by Rozsa Gaston
Stealthily, he moved forward, holding his breath.
"Hmm-mmm-hmm-mmm." The melody went up and down, wandering around without hurry.
He crept closer until Hint's form came dimly into view.
She sat on a rock next to the small stream. One arm supported her weight as she leaned over the stream. Moonlight behind her lit up her delicate profile. His heart ached at the fineness of her expression. It would disappear the moment she sensed she wasn't alone.
He crept forward, willing himself not to look directly at her. Instead, he studied the stream. Then inspiration struck.
"Huh-hmm–mmm…" His baritone joined her mezzo-soprano in duet. He kept his gaze on the stream until he felt the urge to look up toward the sky. When he glanced at her sidelong, she too was looking up at the sky. His body warming, he gazed in the same direction.
"Hmm-mmm-umm." He tried to visualize Percy, but instead a lithe figure with a short, straight nose and small, rosebud mouth danced in front of him under the night sky.
"I see you…" Hint sang out.
"I see you too…" Jack sang back.
"Where's Percy?" Her melody went up with her question.
"I don't know…" he sang back. And I don't care, ran subversively through his mind.
"Are you trying to find him as hard as you can?" she crooned back, seemingly having read his thoughts.
How can I, with you here distracting me? he wanted to respond. Women were so perplexing. They befuddled men's senses, then accused them of being confusing in their actions. Did they do it on purpose, or was it some sort of biological imperative set up by someone with a sense of humor to aid in continuing the species?
"I'm trying as hard as I can at the moment," he melodically responded, congratulating himself on an honest reply.
"Well, try harder, 'cause he's not here yet." Her singing voice had turned playful. She was now looking directly at him, her eyes laughing.
"Yes, but we're here, aren't we?" he sang back, opening his arms in an operatic gesture.
"Yes, but that's not enough…" She pointed a finger as if reprimanding him. Was that a blush that had crossed her face?
It's enough for me, he didn't sing. He tried to channel the tenor in the last opera he'd seen. It had been many years ago on TV.
"What would be enough for you, my dear?" he rang out, extending one hand, palm up, as if asking how he could serve his lady.
"To be reunited with our boy. . ." she trilled sweetly.
"To be reunited with our boy…" he echoed her melody.
"With our boy…"
His voice climbed higher, harmonizing with hers.
"With our boy…" Her voice rang out, hitting a high note on the final word. Her arms were now both extended, and he tried not to notice the voluptuous curve of her torso. Listening carefully for the end of her note, he cut off his own at the same moment.
There. It was done. He'd sung the first aria of his life and most likely the last.
Singing in the night air had pumped oxygen into his lungs. He felt exhilarated, as if he'd entered some private club for members only.
"Nice singing," she complimented him, laughing softly.
"You inspired me," he responded. She had no idea how much. Or in what ways.
"Do you sing in a choir?" she asked.
"I don't sing at all," he answered truthfully.
"But you do." She smiled dreamily. "And well."
Despite himself, his head swelled with pride. It was nice to be complimented by a woman instead of being told he had attention deficit disorder or what the plan was for the evening with no offer of giving him a say in it.
"He's going to come back to us." She sounded serene, her voice confident. "I can feel him moving in our direction."
He could contain himself no longer. Percy was not the only male compelled to move in her direction. In two quick steps he was at the rock she stood on. Reaching up, he grabbed her by the waist and swung her down.
"With a duet like that in his honor, how could he not come back?" he said, to distract her from his boldness.
She appeared flustered, but stood still, unresistant to his touch.
His fingers encircled her impossibly small waist. Even more maddening was the outward curve of her hips that tempted the little finger of each of his hands. It was as if he were touching red-hot tongs. He was about to get burned.
But the dog.
Unable to resist one small press of the pliant landscape his fingers assessed, he squeezed then released her. He hoped his message would pass directly from hands to hips, bypassing the brain altogether.
The spark in her soft brown eyes as she turned from him fanned his hopes. But with the dog still lost, was now the right moment?
****
Reaching for support from the trunk of the willow tree behind her, Hint caught her breath. It was as if the timeline of her life had just exponentially sped up. Jack had put his hands on her waist and lifted her off the rock she'd been standing on. Then he hadn't let go for a moment and when he finally did, she'd felt a slight but clearly defined squeeze before he released her. The imprint of his hands lingered just above her hips. Her flesh tingled. She was as alert and on fire as a hunting beagle.
How could she concentrate on finding Percy when something new and totally unexpected was finding its way into their dog hunt? Wasn't it morally wrong to respond to the touch of Jack's hands when a hungry, scared canine was wandering around out there somewhere? She shouldn't be dwelling on the firmness of those hands, their warmth.
Earlier that evening, his hand had taken hers to say grace. Now, he'd lifted her up in the air. Those large, muscular hands needed to encircle Percy's dog collar before they were allowed to go anywhere near her again.
"Where to next?" she asked, smoothing her shirt over her jeans. Traveling over the same areas he'd just touched, she imagined her hands were his.
"Where else does this park go?" Jack stammered back, apparently having as much trouble shifting gears as she was.
"It goes back a ways until you reach a meadow." She pointed with the same hand she'd used to touch the section of her skin he had just lit on fire. It still flamed.
"Oh yeah?" His gaze followed her hand. "How about if we go over there?"
"It's sort of far." She hesitated.
"Let's walk awhile, then turn back if it's too far," he suggested.
They'd already gone too far to turn back. She knew it in her heart. As well as the fact that she couldn't say for sure how much farther they were going. Exhilarated, her pulse raced until she remembered they were there to look for Percy. Mentally, she slapped herself, trying to clear her senses. It didn't work. So she did the next best thing. She followed the person befuddling them. If they got lost, at least they would be lost together.
"What's that white object over there?" Jack asked, after a minute.
"Where?" She'd had been in Fox Meadow Park many times, but never at night. She craned her neck in the direction he pointed.
"That white object. Is that a statue?"
"Yes, it is. There are several here. They're modeled after the ones in that famous park in Paris."
"Jardin des Tuileries," he filled in for her. "I spent a night there once."
"You did?"
"I thought I recognized it," Jack told her. "It's a Greek warrior, but he's not thinking about war." The sculpture was of a young male, fully armed but with a dreamy expression on his face. He moved off the trail to examine the statue more closely.
"He seems to be looking at someone," she observed.
"If it's the same setup as in Tuileries, he's looking at the backside of a very attractive goddess." He peered across the meadow. "I'll bet she's around here somewhere."
Hint giggled. "I think I see her." She pointed in the direction of a copse of trees about twenty-five yards ahead. Something white was half hidden in the shadows.
She moved toward the white object with Jack close behind. In a moment, she heard him chuckle.
"Yup. That's her. It's Diana, goddess of the hunt," he said.
"She hunted when the moon was full, didn't she?" Hint asked. Jack's arm brushed hers as they stood side by side, only inches from the wondrously rounded, gleaming white backside of the marble statue.
"I think she did. Do you think she'll get down off her pedestal tonight?" he asked slyly.
"I think she only does that privately," she told him.
"It seems pretty private here tonight, don't you think?" His eyes beamed into hers, trapping her in their gaze. His arm remained touching hers. She couldn't pull away from its warmth and firmness.
"It seems we need to find Percy," she responded levelly.
"And then what happens?" he asked, his arm coming up around her back, drawing her to him.
"And then we'll see," she said, putting her right hand up to brace itself on the crook of his left arm. She felt a slight squeeze before he released her, similar to the one he'd given her when he'd lifted her off the rock.
"And then we'll see," he repeated, his face coming close to hers. Quickly she moved away from him, calling for Percy in the moonlit park. She was desperate to find him, not only for obvious reasons but for new ones that were beckoning to her but couldn't possibly be explored unless they found the dog. If and when that happened, they would see what new adventures lay ahead. If and when. And if not, guilt over losing him would creep in and eat away at any feelings blossoming between them like deer let loose in a flower garden.
Shuddering, she forged ahead, determined to find the dog.
Chapter Five
Hours later, Jack awoke refreshed from a deep sleep. He'd dreamt he was nestled somewhere warm and fragrant. He looked down, and his heart skipped a beat.
His arms were tightly wrapped around Hint. Her silky auburn hair was spread out over his right shoulder, chest and arm. Eyes tightly shut, a serene smile lay on her small, finely curved lips.
What had happened? He searched his mind, but all he could remember was that they'd lain down to rest at the base of the statue of Diana and the next thing he knew a beautiful fairy creature was sleeping in his arms. How could he extricate himself from their embrace without waking her up?
A dozen thoughts rushed through his mind at once. Foremost was his desire to protect her from any feelings of guilt. Whatever spell had been cast would be broken the moment she woke up. She would kick herself for succumbing to her own feelings before answering the call of duty. He'd spent enough time with her over the past day and a half not to doubt it for an instant.
He inched his right arm from underneath her head. Replacing his arm with his left hand he couldn't help stroking the curve of her cheek as he supported the back of her head with his fingers. Her brow was smooth, and her eyebrows beautifully arched, as if ready to be surprised at any moment. With the thumb of his right hand, he traced one.
Her eyelids fluttered, and she moaned ever so slightly. Jack remained motionless, his right hand cupping the side of her face. Slowly, her eyes opened, looking up at him.
"Good morning, princess," he whispered, hoping he wasn't scaring her.
"Good morning," she whispered back, looking peaceful and rested. Then her eyes widened. "Ohhh." With one hand she reached up to his forearm and grasped it. Her forefinger pointed up toward his elbow. He thought he felt it gently stroke his arm.
"Ohhh," he echoed her, leaning down. His instincts told him to follow her lead, wherever it might take them.
"I… are we?" she gasped out. Conflicting expressions chased each other across her face.
"You're beautiful in your sleep, and yes, we're still in the park. We fell asleep under the spell of the hunting goddess." He smiled at her mischievously. "She must have shot us with one of her arrows."
"She probably didn't like having her privacy disturbed," she quipped, roses springing into her cheeks.
Watching her complexion deepen from cream to pink, he'd never seen anything more ravishing in his life. Until that moment, he'd never completely understood what the term ravishing meant.
Disappointment shot through him when her fingers slipped off his forearm. She slowly stood, turned around, then stretched as she gazed up at the statue of Diana just above her. Spellbound, he stared at the sight of her compact back curving into her waist. The wife of the Indian prince who had built the Taj Mahal in her honor had probably had similar curves that had carved themselves permanently into her husband's brain.
He turned away as Hint disappeared into the bushes. It was time to find some cover in the other direction.
A minute later, they met again in front of the statue of Diana. He glanced at his watch. It was only a quarter past six. A clear, pale blue sky hung overhead. The day promised to be fine. Ravishing, even.
"Shall we get breakfast somewhere?" he suggested.
Her reddish-brown hair framed her face in a wild halo as she gave a slight nod. Was her look sheepish or impish? The strongly defined comedy-tragedy shape of her mouth curved up ever so slightly. Her eyes danced. Dared he believe waking up in his arms had agreed with her?
"Don't you need to get to work?" she asked.
"Yes." He'd taken off from work the day before. Deadlines loomed, and he needed to go in to his office to meet them. "Let's drive by the Scarsdale train station, see which train I should catch, then get some coffee."
Suddenly, he remembered the plans he'd made for that evening. Today was his niece's seventh birthday. Her party would take place Saturday afternoon, but he'd told his sister and brother-in-law he'd join them for dinner that night to celebrate Marguerite's real birthday and give her a present.
"What's up? You look like you just remembered something," she said.
"I did." He spoke without thinking. "Are you free this evening?"
"I'm free until we find Percy."
"I need to drop by my niece's house. It's her birthday, and I told her I'd bring her present over after work today."
"Sure. Why don't you do that, then we can meet up and keep looking?" Her face darkened. "If I haven't found him by the end of the day, I mean."
"I… uh… promised I'd have a quick bite with her family tonight. Birthday cake and all. Do you want to join me?"
For reasons he couldn't begin to understand, he was curious to see how Hint would relate to his niece. His senses alive and on fire, he wanted to find out about as many sides to the auburn-haired woman he'd woken up with as she would allow.
"I don't know. It'll take time away from looking for Percy." She looked hesitant, as if unsure of the right course of action.
"How about if you look for him during the day while I'm at work? Then I'll pick you up, we'll go over to my sister's place here in Scarsdale, then resume the hunt." He paused thoughtfully. "You're going to need a break, you know. We can recharge our batteries, and maybe my sister and brother-in-law will have some ideas on how to find him."
"Maybe your niece will have an inspiration," she suggested.
"Marguerite? She might. She loves dogs."
"Children understand animals in a way that adults sometimes don't."
"But you do, don't you?" Jack asked. "I mean, you haven't lost the ability, have you?" There was something about her that bemused him. His head told him the fairy stuff was weird, but every other part of him sang out otherwise. She mystified him, although he didn't know why. Even stranger was that he liked it.
"I don't know, Jack. We haven't found him yet, have we?" Her face was sad, full of self-doubt. At the sound of her voice saying his name, he wanted to reach out and stroke her cheek, just as he'd done less than twenty minutes earlier. But the fairy cobwebs that had entwined them together the night before had now vanished. The day was upon them, with its list of demands.
****
Jack's eight hours at the office flew by like a hound chasing a fox. At a quarter to seven that evening he and Hint were in his car on the way to his sister's house in Scarsdale.
"It's a good thing that Bibi and Matt live near Tom and Nicole. They'll know
about places we don't that Percy may have visited near home," he told her.
"That's a thought," Hint replied quietly, her eyes fixed on the road ahead.
She somehow looked different this evening. He couldn't figure out what it was. Her hair was the same, the reddish brown locks flowing over her jacket collar. Once again she wore a well-tailored, classic jacket that made her look instantly elegant. She might be fairylike, but her wardrobe was anything but. He could imagine her in a Manhattan boardroom, convincing any art director to hire her. When she turned her head sideways, her mouth curved ever so slightly, the deep bow of her lips hitting him in the heart.
As he drove, the melodious tone of her voice washed over him, describing calling around to local vets that day to find out if any lost dogs had been found recently. None had. In a minute, he turned into the driveway of his sister's colonial style house.
A red sports car sat behind his brother-in-law's car. It looked familiar. Checking the license plate number, he gripped the steering wheel. He would get through this.
Stepping out of his vehicle, he hurried to the passenger side to open the door for Hint.
"You didn't need to do that," she told him, as she slid out.
"I need to let you know that someone's here whom I didn't invite and I don't want to see," he said, his voice low and even, belying his agitation.
"Who?" Her eyes widened in surprise. She followed his glance. "Someone with a red car?"
My ex-girlfriend, he was about to say when the front door burst open and Marguerite ran toward them. Two longish, strawberry blonde pigtails flew out on either side of her head.
"Uncle Jack. You came," the child sang out, hurling herself into his arms.
"I'm here." He lifted his niece toward the sky then wrapped her in an enormous bear hug. "And guess who else is here?" He turned to introduce Hint to his niece but before he could, a well-modulated voice from the direction of the house rang out.
"And guess who else is here?" Annabel moved slowly down the front path, coming to a halt in the frame of the garden trellis. One graceful, long arm leaned above her head on the wooden slats as if she were posing. She appeared to slowly take in the auburn-haired woman next to him. He thought of the Statue of Liberty for a moment, struck once again by how dramatic his ex-girlfriend could be. Some things never changed.
