Window on Tomorrow

by Joan Hohl

  “Thank you for your participation, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, dismissing the class. There was an immediate rustle and shuffle of movement.

  Feeling let down and disappointed, Andrea closed her notebook and collected her belongings. His soft voice froze her in place as she was preparing to stand.

  “Miss Trask, if you care to remain, I will be happy to correct the error in your argument.”

  Andrea hesitated a moment and then, reminding herself of her resolution to get to know him better, she settled back again in her chair.

  With freedom beckoning, the other students left the hall as swiftly as if someone had yelled fire. When only she and Paul were left, Andrea looked into his eyes, and completely forgot the subject of their disagreement.

  His long legs swallowed the distance separating them. “It’s too nice to remain indoors,” he said as he approached her. “Will you walk with me?”

  Without a word, Andrea stood, gathered her books together, and preceded him from the hall. The sun was warm, the air sparkling. In silence, she followed his lead. Since she really didn’t care where he was heading, she didn’t bother to ask. She was content to stroll by his side.

  Paul didn’t chide her for avoiding him or for her failure to return his calls over the past five days. He didn’t refer to classroom subject matter, either. In fact, he didn’t speak at all until they had left the campus and entered a grove of tangy-scented pine trees off to one side of the college buildings.

  Coming to a sudden halt, Paul turned to look at her. Dappled sunlight played over his handsome face, highlighting the perfection of his features. His blue eyes had the depth of the ocean and seemed to hold the wisdom of the ages. “I’ve missed you,” he said in that soft tone Andrea now realized was natural to him.

  She briefly considered evasion, then discarded the idea as detrimental to her purpose. “I’ve missed you, too,” she replied in a tone as soft as his own.

  “And yet you didn’t return my calls.” There wasn’t a hint of censure in his voice, only patience and compassion.

  Andrea lowered her eyes. WI was afraid,” she admitted.

  “Of me?”

  She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. Could she go through with it? Andrea asked herself. Could she really say the words that would expose the woman hiding behind her protective facade? Her parched throat sent forth a dry whisper. “No, I was afraid of me.”

  ‘*Oh, Andrea.” Paul took one step toward her, then stopped. “I want to touch you,” he said, caressing her with his eyes. “I want to kiss you.” He inhaled sharply, as if drawing in strength. Then he smiled. “But I can’t... not yet.”

  Andrea felt an inner warmth that had nothing to do with the sunshine, and an outer chill that had nothing to do with the shade. “Why—” She paused to moisten her dry lips; his deep blue eyes followed the movement of her tongue. His intense gaze caused a shiver to tingle down her spine, and she had to concentrate to remember what she’d started to ask. “Why not?”

  “You’re not ready,” he said. “Are you?”

  Yes! The word leaped into her mind. “No,” she answered, knowing it was the only answer she could give him.

  “I thought not.” Paul’s smile held acceptance and tolerant amusement. “You’re afraid to trust me.”

  Though he hadn’t posed it as a question, Andrea nodded in answer. “I don’t know you, Paul.”

  “You do, you know,” he murmured. “You know me on your deepest level—intuitively. But you don’t trust your intuition, either. Do you?”

  “No,” Andrea answered in a flat tone, recalling the pain she had suffered once before after trusting her intuition. “I had to learn the hard way that my feelings can betray me. Since then, I’ve relied on my reasoning faculties.”

  “And your mind can’t betray you?” Paul asked gently.

  Andrea felt trapped. She couldn’t admit to him of all people that until a few days ago she had trusted her reasoning mind implicitly. Nor could she tell him that, because of him, she was no longer certain of anything, not even her own mind. “Perhaps it can,” she said, circumventing the issue. “Nevertheless, until I know you better...” Her voice trailed off and she shrugged.

  “Since you won’t even return my calls,” he observed, a teasing challenge glittering in his eyes, “how do you propose to get to know me better?”

  “I’m here,” Andrea said. “Aren’t I?”

  “Yes, you are here.” Paul smiled. “And we have made a beginning.” With a resolute move, he turned and started back the way they had come into the grove. “Let’s see where this beginning leads us.”

  Andrea hesitated a moment, then struck out after him. She was committed now. Or, she mused, increasing her stride to keep up with him, maybe she should be committed.

  When they were once again on campus and able to walk side by side, Paul tilted his head and smiled at her, “And when does this exploration into my psyche begin?”

  “You just said it had begun,” Andrea countered.

  Paul laughed.

  Andrea felt herself melting.

  “Then, when can it continue?”

  Andrea frowned. “Why, I don’t know . . . When do you—”

  “Dinner?” Paul interjected.

  “This evening?” Anticipation zinged through Andrea.

  “Yes, this evening.” Paul raised his eyebrows. “Okay?”

  Andrea hesitated... only because she didn’t want to appear too eager. “Yes.”

  “Seven? Six-thirty? ... Six?”

  Andrea interrupted him with a laugh. “Six-thirty will be fine for me.”

  Paul’s eyes seemed to take on an added gleam. “And I hope to prove that I will be fine for you, too.”

  His softly voiced hope sang in Andrea’s head as she drove to the cliff house. She was still confused by his uncanny resemblance to her dream lover, and still convinced that there was something strange about him, but she was more determined than before to solve the mystery surrounding him. Andrea knew that she had no other choice, for she was very much afraid that she was falling in love with Paul Hellka.

  Celia was delighted. “It’s about time you came out of that shell you’ve built around yourself,” she said in a caring, parental tone. Then she grinned. “You don’t want to be an old spinster like me, do you?”

  “Aunt Celia, I’m going to dinner; I’m not planning to elope!” Andrea exclaimed on a burst of laughter. “And if Blaine has his head on straight.., which I believe he does ... you won’t be a spinster much longer.”

  Celia grew flushed and flustered, which in itself was telling. Celia never flushed or became flustered.

  “Are you keeping something from me?” Andrea asked suspiciously.

  For a moment, Celia hesitated. Then she said, “As a matter of fact, Blaine has asked me to marry him.”

  “You said yes, I hope,” Andrea said, and gave her aunt a hug.

  “Well... not exactly,” Celia hedged.

  “Not exactly!” Andrea cried out. “Aunt Celia, you’re crazy about Blaine! I don’t understand why you’d hesitate.” Her eyes narrowed as an idea hit her. “Your hesitation doesn’t have anything to do with me, does it?”

  “Andrea, Blaine hasn’t only asked me to marry him,” Celia said. “He is taking a sabbatical for a year. He hasn’t had a real vacation in ages, and he wants to do some traveling before he’s too old or too tired to enjoy it.”

  “Makes sense to me,” Andrea said. “So ... ?”

  “His leave starts on the first of October. He wants me to marry him and go with him on his travels.” Celia paused, then went on, “I don’t want to leave you here on your own.”

  “But I’m twenty-eight years old and perfectly capable of looking after myself!” Andrea objected.

  “I know that,” Celia replied. “But you’ve been fighting an uphill battle by yourself for so long now”—her smile was misty—”I just wanted to be here for you.”

  “Oh, Aunt Celia.” Andrea blinked aga
inst the sting of tears in her eyes. “I love you and I appreciate your concern, but you see, through all those rough years, I always knew you were there for me, even though you were three thousand miles away.” Celia tried to say something, but Andrea shook her head. “Don’t let Blaine go away alone. Marry him. Be deliriously happy traipsing around the world with him, because, don’t you see, distance can never truly separate us.”

  They cried together, hugged each other, then laughed as they drew apart.

  “You’re right, of course,” Celia said, handing Andrea a tissue. “I’ll tell Blaine I’ll marry him ... maybe this evening over dinner.”

  “Dinner!” Andrea cried, swinging around to glance at the clock. “I’ve got to take a shower and dress!”

  “Wear something terrific and blow his mind,” Celia called laughingly as Andrea dashed for her bedroom.

  The something terrific Andrea finally settled on—after changing her mind, and her dress, three times—was a deceptively simple silk sheath in teal blue that clung like ivy to her slender body and shimmered with iridescent highlights with every move she made. She complemented the dress with sling-heeled sandals and a shawl that looked as if it had been woven out of misty moonbeams.

  Andrea’s fingers shook as she smoothed silvery shadow on her eyelids, finishing off her makeup with a touch of moisturizer, a swish of blusher, and a sweep of mascara. With a liberal spray of jasmine scent, she declared herself ready.

  Surveying her reflection in the mirror, Andrea decided she looked cool, composed, and pretty good overall. Inside, she was a quivering mass of uncertainty.

  The expression that flickered over Paul’s face when she entered the living room at precisely six-thirty was more than enough reward for her painstaking efforts. While he didn’t exactly looked blown away, he did appear slightly stunned.

  Andrea recognized the conditions, for she was feeling rather dazed herself. With his tall, slim body attired in a midnight-blue suit and a pale blue shirt, Paul was the embodiment of elegance.

  “Utterly beautiful” he breathed as she crossed the room to him. “But then, you always are.”

  Bemused, Andrea whispered, “You’re beautiful, too.”

  His soft laughter was echoed by the two other people in the room. Her eyes flickering with surprise, Andrea spun around. She had completely forgotten that Celia and Blaine were in the house. “I... er, didn’t see you two,” she admitted, feeling her cheeks grow warm with embarrassment.

  “Obviously,” Celia drawled. “But that’s understandable. Paul is somewhat blinding, isn’t he?”

  Blaine laughed. “Actually, they are both somewhat blinding, if you ask me. Talk about beautiful people!”

  “I think this is their unsubtle way of telling us we look good together,” Paul said, holding out his hand to Andrea. “Shall we go and blind the world?”

  Laughing with him, she slid her hand into his, said good night to Celia and Blaine, then followed him outside. Since this was the first time she had seen it, his car was a surprise. It was silver, low, sleek and, Andrea suspected, custom-built. She had never seen anything like it before.

  “This is fantastic!” Andrea exclaimed after they were ensconced in the plush leather seats. “What is it, and where did you find it?”

  “It doesn’t have a name,” Paul replied, smiling as he reached forward to switch on the engine. “And I didn’t find it. I built it.”

  “Incredible,” Andrea whispered in amazement.

  The sound of Paul’s laughter blended with the powerful purr of the engine. “Buckle up,” he advised as he drove onto the road. “I drive fast.”

  That was the ultimate understatement, Andrea decided, after what seemed a short zoom to the restaurant. Only later did she realize that, although Paul had driven at a speed she didn’t even wish to think about, she had not experienced a moment of anxiety or fear.

  The restaurant was secluded, the lighting was subdued, the cuisine was superb. Andrea barely noticed. Her senses were saturated by the man seated opposite her at the small table next to a large window.

  They spoke little, they ate less, they sipped a flavorful white wine.

  And Paul made love to her with his eyes.

  When they left the restaurant, Andrea couldn’t remember tasting what she had eaten, although she had a vague recollection of a creamy cold soup and a cheesy pasta entree. The wine bubbled through her veins.

  From the restaurant Paul drove to an intimate little tavern where the service was fast and the music was slow. There, oblivious to the other patrons, Andrea lost her heart while dancing in Paul’s arms. His hands caressed her spine, his lips brushed her temple, his lean body pressed to hers set her on fire. She wanted him, and the wanting scared her.

  Paul sensed her withdrawal the instant she advised herself to cool her emotions. Easing his head back, he gazed into her eyes. A smile shadowed by sadness tinged his beautiful mouth. “You want to run away from me now,” he murmured, skillfully moving her closer to the edge of the small dance floor. “Don’t you?”

  Andrea lowered her lashes to conceal her eyes, unwilling to let him see her inner battle between conflicting emotions. “Yes, I... I would like to go home now. If you don’t mind?”

  “I wouldn’t mind at all—in fact, I’d be thrilled—if you wanted to go to your real home.”

  Andrea’s lashes swept up, revealing the confusion she was feeling about his enigmatic response. “Paul, I don’t understand what you’re—

  “It doesn’t matter,” he interrupted her. “You’ll understand before too long.” Without another word, he led her out to his car. He didn’t speak again until they were on the road. “You were frightened of your feelings back there, weren’t you?” he asked astutely.

  Andrea was beginning to feel trapped again. “Paul, I still don’t know you,” she said in a tight whisper. “One evening spent together isn’t enough to warrant—” Andrea faltered, unable to finish aloud—spending the night together

  “I know. It’s all right.” His sigh filled the silence inside the car. “I understand.”

  They were quiet during the drive to the cliff house, and quiet as he saw her to the door. When he moved to draw her into his arms, Andrea placed her hand on his chest. “I need more time, Paul.” Her voice held a note of pleading. “Time to get to know you.”

  Paul let his arms fall to his sides, then stepped back. “Very well, Andrea. I can wait... a little longer.” Raising his hand, he trailed his fingertips over her mouth. “Tomorrow afternoon after class?” he asked.

  “Yes “ Andrea whispered on an uneven breath. “Tomorrow afternoon.”

  The following afternoon set a precedent for several weeks to come. When the weather permitted, they walked together, at times arguing a point raised in the classroom, at others simply talking. When the weather was inclement, they sat over steaming cups of coffee in various cafes, or visited marine or natural history museums, and did exactly the same thing—talked and argued. Through it all, Andrea discovered many things about Paul’s professional life, and her admiration and respect for him grew with each passing day. But she learned very little about the man himself, the inner person who was Paul Hellka.

  Then, on a beautiful warm day in late September, everything changed. As had become her habit, Andrea was waiting for Paul outside the lecture hall. Everything seemed as usual. When Paul came out of the building, he reached for her hand.

  “Good class today,” Andrea complimented him, sliding her hand into his.

  Paul sent a mini-thrill through her with his slow smile, which began on his mouth and ended in his fascinating eyes. “Thank you. You do your part to keep things lively.” Twining his fingers with her, he began walking.

  “Where are we going today?” she asked, falling into step with him. She arched her brows teasingly. “To the beach to examine tide pools for squiggly things?”

  Paul’s smile slid into a grin. “It’s an idea. We haven’t done that yet.” He shook his head. “But no, not t
oday. I have something, a place, to show you.”

  Intrigued, Andrea strolled beside him. She began to frown when he headed for the copse of pine trees they’d walked into on the first day of classes. “But we’ve been here before, Paul,” she reminded him. “Don’t you remember?”

  “I remember everything that has anything at all to do with you, Andrea,” he replied seriously. Retaining his hold on her hand, he stepped out in front of her to lead the way into the dense pine thicket. “I wanted to show this place to you that day,” he went on. “But you weren’t ready to see it.” Pausing, he turned to look at her. “I think, I hope, that you are now comfortable enough with me to go with me.” Appearing to cease breathing, he watched her in absolute stillness, waiting for her response.

  All the tension, which had eased in her over the weeks they’d spent talking and laughing together, slammed back into Andrea. Not once during those weeks had Paul pressured her in any way. Now Andrea knew the pressure, however delicate, was being applied, and she hesitated.

  She swallowed; he noted the action.

  She moistened her lips; his eyes darkened.

  She asked herself if she was truly ready; he waited for her answer.

  Seconds stretched into minutes. Then, managing a smile for him, she gave in. “All right, Paul. Take me to this place you want me to see.”

  “Ahh... Andrea.” Paul’s low voice revealed a wealth of emotions, the strongest of which was relief. Reaching out, he grasped her hand. Entwining her fingers with his, he tugged gently on her hand and murmured, “Come.”

  His whisper was both a plea and a command. A chord was struck deep inside Andrea. She had heard him say that word before, in exactly that tone, but... when? It was too late. There wasn’t time for her to sift through her memory bank. After turning away, Paul was drawing her with him, deeper into the pine thicket.

  The elusive scent of the sea, mingled with the pungent tang of pine, assailed Andrea’s senses as they came out of the pine grove. It was then that she saw the pathway.