Leigh nodded. “In the medicine cabinet."
While Erik stepped into the bathroom near the mud-room, Leigh made an effort to regain her composure. By the time he returned with bandages and first-aid cream, her tears had stopped, and she sat staring blankly at a plaque on the wall. Leigh's Kitchen ... Tonight's Menu, 2 Choices ... Take it or Leave It. Erik sat down opposite her and gently dabbed ointment onto the cut.
"Why don't you tell me what happened?” he asked quietly
Leigh shrugged, making an effort to underplay it. “Oh, nothing. Not to hear Bob tell it, anyway. He walked in and caught the Honorable Congressman Winston groping me, and then had the nerve to say he was just flirting with me.” She shuddered, remembering Winston's beefy hand moving under her dress. “I guess we have different ideas of flirting. I call it sexual assault. But then again, I'm neurotic, so what do I know?"
Erik's eyes sparkled dangerously. “He called you neurotic? Christ!” He placed a bandage onto her finger, and afterwards, didn't release her hand but held it between his. “That drunken sot deserves a good throttling."
"The man is a disgusting pervert,” Leigh said. “He always comes on to me, but never like that before."
Erik muttered something in Norwegian. Leigh couldn't be sure but judging by his tone, she felt certain it was a curse.
"But don't worry. I took care of him this time. I dumped a drink down the back of the bastard's neck. Of course, Bob took that moment to walk in."
Erik smiled wryly. “Good for you. I wish you'd dumped one down your husband's neck, as well. I detest the way he treats you, Kayleigh."
Leigh rubbed her temples with a trembling hand. “It's hot in here.” She tried to get to her feet. “I've got to get out of this house and get some fresh air."
Erik's hand clamped down on her shoulder. “Don't move. I'll get our coats. You're not going anywhere by yourself."
She managed to smile. “What do you think I'll do? Throw myself into the brook?"
But he'd already left the room. He was back in a moment, two coats hanging over his arm. “I brought your down coat. It's really getting cold out there."
Leigh stood up, fighting dizziness as he helped her into her coat. He pulled on his heavy fur-lined flight jacket and together, they stepped out the back door. Leigh caught her breath as the icy wind hit her. Almost immediately she felt the disoriented, dizzy feeling begin to disappear. She sniffed the cold night air. Snow? Was it possible they would have a white Christmas? Erik would love that. But then, Erik wouldn't be here; he was going home tomorrow. The thought saddened her.
Without speaking, but as if they were on the same wavelength, they headed toward the grove of trees surrounding the lake and waterfall. The rush of water was loud in the frigid stillness of the night. Near the trees, they found they were sheltered from the wind, and the cold was bearable. A glimmer of moonlight beamed from the black sky, playing on the sharp angles and planes of Erik's face. They stood silently for a few moments, staring at the white cascade of water spilling into the small lake.
"The waterfall is called a foss in Norway,” Erik said finally, his voice musical over the sound of the tumbling water. “There is one special waterfall in Norway I would like you to see. Reiardsfossen in Ose. There is a rather romantic legend about the place. Shall I tell you?"
"Please! I love legends!"
"Me, too. In this one, there was a man named Reiard who was very much in love with Ann, the daughter of the richest man in the province. Reiard asked for her hand in marriage, but her father told him he would have to prove his love by riding his horse over the brink of the falls. He did it successfully, but on his triumphant return, the horse slipped. They plunged to their deaths before the horrified eyes of Ann and her father. The girl was so distraught she flung herself in after him."
"Oh, how awful!” His words had painted a vivid picture in her mind.
Erik's teeth flashed in a crooked grin. “Awful, ja, but romantic. Norse lore is filled with romantic tragedy. Kayleigh, I wish you could come to my country. I know you would love it. There is a little town in the south called Nisserdal. It's the home of Yulnissen, Father Christmas. When I was a young boy, we would visit there on holiday. I was always hoping we would see Father Christmas, but of course, we never did. I think if we had seen someone who resembled him, it would have ruined our fun."
"You sound homesick. But earlier tonight you told me you didn't want to go home."
He was quiet for so long she thought he wasn't going to respond. But finally, he did. “Ja, I did say that."
"Is it because of Dawn?” Leigh asked. “You know, you won't be separated for long."
He turned to look at her, his face astonished. “Kristus! Is that what you think?"
"What else?” Leigh said. A shiver swept through her, but she wasn't sure if it was caused by the cold or the blazing heat in Erik's eyes.
He drew close to her and pulled his hands out of his pockets to grasp hers. In the moonlight, his eyes drilled into hers. “It's you I don't want to leave. Kayleigh, I think I'm falling in love with you."
Leigh gazed at him, astounded by his admission. She hadn't lost that much blood. Was this another of her bizarre fantasies? But Erik's impaling gaze was too real to be imagined. She felt paralyzed by his nearness. His hand softly touched her cheek, brushing her wind-tousled hair away with tenderness. Slowly, he bent his head and touched his lips hers. They were warm, so very warm. He drew away as if to gauge her reaction. Leigh stared at him, her mouth half-open, her breathing shallow. Her hands had somehow crept up to the shoulders of his jacket. They tightened convulsively against the material in a silent protest at his withdrawal. Sensing her need, his mouth descended again, his tongue tentatively exploring between her lips. When she didn't pull away, his mouth hardened on hers, and the kiss became urgent with need and longing. For an exquisite moment, Leigh gave herself up to it, encouraging the heat inside her to erupt into a blaze.
Finally, from somewhere, she found the strength to pull away, to let the cold air of the December night bring her back to reality. She stepped away from him, still feeling the rapid pounding of his heart against her chest. Or was that hers? She found it difficult to meet his gaze, but when she did, his expression was almost too much to bear. He looked so young, so vulnerable. What in the world was she doing out here with him? She must be crazy! God, she'd sworn she'd never let this happen. But it had, and now she had to try to fix things before it was too late.
She drew a deep breath before speaking. “I'm sorry. I don't know why I let you kiss me. I guess I've had too much to drink tonight."
"That's not so,” Erik said bluntly. “You know what is happening here, and it has nothing to do with how much you had to drink tonight."
"I'm going back to the house now.” Leigh's eyes evaded his. “Let's forget this happened, Erik. It was just a weak moment for both of us. That's all."
"Do you really believe that?"
When she didn't answer, he eyed her silently, then shrugged. “If that's the way you want it. Merry Christmas, Kayleigh."
* * * *
After Erik's return from Norway, Leigh couldn't help but notice his change in attitude toward her. No longer did he linger in the kitchen at night as she loaded the dishwasher, chatting about his classes and the idiosyncrasies of his professors. Instead, he avoided being near her. She tried to convince herself she was relieved, but her emotions knew differently. Every time she heard a footfall, her heart lifted, thinking it was him, but it would turn out to be Mark or Bob, and she'd have to disguise her disappointment. On the few occasions she found herself alone with Erik, he never brought up the incident by the waterfall. It was almost as if it had never happened, except they both knew it had.
"Kayleigh, I'm falling in love with you."
His words had been hoarse with intensity. She knew he'd believed it at the time. But now, with his coolness, she wondered if while he was home, he'd realized it was nothing more than a schoolboy crush. That possi
bility bothered her more than she wanted to admit.
But worse than Erik's new attitude towards her was the realization that his relationship with Dawn had turned serious. He spent almost every night with her. On at least two Saturday nights, he hadn't returned home at all. Leigh tried to pretend it was no big deal. But she hated the thought of Erik being with Dawn.
"Damn it,” she said, crumpling another drawing. She simply couldn't concentrate today. With a grunt of exasperation, she slid back her chair and stood up. She'd go downstairs for another cup of coffee. At least it gave her an excuse to get away from the drawing table. The phone at her desk rang just as she reached the stairs.
It was Ellen. “Girl, have I got some good news for you."
"Well, I can use some,” Leigh said glumly.
"Deanna Harper is coming to town tomorrow and she's very interested in meeting you. She thinks you might be the perfect artist to do the cover of her new book. Are you free for lunch?"
Leigh's heart raced. Deanna Harper was a celebrated author of young adult books. It would be a great career boost to do the art for one of her covers.
"Of course I'm free,” Leigh said. This could be just the motivation she needed to pull her from the doldrums.
"Great. Why don't you meet us at Clyde's in Georgetown about one o'clock? And bring your portfolio."
"I'll be there.” Leigh smiled. “See you tomorrow.” She hung up with a renewed sense of anticipation. Perhaps this year, spring would come early.
* * * *
As Leigh crossed the Chain Bridge on her way into Georgetown, she wondered what Deanna Harper would be like. She knew the divorced Harper lived well in New York from the income of her controversial books for teenagers, books about first sexual experiences, drugs, peer pressure, even masturbation. Although many parents disapproved of Harper's candidness, Leigh felt she handled those touchy subjects with taste and sensitivity, and she'd had no qualms in allowing Melissa to read every book.
In a few moments, Leigh would be meeting the famous author. Possibly, she would be working with her soon. A pleasant tingle went through her as she miraculously found a parking place along the street in Georgetown. That was a good omen if she'd ever seen one.
Inside the entrance of Clyde's, the hostess ushered her to a corner table where her agent and a dark-haired woman waited. “Well, here she is. Finally!” exclaimed Ellen. “Where have you been?"
"Am I late?” Leigh apologized. “I lost some time because of construction on the bridge.” She turned her attention to Ellen's companion.
"Two minutes, but we'll forgive you this time. Leigh, meet Deanna Harper. Dee, this is Leigh Fallon."
Deanna Harper looked nothing at all like Leigh had imagined. Wearing snug black leggings and an oversize bulky sweater that went past her hips, Deanna had shoulder-length ebony hair that fell in a mass of unruly curls. She wore absolutely no make-up on her flawless face and her eyes were huge and brown behind a pair of big, round, tortoise-shelled glasses. The only thing that saved her from being a classical beauty was her Streisand-like nose. Leigh had never before seen such a striking woman except on television and the movies. Could this really be the woman who wrote those sensitive teenage novels?
Deanna clasped her hand in a warm greeting. “Leigh, I'm thrilled to meet you.” She spoke with a strong Brooklyn accent. “I've admired your illustrations for years. My daughter, Carrie, is fifteen and she still hasn't outgrown your animal books."
"Thank you,” Leigh said, unable to digest such praise from a writer of Harper's magnitude. “And my daughter, Melissa, is crazy about your books. So am I, I might add."
"Well, that's reassuring.” Deanna turned to Ellen and smiled. “I like her already."
* * * *
"...and we got up to my apartment and were lying on the bed, kissing the hell out of each other...” Deanna swallowed the dregs in her wine glass and leaned across the table toward Leigh. “Well, I casually reached down to unzip his pants and he shrieked and jumped away from me as if he'd been stung by a killer bee.” She paused to light a cigarette while Leigh waited in anticipation. “Turns out this guy was a raving queen. He'd been going to a psychotherapist who'd convinced him to give women another chance. And he picked me to experiment on. Leigh, this guy was gorgeous. I was totally blown away when he told me he was gay. Anyway, I made some coffee, we smoked a few joints and ended up talking ‘til morning. I talked him into getting a new therapist and now he's out of the closet and as happy as a pig in shit."
Leigh laughed at Deanna's bawdy language. For the past hour, and over a bottle of Chablis, the writer had been regaling Leigh with stories of her colorful life . Ellen had left for another meeting shortly after lunch, leaving Leigh to fend for herself with the charismatic Deanna Harper. Not that she was able to get a word in edgewise, Leigh thought in amusement. What a talker! Still, it hadn't taken Deanna long to offer Leigh the cover assignment. And she'd accepted it immediately, knowing she would love working with her.
Deanna ordered another bottle of wine and began to tell Leigh about her present lover. “He's a twenty-three-year-old C.P.A. who does strip-o-grams on the side. We have a really good relationship. Based completely on sex, of course. Sometimes, I think that's the way it should be. What about you?"
"What about me?"
Deanna's brown eyes assessed her. “Do you have a lover?"
"Of course not.” Leigh laughed. “I'm married."
"I know that,” Deanna said. “But you're a real attractive lady. Kind of a toned down Sharon Stone. You must have guys coming on to you all the time. Aren't you ever tempted? Don't look so shocked, Leigh. I'm a writer. People are my business. We've been sitting here for almost two hours and we've talked about everything under the sun. Except your husband. You've barely mentioned him. I've heard about Melissa, Mark, and Aaron. And that Norwegian student staying with you. But the only thing I've heard about Bob is that he's a congressman and spends most of his time on the Hill.” She shook her head. “Something tells me your marriage is lacking. Am I right?"
Leigh felt the color rise on her cheeks. Deanna stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray and laughed. “Oh, Leigh. I'm a stupid bitch and should mind my own business. Problem is, I can't. I'm too nosy. But you'll get used to me."
Leigh glanced at her watch through somewhat bleary eyes and gasped. It was after four o'clock. And rush-hour traffic into Virginia was going to be murder. “I've got to get home.” She signaled for the check.
"I'm not about to let you drive after drinking all that wine,” Deanna said sharply. “I'll take you home."
"Well, you drank as much as me,” Leigh said and then bit her lip. Of course, a woman like Deanna Harper wouldn't be driving herself. “Oh God. What a faux pas."
Deanna's eyes twinkled. “Yeah, you really blew it, kid. Forgetting I'm one of the rich and famous. It just proves you can take the girl out of Brooklyn, but not Brooklyn out of the girl, huh?"
After the check was settled, Deanna stood, somewhat unsteady on her feet. She giggled. “This is one reason I love being rich. I can drink as much as I want and never have to worry about driving drunk. Not bad for a snotty little Jewish girl, right?"
"Deanna, I can't let you drive me home. What about my car?"
Deanna shrugged. “When Gabriel gets back to the city, he can drive your car home to you. Just give me the keys."
Leigh hesitated, wondering what Bob would say.
"Come on.” Deanna insisted. “You obviously are too ineb ... innev ... inebriated to drive."
"I guess you're right.” Leigh laughed, giddiness sweeping over her. Besides, she was having so much fun she welcomed the long ride back with Deanna. And it wasn't as if she got to ride in a limo every day.
Together, the two women stepped out into the dark January afternoon. Usually, the early darkness of winter depressed Leigh, but not tonight. The liquor and Deanna's vibrant personality had warmed her thoroughly. She felt as if a whole new world had opened up to her.
&nbs
p; * * * *
Leigh stepped out of the shower and wrapped a thick bathtowel around her. Shivering, she dried off and quickly pulled on panty-hose before slipping on a white satin kimono. As she opened the medicine cabinet to look for the Renu disinfecting solution, she wondered about the condition of the roads. She really needed to meet with Ellen in Georgetown to discuss the Harper contract, but she hated driving if the roads were slick. Snow in the DC area seemed to bring out the maniacs in force.
"Damn!” She shook the plastic bottle of Renu, but heard no slosh of liquid inside. “Who put this empty bottle back in here?” Frowning, she tossed it into the trash. “Now, what do I do?"
Then she remembered Bob's emergency bag. He always kept a bottle of disinfecting solution in it. Luckily, when he'd called yesterday to tell her he had to make a quick trip to Cleveland, he hadn't had time to come home for his bag.
She found the travel bag on the floor of his closet and brought it over to the bed. As soon as she opened it, she saw the box of condoms right on top. “Rough Riders.” Without her contacts, the picture of the buxom blonde was blurry, but there was no doubt in her mind about the contents.
She sat down on the bed, her stomach queasy. Her fingers trembled as she turned the box over in her hand, her mind whirling with the significance of her discovery. Condoms. Bob hadn't had a need for these in the last ten years. Unless he was sleeping with someone other than his sterilized wife.
East of the Sun, West of the Moon Page 7
