by Peggy Webb
"Not a thing." Except the way Sarah smiles, the way she tells me her dreams, the way she tells me I'm a hero. "Do you know how to baby-sit, Gwendolyn?"
"I take it this is not an idle question."
"No."
"I'd sit with a baby Godzilla if you asked me, Jake." She smoothed the front of her dress. "Kindness doesn't motivate me, you understand. Greed does. I'd charge you a fortune."
"Good. I’ll pay it. For Jenny." He laughed. Then he stood up and began to pace.
"We're having a benefit dance," he said.
"Benefiting what?"
"Special children."
"Where and when?"
"Next weekend. My house."
"Next weekend? Have you gone crazy?"
"Probably. I want a live band, a good one, and I want you to select a dress, a pretty one, blue, I think . . . yes, blue. Size . . . um . . . six. Send it to Sarah Love. Send roses too. Yellow. Call in a few favors. Get the invitations printed today. The secretarial pool can help you address them."
He could picture Sarah, a blue dress swirling around her legs, her head tilted back to smile up at her dance partner, her hero. Him. Caught up in his dream, Jake paced, smiling and nodding with satisfaction.
He couldn't leave Sarah, not yet, not until she and Jenny were firmly established in Florence society. In the meantime, what would it hurt if he gave her a dream?
o0o
Sarah had her head bent over her sewing, stitching and dreaming. Beside her, Jenny hummed as she painted doll faces.
Her shop bell rang.
"Come in."
A young man with a shy smile, two enormous boxes, and a bouquet of yellow roses walked through her door.
"Are you Ms. Sarah Love?"
"Yes."
"I got some packages for you."
"For me?"
"That's what the card says: Ms. Sarah Love."
Jake, her mind whispered. Jake. But why? She had last seen him standing on her front porch with a hammer in his hand, his face dark and brooding. That encounter had started off like a swan ride through an enchanted lake and had ended like a roller-coaster ride through a tunnel of despair.
She looked at the yellow roses. Jake had brought Jenny a yellow rose. Her heart hammered so hard, she felt breathless.
"Ma'am?"
The delivery boy was standing in her doorway, a puzzled look on his face. She had to do something.
Pretending a nonchalance she didn't feel, she took the packages and the roses.
"Thank you."
"You're most welcome, ma'am." He tipped his hat and backed out her door. She gripped the packages, watching until he was out of sight.
"Pretty," Jenny said, looking up at the roses.
Her daughter's voice brought her back to reality. "Yes, Jenny. These are pretty flowers. From Jake."
She didn't have to look at the card to know. She placed the packages on a table while she put the roses in water. She leaned over, inhaling their fragrance; then she pressed her face against the petals. The last thing she did was look at the card. Jake, it said. Nothing more. Not best wishes, greetings, have a nice day. Just Jake.
"Mine," Jenny said, reaching for the boxes.
"Wait, Jenny. Let me see."
The boxes were wrapped in silver paper and tied with blue ribbon. The small box was for Jenny, the large box for her. Sarah ran her hands over the wrappings, savoring the moment, stretching out the anticipation.
"Oh, Jake," she whispered. "Why do you keep giving gifts?"
I give for my own pleasure, he had said. And for mine, she added to herself.
"Mine, mine," Jenny chanted impatiently.
"Yes, Jenny. This one is for you." Sarah set her own package aside and helped Jenny open hers.
It was a Pooh Bear and a set of A. A. Milne books. Sarah read the card aloud. "Dear Jenny, I have a very good friend named Gwendolyn who loves to read Winnie the Pooh books to good little girls like you. Save the books for her to read to you Saturday night. Jake."
Jenny hugged her bear, whispering, "'ake, ake."
Her heart pounding now, Sarah opened the other box. A beautiful blue dance dress lay among the folds of tissue paper.
"Oh." Sarah touched the dress with her fingertips, hardly daring to believe what she saw. Her own blood hummed in her ears until she felt almost dizzy.
She picked up the card and began to read: "Blue becomes you. Wear the dress for me, please. Saturday night at eight. Ill have my executive assistant, Gwendolyn, with me. You can leave Jenny in her care with complete confidence. Jake."
Another mystery. Another surprise.
Sarah pressed the dress to her cheek. "Oh. Jake. Don’t make me fall in love with you."
o0o
"I don't know how I got talked into this," Gwendolyn grumbled as she and Jake approached Sarah's house.
"It was your idea."
"My idea?"
"Yes. And stop complaining. Nobody in this car thinks you mean it."
"Hmmph. I have to complain. I'd ruin my image otherwise." Gwendolyn smoothed the front of her dress. "Do I look all right?"
"Jenny will love you."
And she did. She was waiting behind the door with her Pooh Bear and her books and her puppy. Two minutes after Gwendolyn entered the room, she and Jenny were fast friends.
Sarah, serene and beautiful in her blue dress, stood beside the sofa watching her daughter. She looked as reserved as Jake felt.
All week he had anticipated this evening. Now that it had arrived, he found himself wondering what he would do. Sarah was not just any woman. When he was with her, even the most casual touch had a way of getting out of hand.
His gaze roamed over her. The blue dress left her shoulders bare. They were as creamy and soft looking as he had imagined. Nothing dark and hard and angular about Sarah Love.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Yes."
Sarah took his arm almost shyly. He led her to the car and helped her in, keeping a careful rein on his emotions.
"Comfortable?"
She smiled. "Yes. Thank you." He almost drowned in her blue eyes.
Feeling generous and noble, he slid into the driver's seat, whistling. The engine purred to life when he turned the key, and they slid smoothly onto the road. Night caught them in its dark embrace. Sarah sat beside him like a dream, softly illuminated by the dashboard lights. The tires whispered on the pavement, and outside a cloud covered the moon.
"What Is that song?" Sarah asked.
"'La Vie en Rose.'" He hadn't been aware until she asked.
"Edith Piaf."
"You know her?"
"Yes. Her music is beautiful."
Love songs. He was whistling love songs. Jake stopped whistling.
"Looks like it might storm." he said. Talking about the weather. He must be getting desperate. It was too early in the evening to get desperate.
"I hope not. There's something primitive about a storm, something almost frightening."
A storm took Bonnie away. Change the subject.
Sarah changed it for him. "You never told me where we are going."
"Do you trust me, Sarah?"
"Yes. I trust you." She spoke without hesitation. He hadn't realized until he'd asked the question, until she had answered, how much he wanted her trust.
He turned the car onto his street. “Home, sweet home.”
"We're going to your house?" There was no question in Sarah's voice, no fear.
"Yes." As they turned up his driveway he pressed the button to lower the car windows. He wanted her to hear the music before he told her about the dance.
The first faint strains of orchestra music came to them, borne on the night wind. Sarah cocked her head, listening.
"Is that music I hear?"
"That's a full-fledged orchestra."
"You're having a party . . . with a real orchestra?"
"A benefit dance for special children."
"Oh, Jake . . . because of Jenny?"
"Because of Jenny." And you.
He parked the car, and Sarah reached across the seat to squeeze his hand. "How can I ever thank you?" Her eyes were bright with unshed tears.
He cupped her cheek, briefly, tenderly. Then he let go. He had to.
"You can thank me by smiling." Her smile put the sun to shame. "And by enjoying every dance."
"If they're all with you, I will."
Jake let that remark slide. He didn't dare reply. He didn't dare even think about the meaning.
"Are you ready to go inside, Sarah?"
"Oh, yes, Jake. A real dance ... I can hardly wait."
"You'll be meeting lots of people—very fine people." He helped her from the car. In the moonlight she looked like fine porcelain. Men would fawn over her, fight for her attentions. Already he was jealous. And furious at himself for his jealousy.
He took her arm and led her up the front steps. The carved double doors loomed before them, an entry into another world for Sarah.
"Save your last dance for me, Sarah," he said, just before he opened the door.
"I’ll save all my dances for you."
It was a beautiful dream, Sarah saving all her dances for him, a dream he dared not believe in. Aching with both tenderness and fear, he led her through the door.
o0o
The party was in full swing. Sarah felt as if she had entered a fantasy world. Music soared around her, blending with the sounds of laughter and the tinkling of champagne glasses. The crowd moved in waves, like brightly colored streamers caught in a summer wind.
For a while she could do nothing except stand and stare. Jake gave her arm a reassuring squeeze.
"You're the most beautiful woman here."
"Hold on to me, Jake. Don't let go yet."
"You're not afraid, are you?"
"No. I'm . . . overwhelmed."
The last time she had danced, she had been inside a smoky nightclub with Bobby Wayne, three months before their marriage. The band had been country- and-western and the drink of choice bourbon.
Sarah had no more time to remember her last dance, for several people in the crowd broke away and came toward them. Jake introduced Sarah to all of them. Their names began to run together.
"Who is that beautiful dark-haired woman coming our way?" Sarah asked.
"Hallie Donovan Butler, with her husband, Josh. She's the founder of the theater for special children here in Florence."
Hallie descended on them, both hands extended. "Jake, welcome back. I was beginning to think we had lost you, you big old cuddle bum." Still holding one of his hands, she turned to Sarah. "And you must be Sarah Love. Tell me all about yourself."
Sarah found Hallie charming as well as easy to talk to.
"What did she mean about losing you?" she asked Jake, after Hallie and her husband left.
"I haven't been a very visible member of society for awhile."
Why, Sarah wanted to ask, but a new group of people besieged them. Jake chatted easily, keeping his hand on Sarah's back, all the while leading her toward the dance floor.
"Can I claim the first dance, Sarah, before half the bachelors in Florence capture you?"
Jake pulled her into his arms. She felt as if she had been waiting all her life for just this moment. Sheltered in his arms with music flowing around her, she felt safe, secure, and cherished. Though why she should feel cherished by a man who had never pledged anything except friendship, she didn't know.
She closed her eyes, losing herself in the beauty of the music and the nearness of Jake. And when the song was over, he didn't let go. There was no more talk of being captured by Florence's bachelors, no more talk of saving the last dance for him.
All the dances were for him. She knew it, and he knew it. Hour after hour the music gave them an excuse to hold each other close. They didn't speak. Words might have ruined the magic.
When the last note died away and the last guest left the house, Sarah and Jake realized what they had done.
"I monopolized you," he said, his face tight.
"I'm glad."
"Are you?" His eyes were full of promises almost too wonderful to be true.
She cupped his cheeks. "Yes, Jake. Very glad." She was so close to falling in love, so very close. Any other time, any other place she might have exercised caution, might have cited reasons. But for this night she was in another world, a world filled with mystery and magic and endless possibilities.
He leaned toward her, and she lifted her face. The kiss was inevitable. Their fate had been sealed the moment they'd danced the first dance.
The kiss started sweet and tender. She stood on tiptoe, winding her arms tighter around his neck.
"Oh, Jake," she whispered.
"Sarah?" His eyes were very dark. "My Sarah." He held her so tightly, she could barely breathe.
Outside, the first crack of lightning split the air. Thunder rolled through the summer clouds, scattering them across the sullen sky.
She felt the tremor that ran through Jake. She held on tighter, running her hands over his tense back, whispering his name, over and over.
Suddenly he lifted her in his arms and started toward the stairs. His jaw was tight, his eyes blazing. She knew where he was taking her, knew his intent.
"Say you don't want this, Sarah," he said, his foot resting on the first stair. "Tell me to stop."
"No. Don't stop."
Storm winds raged against the house, rattling the windowpanes. A muscle in Jake's jaw twitched. His eyes were haunted. Resolutely he climbed the stairs.
"Save yourself from me, Sarah. Say no."
"You need me, Jake. Tonight will be my gift to you."
"I didn't want to buy you."
"You didn't buy me. I'm giving myself freely."
At the top of the stairs, he gazed fiercely into her face. "This is need, Sarah. And hunger. Nothing more."
"I understand." She cupped her face and pressed her lips to his. This is love, Jake.
All the pent-up need in him came pouring forth in the kiss. Sarah wound her hands in his hair, holding on so he wouldn't let go, holding on so she wouldn't lose him.
Outside the rains lashed the roof, and the winds moaned against the eaves. Jake seemed to have captured nature's turmoil in his soul. His kisses were hard, harsh, demanding.
"Don't be afraid, Sarah. Don't be afraid of the storm," he murmured as he carried her into his bedroom and kicked the door shut.
Sarah hadn't thought to be afraid of the storm raging outside. The thing she feared was the storm raging inside herself. What she was about to do would change the course of her life. After this night she knew she could never view Jake as merely a friend. Need and hunger, he had said. She had needs, too, needs that only Jake could awaken, a hunger that only he could satisfy.
As he lowered her to the bed she thought fleetingly of Jenny. Forgive me, Jenny. Tonight I need a dream. Tonight I need Jake. She would be sensible tomorrow.
He undressed her with a slow and tender reverence surprising coming from a man so fierce.
"You are exquisite." He traced her body with his hands. She shivered with pleasure. Until that moment she hadn't realized how she had longed for Jake to consider her beautiful.
He spread her hair upon the pillow, watching it catch the glow from the single lamp burning beside his bed.
"Your hair . . ." He let the strands sift through his fingers. "I could spend the rest of the night worshiping your hair." Leaning close, he brushed his lips down the side of her throat. "If there weren't so much more I wanted to worship"—his voice became husky as he kissed the tops of her breasts—"so much more I want to possess."
Jake began to kiss her body, slowly, purposefully, and with great skill. Passion and tenderness vied for dominance until they merged into one emotion Sarah could only describe as glory. Glory covered her, claimed her, filled her. It had a name, and its name was Jake.
"Jake," she whispered, time and again, longing, hoping, waiting, yearning. . . .
/> "Not yet, Sarah. Not yet."
Outside the window, the elements were at war. Thunder and lightning clashed in the sky; wind and rain lashed the house. As the storm gathered force, so did Jake's passion. His mouth and hands burned over her, seared her.
Sarah had no concept of time. There was only the moment, and Jake filled it until nothing existed except the passion that flamed between them.
A flash of lightning illuminated his face. It was dark, brooding, dangerous. With an insight given to those who love, Sarah understood that when Jake warned her against the storm, he had been warning her against himself.
A shiver ran through her, and she couldn't name its source. Love? Passion? Hope? Fear? Tomorrow would be time enough to know, she thought. For tonight she had Jake, only Jake.
He raised himself on his elbows and looked down at her. "Say you want me, Sarah."
"I want you."
His eyes darkened; his face was unfathomable. "I need you, Sarah. Heaven help me, I need you."
"Jake." She lifted her arms. There would be no turning back. "Come to me."
There was no tenderness in their joining. With a harsh cry that matched the storm, Jake claimed Sarah. When he had first kissed her, stars sprinkled her soul. When he possessed her, the heavens emptied themselves, so that everything bright and wondrous and awesome came together in her heart.
Sarah was afraid if she breathed too deeply, Jake might vanish. If she blinked her eyes, she might find herself in the middle of a dream, clutching nothing but thin air.
There might never be another moment like this, she thought, holding Jake close. His great need poured forth in his lovemaking. Sarah took that need and cherished it. All that was beautiful in her, all that was gentle, all that was warm, tried to reach from her heart to his. But the chasm was too deep, the gap too wide.
Oh. Jake. What demons drive you?
"Sarah! Sarah!" His cry was harsh rather than exultant, haunted rather than free.
She wrapped her arms around his sweat-slickened body, whispering his name. With one final cry he ended the sweet torment.
He lay against her. his breathing heavy. She caressed his damp back, murmuring words brought up from her soul.
