Anything For Love

by Janelle Taylor

  Quentin joined her on the bench. “Don’t you think it’s time we talk about us, Rachel, about what happened twelve years ago? You left without saying good-bye or exchanging addresses. I thought we had something good and special going. Did I misread how you felt about me and our relationship?”

  When Rachel started to rise to pace while she explained, he grasped her hand and asked her to stay and respond. “I will,” she assured him, “but it will be easier if I can move around and not be distracted by your closeness.”

  He released his hold and she stood. “I distract you?”

  Rachel faced him at.a short distance. “More than you can imagine.”

  He forced himself to remain seated. “Is that good or bad?”

  “I don’t know; that’s partly why I fled you like a coward; I didn’t understand how you could affect me so strongly and quickly. Even though we were…intimate, we never talked about our feelings. We never made promises or mentioned a commitment or even seeing each other again. In all honesty, I didn’t think our paths would cross after that cruise.”

  “Are you sorry they did?”

  “No, of course not. I’ve never done anything like that before or since meeting you. It happened so quickly and so easily that it scared me. I told myself it was one of those summer shipboard romances and nothing would come of it because our lives and ages are so different. I thought and hoped you cared for me, but that didn’t mean you wanted more from me than what we shared, and you didn’t say or imply otherwise. I just wanted to spare us both a difficult parting. I didn’t know what to say or how to behave under such circumstances, and I didn’t want to end it with lies or excuses, or to cheapen it.”

  “You never gave me the chance to tell you how I felt or to tell you I wanted and needed to see you again,” Quentin refuted. “I tried to locate you, but you’d given me your maiden name and hometown, which were dead ends. I even hired a private detective to locate you, but he lost his license before he could start the job.” He noted her look of astonishment at that news. “Soon, I got caught up in surgery and then therapy for my shoulder and trying to make a comeback. Almost everybody, especially the media, was watching me like a hawk to see if I failed, ready to pounce on me if I did. By the time things settled down, it seemed as if too much time had passed to try again. You were special to me, Rachel; you were one of the few women who seemed to like me for myself. I could totally relax with you, and I did.” He took a deep breath before continuing.

  “I finally told myself that maybe you didn’t feel the same way or you’d contact me; I figured I’d be easy to find. Then it occurred to me you would realize I had given you a false name while I was trying to avoid the media and get my head straight, so you’d think I’d been conning you, just out for a good time.”

  Rachel revealed how she had discovered his identity. “I was shocked and confused, but—in a way—I misled you, too. I was afraid I would wind up in one of those celebrity tell-all books or become a locker-room joke.”

  “I would never do such a terrible thing to any woman.”

  “I didn’t believe you would; it was just my imagination running wild.”

  “I can understand, given the playboy reputation those tabloids have given me; I’m not, Rachel, honest. All I have to do is be seen with a female on any occasion and they write crazy reports about me. Anyway, when I didn’t hear from you, I tried to forget you. I made two bad marriages looking for what we had, or could have had, given more time together. But those divorces weren’t all my fault; I wasn’t what they needed, either, so none of us got hurt in the process, thank goodness. You and I have a lot in common, Rachel, and we seem good for each other, Why don’t we start fresh, take it slow and easy, and see what happens between us?”

  Don’t rush it! “We do have a wonderful time together, Quentin, but our lives are so different, and I’m nine years older than you. My family is grown and gone when you’re just getting ready to begin one. You have problems with your career, and I’m just starting a new one.”

  “What if we don’t try and never know we’re perfect for each other?”

  What if we’re not and I get hurt? “How can we test our feelings and compatibility when you’re about to…‘hit the road’ as you said?”

  “I’ll be here for another two weeks; that should give us time to see how we feel and get along. Don’t decide tonight. Think about it while we spend time together; then we’ll talk again. Deal?”

  “I can’t make you any promises tonight, Quentin.” Not because I don’t trust you, but because I don’t trust myself to have a clear head.

  He joined her under the entry arch. “Don’t, just relax and have fun with me for a while. We won’t rush anything, I will promise you that. We’re too mature for playing games and we don’t want to hurt each other. I’ve made two mistakes in the past, so I don’t want to make another one; and I’m sure you don’t want to create problems in your life. Another thing, I don’t want the media, especially those tabloids, to get wind of our relationship and cause trouble while we’re testing our feelings. But we owe it to ourselves to learn the truth, don’t we?”

  Rachel felt weak with longing, trembly with desire. It was a struggle not to fling herself into Quentin’s arms and coax him to make rapturous love to her and damn any consequences. Yet, from somewhere deep within her mind, a hesitation came, one she had not experienced—or perhaps heeded—the last time, a weakness that had brought about twelve years of yearning and denial. “I suppose so.”

  Quentin grasped her chin and lifted her head. He smiled into her uncertain gaze and said, “Trust me, Rachel, I know so.” He leaned over and gave her a brief kiss and an encouraging hug. “It’s getting late; I should leave. I’ll see you Friday at six-thirty.”

  “Slow and easy, get to know each other first this time, right?”

  “No pressure, I promise. We’ll know when and if it’s right between us to move onward. It has to be a mutual decision. But no matter what happens, we’ll remain friends.”

  “That suits me. Good night, Quentin, and thanks.”

  After Quentin left, Rachel went to the floor safe and took out two snapshot packets from their cruise. She had not shown the mementos to anyone, but had viewed them many times. Most were of scenery and some were of the two of them—taken by genial tourists on the ship and during stops at exotic ports. She recalled every location, who snapped each picture for them, what they did before and after each pose, and what they said that day or night. Those details were imprinted in her mind, and would remain there forever.

  Quentin was right, she admitted, about them being compatible and attracted to each other. But, Rachel mused, were rapport and splendid sex enough to outweigh and overcome their differences? If she confessed she couldn’t have—and didn’t want—more children, would that discourage him? Or would he say it didn’t matter, when later it might? Did he love her or was she just the best choice he had found so far? Did it matter what her daughters, his family, their friends, strangers—and even the harsh media—would say about them? How would she feel about having their romance—and their past if discovered—plastered over the front pages of those horrible tabloids? Would every area of their lives be invaded and reported to the world? How would she look and feel when she was sixty and seventy and he was only fifty-one and sixtyone, as men usually aged so much better than women? Was a nine-year span that important to either of them? Would the media make it seem so, appear cheap?

  Time and privacy were what they needed, but would they have them? Was there a real chance for happiness and a future with him? Would she be risking a broken heart if she searched for them? Wait and see, Rachel.

  * * *

  After Quentin returned to his suite at ten, two reporters phoned him: Todd Hardy of a local magazine and Pete Starns from a local television station. He brushed off Pete nicely, but Todd was persistent in wanting an interview right then or in person tomorrow and had to be dealt with firmly. He was tired of answering the same old ques
tions for months about his injuries and plans. How the hell should he feel, he scoffed to himself, about having half of his heart cut out? How could he talk about his future when he didn’t know what it held at this moment? His physical exam, impending practice, and preseason games would determine his decision, and the team management’s. He didn’t want to think or talk about maybes with probing reporters; he wanted to concentrate on succeeding with one last season, on his work here, and on Rachel.

  Quentin realized he hadn’t told her what he was doing the next day or asked her to go with him; it was too late to phone and enlighten her. Besides, the media—including the offensive Todd Hardy—would be there with eagle eyes and ears and sharpened pencils. He also hadn’t mentioned his commitment on Sunday, which would be announced in the media this week and would receive coverage during the event. He should phone her in the morning before she heard about them from another source.

  Quentin reminded himself he had to call his agent and business contact on Friday afternoon to report what he had learned. Saturday before the Coopers’ party, he would call his parents and best friend to chat.

  Things were going well between us years ago and until now, but we’ll have to see just how much I mean to you. There’s a chance you won’t be interested in pulling up roots and moving to Texas to live on a secluded ranch, not as busy as you stay with your social life and volunteer work.

  Thursday evening, Rachel worked on two projects at her desk after playing bridge that morning, having lunch with friends, and attending a club meeting afterward. By seven-thirty, both Becky and Jen had called to tell her about seeing Quentin Rawls on the six o’clock news!

  “I was busy making calls for Heart Fund donations and for the church bake and attic sale, so I didn’t see it,” Rachel admitted.

  Becky clicked her tongue playfully. “Heavens, Rach, how could you forget to tune in to see your man in action?”

  “Because I didn’t know about it until Jen called earlier. I suppose he forgot to mention it to me last night. I’ll stay up to watch the eleven o’clock news; I’m sure they’ll run it again.”

  “He looked wonderful, Rach. And it was nice of him to take time to visit the MCG Children’s Medical Center and the shelter for abused children. I bet those kids were thrilled to meet him. It’s also generous of him to do that charity appearance at the mall on Sunday to benefit both places. Anybody can have a picture made with him and he’ll autograph it for a five-dollar donation. Scott says he’s very popular, and he has a great personality, so I’m sure the mall will be packed and he’ll be swamped for hours. Are you going with him?”

  “He hasn’t asked me to go.”

  “I’m sure he will. After all, he’s coming to my party with you.”

  “He wants to meet and talk with Scott about some renovation ideas.”

  “That’s just an excuse to spend time with you and to meet everybody to see what your friends are like.”

  “He doesn’t need an excuse to ask me for a date. We’re getting along fine, but I am curious about why he didn’t mention those two appearances.”

  “Probably an oversight. I’m sure you two were busy with other things.”

  Rachel told her about their evening. “We did have a wonderful time and we agreed to keep seeing each other.”

  “See, I told you so; he likes you a lot. You like him, too, right?”

  “Yes, but it’s too soon to think about hiring the preacher.”

  Becky laughed. “Maybe not.”

  They chatted for a while longer, then ended their call.

  Rachel finished her tasks in a near distracted state and put away her things. She showered, changed into a nightgown, and went to bed. She propped herself up on several pillows and waited for the news, worried and baffled.

  After she saw his interview with Pete Starns and clips from his two visits to the children’s centers, she pressed the off button. She glanced at the phone and murmured, “Why haven’t you called today? Why didn’t you tell me about your plans? Are you hiding me from public attention or didn’t you want to be in an uncomfortable situation? Let’s see if you’ve changed your mind and cancel tomorrow night. I hope you weren’t deceiving me last night for spite or for an easy conquest. I can hardly wait to hear your reason for such secretiveness.”

  Eight

  Friday while en route to La Maison for dinner, Quentin explained his oversight. “A doctor from that class reunion saw me Tuesday at the gas station after I left your house and asked if I’d visit the kids at the medical center and abuse shelter yesterday, and I agreed. By the time I realized I had forgotten to tell you about those plans Wednesday night, it was too late to phone. I suppose it was because I had other things on my mind, such as talking about us. I tried several times to reach you on Thursday, but you were either out and your answering machine was off, or the line was busy. After those visits and doing interviews, I got caught up in a dinner with members of the local Sports Council and their friends that ran late.”

  Quentin frowned as he said, “I didn’t realize the good doctor was planning to alert the media and have them in the way while I was trying to talk with the kids; it annoys me when special things like that appear as if they’re publicity stunts on my part. Sick and frightened kids can’t enjoy a visit from anybody with cameras, blinding lights, microphones, and strange men crowding them. It’s as if those reporters don’t comprehend why I’m there; it’s a push-and-shove contest to see which one can get the closest to me and ask the most questions while I’m trying to ignore them and focus on the children. They make it hard to stay calm and be polite to them so the kids won’t get upset. I suppose it’ll be another media circus on Sunday at the mall while I’m doing pictures and autographs.”

  “Do you sign them even if someone can’t afford to make a donation?”

  “Yep, because I don’t believe in discriminating against the unfortunate. We were poor when I was a kid, so I know how denial feels. They won’t get a picture because there’s a charge for the photographer and film that will be taken out of the donation, the only expense to be deducted. I’m doing this event for free, just to raise funds for the center and shelter. It’s a hassle but it feels good to be able to help two worthy causes at once.”

  “You’re a kind and generous person, Quentin Rawls. I’m proud and pleased to know you and be your friend.”

  Her remarks touched him deeply, as did her favorable opinion of him. “Thanks, so are you. Did you catch my TV interview?”

  “At eleven. Becky Cooper and Jennifer Brimsford—my two best friends, you’ll meet them tomorrow—they phoned to see if I had watched you on the six o’clock news. I told them at the reunion picnic that we met on a cruise twelve years ago and were tablemates, and I told them earlier in the week we’re seeing each other while you’re in town. I hope that was okay.”

  At a red traffic light, he looked at her. “Were they surprised to learn those facts about us? Is that why Becky let you invite me to her pool party?”

  “Yes, but the three of us weren’t best friends until three years ago, so there was no reason to mention you until you came to the reunion. I didn’t reveal we were…close years ago; that’s between us.” She almost rushed onward to reveal to him how sorry she was that her answering machine was off and she had missed his calls; she had forgotten to reset it after she collected her messages and didn’t notice it until this morning when the phone kept ringing so long while she was on the treadmill; she never stopped for anything during her exercise.

  After she told him when to turn right, he asked, “Were you worried about me not telling you beforehand?”

  Rachel smiled. “A little, more confused than anything.”

  “Thanks for being honest, and I’m sorry it slipped my mind and I couldn’t reach you later to explain.”

  “It’s fine, really. Now look, that’s where we’re going, the big house on the corner,” she said, and pointed to it. “This area is called Olde Town, part of the historic district. It’s
beautiful in the spring when dogwoods and azaleas are in bloom, surrounded by oaks and magnolias. Fortunately many of the original homes were saved years ago when the restoration project began. Some were turned into doctors’, lawyers’, and business offices, and some into quaint restaurants like this one.”

  Quentin parked, helped her out of the car, and guided her inside where they were seated within minutes in a cozy upstairs room. The large house had wonderful atmosphere with its creative blend of past and present decor. Easylistening music was low, and lighting—overhead and table candle—was soft, as were voices and laughter coming from patrons on both floors. So far, only one couple had been seated in their room, but on its far side; and the twentyish duo had eyes only for each other.

  The night’s menu was given orally by a waiter. After they’d made their choices and selected a wine, they chatted about Quentin’s appearances. Then, Rachel almost winced as Janet and Clifford Hollis paused at the table while being led to their own not far away.

  “Why, Rachel dear,” Janet cooed falsely, “it’s surprising to see you getting out so often with your busy schedule. You look…very presentable tonight. I see you took my advice and tossed out that horrible lipstick.”

  Without conceit, Rachel thought she looked good in a slate-colored dress with a mottled design. Its silk fabric flowed over her figure and flattered it, as did three skirt tiers with graduated lengths that halted just above her knees. A twenty-four inch strand of Brazilian Hematite beads and matching earrings were perfect accessories, as were slate shoes and silk pantyhose. Too, she had made certain her cosmetics were not overdone tonight, and Dawn had coiffed her hair and manicured her nails today. She chose to ignore Janet’s snide remarks. “Quentin, this is Clifford and Janet Hollis. Cliff is my banker—and financial advisor on occasion—and Janet is in several organizations with me; they also attend my church and live on the same street that I do. Cliff, I’m sure you remember Quentin Rawls; he’s a quarterback for the Dallas Cowboys.” She watched him rise to shake hands with a smiling Cliff and nod to a staring Janet.