Ian reached for the small silver flask in the inner pocket of his jacket and handed it to Alex.
“Here you go, old man. I don’t imagine you’ve had an easy time of it, either. Running into her here must have been a shock.”
“So you know?” Alex asked, undoing the flask stopper and taking a healthy swig.
“Good heavens, Fleming. She’s lived in my home and traveled by my side for a year. Just the three of us - Me, Sara, and your bloody, fucking ghost. How the hell could I avoid knowing?” His voice was harsh, but his eyes twinkled in amusement.
“I see,” Alex spat out the words. “Well, then, my apologies. I’m certain that you will make her far happier than I ever would have.” He started to back away, head hanging low, as if the appendage was much too heavy for his neck to carry. “I quite deserve to lose her, you know,” he added in a hoarse whisper.
For a brief moment, Ian was reluctant to relieve the man’s pain, perhaps even taking a slight bit of pleasure in being the instrument of his torture, but the moment evaporated with one glance into Fleming’s eyes. The poor bastard was indeed a tortured soul. Could Sara have gotten it quite wrong?
He turned his face into Fleming’s direction and spoke, his words sardonic, but laced with a tinge of gentle understanding. “Sara is my personal assistant, and my best friend. However, that is the sum of our relationship. Take that and do with it as you wish.”
Ian opened the stage door and stepped inside.
Colin, having scored two golden statues at the awards ceremony, was the man of the hour at every after party, and he took on the task of introducing Sara to everyone in sight, seeing Ian absorbed in business conversations, and his pretty assistant sitting alone in her chair. Pulling her on to the dance floor at every opportunity, he made certain her glass was never empty.
After the second flute of champagne, she decided to relax and enjoy the party, abandoning all thoughts of Alex and the earlier events of the evening.
“This is my first and only night at an occasion such as this, and you’re not spoiling it for me,” she whispered with set teeth, shoving Alex’s angry expression out of her mind, and accepting another glass of bubbly.
“Come, lovely lady, let’s dance.” Colin extended a hand, the gold cufflink on his sleeve reflecting the colorful lights of the hall.
Soon she was whirling in the arms of assorted single men, some known to her through Ian’s contacts, others familiar as she recognized their faces and names from a variety of films. She made a mental note to try and remember each one, imagining the looks she would receive from her ‘girl’s night’ friends once she returned.
She wondered if their movie nights would continue, now that she no longer had any reason to… Please get out of my head, Mr. Fleming! she shouted to herself, and took another sip of champagne.
“Sara!” Ian cut in on her dance as the music slowed. “Sorry to spoil the fun, but there is that plane ride back to Ireland. Our pilot is already on board.”
“Oh Ian, I was waiting for you.” She gave him a drunken smile and slurred her words. “Do you think I am pretty?” she hiccupped, resting her chin on his shoulder.
“Yes, darling. You are the fairest of the fair,” he said, and grinned at her tousled hair, wondering how long it would take before he had to sling her over his shoulder. They had had a few drunken nights together in the course of the summer, and he was quite aware of her limit – three strong drinks and it was off to dreamland for Sara.
“Well, see…” she said, poking her finger into his chest, “thas my prolem. Everyone falls in love with a pretty face. At least for one night.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and sighed in spasms. “And when the night is over, they just go away.”
“Come, little one, let’s go home,” he urged her toward the door.
“Alex… I mean Ian… oops, sorry - crappy mistake.” She patted his shoulder in apology.
Ian touched her cheek in understanding, at the same time gathering her jeweled evening bag and lacy shawl.
“Ian, I love you.” She lifted her chin for a kiss, and smiled at him with sleepy eyes. “Acshully, I should be in love with you. You are prolly the most wonderful man on this, hic, earth.”
“Yes, darling, no worries.” He returned her kiss and kicked himself for being a gentleman, but his kick was short lived as she passed out on his shoulder once their flight was on its way home.
“Aspirin,” she groaned as she met him in the kitchen, the sun high over the rolling, green hills of Ireland.
“Ugh, I’m the one who needs the aspirin,” Ian sputtered. “Carrying you up the stairs at five in the morning - I almost called for a stuntman!”
“Oh, no, Ian, don’t tell me that! Did I really… did you really…?” Her face was pink from embarrassment.
“Well, that part wasn’t so bad. It was all the acrobatics that you demanded of me once we got into bed. I swear woman, you’re insatiable.”
“Oh, pfft,” she tossed back at him, relieved to find him joking. “I’m certain that that didn’t happen.”
“How can you be so certain? Surely, I’m not so horribly repulsive,” he said, pretending a hurt expression.
She planted a kiss on his forehead, shaking two aspirin into the palm of her hand as she did so. “No, I’m certain. With your stamina and remarkable sexual prowess, if we had, I wouldn’t be walking this morning.”
“Nice save,” he winked, handing her his water glass. “Down the hatch, darling.”
“So,” Sara gurgled, drinking the last bit of his water, “how bad was I last night? Do I owe anyone a new lampshade?”
“You were fine. Honestly. I’m a bit surprised that after your encounter with that crumbling old thespian, you didn’t drink more than you did.”
“No, no. It was a good thing. Up until now, I’ve been pining away, doing the sob sister routine. Last night that whole bizarre episode just got me good and mad.” She sunk into the kitchen chair and broke off a bit of the muffin that Ian pushed in front of her. “I mean, after a whole year, why couldn’t he just let it go? What was the point of cornering me and telling me all of those wild stories? Did he think that I was going to follow him home so that we could have a déjà vu moment? An annual SIM award roll-in–the-hay night?”
“Sara, it’s not the muffin’s fault.”
She glanced down at her hand to find that she had ground the little cake to a pulp between her fingers. She scooped it into her palm, and popped it in her mouth with a guilty look.
“Are you convinced that they are wild stories?” Ian looked at her with hooded eyes.
“What do you mean? Do you think that he was serious? That he really expected me to wait for him to return? That he searched high and low for me? That he was crushed when he couldn’t…” She stopped, remembering the anguish in Alex’s face.
“What do you think, Sara?” Ian’s voice was low, a bare whisper.
“Oh, I don’t know!” she cried out, dropping her forehead to the table with a thud. “I don’t know anything more than I knew then, Ian.”
She dragged herself out of the chair, her face pale and drawn. “But I do know that I can’t bear to obsess about it any longer!”
She checked her airline ticket for the third time and tucked it into the side pocket of her purse, always nervous about forgetting it on the kitchen counter as her friend had done many years ago. Despite having traveled with Ian for an entire year, juggling tickets and passports without a moment’s nervousness, the reality of the upcoming journey back to her home had tied her stomach in a knot.
Ian watched her, his eyes sad and shaded by his long lashes. “Sara, you know, you don’t have to leave. Emily will be busy enough with the twins that this job can be shared by two,” he said, smiling up at her.
“Ian, I think the time has come for me to go away for a while.” She answered him with an air of resolution, wishing she felt the same confidence.
“Go away or run away?” He ran his hand through his soft, da
rk hair. “Are you certain that you weren’t mistaken about Alex?”
“Does it really matter who was right or wrong?” She sighed, closing the closet door, now empty of all the beautiful things that she had stored there in the past year. “I’ve thought about it long and hard - too long and too bloody hard, as they say over here. The point is, we both probably made some really bad decisions.” She reached over and closed the zipper on her suitcase. “But I can’t agonize any more over what could have been, because it’s obvious that it was never meant to be. So you see, I’m not really running away, because there is nothing to run away from anymore.”
“I just want you to be happy.” He chucked her under the chin, his dark lashes drooping in the corners.
“My plane doesn’t leave until tomorrow morning. Shall we have a nice, quiet dinner here tonight? Say our goodbyes over our well broken-in scotch goblets?” She looked at him, hands on hips, giving him a not-so-subtle hint to change the subject.
Amelia tapped on the door. “Mr. Donnelly, a visitor for Miss Sara.”
“Amelia… for the ten millionth time. My name is Ian.”
“Yes, Mr. Donnelly.” The short, rotund Spanish woman smiled back at him.
Another well wisher, she surmised. Several friends had stopped by this morning to say their goodbyes, and Sara had been touched by the kindness of the people she had met in this country. Maybe she’d be back someday. But right now her heart needed some time.
As she entered the living room she saw the silhouette of his profile. He stood at the window, arms crossed over his chest, staring out into the forest surrounding the grounds of the castle. He hadn’t noticed her yet, and she had an opportunity to turn and walk away unseen.
It’s now or never, the little voice in her head whispered, and this time she couldn’t make it go away.
“Alex.”
He turned at the sound of his name, not moving for what seemed eons in time. She felt her heart pounding and could have counted the beats, so loudly they thrummed in her ears.
Then suddenly, with a long and determined stride, he reached her side in seconds, wrapping his arms around her, pressing his mouth against hers.
She shivered in his arms, clinging to his shoulders, smelling the musky fragrance of his skin, feeling the familiar contour of his lips. He reached down and held her face and kissed her again and again, until her knees turned to jelly. Here it was, the spark that lit up her insides and caused rockets to explode behind her closed eyelids.
“Oh Sara,” he moaned into her ear. “I’m so sorry - so very, very sorry. I never left you on purpose… never intended to. But of course you would have thought that. I should have tried to reach you myself instead of leaving it to an assistant.”
“Yes, but I should have…”
“Shush. You should have been on my arm the night of the awards, not just this year, but the last as well. There I was, bragging about the ceremony and the parties, and I never once considered your feelings. That it might make you happy to dress up and be shown off. I brooded and sulked when you dressed up for Stuart, looking lovelier than a dream in both your party dresses, but I never offered to take you to the party.
Ian bought you a dress; I never as much as bought you a flower. Stuart treated you to dinner; I never as much as treated you to a hamburger.” He ran his hand through his hair in agitation. “But I expected you to be there for me every night: in my house, in my room, finally in my bed. And I never gave you anything in return. Not even an overnight letter when I knew very well that it was your time to leave. But I expected you to be there when I returned.”
Her lashes dropped at the memory.
“And when you weren’t, I blamed you. Not my stupid, thoughtless, selfish self. I had the nerve to be angry with you.” He gritted his teeth, his muscles working in his tense jaw.
He reached for her face again and kissed her fiercely, clinging to her with all his might.
“Please tell me I haven’t lost you forever,” his voice begged in her ear. “Please, please let me convince you to come back to me!”
“You did search for me, then?” She looked into his face, now a blur from the tears in her eyes.
“Search for you? I searched for you throughout the city of London like some mad, crazed stalker. I drove Myrtle crazy, questioning her, demanding to know every last word that you had uttered before you left. I stormed the agency like an angry bull, pounding the desk, screaming for an address. Every avenue led to a dead end.” He splayed his hands in marked frustration.
“I jumped every time the telephone rang; I paced and ran to the window with the sound of every passing car or footstep. You have no idea…”
“I think I do.” She buried her head in his collar, remembering her own agony.
“Sara, will you come back to me?” He kissed the tears welling up in her eyes, his voice catching in his throat
“Oh, Alex, I was so lost. Thank you for not giving up.” She turned up her chin and sought his kiss once again.
“You will then?” His eyes were moist, and she could feel the beating of his heart against her chest.
“I have to. No one else in this world can tell a dreadful joke like you do,” she said, her smile dazzling as a rainbow. “Can I tell Ian?”
“Sara, there is something…”
Ian!” she shouted, not waiting for the reply.
“Sara…”
“Our date, Alex! I still have the dress, the one you told me not to wear for anyone else. I never did. I saved it, somehow hoping against hope that our someday would come. Now I can wear it, for you.”
“Sara, there’s something you must know,” he said, cutting off her happy chatter. “I should have searched harder. I let too much of our precious time go by.” His brow collapsed into a dark, heavy frown.
She caught the strained look on his face and gave him a reassuring hug. “But Alex, you found me and I’m back in your arms. No reason to cry over the past anymore. Our someday can start.”
“Yes, Sara, and I promise it will be very soon,” he murmured, his voice hoarse and heavy.
“Soon? I don’t understand,” she said, seeing that he was avoiding her eyes.
“It’s just that I need a few days to tend to a… complication.”
She felt his hands tremble as he held her.
“Complication? You mean problems on the set? I don’t care about that. We have all the time in the world.”
“No, not the set,” he reddened, his voice now low, barely a whisper. “Sara, I’m engaged.”
Sara’s Story - Part Three
She sat down in the small, antique chair with a heavy thud, grateful that there was a seat nearby, else she would have landed on the ornate Persian rug under her feet.
“Sara, please, don’t be angry. It isn’t what it seems,” he pleaded, lowering himself onto his knees next to her, taking her hand in his.
“I’m not angry, Alex,” she said, pulling her hand away and tucking it under her other arm. “I’m just wondering why it is that I keep jumping out of the same airplane without a parachute. You’d think that I would have learned after the first time I hit the ground.” She twisted her lips in thought, as though searching for an explanation. “I think I must have a brain malfunction.”
She rose from the chair and started toward the door. “But you must excuse me now. I’m in the middle of packing and I’m having dinner with a friend this evening. I don’t want to keep him waiting.”
“Don’t do that, Sara. Don’t pull away. Please, hear me out,” he begged, wanting to reach for her arm but thinking better of it.
“Sara, are you alright?” Ian stood in the doorway, his face stormy.
“Yup, fine,” she smiled at him. “Alex was just leaving. He came to wish me well.” Her eyes were shiny, like new marbles, and showed no emotion whatsoever.
Ian heard alarm bells in his head. “Alex, quick – get behind her! I think she’s going to faint!
Tiny, silver stars danced in her vision.
One landed on Ian’s nose, another twinkled out when it touched Alex’s collar. Her face was clammy, and she felt as though she had swallowed an icicle, but seconds later a flush of heat rose from her stomach to the roots of her hair and she thought she might vomit.
“Deep breaths, darling,” Ian instructed her gently, gathering her in his arms.
“Amelia!” he shouted, but the maid was already behind him. “Oh, there you are. Would you please bring me a wet facecloth, as fast as you can?”
“Yes, Mr. Ian,” the maid replied, and ran out of the room with a very pronounced, bow-legged gait.
“Well, at least you frightened her into remembering my name,” he smiled into Sara’s eyes, then turned to Alex. “Thank you for your help, but I think we will manage now. Can you see yourself out?”
“No,” Alex said in an anxious tone, watching as Ian held and protected her, presumably from him. “Sara, I won’t go until I’ve had a chance to talk to you; to explain everything. Then if you want me to leave, I will,” he said, voice breaking,
“I’m certain this is not the best time,” Ian said, brushing Sara’s damp hair off of her forehead. “Didn’t I just overhear you telling her that you are engaged? Wasn’t it enough to shock her into a faint with that piece of news? What else is there to say, man?”
Sara shook her head.“No, I was just a little dizzy because I skipped breakfast, I’m alright now. Let him talk - but you stay,” she said, scooting herself into a sitting position next to him, quite out of Alex’s reach.
A look of pain shot through Alex’s eyes, but he appeared grateful to be allowed to continue.
“Thank you for hearing me out, Sara. Once you know the details, I’m certain that you will…”
“Well then, get on with it, man,” Ian interrupted him, an impatient tone in his voice.
“Alright - but it will take a few minutes to tell you the whole bloody misunderstanding.”
“Misunderstanding?” Ian rose, helping Sara to the couch, where he nestled himself next to her, indicating the chair opposite for Alex.
“After Sara left me, or rather after I left for Frankfurt… well, I assume you both know how that turned out…”
Don't Tell the Moon Page 13
