"Say no more. I just hope we can offer a happy solution to what is always a very difficult decision.
"She's not going to like it," Beth warned.
"Few do at first, but we have a trained counselor on staff to ease newcomers through the transition, and once your mother settles into an apartment furnished with her own things, I don't anticipate any major adjustment problems, especially with old friends already in residence here and family nearby."
"And now," she continued briskly, plucking printed forms out of the stack of plastic boxes on her desk, "I'm afraid we have a lot of paper work to do..."
After promising to make the necessary phone calls and get back to Beth as soon as possible, Mrs. Tierney paged the activities director and asked her to give Beth the grand tour, even though she protested she had been through the facility when it first opened.
"The circumstances were very different, Mrs. Volmar. This time I want you to look at Valley Fields through your mother's eyes and ask all the hard questions you can think of."
It had, Beth agreed, been good advice. Later that evening, Mrs. Tierney called to confirm the availability of temporary housing for her mother, and when Karim phoned her the next evening from Konya, en route from eastern Turkey, she had put most of her misgivings behind her.
"You're coming?"
"Yes, Karim."
"You're really coming?"
She laughed. "Considering how much this call must be costing you, I'm not about to waste time in reassurances. I'll be leaving in about two weeks. I'll notify you of the exact date and time of my arrival in Istanbul by wire or fax or whatever it takes—camel express, if necessary." Her earnest determination made him chuckle. "I'll take a cab in from the airport; all you have to do is be at the hotel to meet me."
"I'll be there, Beth, with as many bells on as I can scrounge in the Grand Bazaar. You're sure you have the phone number?"
"Right here on the list you gave me."
"And the address?"
"The Konak," she dutifully read. "On Sultanahmet."
"That’s the old part of the city near Topkapi Palace."
"Sultanamet," she repeated. "Oh, dear, I hope the cab driver understands English!"
"Never fear. I've yet to meet a Turk who didn't know enough English to conduct business with tourists." There was a pause. "You really are coming," he whispered, as if to himself. "I didn't dare hope...oh, my darling, you can't know how happy you've made me."
Andy, while not opposed to his mother's announced plans, was concerned about their effect on his grandmother. "It's not that I don't think Valley Fields is the best place for her, I do—and I mean that sincerely—but the timing.…" He shook his head. "I just wish you'd wait a little longer after she makes the move before leaving."
"I don't have any choice about that," she returned evenly. "It's now or never."
"Come on, Mom. Surely you'll have other opportunities to travel."
"You don't understand. This isn't about travel—1 could be going to meet Karim in Indianapolis as well as Istanbul—it's about making the effort to spend time alone with him, to sort things out together." She hesitated, trying to find the right words to communicate what she was only beginning to understand herself. She searched his eyes. "Don't you see, Andy? There'll never be a convenient time for me, not as long as I continue to conduct my life for everyone else's convenience."
Housa nodded. "She's right, Andy. Look at us, we take advantage of your mother every chance we get. We don't mean to, Beth, really we don't. It's not, you know, calculated.”
Beth hugged her. "Oh, Housa, I know that." She smiled. "There I am, on the other end of the phone and only a short drive away. It's very—"
"Convenient," Andy finished for her, smiling sheepishly.
"As it should be," Beth said, "and usually it is. But there's a big difference between seeing you and the children two or three times a week and living full time with Murry."
Once she realized Beth's plan to join Karim in Turkey was not open for discussion, Muriel Tomlinson accepted Beth's announcement with resignation and decided that a temporary removal to Valley Fields was preferable to being left to the mercy of strangers. She recalled a play put on by the Southbury Players years before. "Kind Lady, I think it was called, about this poor old woman almost murdered by a young couple who pretended to befriend her. I've never forgotten it," she had added, sadly shaking her white head.
Beth, grateful for this small victory, did not tell her mother that a permanent move was possible. Let nature and the company of old friends take its course. Dana's reaction to the news was one of untempered hostility.
"How could you even consider such a thing? You know how much Murry's home means to her!"
"I know how much it used to mean, Dana. Don't you think living there the way she does now forces her to remember every moment of every day how it was before she had her stroke? Didn't I tell you about her attempt to drive?"
"That was a cruel thing to do to her, Mother!"
"Would it have been kinder to leave her in ignorance, feeding on false hope? That's what it was, you know. According to Dr. Ormsbee, she's improved as much as she can, as long as she continues living at home. At Valley Fields she can have proper therapy—"
"You're abandoning her, it's that simple. You find living with her inconvenient,“ Dana sneered.
As if it were a dirty word, Beth thought, forcing herself to stay calm. "Yes, you could say that. This lovely old house has no soundproofing, you know. When my friends drop by, Murry complains about hearing our voices through the walls; phone calls after nine o'clock alarm her, and she says the sound of water rushing in the pipes when I get ready for bed disturbs her sleep. I find myself creeping around in stocking feet, trying to keep the floorboards and stair treads from creaking. I'm not a hired hand, Dana; I have a life of my own."
"It's that man, isn't it?"
"Karim has nothing directly to do with this."
"The hell you say. Flying off to Turkey to be with him—it's disgusting. If Daddy knew..." Dana clapped her hands to her face and fled from the room, racked with sobs.
Beth started after her, but pulled up just short of the screen door, thrusting her hand out to forestall its slam into the door frame, pierced by a recognition as unsettling as the cicada's shrill rasp rising suddenly from the lilacs flanking the columned veranda.
This wasn't about Murry; it wasn't even about herself, at least not as a person in her own right. She was Dr. Ralph Volmar's widow, and in his daughter's eyes she had sullied his memory. All that remained of the god of Dana's childhood was an image purified by adoration. No amount of success could erase the pain of losing him; no one would ever replace her father in her heart.
At that moment, Beth knew she had lost her.
Chapter Eighteen
Ten hectic days after she settled her mother in at Valley Fields, Beth's plane touched down through sun-hazed smog at Yesilkoy airport. It was only a bit past midday Turkish time, but after collecting her things and exchanging dollars for lira she surrendered herself, too exhausted to make a considered choice, to the taxi driver whose eager young hands were the first to connect with the handles of her bags. Sneering triumphantly at his disgruntled elders, he shoved her luggage into the back seat and hustled Beth into the front. He favored her with a flashing smile.
"Taksim, lady?"
"Yes, taxi."
"Hotel Hilton."
"No. Hotel Konak."
"Konak not at Taksim. For nice pretty lady like you, Hilton."
"No, no!" Sensing they were falling farther and farther short of a meeting of the minds, Beth held up a delaying finger while she rummaged through her shoulder bag for Karim's list. "Hotel Konak...Sultanahmet."
"Ahhh...Sultanahmet." He smiled again and put the cab grindingly into gear.
He drove like a man possessed. Shoulders hunched, glossy black hair falling back from a sloping forehead above a prominent beaked nose, he looked, Beth thought, like a bird of prey. Too
distraught to do more than clutch at the disintegrating edges of her seat, she was only vaguely aware of the passing scene. A body of water glinted at her right; a large block of aging and odoriferous factories loomed and flashed by on the left—the leather industry Karim had mentioned?—succeeded by high arched stone walls as ancient and as picturesquely wreathed in vines as in the Piranesi etchings in Karim's living room.
The driver, noticing Beth's wondering stare, slowed his headlong pace. "The famous Sea Walls. Byzantine. Very old," he added unnecessarily, recklessly waving one hand out his open window, causing a car in the next lane to swerve in alarm. "This your first visit Istanbul?"
"Yes."
"How long you here?"
"Two weeks."
"Ahhh...you plan travel across Turkey?"
"I don't know...I don't think so—" Beth gasped as he zoomed across traffic and exited out upon a narrow cobblestone street that wound steeply up onto a height of land dominated by great domed mosques whose minarets reached to pierce the even greater dome of hazy blue above.
"Very hot here now...you like seaside place? I take you Black Sea, pretty lady like you. Very nice hotels, we dance.…" He leered at her. It was clear he had more than dancing in mind.
"I couldn't do that...I'm a married woman."
"Ahhh...your so lucky husband, he meet you here?"
Beth shook her head.
He shrugged expressively. "Then how he know?"
Beth found herself defeated by his simple, amoral logic. He was so young! It was...ludicrous.
"I have a son your age," she said gently.
As she spoke, he slowed to a stop in front of an imposing green-painted, white-filigreed wooden building. He slid an arm across the back of her seat and gazed at her soulfully. "Old madam is best," he murmured.
Beth bit her lip. Shifting to avoid his dark liquid eyes, she saw Karim beyond him, waving at her from the doorway, white shirt open at the neck, sleeves rolled up on darkly tanned arms. He looked marvelous.
She opened the door. "I have a friend waiting for me." Karim strode to the cab, leaned down to address the driver in a burst of incomprehensible syllables, handed him a sheaf of paper bills, and wrested Beth's luggage from the back seat. She trotted around and lifted her face for his kiss. The cab ground into gear.
"Better luck next time!" she called.
Her would-be gigolo grinned in good-natured defeat. "Maasallah!" he called out.
"What was that all about?" Karim asked.
"What did he say?" Beth countered.
"Maasallah? It means 'May God preserve.' "
Beth smiled. "And so he did," she said, "because here I am." She tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. "The rest can wait; right now, what I want most is a bath."
"I thought you might, considering the length of your trip and the temperature here. I ordered a light lunch sent up to our room." Beth withdrew her hand from his arm. Karim looked down at her. "Is that all right?" His voice was anxious.
"Damn this buckle! I'm sorry, what did you say?"
He saw then that she had needed both hands to hitch up her collapsing shoulder bag. "Nothing worth repeating. Here, let me help you.…"
* * * *
Beth emerged from the bathroom smelling of soap and roses, her new white satin robe belted tightly around her. She moved to a window and stood gazing over the red-tiled roofs on the hillside below to the sun-lit water beyond. The gauzy lace curtain, stirred by a warm breeze, enveloped her like a bridal veil. Karim sat on the edge of the wide brass bed, one ankle propped on the other knee, watching her.
"While you were bathing a waiter brought a tray—fruit, yogurt, assorted cold meats, tea.…"
"Nothing yet, thank you," she murmured. Seagulls wheeled and cried over the rooftops. "It's so beautiful.…" She turned and walked toward him. "Oh, Karim, I can't believe I'm here!" He reached up to grasp the hands she held out to him. "I can't believe we're here, together—" She broke off, laughing. "The taxi driver? He wanted to take me to the Black Sea for the weekend. Can't you just see us doing the tango in some seedy seaside hotel?" She held out her arms to an invisible partner. Dum-dumrdum-dum, dadada-dum-dum," she hummed. "He said"—she laughed again—"he said, 'Old madam—' "
Her laughter faltered; suddenly it didn't seem so funny. "He said, 'Old madam is best.' "Soundlessly, she began to cry.
Seeing her tears, Karim gently pulled her down on the bed beside him. "My very dear madam," he murmured. He kissed her wet cheeks. "Why don't we find out if he's right?"
His fingers tugged at the satin sash. Her blue eyes, looking up at him out of the shadow he cast, seemed dark and mysterious. As he opened her robe, her eyelids slid closed, their fringe of lashes fluttering like frightened moths against her cheekbones. The shifting light dappled her pale skin; the rise and fall of her girlish, pink-nippled breasts betrayed the quickening pace of her breathing.
His eyes traced the curve of her slender rib cage wonderingly, as if judging it too fragile a container for her strongly beating heart. Only the faint stretch marks lacing her abdomen and a long narrow scar tracking across it like the trail of a centipede rescued her body from the anonymity of youth.
"How lovely you are," he said.
He touched her nipples with the flat of his palms, softly, tentatively. Her lips parted. When he touched them again, his fingers sliding on the hardened buds, she gasped. He leaned to kiss her mouth, her breasts, her soft stomach, her dear scars, his tongue savoring her sweet smoothness, then darting on as if overwhelmed by the feast provided him.
His hand moved down to stroke the blonde triangle at the joining of her thighs, coaxing them to admit his questing fingers. They parted readily, and her deep softness, already damp with longing, began to quiver under his caress. Tossing her flushed face from side to side, she arched against him again and again, moaning softly, her eyes opening wide as the waves of sensation subsided, engulfing him with her ebbing passion. "Ahhhh," she sighed.
Her eyes still fixed on his, she reached for the buttons on his shirt, unfastening them slowly, deliberately, one by one, leaving no doubt of her intention. He shuddered as her hand slid inside and across the smoothness of his chest to trace the neat mat of dark hair down its arrowing descent into his belted trousers. He rolled away to stand beside the bed. She could hear the clink of the belt buckle, the hiss of the zipper. She sensed him leaning above her.
"Should you be protected?" he whispered.
She smiled and looked up at him. "Biology has seen to that." Her hands explored his hot flesh, the joining of solid haunch to hip. He lay against her, eyes half-closed, his body greedy for her caresses.
"Oh, Karim," she moaned. "Closer...I want you closer. Please.…”
He moved above her, skin gliding on skin, her parted legs guiding his entrance. Buttocks clenched, his controlled penetration gave way to deep driving strokes as she rose to meet him, moving with him as if to draw him into the core of her being.
Panting, he held her down against the counterpane, his mouth stilling her whimpers of mounting pleasure. A final thrust brought release. "Oh, God,” he called.
After his hoarse cries muted, he rolled away, groaning, slick with the sweat of their bodies. He took her hand and brought it to his cheek. "My dear girl, I love you so much—" He placed his lips in the cup of her palm. "No madam was ever, could ever, be better."
She smiled, curled against his flank, sighed contentedly, and together they drifted into sleep.
Beth awoke to the sound of laughter, the distant slamming of car doors and, closer by, voices raised in a loud, seemingly angry, exchange. The room glowed with the coppery light of the setting sun. She looked at Karim lying beside her. Robbed of the glint of the sherry-colored eyes still closed in sleep, his face seemed stern. Even relaxed, his body radiated vigor.
My lover.
Beth's loins tingled. Her hand stole towards his shoulder, then, catching sight of the abandoned lunch tray, another kind of hunger overtook her.
She eased off the bed and after filling a saucer with a selection of fruit, she walked quietly to one of a pair of long windows overlooking the street and settled on the floor beneath it, arms propped on the wide sill. Beneath her, in front of a shop adjoining the hotel, two men stood, a colorful rug spread out between them on the pavement. Toes flipped up its corners; fingers smoothed the pile. Beth did not need to understand their words to know who was the merchant and who the prospective buyer. The gestures of praise and dismissal, though broader than she was used to, were a universal language. At length, argument gave way to smiles and a shaking of hands. A bargain had been struck.
As the buyer strode off, the rug's rolled cylinder across his shoulder, Beth wondered who had gotten the best of it. Didn't that depend on the buyer's purpose? Did he buy it for the home he and his girlfriend were planning? To placate an angry wife? Or was he another dealer planning to sell it ?
She chose a cluster of grapes from the dish, and popped the red globes into her mouth, one at a time. Look at my being here with Karim—wouldn't each member of our families supply a different motive? She settled back on her heels and picked up a slice of melon. Her munching slowed as she reviewed the list. Mother, Dana, Andy, Amity...
"Ah, there you are," she heard Karim say behind her. "When I woke and reached out for you beside me, at first I thought maybe it was all a dream, but you're the first dream I've ever seen eating fruit on my bedroom floor."
He came over to sit naked beside her. Looking at him, one of her primary motives for coming here to meet him was made abundantly clear. She blushed. "It's wonderful fruit, but a bit drippy. Could you hand me a napkin?"
He smiled. "No need," he murmured, leaning towards her. He kissed her mouth, catching the melon's sweet juices with his tongue. "Hmm-mm, delicious. Could we consider that an appetizer?"
Beth scrambled, laughing, to her feet, and reached for her robe. "Oh, no, you don't! I haven't eaten since the crack of dawn." She grinned at him. "Tonight, we eat first.
Karim smiled. "Promises, promises?"
"That would be telling. Isn't mystery the essence of love?"
And Be My Love Page 24
