

  Gossamer fins waved goodbye, and she blew Vicky another kiss.

  Vicky turned her back and carried on. No one would blame her for leaving her behind. Who took a fish on a road trip anyway?

  Vicky paused, drummed her fingers on the door frame. She could leave her own note on the jug. Something sensible. “Free to good home.” Or heartrending. “Orphaned at birth.” Or how about, “Abandoned by heartless woman to unknown fate.”

  Who was she trying to kid? With Oscar downstairs, the poor thing would be breakfast before they reached the MG. Vicky wrapped her sweatshirt around the jug and carried it under her arm to the door. “If we get stopped, I’ll say I found you in the hall. I never saw you before in my life.”

  She opened the door and stopped dead.

  Reid smiled at her. “What are you doing?”

  “What do you think?”

  He looked puzzled as he took the jug from her. “It looks to me like you’re stealing this jug.”

  She followed him back into the bathroom. “Why are you taking her in there? What are you—” It was then that she noticed the goldfish bowl at his side. “Where did you get that?”

  “The desk clerk sold it to me since it was empty now anyway.” He unwrapped the jug and held out her sweatshirt. “This is probably a little wet.”

  She snatched it away. “What are you playing at now, Reid?”

  “Nothing.” He tipped the goldfish bowl and gently poured in the water from the jug. As the level dropped, the fish flipped her tail and leapt into her new home. Reid set the jug down and picked up the bowl. “You said it yourself. The fish can’t travel in a water jug.” He tapped the sweatshirt as he brushed past her. “You might want to wash that before you wear it again.”

  She followed him out. “I get it. You’re doing Responsible Reid now. Tender of Fish and Finder of Bowls. Well, you might as well stop before you strain something, because I’m not falling for it.”

  “We’d better hurry. The Highway Patrol wasn’t here when I came upstairs so I ordered coffee to go anyway. And bagels. Seven grain with low-fat cream
cheese.”

  “I’m not buying any of this, Reid.”

  “I know,” he said and started down the stairs. “You’re adding it to the bill.”

  Morning fog still hung over the town when officer Brian Passmore of the Highway Patrol welcomed Reid and Vicky into his vehicle. “I admit, I was shocked to find out that car of yours was still in the area,” he said as they settled into the back seat behind him.

  “No more than we were.” Reid closed the door and glanced over at Vicky.

  She had slid all the way over to the other side, setting the fish and the dragon between them, and was now looking out the window, ignoring Reid completely.

  “But sometimes luck is on your side,” Passmore said, pulling away at last.

  “Sometimes,” Reid said, and opened the take-out bag on his lap.

  “Too bad no one spotted it earlier though,” Passmore continued. “Could have saved you a lot of worry.”

  “All’s well that ends well,” Reid said, pulling hot coffee, warm bagels and the latest copies of Financial Post, and New Yorker magazine from the bag. High finance or high brow, whatever she wanted in a man, he had it. He handed her a cup of coffee and bumped his gently against it, pleased that he was really getting the hang of this courtship thing.

  “It was a strange one all right,” Passmore said. “The officer involved said they probably wouldn’t have found it yet if not for the cows.”

  Reid’s head snapped around. “Cows?”

  Passmore nodded. “They’re not the brightest things on four legs. Took them a while to find the hole in the fence.”

  “Hole?” Reid knew he sounded like a parrot, but he couldn’t get past the fact that no one had mentioned cows or a fence when they spoke earlier.

  “Someone called the farmer this morning. Told him his cows had wandered out onto the road.”

  By now, Vicky was sitting forward too. “I thought the car was abandoned.”