Hold Fast 'Til the Dawn

by Mary Haskell

  She smiled with pleasure as she stepped outside into the warm, summer-scented air. Al week she had felt so happy and reassured. Larry's decision to avoid Ky had made al the difference in the world. Jenny, in her pragmatic way, had almost succeeded in pushing thoughts of Larry's former involvement with Ky Kayle to the back of her mind. After al , it had transpired nineteen years ago. That Larry had opted to leave the entire matter in the past, where it belonged, was to her fair and reasonable, and she could not ask more. If he had to fight old memories, that was understandable, and she would not intrude on the process.

  The day flew by. Caught up in her work, she lingered at the library a bit longer than planned and rushed to the market and then home to start dinner. As she pul ed into the garage, she was amazed to see Larry's car already parked in its space. He wasn't due until close to seven o'clock, and it was barely five. Balancing the bag of groceries and her briefcase, Jenny made her way into the house, anxious to see him and renew the close, warm feeling they had shared just before he left.

  "Larry?" she cal ed out gaily as she shoved the bag onto the countertop. Hearing no reply, she poked through the downstairs rooms, dropping her case beside the chair in the hal . "Larry?" Where was he? She hastened upstairs, quieting her tread as she neared the bedroom. He may have been tired and come home in time for a nap before dinner. But he wasn't there. Strange. She knew Christy and Rick were both taking tennis lessons this afternoon and wouldn't be dropped off until six, but here she was, faced with the mystery of a missing husband.

  She pul ed back a curtain and peered outside. She could just catch sight of her beloved gazebo in the distance. What a heartwarming surprise that had been! She felt a resurgence of pleasure whenever she looked at it. How many women voiced a wish for a frivolous thing like a gazebo, only to have it turned into reality by an indulgent husband?

  Then she noticed Larry's long legs through the shadowy latticework. He was sitting out there, obviously alone.

  Jenny frowned, puzzled. Usual y when he was outside, especial y on a clear summer day like this one, he liked to be completely outside, working in the hot sun and open air, or lying in their big hammock that hung between two huge oak trees. Wel , no matter the why, he was here, and she wanted to be with him. She raced down the stairs and out to the yard, feeling girlish in her excitement to have him home. She had picked up some swordfish steaks for dinner and fresh strawberries and cream for dessert. He would be so pleased.

  As she approached the gazebo, her pace slowed. Larry was leaning back against the bench, apparently lost in thought, his eyes gazing off at some unseen vista. Dmitri lay curled at his feet, snoozing. Jenny impatiently kicked aside the whippet of fear that nipped at her heels and walked steadily on to the whimsical structure.

  "Larry?"

  He jumped, visibly adjusting his demeanor as he stood up. "Jenny! You're home!" He pul ed her close and gave her a hug.

  Jenny slid her arms around his waist, returning the affectionate gesture, trying to blot out the picture of brooding sadness she had caught on his face the instant before he saw her. Grabbing a firm hold on her resolve not to pry into his emotions, she smiled up at him. "Welcome home. I was surprised to see your car when I pul ed in. Pleasantly surprised, of course."

  His smile seemed slightly forced. "I finished up early and wanted to get home." The blue eyes were faintly dul ed, like an unpolished tabletop.

  "Are you tired?" Jenny touched his cheek solicitously, wanting to brush aside the troubled expression.

  "A little. It was a tough session. Those bastards want al the service in this world, but they don't want to pay for it." The statement caught her off guard; it was so unlike Larry. He had a remarkable ability to joke about the idiosyncrasies of even the most disagreeable of his clients. This must have been a bad experience.

  "Why don't you come inside and change; it'll make you feel more relaxed."

  They strol ed across the lawn to the back door, fol owed by the little dog. Jenny started to reach for Larry's hand, aware that he had not, as he usual y did, taken hers automatical y, but there was a smal edge to his mood that stopped her gesture of intimacy.

  While he went upstairs to change she mixed cocktails, continuing the progression of out-of-character acts.

  They rarely drank anything but wine, and when they did have cocktails, Larry made them. Jenny had no idea why she suddenly felt like having a drink. She was sure she wasn't nervous. Wel , almost sure.

  By the time he came downstairs and she moved their drinks and a tray of cheese and crackers to the patio, the kids had come home, bustling and vying with each other for talk time, fil ing the atmosphere with their energy and stifling any opportunity for private conversation.

  As they climbed into bed that night, Larry stopped just before turning out the light. "Oh, by the way, where were you this afternoon? I got home about three, hoping you'd be here. Did you go out with one of your friends?"

  Jenny plumped up her pil ow. "No, don't you remember? I started my new schedule for Hal Clemens this week. I was at the library."

  "I see, so it starts."

  She stared at him, puzzled. "What starts?"

  "Your being gone when I get home."

  Jenny's mouth dropped open. "Larry, that's ridiculous. You weren't expected until seven o'clock. What am I supposed to be? A mind-reader?"

  He smacked his pil ow once, dropped back into it, then switched off the light. "Yeah, that's true. Sorry, I'm just tired." The silence lay heavily on them for an endless few seconds as she waited for him to reach for her as he always did at the end of a separation. She breathed a sigh of relief when he pul ed her to him. He held her close and very tightly, as if frightened to loosen his hold.

  When Larry walked into his office on Friday morning, he snapped a cursory "hel o" at the receptionist and nodded briefly at the front-desk secretary, marching right past their startled expressions. Dammit, there was no rule that he always had to be ready with a quip or the latest joke, cheerful old Larry, forever in a good mood.

  Wel , he wasn't, not today. He couldn't isolate the reason for his irritability; it had taken hold a few days before and had since become his constant companion. It certainly wasn't the way he wanted to feel; it was a pain in the butt being a pain in the butt. What the hel was eating him? Damned if he knew. He slapped his briefcase on the top of his desk, only vaguely aware of the loud bang it made.

  Esther, his secretary, rushed in. "Larry? What happened?"

  He stared at her, at a complete loss. "Happened? What do you mean?"

  Esther looked at the case and at the face of her boss, the answer to her question clearly clicking into place.

  "Never mind. Welcome back. How did the trip go?"

  "Lousy."

  She blinked, taking the pencil from behind her ear and advancing into the room a few steps. "Oh, real y? That's unusual. What happened—did something in the system go wrong?"

  "Not theirs, mine." Larry slumped into his chair and focused on the worried face of his secretary. Pushing a smile to his recalcitrant mouth, he said, "Esther, just ignore me for a while. Toss my correspondence in from the door and give me a wide berth. I'm a real, ful -fledged Mr. Hyde this morning, and until Dr. Jekyll returns there's no reason for you to put up with me."

  She relaxed, relief showing on her face. "That's okay, boss, as long as you don't grow fangs and long ears."

  She laughed. "Come to think of it, that was the werewolf, not Mr. Hyde."

  A little of the tension dropped away from his shoulders. "Listen, never discount any possibility. Pray that there isn't a ful moon tonight; one never knows."

  On that easier note, Esther went out to get his mail, and the day's work began. The hours crawled by like weary snails. Larry's days usual y fled, gone before he could notice their departure; having time hang heavy was a rare experience. The pile of work that had backed up during his absence did not noticeably diminish. He was definitely not in top form today. By three o'clock he was considering cal in
g it a day and going home.

  Maybe he was coming down with something; he couldn't recal the last time he had felt this crummy.

  He dimly heard Esther's voice saying, "Sure, go right in, he's in his office." Hel , caught. Now he'd have to stay and deal with whoever was here. His elbow brushed the ledger sheet he was working on, sending it fluttering to the floor. He reached down to pick it up.

  "Larry?"

  He jerked upright. Even after al these years, he would know that voice anywhere. He stared, speechless, at the petite figure framed in the doorway. Ky. Something slammed straight into his gut, stopping his breath, shaking his reality. Every old, long-suppressed emotion, every old, long-dis-claimed reaction, burst free within him, assaulting his senses with unwanted, uncontrol able remembrances of passionate caring.

  She was truly breathtaking. The years had refined a young, freshly exotic beauty into an exquisite, perfectly assembled, elegant woman. Her tawny skin stil looked unlined and flawless; the black, slightly tilted eyes stil sparkled. Her ebony hair, stil long, was pul ed to one side and twisted into a sleek braid.

  Larry pushed himself up on wobbly legs, aware at once of the wel -recal ed sensation of towering above her.

  She seemed tiny, fragile, perfect, a miniature magnet drawing him inexorably to her.

  "Ky." They stood, mere feet apart. He felt the years dropping away, robbing him of their protective shield, felt the rush of familiar longing, of the wild impulse to crush her to him, to dissolve time, to recant al other vows.

  Their eyes locked, establishing a communicative relay that threatened to hurl both of them backward through nineteen years.

  Larry final y located his voice, but found it barely usable. "Ky, you look wonderful."

  "So do you. Handsomer than ever."

  He felt like a rattled schoolboy. "Here." He pul ed the door shut behind her and repositioned the chair beside his desk. "Sit down. We have a lot of catching up to do."

  With one fluid, sensual movement, Ky sank into the chair, crossing her slim, beautiful y shaped legs, reaching up with one finger to twirl the curled strand of hair at the end of the long braid, a nervous habit that Larry used to find titil ating.

  Used to, hel , he thought, swal owing hard to clear his throat. "I thought you were due to return to Dal as last night."

  "Is that why you were gone?"

  He had forgotten her perceptiveness—and her directness. Why fight it? They had always ended up tel ing each other the truth. "Yes."

  "I thought so. I decided not to let you get away with it."

  Larry felt his wrists had grown four inches, leaving his hands dangling awkwardly at the ends of the extensions, making him look like the gawkiest of teenagers. "Where do we begin? Such a lot of years to catch up with. Tel me about yourself, everything that's happened since—" His throat closed off before he could reach the end of the sentence.

  Ky stared at him for a moment, visibly deciding not to finish it for him. The tiniest of smiles curled her luscious ful lips. "So we're to start at the safest place—life histories. Al right. I finished school. In fact, I did extremely wel . Then I was offered a prestigious position at the Disney Studios, which I grabbed. The work was wonderful, the people talented and nice. I loved it."

  "Sounds good. Then what?" How much time could they buy before the big question would arise, too monumental to ignore?

  "One of the top executives began to court me. It was very flattering, and I must admit I was susceptible to flattery." Larry felt something twist inside. "He was twenty years older than I, but terribly attractive. He made me feel treasured and beautiful."

  "That would be easy to do."

  The black eyes snapped. "Would it?"

  Larry dodged the retort. "So what happened to your pursuer?"

  "What usual y happens when the pursued stops running?"

  "You married him?"

  "Yes."

  An acute stab of pain cut through him, circling and rerouting, as though determined to injure every inch of him in transit. He fought a losing battle to block out the thought that it should have been him that Ky married, not some faraway older stranger.

  Ky's dark eyes were studying him, clearly reading the lines of concern with what he feared was deadly accuracy. "The marriage lasted six years. It should have ended in about five minutes."

  "Why?"

  "I didn't love him." The hole they were digging themselves into expanded.

  "And you divorced?"

  "Yes. It was amicable but sad. He tried so desperately to hold us together, but you know me. I've been good at playing games."

  "Wel , I certainly used to know you." Oh Lord, how he'd known her! He had known every inch of her savory body, every swing of her mood, every funny little habit, every like and dislike. Sometimes he had even known what she was thinking. His right hand, palm down on the desk, crept involuntarily in her direction.

  She leaned forward, placing her hand on the back of his, stopping the nervous tapping of his fingers, fixing him with her gaze. "Larry, why did you leave when you knew I was coming? Were you that frightened to see me?"

  He looked down at the hand on hand, a smal ' electrical field. He fought the desire wel ing within him as one of her fingers moved ever so gently back and forth across his skin. He felt locked in truth and knew it to be a dangerous place. "Yes."

  The finger continued its intoxication. "I'm glad."

  The smal friction of skin on skin was activating the circuitry, sending shock waves up his arm. He shifted uncomfortably, pul ing his hand away from the mini-seduction. He cleared his throat, his vocal chords searching hectical y for a good-old-boy, hearty-as-al -hel tone. "So, when your marriage broke up, were you stil at the Disney Studios?"

  She smiled knowingly, clearly conscious of his discomfort, sending vibrations of too much understanding straight at him, scoring a direct hit. "I left when we separated. It was far too uncomfortable for both of us. There was no way to avoid daily contact with the jobs we had." She stood abruptly and crossed the room. Walking the length of the wal , she surveyed the paintings he had so careful y selected and hung. "These are nice. I especially like the oil." She walked back and, ignoring the chair, perched on the edge of his desk, her legs crossed tantalizingly. Her raven eyes held his in bondage as she asked, "Are we doing it?"

  He couldn't seem to unfog his brain. "What?"

  "Catching up."

  "Ky..."

  She slid smoothly off the desk and graceful y lowered herself into the chair. "And what about you, Larry? Tel me everything I've missed. The rest of col ege, what your work is like, how your parents are doing, your family."

  His eyes lowered from hers at the mention of his family. How was he to discuss Jenny and his children with this old, now-renewed flame of his heart sitting so close, reactivating urges he'd thought forever discarded?

  "Wow." He rubbed his hand across his forehead. "Where to start? Okay, at the first of it, I guess. I graduated third in my class."

  "I know."

  He swiveled sharply toward her. "How did you know that?"

  "Did you think I could just forget you?"

  "I thought you had. You wouldn't take my cal s."

  "You didn't try al that long, did you?"

  His jaw tightened. Now was the time, right now, to ask the question, but he couldn't force it out, so he plowed doggedly on. "Wel , moving right along, I joined this firm right out of school, am now a partner, and like it very much. I have a house in Wel esley Hil s, a forty-foot Bristol, and, by the way, a wife and two children." How suave of you, Larry, his mind gurgled; you are definitely a candidate for the jerk-of-the-month award.

  Ky stretched out her tapering fingers with their long, brightly polished nails, placing them on her knees and studying them solemnly. Larry's heart jumped. The gesture was so familiar, and here it was, tying yesterday to today in a strangely firm bond. Ky's whispery voice crept through his skin. "Sounds like a very neat, tidy life."

  He stared at her,
this ravishing, exotic, hothouse flower, packaging his life, his accomplishments, his affiliations in a smal , brown-paper-wrapped parcel with plain string ties. Why wasn't he outraged? Why wasn't he hotly defending his life, denying her al egation of dul ness? He moved his gaze around his office, steadying his brain. Because she had made no such al egations; the interpretation of her remark was his. Why? Did he think his life was dul ? He certainly hadn't... before this moment.

  A vise of tension gripped the back of his neck, starting a dul throb behind his eyes. He had an insane compulsion to bolt for the door, dash down the hal and straight home to safety, to flee. The pounding behind his eyes increased. Flee like you did almost twenty years ago, he caustical y reminded himself. He spoke, his voice cracking. "I hear you've become a real business tycoon. How did that come about?"

  Her body tensed, and Larry knew beyond doubt that they were nearing the end of the smal talk, leaving only the stark reality of bare emotions. She eased back in the chair. "There was a minimal divorce settlement. He convinced me that he shouldn't have to pay a lot for a divorce only I wanted. I didn't care. After al , I was going to set the world on its ear with my painting. Al I wanted was enough to live on for a couple of years until I became established. By the end of two years, the world was stil firmly on its feet, ignoring me, and I was very close to being broke. One of the things I had been doing al that time, to ease the strain and make myself feel better, was designing and making my own at-home lounging outfits, slinky, glamorous things that belied my fading solvency. My friends started to request duplicates, so I began to pick up a little money fil ing orders. And like Topsy, it just grew."

  "I suspect that's a trifle oversimplified."

  "It is. But then, so is this entire conversation."