Dear Reader,
When I was very young, I didn’t understand what the word love really meant. Instead I used it freely to describe whatever struck my fancy as a teenager—including TV shows and fast foods! Whenever one of my friends fell in love with a boy, though, I thought it was just plain dumb. Until it happened to me.
I’ll never forget the intensity of that moment. I was seventeen and had a date with an older boy. We went to his fraternity party and danced through the evening. Later, when we kissed, I actually heard those bells and whistles that people write about! I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. Our love carried us through and we married and had four wonderful children.
But sometimes the dream doesn’t always work out. With all the pressures of life, of raising four children, somehow those same two people who had grown together also grew apart. We divorced.
I became depressed. I felt I was too old for love, that the dream of one true love was childish. But I must have liked something about romance, because I wrote about it and dreamed about it! And then my other single friends, one by one, proved me wrong by finding Mr. Right for them.
I realized I was wrong—that romance has to be part of us our whole lives in order for our souls to breathe. That idea lead to this, my most fantastical story, where Dan and Kendra, two extremely unlikely lovers, learn the unexpectedness and power of love.
And I now know that there is no answer in life unless it’s a simple four letter word.
Love.
Rita Clay Estrada
This book is dedicated to my family:
My girls, Becca, Rita and Marissa, who are such delightful, different and wonderful women with much more than their roots, quick wit and sense of humor in common.
My son, Clay, who is just beginning to choose the adult roads that life has to offer. I will be forever grateful for your curly hair and warm hugs.
My mother, Rita Gallagher, one heck of a role model and whose gene-pool was a godsend for those females who came after her.
My three brothers, Jeff and Greg Abrams and Danny Clay. The universe knew a couple of good things when it sent you guys my way.
My dad, Dan Clay, a neat man who knows how important human history is and reminds me of it.
And my editor, Malle Vallik, who earned a piece of the book the hard way; she had to work with me for it. She’s a diplomat in the best sense of the word.
Thank you all!
Forms of Love
Rita Clay Estrada
Contents
Prologue
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
Prologue
KENDRA LOVEJOY stood in the lobby of the theater, hardly noticing the jostling crowd about her. She’d found the answer she’d been looking for. How strange to find the solution in an old movie.
It was time for her to take control of her life again. To risk. For the past two years she’d been a coward, pretending everything was going to get better without her making any of the needed changes.
She exited the theater and was surrounded by a group of strangers. Everyone paused at the curb, waiting for the light to change so they could cross to the parking lot on the other side of the street. Kendra’s car was there, too, but she wasn’t ready to return to her parents’ home just yet. Her mind was full of images and feelings that needed to be clarified. She needed to put them in some kind of order—as her therapist had suggested.
An older woman beside her patted her male companion’s arm sympathetically. “I know, honey. The first time I saw An Affair to Remember, I felt overwhelmed, too,” she said. Kendra looked at the man, wondering what the woman saw there. To her, the man looked bored.
Kendra didn’t move until someone bumped into her on their way across the street. She stepped back, leaning against the building as she tried to calm the powerful tide of feelings that was washing over her.
Glancing up and down the San Antonio street glowing gold with late-afternoon sunshine, she spotted a doughnut shop a few doors away. She’d go there and take some time to sit and work her ideas through. The movie had brought so many emotions to the surface, adding to her already-confused state. She needed to be alone and to make some decisions.
Two minutes later she was esconced in a window booth with fresh coffee and an éclair in front of her. Relishing each bite of the pastry, she considered her life.
After two years of separation from Dan and after months of counseling twice a week, it was time to make a decision that only she could make. Could she go back to Dan and begin a new life—on her terms?
One emotion stood out—and it had everything to do with all the other emotions that swamped her. That emotion was love—love for Dan.
She had loved him since the first time she’d seen him, when they were in junior high school. She’d been his best friend ever since; and his love and his lover until she’d walked away from it all two years ago.
Dan had never been able to give her the kind of love she needed. He had such a strong personality that he had simply taken over.
At the time, Kendra had felt that she had no choice but to follow him. He became the focal point of her entire existence. After several years, she’d found herself practically unable to function independently. After the death of their infant daughter, however, she had to leave Dan. She’d felt it was the only way she could survive.
She’d told him she had to “find herself,” even though she had no idea what the expression meant at the time. All she cared about was getting away from him before she suffocated.
Now, two years later, she knew what that overused expression meant.
Finding herself meant she had to learn to form her own opinions and to stand up for them. To discover her taste in clothing, music, books—in a life-style. To make her own decisions about what she wanted and valued most in life.
Finding out who she was also meant dealing with the overwhelming emotions that claimed her from time to time; learning how to cope with the dark thoughts and depression that assailed her. Easier said than done, she thought, taking another bite of her éclair. But she was finally learning how to do it. Like now.
It felt good. She felt powerful.
In a week Dan would return to Houston from Israel and come to San Antonio to see her. Ever since their separation, he’d accepted three-month engineering contracts, working in the Middle East, Africa and Europe. And after the end of each job he’d return to San Antonio and ask Kendra to come back to him. After her tearful refusal, he would leave, setting out for Big Bend country, where he rafted down the river as if it would wash all his heavy burdens away. In a sense she was sure that it did.
During Dan’s visits, they always argued. He would demand to know when she would be ready, and she would always say she didn’t know.
This time, though, her answer would be different.
This time, she wanted to be part of his life, and not just part of him.
She also wanted to get pregnant and have another baby, despite the fact that she would be afraid of losing a second child to SIDS. Her darling baby girl had been four months old when sudden infant death syndrome had taken her from them. Kendra stopped those thoughts. Painful as it had been, she could do nothing to change that event. Only the future could be affected. She had some control there, and the place to start was with Dan.
She wanted both to be able to stand with Dan, and to stand up to him, too.
She wanted to make love to him when she felt like making love, not just when he reached for her.
She wanted some control in their relationship, and she knew now that she had to reach out and grasp it, not wait until Dan handed it to her. She
, and she alone, was responsible for her decisions—or lack of them.
Though exhilarated, she was also frightened by the power she felt flowing through her. It was a new and wondrous feeling.
She wanted...
Kendra put down her coffee cup and stared out the window at the slowly darkening streets. She wanted so much, and it was only now that she was finally willing to fight for it.
And the stakes were so simple. If she succeeded in taming Dan, she had everything to win: love, family, a full life. If she failed, she was no worse off than she was now: alone, lonely and scared of everything including her own shadow. She had everything to gain and nothing to lose.
A small smile tugged at her mouth. It had taken two years to come to such a simple decision.
What was wrong with wanting a love that was as strong as the one in An Affair to Remember? And she wanted it with Dan.
He loved her with all his heart—she knew that. And he wanted her back in his life—she knew that. He would always be overbearing, but the few times she’d stood up to him, he’d listened and weighed her opinion as if it mattered. He hadn’t always agreed, but then who did?
A heady feeling washed over her. Yes!
She had all the ingredients for a deep and abiding relationship that would endure the test of time.
So, what was she doing here?
The need for immediate action gripped her like a vise. Unable to sit still for one more second, Kendra stood, placed a tip on the table and walked through the swinging glass door. The sun had almost disappeared behind the buildings on the far side of the street.
With steps that were sure and a feeling of excited anticipation flowing through her veins, she almost jogged to the corner. It was the middle of the night in Israel, and Dan would be sleeping. Good. She wanted to call right away. He needed to know now that she was willing; that she wanted to be with him for the rest of her life—but that there were terms he needed to be apprised of. Her terms. She had no doubt that he’d balk, but he’d come around eventually. He had to, for both their sakes.
Impatiently, she waited for the light to change. The people who had been milling about earlier were gone, another showing of the movie had begun.
Kendra stepped off the curb and into the street. By the time she saw the flash of gray, it was too late.
She was pitched into the air, her body hit the front windshield, then rolled until she slammed onto the pavement. At first she was stunned. Then she realized she was numb. She tried to move, to stand, but her limbs refused to obey her command. Car doors slammed, people shouted.
“It wasn’t my fault!” a deep, west Texas accent insisted. “She just walked out in the middle of the street. Right in front of me! I slammed on my brakes, but it was too late!”
Kendra felt like two people. One part of her was detached from the pain she was sure was there. The observer listened to the others and tried to interpret their sounds and tones. The other part of herself tried to tell them she had to call Dan, but she couldn’t even open her eyes. A low moan came from somewhere inside her and she realized that she was slipping away from the voices. No! She didn’t want to die! Not when she had a chance of putting her life together!
A soothing force entered her mind and subdued her agitated thoughts.
I have to tell Dan, Kendra began again.
If you allow us, we’ll help you through this, the presence explained.
Help me get up and leave here!
We can’t do that. You’re dying.
No! Not now! Not when I’m so close to... Tears slipped from between her closed eyelids and down her cheeks.
Tell us what you want him to know, the voice pursued. We promise he will know.
Memories of their life together, so intertwined with her deepest emotions, flashed through Kendra’s mind. The last six months of her life and the realization that she had been loved by the man she loved were enough. I love him so much, she thought hazily, realizing she was losing touch with the voices around her. The wail of an ambulance came closer, but she focused all her waning attention on the force that was hearing her thoughts. I wish you could take my thoughts to him as a gift. It wasn’t that he was so strong. It was that I was so weak.
We can. We will, was the reply. The soothing force seemed to stroke her as if she were a baby, and she finally relaxed. She couldn’t do more. Kendra had the utmost faith that whoever it was would give Dan her messages.
Everything else slowly faded away. Instead of feeling the hard, hot pavement beneath her, Kendra seemed to rise. She watched in awe and fascination as everyone scurried back and forth over a body that looked just like her.
Inquisitive, she glanced around the rest of the area, spotting what looked like an abandoned used-car lot. She was sure the person who had comforted her stood near the doorway of the trailer office. In this unusual, suspended state she understood so much; the person was one body with a collective mind. How unusual. Even as she watched, the body was changed into a female similar to Kendra in appearance. That would make it easier for “her” to find Dan and explain things to him. To ease his way. To love him.
Kendra smiled.
Wait. Don’t go yet, the soother said.
It’s too late, Kendra replied. You know what to say. You promised.
* * *
WHEN THE ACCIDENT occurred on the side street just off Broadway in downtown San Antonio, Texas, we knew this was the form we, I, would assume.
After her death, we would blend into the population and no one would know we were here.
In the dwindling light we curled our pudgier body into a ball just out of sight of the small group of gawking motorists, finding sanctuary in the deep-set office doorway of a used-car lot. Our highly tuned, telepathic waves scanned the frantic inner cries of the wounded woman sprawled on pavement still warm from the late-afternoon sun. Our own thoughts wrapped around her chaotic thoughts. While soothing her frantic cries we absorbed her memories, making them our own. With the careful precision taught over a lifetime, we altered our own state and began weaving our image into the slightly different and very pretty form that was hers.
Finished with the physical attributes, we began absorbing the mental processes. We were now growing tired and the woman lying in the middle of the road was rapidly weakening. We tried to hold on to her thoughts, to help calm her so that we could absorb them properly, but her will to live was slipping, slipping....
Suddenly she was dead, and we hadn’t fully completed the transformation. Unemotionally, we thought of the alternatives. Should we seek another specimen? We searched our new memory banks. We had all her memories of the last six months. That should be enough to get us through the next two weeks—the maximum time allotted for the mission.
Slowly, we stood on our new legs. We tested their strength by bouncing up and down on the balls of our much larger feet. We felt strange but good.
Flexing our hands, we watched the smooth skin over our slim fingers and knuckles tighten and loosen. The fingers were long and supple. This body was obviously a good choice.
Reaching down inside a small bag we had been carrying for the past three days we pulled out an oversize, bulky-knit sweater, a pair of drawstring pants and a pair of thongs—all chosen with the purpose of fitting almost any body style. Also inside the lining were forged papers that would help us identify ourselves to other humans—just in case it was necessary.
When dressed, we looped the bag on our shoulder and looked down the road toward the city lights, where a strip of restaurants and bars littered the sides of the street. Our mouth moved, softly uttering our new name into the darkness.
Kendra Lovejoy.
As the ambulance activated its siren and headed toward the nearest hospital with its lifeless cargo, the we that was now Kendra Lovejoy stepped out of the shadows and headed toward the lights of the nearest bar. We hummed a popular song that spoke of lost love, cheap whiskey and girls who do men wrong.
It was time to begin.
&nb
sp; 1
WHEN DAN LOVEJOY awoke, he glanced around the room, reacquainting himself with the apartment he’d called home base since Kendra had left him. Most of the time he was out of the country, so he’d never bothered doing much to make the place a home.
The bedroom was sparsely furnished, with a bed, a dresser and an old chair. There were no paintings on the walls, no knickknacks, no personal touches except for the few clothes in the closet and items that spilled from his suitcase on the floor. The living room was no different. And piled in one corner sat three boxes of books, awards and citations, never unpacked.
Suddenly he craved more.
He’d been offered a permanent job overseas, and for the first time since Kendra had left him he was considering it. By now he should have stopped hoping that Kendra would return to him. Every night he dreamed of her miraculous cure and of their being together again. And every morning he faced the disappointment of waking up alone.
He rolled to the side of the bed and sat up. The small slip of white paper sent to him from the Israeli office headquarters last week was now tucked securely in his jacket pocket. He hadn’t received the damn thing until just before flight time.
The message that he should call had come from Kendra’s parents in San Antonio—a disturbing element in itself, since they rarely contacted him unless they had bad news or needed money.
Just then the phone rang and he jumped, glancing at his watch. He’d slept without waking for twenty-one hours. Nerves that had finally relaxed in sleep were once more tense and ready for action. He answered it on the fifth ring.
“Dan! I’m so glad you’re back!” Ed, Kendra’s father, sounded relieved.
A new growth of beard made Dan’s jawline itch, and he rubbed his callused hand over it. “Thanks. I was going to call you in just a couple of minutes. My flight routing was screwed up and it took two days to get home. I didn’t get in until late. What’s up?” He tried to sound casual.
“It’s Kendra.” Ed’s voice broke into a sob. Dan’s hand tightened around the receiver. “She’s dead, Dan. My little Kendra is gone. Damn! I still don’t believe it!”
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