Through the windshield the ladies could see the sun dropping on the city like a bomb. A bright red sunset spread across the horizon, reflecting off the skyscrapers and glowing in hot pink squares from every window.
“Tour it?” the cabby suggested.
Helaine gave her a puzzled look.
“Yes,” Lydia said quickly, “tour it, please.”
The cab took a side street. Helaine smiled to herself. Lydia leaned across the jacket and kissed her.
“What is your speech about?” she asked.
Helaine slipped her finger between Lydia’s lips and quickly withdrew it. “You. For ten minutes I shall speak of nothing but Lydia Beaumont. About her eyes. For another twenty I will tell them about her lips.”
She folded her hands in her lap and rested her head against the back of the seat. “And I mustn’t forget to mention those arms and those legs.” She closed her eyes. Lydia lay against her, kissed her neck. “Or your fabulous back,” Helaine continued softly. “What would you say to that speech?”
“I’d say, you better not, Helaine. I value my anonymity. How do you feel about yours?”
Helaine reached out and adjusted an errant strand of dark hair. “I’ve enjoyed mine.”
The sun was gone now, the last of its flame settling into an orange mist around the city, the last rays bouncing off the walls and casting long shadows in their retreat. In a few moments they would surrender completely, relinquishing their glory to that of lamp lights and neon.
It was already dark in the cab. Lydia kissed a bare shoulder, a long arm, a perfumed wrist, tongued the soft palm of an outstretched hand as it lay like jewel on a slippery, satin lap. Black satin. Her cheek brushed against the slick fabric. It was as cool as the night, descending on the city like a blanket.
Part Three: The Catch
The dark-haired woman disappeared from the rearview mirror and the experienced cabby, seeing the park looming ahead on the right, pulled out of traffic and idled curbside, taking a place behind a caravan of other taxicabs. Sinatra sang unfettered by propriety.
Helaine took stock of the situation. The cavalcade stretched nearly the entire length of the block. She must have passed this scene a thousand times and never recognized it for what it was.
The driver made herself invisible, eyes vanishing from the mirror.
Discretion, Helaine mused, Lydia’s head in her lap...one hand resting on her thigh, the other at her hip…her lips at her fingertips…her lips…it was not necessary to discuss this, Helaine understood…the cabby would wait for hours if told to…these polite hands…this woman’s card in her bra… you can call me, Sinatra promised…a wet palm…Helaine bent over her and combed the dark hair with her fingers. She had to be somewhere soon. Remember? “Lydia?”
Lydia didn’t answer.
“Lydia, Lydia.” The dark head turned in her hand and partially faced her. Helaine stroked the woman’s mouth with her thumb. “What are you thinking?”
“Thinking–something primal, I’m afraid. Where are we?”
“At the park. It seems we’re part of a posse,” Helaine joked, looking back again. “Have you…have you ever been here before? Like this, I mean?”
Lydia grinned. “No.” She wet her lips and kissed the finger. “You?”
“No, not me,” Helaine said, smiling at the thought of it. She parted Lydia’s lips with her thumb. “First time for everything–tell me primal.”
“What time is it?”
Helaine checked her watch. “Quarter past.”
Lydia gripped the tip of Helaine’s finger and let it go when she felt her jump. “Tell me about the building across from my office, specifically the twelfth floor.”
Helaine chuckled. “Ummm…what do you want to know about it?”
“Oh, everything.”
“Hmmm. Across from me, on the fifteenth floor. There’s a beautiful woman up there in the window sometimes. Quite beautiful. I happened to notice her one day.”
“Uh-oh, I’m fond of my window. When was that, Helaine?” She licked at the fingertip once more, pressed her mouth into a trembling palm.
Helaine took a deep breath. “That was…I’m not too sure now…ummmmm…I’d have to…say…two years ago?” Her other hand went to the back of Lydia’s head, into the silky hair. “Do you know what you do in your window?”
“No, but I’m going to guess that you like it.” She bit gently at Helaine’s hand, licked between each finger, grabbing the thumb between her teeth and teasing it inside her mouth.
Helaine gasped.
Lydia released and looked up. “Do you?”
“Like it…I like it…yes,” she replied as she ran her hand along Lydia’s shoulders and slid downward in the seat. “Very much.”
“Go on. Frank’s Place. Helaine followed me there?”
“I followed you.”
Lydia sighed and rested her forehead on Helaine’s abdomen. “You followed me for two years?” She kissed the black satin folds and hid her face in them. They felt like bed sheets to her now, the stomach, a pillow. “Why on earth didn’t you say something to me?”
“On earth? On earth you and I were with other people.”
Lydia thought about that for awhile. Helaine’s hand lay beneath her. She lifted herself and brushed her body against it as she rose. “Kiss me,” she finally said.
They kissed.
“Let me see you, Lydia Beaumont. My girl next door.” She touched her cheek. “Most beautiful girl in the world.”
Lydia leaned back.
With the lights of night shining in them the blue eyes glistened like pools of water, cool, refreshing, limpid. In the heat of summer, of the moment, in all those dog days gone by with their scorching fires, with their arid landscapes, roaming thirsty, depleted, navigating across a bed of coal, burning coals on tender feet, blistered, crawling on hands and knees, in a seven-year drought with no relief, that burnt her to ashes, incinerated her senses, melted her soul, drained her vitality, her life fluids, leaving her hotter than hot, day and night, night and day, hotter than hell all the time, and dehydrated, and now this warm spring to refresh in–how could she live without water?
“Had you ever been to Frank’s before?”
Helaine shifted her body. “Just for lunch. Saturdays. Dinner once in awhile.”
Lydia processed that. “So Friday’s? Dr. Kristenson reading me like a book?”
“Oh, no. Not at first, anyway.”
“But later? Then Lydia Beaumont was as transparent as water?”
Water. “There is nothing wrong with that. Being transparent.”
They kissed again.
“You went away. Where did Lydia go?”
“I had to get away…distract myself.”
“Were you successful? Did you find yourself a distraction?”
“No. Impossible. Swam most of the time.” She laughed. “Took cold showers.”
Helaine smiled. “So Lydia Beaumont is a swimmer. Are you good at that?”
“Treading water?”
They were cheek to cheek.
“I’m sorry,” Helaine whispered.
“And you, Venus? What did you find for distraction?”
Helaine hung her head on Lydia’s shoulder, kissed her neck, her mouth, her neck again. “But I missed you,” she whispered.
Lydia shut her eyes. There was that scent again. Bittersweet. Coming at her from everywhere. From the blond hair. The blond at Frank’s Place. In the woods where she first had smelled it. She took a deep breath and held it. How she had missed her. How lonely she had been in the woods. And every hour before and since. “I missed you,” she said, her voice a stone dropping through the ocean. Then she let her jacket be removed, let her dress be opened. She was straps and buttons being undone like the ribbons of a present. In her ears a woman sang her praises. She let the music surround her.
“Soon, Lydia Beaumont.”
“When?”
“Tonight,” Helaine promised with her fingers at h
er lips again. “Can you wait till then?”
Lydia took them in her mouth, motioning with her throat as if she meant to swallow them.
Helaine moaned out loud.
Lydia released her.
The cabdriver looked back.
“Around it,” Helaine instructed the cabby. “Go,” she urged.
The cabby was puzzled. It wasn’t immediately obvious to her which woman the blond was addressing or what exactly go might mean under the circumstances.
Helaine moaned again, louder this time. Lydia was in the palm of her hand. She felt the blood rising to her face, heat in her lap. She clasped the back of Lydia’s neck and rubbed her shoulders. “Mmmm…” she uttered, temporarily forgetting herself and then remembering the driver again, seeing her expectant expression. “Around it,” she muttered in exasperation.
A sound came from Lydia, laughter escaping through the nose.
Helaine half laughed, half groaned.
The cabby grinned and faced forward, convinced that the blond was instructing her lover.
Lydia moistened her lips.
Helaine caressed them with her thumb.
Lydia put her mouth around it and a suppressed gasp came from above her. More pressure on her neck, fingers in her hair. She flicked at the tip of the finger with her tongue and gently nipped at it. Satin thighs arched gently toward her face. Rapid breaths. She repeated the motions all over again.
Behind them, a cab with its lights off fell into position and yet another vehicle pulled in after that one.
“Lydia, I–”
“It’s all right,” Lydia whispered without raising her head or lifting her hands. “Drive around the park,”
she ordered in a voice just loud enough for the driver to hear.
The cabby glanced in the mirror to be sure she had heard correctly this time.
“Yes,” Helaine affirmed. “Go around it,” she said, throwing her head back with a sigh and pulling her dress out from under Lydia, slipping it up past the hips.
The cab began to circle the park.
Stockings, mid-thigh. Lydia kissed the white skin above them.
Helaine clutched Lydia’s hands. “I’m in trouble here,” she warned.
“No, no, no. You’re fine. I won’t muss you.”
“We can’t,” Helaine cautioned, twisting in frustration as she held Lydia’s hands tightly to her hips to stop her. A quickie in a cab. She moaned and held her legs together. They came apart again. “Lydia…I’m…have you ever–?”
“You can show me.”
Helaine heaved her lap toward Lydia’s mouth. “Oh, Lydia,” she said in a strained voice. “There isn’t time.”
No answer. The music played.
“Lydia…” Pressed for time.
“Helaine.”
“I need you.”
“Show me how.”
“I mean–in my bed.” She held her tight between her legs. “In bed, Lydia.”
The swish of satin.
“Not here,” Helaine murmured.
“Okay.”
Okay. Helaine instantly regretted it. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay. It’s okay.”
Helaine let her pull the dress down around her hips.
Whoa, thought the cabby, making yet another revolution around the park. She glanced at the blond in the mirror. She had seemed vaguely familiar to her when she had first gotten into the cab. The cabby watched her discreetly as the woman adjusted her clothes and it suddenly came to her. She checked the meter, checked her watch.
“Lydia? I’m out of my–”
“No, no, no. You’re fine. Hold me.”
They held each other quietly, listening to the sound of their breathing. The cab rolled gently and they could hear the traffic as it raced by the vehicle. They listened together to the voices of passersby on their evening strolls, conversing in the hushed tones peculiar to those who walk in darkness. The breezy strands of their conversations drifted into the ladies’ hideaway and hypnotically blended with the cabby’s music.
Lydia sighed. “My bed,” she whispered as she put her head down. “In my bed.”
Helaine caressed her mouth again. “Yours.” The lips parted. The throat swallowed. The blood flowed from her heart, straight down into her fingertips.
_____
“I know you. You’re the Love Doc,” the cabby declared, after depositing Lydia Beaumont safely at her doorstep.
Helaine responded cautiously. “That’s right,” she said, peering over the seat at the ID tag hanging beneath the meter, “Lucille.”
“Lu, they call me. Thought I recognized you. I’ve got your book!”
“I’m glad. Did it help any?”
“You bet. Got my Mr. Right.”
Helaine smiled at that. “Good for you.”
_____
Dr. Kristenson arrived at the convention center with only ten minutes remaining to pore over her notes before she was to take the podium. Kay and Robert greeted her inside and chatted idly at her as she organized her index cards. She was supposed to join them for cocktails afterwards. They’d understand.
It was an energetic crowd and the doctor knew by experience that she would be expected to mingle and socialize after the question and answer. No dice.
“I meant to call you both earlier but I got hung up with things. Tonight–oh, how do you do? Thank you.
Thank you for coming–there’s a scheduling conflict. What about tomorrow? Lunch say?”
“Jon already told us, Helaine,” Robert said with a chuckle. “A date is not a scheduling conflict.”
She smiled, relieved that they knew. “It’s been a hectic week. Uh-oh, got to get up there–Hey. Well, thank you. Nice to see you here–talk to you two afterwards?”
“Go, go. It’s time.”
“Look for us at the punchbowl,” Kay added.
The speech was shortened, only thirty-five minutes long. Then she answered questions in the light and airy manner she had acquired from doing so many of these events, resorting to humor, which she had learned was the appropriate escape from certain questions that she knew better than to entertain.
She was right about the crowd’s expectations though and despite her efforts to break away, after the applause died down, she quickly found herself cornered at the punchbowl where she had met up with Robert and Kay. There was then no easy egress available. She pressed the flesh till her hands felt grimy and smiled vacuously as she tried to back away toward the exit, her savvy friends acting as accomplices in this sadly unsuccessful endeavor.
“I don’t know, Helaine. Looks like you’re here awhile,” Robert said.
“I hope not. I’ve got a car waiting.”
“You finally hired a driver?”
“A driver–it’s a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for coming–no, don’t be ridiculous.”
“Maybe the bathroom window?” Kay suggested.
“We did that once–Thank you. Oh, I’m flattered. Thank you–didn’t we?”
“Yeah, when we were kids. Look at us now,” Robert said.
“C’mon, she looks stunning tonight. Where are you taking your date?”
“I’m–hello. Oh, I’m glad you enjoyed it. Well, thank you–to bed I hope!”
“Dr. Kristenson? Helaine Kristenson?”
The three of them glanced at a young man carrying a manila envelope under his arm. The hairs on Robert Keagan’s head bristled with alarm. Kay fell mute.
“Yes?”
“You are Dr. Helaine Kristenson?” he asked again, fiddling with the package.
Robert moved toward Helaine. “Helaine! Don’t–”
“Of course I am.”
The process server handed her the envelope. “Dr. Kristenson,” he declared, “you’ve been served,” and then he cut through the crowd in a quick getaway.
“Served? What does this mean?” Helaine asked, turning to Kay.
Kay declined to answer.
“Shit!” Robert muttered. It was som
ething he had always feared.
The party of three exited the building before anyone else was the wiser.
“Lu? Hi. Change of plans, I’m afraid.”
“Where to, doctor?”
_____
“I don’t want you to see her. Do you understand?”
(Yah.)
Robert Keagan was beside himself. “Helaine?”
Kay grabbed his elbow. “Calm down. Helaine, can I make you some tea?”
“No. Thank you.” The clock in their kitchen read half past ten.
“Robert, tea?”
“No, Kay–speak to me, Helaine. Tell me about the flat.”
When she was seventeen, what a very good year. When she was twenty-one, also a very good year. When she was thirty-five she lived with Sharon at the waterfront flat. “We lived there together,” she said numbly. “I redid the place for Sharon. Moved out after two years. Menage à trois bullshit all the time. I got sick of walking in on it. Paid the rent till now. Someone has to call–”
“Jane Doe?” he interrupted. “Who’s this Jane Doe they’re referencing?”
“How can I not see her, Robert? She’s expecting me. I’m late already.”
“Do I get to know her name?”
She thought on it and gave in. “Lydia.”
“She has a last name?”
“Beaumont, Robert.”
“Beaumont–the attorney’s daughter?”
“I wouldn’t know that. She didn’t say.”
Kay joined Helaine at the table and Robert sat down. “This is the woman?” she asked. “The one you mentioned?”
“A little diversion or something serious?” Robert inserted.
“Serious. I need to go, Robert.”
“Oh sure. They’re after her, Helaine. You plan on leading them to the woman?”
“I can’t tell her I’m not coming. I can’t tell her about this.”
Kay gulped her tea and looked over her cup at Robert. So many times he had told her that he didn’t trust Sharon Chambers, so many times worrying over Helaine’s mistake. Palimony. It was nonsense of course, just something to harass Helaine with. By the looks of things, Sharon might even be able to shake off her replacement. Who’d want this crap to contend with? “I wonder if it is Edward Beaumont’s daughter?” she suddenly asked. “Wouldn’t that be interesting?”
The Secret Keeping Page 21
