A Love for All Seasons

by Bettye Griffin

  The temperature in the house was warm, almost too much so. Lucky wandered into the room as Jack dug out a pair of flannel drawstring pants from his duffel bag. “Looks like you’re trapped in here with me, fella,” he said to the dog as he rubbed his back.

  Jack closed the bedroom door and put on the draw-string pants, taking off everything else, even his T-shirt. He took a few minutes to call his parents to let them know he’d arrived safely. His father didn’t ask why it had taken so long for him to call, and Jack didn’t volunteer any information about Alicia or her family emergency. Feeling restless, he reclined in bed channel surfing with the remote control when she knocked on the door. Lucky curled up on the floor beside his bed, looking content.

  “Come in,” he said.

  The door opened, and he gazed at her in awe. Her hair had been brushed back away from her face and pinned up, looking almost like she was going out for the evening. She wore a belted tan print bathrobe of some kind of slinky material, over what appeared to be a matching nightgown. She looked absolutely ravishing. He moved into a sitting position, quickly tossing a pillow lengthwise on his lap to hide both his bare chest and his pulsating erection.

  “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she said.

  “No. I just got off the phone with my parents, wanted to call and let them know I’d made it back, even though I’m sure she figured out hours ago that I’d landed safely. I was just watching some TV.”

  She took a step closer, light glistening on sections of her gown and robe. “I just wanted to thank you for being such a good sport about this afternoon, coming with me to the hospital and all, and staying.” After the ER physician’s pronouncement that Caroline was stable and resting comfortably, a statement backed up by Dr. Jordan, Alicia suggested to Jack that she bring him home while they waited for Caroline’s transport to her room, but he refused. To cut out then struck him as abandonment. He was determined to see it through.

  “I know I said the day would be ours,” she continued. “It didn’t exactly work out that way, did it?”

  “Like they say, it’s the thought that counts,” he said, not taking his eyes off her.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t get you home tonight.”

  “My place will still be there tomorrow.”

  “You’re very understanding.”

  “I wouldn’t say that.” His voice suddenly went hoarse. “Don’t you know it’s dangerous to come into a man’s room looking as good as you do?”

  She took a step backward, the fabric of her robe swirling around her ankles. “I just wanted to tell you I appreciated your being there,” she said shyly. “And I also wanted to make sure you were comfortable.”

  “I’m good.”

  “In that case I’ll say good night. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Good night, Alicia.” He caught one last glimpse of her as she backed out of the room. Lucky suddenly jumped up and squeezed through as she closed the door, apparently deciding he’d rather sleep in her room. Jack didn’t blame him. So would he.

  He threw the pillow off him and sank back into a reclining position. His eyes closed, but instantly he saw a vision of her as she’d just appeared. He imagined going over to her, untying the sash around her waist and pushing the robe off her shoulders, taking the pins out of her hair….

  And he knew it would be a very long time before he got to sleep.

  Chapter 16

  Act Naturally

  Snow began to fall lightly after the morning rush hour. The TV weather folks had predicted flurries, not unusual for mid-December and giving a nice seasonal touch to the holiday season. Alicia looked out of the window of her office in mid-morning and noticed that the precipitation had become steadier. She instantly became suspicious. It didn’t look like mere flurries to her.

  By lunchtime the ground was covered with a blanket of white. She pulled out the old pair of nylon lambskin-lined boots she kept in the top drawer of the file cabinet in her office, along with other personal rainy day—in this case snowy day—supplies.

  “This is incredible,” Shannon complained upon returning with lunch from the deli on the ground floor of the building. “It’s covering my feet already. I’ve never seen such a snowfall this early in the season. We usually don’t get slammed with anything more than flurries before January.”

  “I told you to let me pick up your salad when I bring back my calzone.” Shannon, tall and slim, perpetually watched what she ate, consuming salads two or three times a week. “Of course, if those size eleven clodhoppers of yours could fit into my boots, you’d be welcome to them.”

  “We can’t all wear a size eight,” Shannon muttered as she pulled off her Bass Weejuns and massaged her sock-clad feet. “If this keeps up court will let out early and we’ll be able to get out of here. Hopefully I can get home without breaking my neck.”

  “Maybe you should go buy a pair of boots,” Alicia suggested. “It’s a cinch you won’t be able to get a cab.” Shannon lived in a basement apartment in Greenwich Village.

  “The hell I won’t. And any man who tries to cut in will find his butt sitting in the snow.” Shannon had enrolled in a self-defense course at the local Y, and Alicia knew she couldn’t wait for an opportunity to kick some butt.

  Alicia felt that today would present an excellent chance to demonstrate the defensive skills her partner had learned. Bad weather often brought out the worst in people as taxis became scarce and mass transit less reliable.

  She left Shannon munching on her crunchy salad, venturing outside where the snow already measured two or three inches. Pedestrians stepped with care on the slippery sidewalks, practically taking baby steps, to prevent loss of balance. Most of them wore regular street shoes, with a few women clad in cold weather boots—not the same thing as snow boots, since most had high heels. The vendors who usually sold hot dogs from pushcarts hadn’t shown up today.

  An unusually light number of patrons came to the pizzeria around the corner from Alicia’s office, but she soon noticed that most people had sizeable take-out orders, like they’d taken lunch orders for their entire departments. One enterprising young man brought along a thick plastic carton on wheels, the kind usually used to transport documents. He placed numerous food orders into the carton and left the pizzeria, pulling it behind him.

  Alicia returned to the office with the steak-and-cheese calzone she’d gone out to get. Shannon waited in her office grimly. “They’ve revised the forecast, Alicia. Apparently, the storm system stalled somewhere over the entire metro area. They say this could be one for the record books.”

  “Oh, fine,” she said with a groan. “It couldn’t have waited another ten days or so, when everybody’s home for Christmas?”

  “I sent Amy home,” Shannon said, referring to their administrative assistant. “Word from the courthouse is that they’re adjourning at two.”

  “Why don’t you go on home?” Alicia suggested. “I have to eat lunch anyway. I’ll take any calls that come in and forward the phones to you before I leave.” The partners usually took turns taking after-hours calls, but since Caroline Timberlake’s decline in health, Shannon suggested she do it exclusively so Alicia would have one less thing to worry about.

  “Alicia, I live much closer than you do.”

  “But I’m wearing boots and you aren’t. Now, scat!”

  After Shannon left Alicia sat in the break room with her calzone. She poured some water from the cooler bottle into her personal cup. Impulsively she reached for the wall-mounted telephone. She knew Jack had been busy working on his big project while overseeing multiple others. She’d barely gotten to see him since the day he slept over at her mother’s house. She wondered if he even knew it was snowing outside.

  “Hi,” she said when he answered the direct line. “It’s Alicia calling with your latest weather report.”

  “Well, hello, weather girl,” he said amiably. “What’s the latest?”

  “Snow, snow, and more snow. They’re pred
icting twelve to fifteen inches. I wanted to warn you not to work too long, or else you might not get a train out. They often can’t keep the tracks clear when it snows this heavy.”

  “So I’m told. Now that you mention it, it seems a lot quieter around here than it did an hour ago. I think my coworkers might be leaving for lunch and not coming back.”

  “I can see that, especially those who don’t sit near windows. What’s on the ground now is a far cry from the flurries they predicted on TV. I’ll be heading out of here soon, and I’ll be the last to leave.”

  “Will you be going home or up to your mom’s?”

  “Home, I think. I want to see what we end up with before I try to get all the way to Green’s Farms. Mom’s okay. If there was a problem with her nurses Martha would have called me.”

  “Does she receive round-the-clock care?”

  “Now she does, yes. My father thought it might come to this because of her heart condition, so he bought a policy years ago that would provide for LPNs so she could be cared for at home instead of having to go into a nursing home.” She paused. “Do you have any plans to leave for home anytime soon?”

  “Not really. I’m working on a portion of the project that I can’t do from home.”

  She decided not to press the issue, despite knowing he wasn’t familiar with how a massive snowfall could paralyze the city. It generally didn’t snow in Birmingham and Houston, at least not in any great quantities.

  “Well, just remember this…if you find you can’t get home, you can always come to my place.” She recited the address for him.

  “I’ll remember that, Alicia. Thanks. I’ll catch up with you later, huh?”

  The familiar shiver ran through her when he said her name. He sounded so immersed in his work, in spite of the genuine enthusiasm with which he greeted her. But whenever he said her name somehow she knew she had his full attention.

  It reminded her of the way he’d said good night to her the first night of her mother’s most recent hospitalization. He’d just told her she’d tempted him by coming to his room in her nightclothes. She’d been fairly tempted herself. She hadn’t expected him to be shirtless. It was all she could do to not stare at the expanse of brown skin, the muscular chest and wash-board abs. Her instinct told her he would be a marvelous lover.

  Under other circumstances she probably would have wanted to find out, but the timing was all off. He’d done a tremendous job of putting her mind at ease, but she was still worried about her mother. For all Alicia knew, Caroline might not ever come home again. That thought disturbed her even more than her reaction to Jack Devlin.

  But it was the latter that unsettled her to the point where she needed three more glasses of wine before she could sleep with him just a few doors down the hall.

  Alicia finished her lunch, took a few calls from contractors reporting an abbreviated workday. No one from the courthouse called for coverage, indicating that tomorrow’s activities were still uncertain. It would have to stop snowing before the plows could get out, and the revised forecast now called for snowfall until late in the evening.

  She left the office at twenty minutes after two, her shoulder case stuffed with documents needing editing, and the office phones forwarded to Shannon’s cell phone.

  The narrow streets of lower Manhattan were filled with slow-moving vehicles. The snow fell thickly, creating poor visibility, and the air was filled with the sound of honking horns, squealing brakes, and noisy engines as they worked overtime to get through the accumulation on the roads. She slipped into the subway, grasping the banister for balance as she descended and headed uptown.

  By five o’clock the snow had been falling steadily for over six hours, and the city was rapidly approaching whiteout status. Alicia stopped at a neighborhood deli—the only restaurants still open tended to be family-run establishments where the families lived upstairs—and bought three foot-long hero sandwiches, since all she had at home were some frozen entrees.

  Three submarine sandwiches were more than she could eat in the day or two it would take before the restoration of any lost services and the re-opening of most businesses, but she wanted to be prepared in case Jack came over.

  She was chatting on the phone with Shannon, comparing their experiences getting home in the storm, when she heard the beep signaling call waiting. A quick look at her cell phone window revealed Jack’s cell number. “Shannon, can I call you back? I’ve got another call.”

  She clicked over and wasn’t at all surprised when Jack said, “Alicia, I’m having trouble getting a train. My feet are soaked and getting numb. I guess I should have heeded your warning to get out while I could.” He paused. “Does your offer still stand?”

  “Of course. I’m in for the evening. Possibly longer than that,” she joked.

  “Okay. It’ll probably take me a little while to get up there. I hope the subways are running better than Metro-North. They’re anticipating delays of about two hours.”

  “I believe the subways are running okay, at least the portions that run underground. Then they’ll run into the same problems Metro-North is having with snow on the tracks. This storm took everybody off guard.”

  “Hope to see you soon. And, Alicia…”

  “Yes?”

  “Thanks. Thanks a lot.”

  She smiled as she ended the connection. Jack made it sound like she’d saved him from sleeping on a park bench. Of course, that was far from the case—he could always call Pete and Rhonda and stay at their apartment on Convent Avenue in Harlem—but he’d called on her.

  She couldn’t begin to describe how good that made her feel.

  Thirty-five minutes later her buzzer rang. She let him in, did a quick inspection of both the apartment and her appearance and then waited for him in the doorway.

  She heard his footsteps before he came into view. His large frame seemed stooped and his steps clumsy.

  “My feet,” he said apologetically, seeing her shocked expression.

  “You come right here,” she said, taking his arm. She led him inside the apartment, kicking the door shut behind them.

  She helped him out of his overcoat and took his wool golf cap off his head. “Sit down,” she ordered. “We’ve got to get the circulation going in your feet, or else it could be serious.”

  He obeyed, sitting down and carefully removing his dress shoes, which would need a good polishing to get rid of the moisture on them, which she knew would dry as white streaks.

  Jack slowly peeled off his socks. “This must be how it was in Birmingham the year they got hit with about a foot of snow, around ’ Ninety-Three, ’ Ninety-Four. I was in Houston at the time, but my parents told me about it. We don’t get much snow there as a rule. Tell me, have you spoken to your mother?”

  “Yes. She sounds about the same. The nurse is there with her.” She inspected his feet, which had no visible discoloration, but that didn’t mean he was out of danger. Only a severe frostbite would be apparent on darker skin tones like theirs. Judging from the way he winced as he massaged one foot, it was painful. She knew he wasn’t accustomed to snow.

  “I’ve got just the thing,” she said, snapping her fingers. She ran to her closet and pulled a white plastic box from the top shelf. “It’s a foot massager,” she said in response to his wide-eyed curiosity. “I use it to give myself pedicures. It has a heat feature. Ten minutes in this and your feet will be good as new. I’ll get some water in it.” She carried it to the sink and filled it to the line with warm water, then carefully brought it to where he sat and placed it on the floor.

  After plugging it in and setting it to the heat massage, she sat on a floor pillow near his feet. She noticed that the bottom three or four inches of his suit pants were dark with moisture.

  “You’ll need to take those off.”

  “What, my pants?”

  “They’re soaked, Jack. And you’ll have to soak your feet.”

  “I’ll roll them up,” he said, bending forward to begin the pr
ocess. “No way am I going to take off my pants and sit on your couch in my underwear.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I can see you’re going to be a problem patient. Do you refuse to take your clothes off in the doctor’s office, too?”

  “You’re not a doctor, Alicia.”

  “Yeah, like you’d even consider having a woman doctor.”

  “I have nothing against women, Alicia. In fact, they’re my favorite species.”

  “Well, just don’t blame me when you get rheumatism in your legs. And don’t ask me to iron your pants when they dry and get all wrinkled, either. The iron is hanging on the back of the pantry door.”

  “Okay, I promise I’ll live uncomplainingly with the consequences of my stubbornness.” He lifted his feet and then lowered them into the warm water of the massage tub. “Ahhh, that feels good.”

  “That’ll get your blood rushing again,” she said confidently.

  His hand rested on her shoulder. “Thanks again, Alicia.” He wanted to tell her she’d make a good wife to some lucky man one day, but his gut told him not to say it.

  “Hey, what are friends for?”

  Her statement startled him. While he saw nothing wrong with starting off as friends, he wanted so much more than that from her. He couldn’t resist asking, “So is that what we are? Friends?” Unconsciously he increased the pressure in the hand that rested on her shoulder.

  “I hope so, Jack. I like you. I like being with you, and I hope you like spending time with me. But I can’t stand being hemmed in. I can’t abide being asked to give up my friends because someone wants exclusive rights to me, like I’m…song lyrics or something.”

  At that moment Jack became aware of his hand pressing into her shoulder and immediately removed it. “Oh, I agree,” he said loftily. “In my time a number of women have suggested that I burn my address book.” He chuckled at the memory, but nonetheless Alicia’s words stung a little. He wanted more than mere friendship from her, damn it! But he couldn’t ask if she saw anything more developing between them without coming off sounding like a simpering idiot, no better than the women who’d tried to fence him in like he was a pet cocker spaniel.