Hellflower (1957)
Page 21
Farradyne took a deep breath and chuckled. “I’ve my license back, clear and honest. There’s nothing too good for Farradyne, former bona fide louse. I’ve also got enough interstellar shipping contracts to set me up in rare style. Within a year I’ll own a whole fleet and then I can retire and pay someone else to go a-spacing. Does that sound good, honey?”
Norma looked up at him out of soft eyes. “Is this a proposal of marriage?”
“In the first degree,” he said.
Norma pulled him down and gave him her lips. They were soft and warm and pleasantly affectionate, as they had been on the road in Wisconsin. Then she let him go and he stood up. He saw her eyes fill with tears.
“Norma?” he said.
“Charles, it wouldn’t work.”
“But—”
She smiled gently. “It’s not that, Charles,” she said slowly. “I’m not thinking about Frank and the years of hate. Since then I’ve come to know you and admire you, but you see, I don’t really love you, Charles. I—”
He saw something in her eyes and understood; he hoped she would not get involved in any long discussion and, to forestall it, he asked, “It’s Howard?”
She nodded. “I loved him before Frank—” Her eyes glowed a bit and were dry again. “Howard is a strong man, Charles. He used Frank, and then he used me, and then he used you. And the hellflowers took Frank, and then they took me from Howard and finally they took Howard, too. But you’ve brought them all back but Frank. To me, Charles, and I’ve got—”
He bent down and stopped the flow of words with his lips. “Be happy, baby,” he said against her cheek. “I’ll finish it all up in fine style.”
Farradyne left the room quickly. In the corridor he paused long enough to shake the growing vacuum away, and then he went down to the waiting room …
“Howard? She’s awake and feeling fine, although she’s still weak as a kitten. A bit of the sight and touch of you would work wonders, Howard. She wants you.”
Clevis got up and gripped Farradyne’s hand hard. “You’re quite a guy, Charles,” he said.
“I want to be second-best man, Howard.”
“Any damned day in the week,” replied Clevis. He left and Farradyne was alone.
Farradyne sat down and lit a cigarette. He blew smoke at his toes and wondered at himself. He should have been feeling despondent. Instead, he felt a peculiarly satisfying glow of contentment. He couldn’t win everything; somehow this single loss was meant to be and it was right that he should not have Norma.
And then the plume of smoke curled around a pair of slender ankles and Farradyne realized that his loss of Norma was not a loss at all; the slight vacuum filled full as Farradyne knew where his last piece of unfinished business was.
The waiting room resounded with a gentle musical chord. It was operatic in quality; angel, hoyden and devil singing bacchanal. He smiled and looked up at her.
“Any damned day in the week,” he promised, getting to his feet.
Against his face, Carolyn laughed softly. “But you can’t even pronounce my name.”
“I’ll get along,” he said. “We’ll figure out something.”
Arm in arm they went out into the bright sunshine.