Beth looked up from her salad, surprised. Dana rarely took time off from work. "Alone?"
"With a friend... a male friend," she added lightly.
"Is this the same man you've been seeing in New York?"
"If you're wondering if we're lovers, Mother, yes, we are; if you're asking if it's serious.…" She shook her head, the fine blonde hair falling in soft little tendrils around her delicately featured face. "Actually, this will be our swan song. Our career plans ended up not matching, and of course I was the one expected to give way." Her smile didn't reach her eyes.
She looks like a porcelain doll, Beth thought.
Dana reached over to pat her mother's hand. "Cheer up. Mom. I eat right, I work out every morning, and I expect to provide a tempting bit of blonde bait to the big fish in the corporate sea for at least another ten years. After that—" She shrugged. "If I keep my wits about me I'll be high enough on the ladder so that kind of thing won't matter any more."
Beth, unable to control her expression, averted her face.
"Oh dear, I've shocked you! Murry told me you were the kind of a girl who was always falling in love. It's hard to believe we share the same genes, isn't it?" She patted her mouth with her napkin. "What do you say we get to work? We can have coffee later."
Dana paused by the wine bins. "You still have some of Daddy's Dom Perignon. May I take some?"
"Take it all."
"Haven't you anything you're planning to celebrate?"
Beth shook her head. "Not with this. I was planning to buy some wine at that vineyard near Granby."
"It's not in the same class."
Beth knew her daughter was referring to more than the wine. "Well, be that as it may, I'll pack this for you while you look through your father's things. I left some cartons in there for you."
"I'm pleased Andy's planning to write up his career."
"I knew you would be," Beth answered.
Dana paused at the kitchen door. "Other than his medical books and notes, you're giving me carte blanche?" Beth nodded. "And you say you're selling the furniture with the house?"
"Most of it."
"Off with the old, on with the new, right?"
Dana smiled knowingly—or was it a sneer, Beth wondered. Trying to decide, she noticed for the first time the ray of fine lines beginning to fan out from the corner of her daughter's lovely blue eyes. Ten years at best.
Beth tucked the well-wrapped bottles of champagne among the cartons Dana stowed in the trunk of her red convertible. Four cartons altogether. Beth caught a glimpse of Ralph's golf trophies—she had expected that—as for the rest... Dana did not volunteer any information, and Beth found herself oddly reluctant to ask.
Dana consulted the gold Rolex her father had given her. "Its only eight-thirty. I think I'll stop in and see Murry at Valley Fields."
"She'll enjoy that. She can show you the apartment she's buying. It has a small flower bed along the front edge of the terrace—Housa's going to help me transplant some of your father's favorites into it for her. I'm having her furniture moved in next week." Beth hesitated, wondering how best to counter her daughter's stony expression. "She likes it there, Dana."
"Does she?" Dana turned the key in the ignition. "How convenient for you."
"Dana, please.…"
"I'll call you when I get back from Bermuda." The stylish little car began to glide down the drive. "Maybe we can do Thanksgiving." If Dana noticed Beth's wave of farewell in her rear-view mirror, she chose not to return it.
'Maybe we can do Thanksgiving.' That was almost three months away, Beth thought. We might as well be living a continent apart. She trailed back inside and poured herself a cup of the forgotten coffee. It was cold. Grimacing at its bitter taste, she emptied it down the sink, then washed the pot, her cup and the supper dishes by hand.
Hardly worth loading the dishwasher for, she decided. One plate each for the salad and French bread; another for the peaches and oatmeal cookies. Such a sensible menu, Beth mused. What was it Dana had said? "I eat right, I work out every morning.…"
Beth's heart lurched as she recalled her daughter's description of the life she accepted for herself.
My God, my God.
The sponge dropped from her nerveless fingers into the emptying sink. She stood for a long moment, mindlessly watching the suds swirl down the drain into oblivion. She took a deep breath, lifted the receiver from the wall phone and dialed.
"Karim? It's Beth.…"
Chapter Twenty-one
"Beth?"
Karim's rumbled repetition of her name sounded like a long suppressed exhalation. Beth couldn't tell if he were pleased or just surprised. She decided it didn't matter.
"May I come see you? I know it's late but.…"She paused. Maybe she was taking too much for granted. "Are you alone? I mean, has Val—"
"It could never be too late, Beth. And yes, I'm alone. Val started back to Maine this morning. Amity was discharged from the hospital yesterday—she and Nick are going away together for a couple of weeks. She called to tell me herself."
Despite the sparsity of his concluding words, Beth sensed the depth of his gratitude. "That's wonderful to hear, Karim," she said softly.
"So is your voice, dear girl. How soon can you be here? I'll get dressed, put the coffeepot on—"
"No!' Beth was startled by the fervor of her exclamation. "I mean, there's no need—”
"No need to put on the pot," he asked, chuckling, "or my pants?"
"Neither...both...that is.…" Beth, feeling the heat rising in her cheeks, stuttered to a stop. "You're a bad man, did you know that? I'll be there in about an hour."
"An hour?"
Beth smiled. You'd think I'd said a year. She checked herself in the mirror over the sink. Her hair was listless, and even from a distance the puffs of weariness under her eyes were discernible. A nice, hot, steamy shower would fix that.
"An hour," she repeated firmly. "If you could see me, you'd understand."
"If I could see you I wouldn't have to understand anything."
Beth felt shamed by the quiet conviction his words expressed. "Oh, Karim. I'm so sorry, I—"
"Shhhh. Don't tell me, my darling, show
me.
* * * *
After showering, Beth smoothed her face and body with a creamy rose-geranium scented lotion. The mousse she worked through her clean hair reminded her of freshly cut green apples. I smell like—what? Home-made jelly? Herb tea? Something edible, anyway.
She gave her hair a last swoosh with the hand dryer, rounded her mouth for an application of rosy lipstick and zipped herself into the teal blue velour jump suit Georgina had given her last Christmas. Not given to solitary lounging, an appropriate time to wear it had eluded her. Tonight, however.…
She rotated in front of the three-way mirror. The soft fabric clung to her gentle curves. Remembering what Georgina had said when she opened the package, Beth smiled. "It's like one of those gas stations along the interstate highways, honeybunch: easy on, easy off."
Beth handed Karim her cashmere shawl as he ushered her in. "No champagne this time, I'm afraid," she said lightly.
"No need for it," he said. "Your being here is quite intoxicating enough."
His bronzy tan had only slightly faded; the caftan-like forest green robe he wore accentuated the green flecks in his hazel eyes. Beth thought he looked much too dashing to be the president of a traditional New England college.
They stared at each other. He reached out to tip up her chin. The touch of his fingers made her shiver.
"That color—you look glowing...almost lit from within.…" He reached out to grasp her forearm. He stroked the plush fabric covering it as if it were skin. Holding her gaze with his, his other hand sought the zipper tab at her throat. She caught his fingers in hers. "No," she whispered. "This time, let me."
She led him through the dimly lit living room, down the hall to the bedroom. The grand mahogany bed no longer seemed as formidable as
it had on her first visit.
"It's rumored George Washington might have slept in this bed," Karim said.
"Really?"
He smiled. "I gather you're not impressed."
"George is dead," she commented absently. "You're not." The knot on the belt securing his robe finally surrendered to her intent maneuvering. "There!" He shrugged the robe onto the floor. Her eyes widened. "No," she whispered, "you're certainly not."
His fingers grasped her zipper tab again. "Now may I?"
"Please do."
As the zipper hissed down, civility fled.
Her cool greedy hands slid up his muscular thighs, leaving a trail that burned like dry ice. Groaning, he pulled her roughly to him, and they tumbled together on the high, wide bed, her hands gripping his hard buttocks as his fingers slipped between their frantic bodies, caressing her warm moistness until she arched with pleasure.
Her lips skittered across his chest, pausing to catch his nipples gently between her teeth. Urging him onto his back, she moved astride him, her breasts inviting his encircling palms. Already softened by longing, her heat sucked him in, impaling her with the love that flowed from him like fire. She threw her head back in triumph as he bucked beneath her, his long, low wail of pleasure fueling the tremors that quivered anew within her.
Karim returned to the bedroom carrying a wine bottle and two crystal goblets. As he poured, she inspected the label.
"Ah-h-h!" she breathed. "The autumn vintage?"
"I drove to the winery the day after I got back. Lord knows it was the last thing I had time for, but I couldn't seem to concentrate.…" He stood, holding the bottle, staring beyond her.
"You were worried about Amity."
"Yes. And Val's being here didn't help—I mean I knew she had to be, but—" He broke off, and poured the wine. "Anyway, I started thinking about you, and I thought—" He tilted the bottle, and shrugged. "Actually, I wasn't thinking at all. It was more like...maybe if I buy some, she'll come." He handed her a glass, his expression sheepish. "Silly, isn't it?"
"Is it? I'm here, aren't I?"
"Yes, indeed you are." He raised his glass to her, and sipped. "Mm-mmm. Nice. The winemaster said this fall's vintage promises to be the best yet." He held his glass to the light. "It takes a lot of experience to bring a wine along properly, to decide not only when it's ready for bottling, but when it's reached its peak of maturity."
"Wine's not so different from people, then, is it?" She smiled. "Have you ever considered becoming a vintner, Karim? You've certainly brought me along." She swirled the straw-colored liquid in her glass. "How do you think I'll age?"
He leaned to kiss her lips. "Considering the superb grape I started with, very well indeed. Of course, the more hands-on experience, the better the result." He reached for her, his mouth twisting in an exaggerated leer.
Laughing, Beth fended him off. "You've had quite enough of that for one night, and we both need our sleep—aren't you supposed to welcome me tomorrow?"
Karim raised his eyebrows. "My God, woman, I thought I already had!"
"I mean as a student. I’m assuming you don't greet all your female students this way, President Donovan."
"Only the pretty ones."
She stuck out her tongue. "Actually, I may not make it. I sold the house, and the closing's in—let's see, a little less than thirty days. Not much time to pack up and get out, much less leave it, as they say, broom-clean. I'm not sure I even own a broom."
Karim stared at her. "It's a good thing I'm already equipped."
"And very nice equipment it is, too, my love."
"Not that kind, Beth." He slid out of bed and opened the top drawer of the bureau. "This kind." He held out his hand. The gold wedding band they had bought in Istanbul lay in his palm.
Beth left the bed to stand beside him. She picked it up and slipped it on. "It's even more beautiful than I remembered," she whispered. She looked up at him. "So, you want to make an honest woman of me?"
He frowned. "Your integrity was never in question."
Beth looked stricken. "Oh, Karim, I—"
He pulled her close. "Hush, now. I understand. You thought I was responsible for Jess's death, and—"
"No!" She pulled away to search his troubled eyes. "What bothered me was your not telling me about Jess sooner. Why couldn't you trust me to make the right decision?"
His hands fell open. "Because I wanted to be perfect for you."
She reached out to clasp his fingers and hold them to her heart. "I never expected perfection. I'm not perfect; you're not—no one is, thank God. The most we can hope for is being right for one other person—" she rotated the ring on her finger and smiled up at him. "And you're the rightest person there has ever been for me."
"Oh, Beth. The rightest ever?" He kissed the top of her head. "Terrible grammar, of course, but I won't tell on you."
She grinned. "I can see it's going to be very convenient having an in with the president of the college."
"That's what Amity said when she told me she'd be missing the first two weeks of her graduate seminars. She hasn't teased me like that in years."
"Where are she and Nick going?"
"Bermuda."
"Really? My daughter is, too. With the man she—" Beth was stopped by her sudden realization that Dana not only didn't love the man she was going with, but had never even mentioned his name. "With a man she's been seeing," she amended. "I wonder if there's any chance of them meeting...on the beach, say, or at adjoining tables at lunch—can't you just hear them discussing their wayward parents?"
He looked at her sternly. "Everyone will be discussing us if you move in here without setting a date."
"Soon, Karim, soon. But about moving in..."
Beth described the house Housa had taken her to see. He agreed it sounded promising. They decided to meet there Sunday morning, between the faculty breakfast and the lunch for the new students.
They climbed back into bed and talked on, sharing their lives: Housa and Georgina’s successful partnership; her mother's adjustment to Valley Fields; their relationships with their daughters. The rumble of Karim's deep voice caused the mahogany headboard to vibrate against her head like a huge tuning fork. Beth smiled to herself, thinking of all the discoveries yet to be made. What was it Georgina had quoted? "Grow old along with me, the best is yet to be.…"
She propped herself up on one elbow. "Wasn't Robert Browning's wife named Elizabeth, too?" she asked.
Karim cocked an eyebrow at her. "You're full of surprises tonight, aren't you?"
She smiled, relishing the freedom she felt; loving him for fostering it. "My darling, I've only just begun!
Copyright © 1993 by Joyce C. Ware
Originally published by Zebra Romance (0821742914)
Electronically published in 2006 by Belgrave House
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any other means without permission of the publisher. For more information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94117-4228
http://www.BelgraveHouse.com
Electronic sales: [email protected]
This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.
And Be My Love Page 29
