“You’re not upset?”
“Not at all. I’ve always wanted you to finish. I’ve always wanted to call you Dr. Aidan Carter.”
“Why don’t you go with me? Then I can call you Mrs. Dr. Aidan Carter?”
“Aidan; you don’t mean that.”
“Yes. I do. I’ve missed you. No one has ever understood how important my research has been. No one has supported me like you have. You’ve put up with my idiotic behavior…”
“Is that what they’re calling adultery nowadays?” Erin interrupted, gazing into her wineglass.
“Don’t say that. I wish I could take back the past two years. I’ve come to realize how special you are and I don’t want to lose you again.”
“I’m not yours to lose.”
Aidan ignored that. “I know you’re tired. I know you’re hurt. You need a little rest. Just think about it. Please?”
Erin nodded, too exhausted to continue the argument. She said goodnight and went into her bedroom. Without undressing, she lay on the bed. It hurt to breathe. She touched her lips and thought how they had burned against his. How his hands had touched her, wherever and whenever he wanted. She curled into a ball and cried softly.
* * *
The next morning, her door burst open and Aidan bounced into the room. “Good morning sleepyhead.”
Erin rolled over grumpily.
“You didn’t even get undressed. You should have called me. I could have helped. Here, let me do that.”
Aidan pushed her hand away and began unbuttoning her blouse. Mauve with a plunging neck, only three buttons held the blouse in place. With a flick of his wrist, he had unzipped her skirt and shucked it down her legs. In seconds, she dressed only in her panties and bra. She caught his hand, stopping him from removing the rest.
“Boy, you’ve improved.”
“So have you, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me that.” Her heart thudded at the memory of Spence, his lazy, Southern drawl, calling her “sweetheart.”
“You need a shower. You’re grouchy. Come on.”
“Aidan. I can’t do this.”
“Yes you can. I’ll help you.”
Aidan picked Erin up and easily carried her into the bathroom. Depressed, she could barely lift her arms. Holding her with one hand, he reached into the shower and turned on the water. Steam began to fill the room.
“That’s the nice thing about this apartment. Lots of hot water. Now get in there and take a shower,” he said, adding with a roguish grin, “You want me to wash your back?”
Despite his gentle teasing, Erin’s head drooped. She whispered, “I’ll never be happy again.”
“Yes you will,” he said and then kissed her tenderly.
Erin leaned into him, imagining it was Stephen touching her, caressing her. She touched his lean, handsome cheek. All she could see was Spence’s dark tanned face, his bright white smile and deep blue eyes that squinted when he laughed.
“Oh, why can’t you love me?”
“I do, Erin. I do.”
He kissed her again, pulling her closer. His breath was ragged. He couldn’t believe how excited he was, how soft and compliant she seemed. He could feel the adrenaline surging through his body, driving him wild.
That she was here, home with him again and in his arms was almost impossible to believe. It had been so long since they were like this. This was a new beginning. He murmured words of endearment against the bare skin of her shoulder.
Erin felt fragile. Her heart was crystal and had shattered. She thought, what’s the difference? Why not let someone love me?
But she couldn’t. She put her hand against his chest and pushed.
Aidan bit back his frustration. “Okay, okay. You’re not ready. Next time I’ll be more patient,” he said.
There won’t be a next time Erin thought, as she turned away and pulled the bathroom door closed. She stepped into the shower where she could cry alone.
* * *
Summer faded and Aidan moved to New York. Alone. Autumn leaves turned a glorious red and gold before falling to the crowded city streets. Frantic squirrels raced around, creating food caches for winter. Erin moved mechanically through each day, spending her time trying not to think about Spence.
She donated most of her clothes to charity, hoping a new wardrobe would help. She avoided people and kept her cell phone to her ear while she walked the crowded streets or rode the Metro.
The city became gray and dreary. Erin kept busy during the day, conducting research at the library and transcribing notes from the music professor. At night, she pulled on her sweats, crawled into bed with chocolate, and watched old black-and-white movies. She cried hysterically once in a while, and it felt good. She gained weight as she settled into her depression.
Patricia soon tired of her angst.
“How long do you intend to mope?”
Erin flinched at Patricia’s direct and caustic question.
“I’m not moping.” She squirmed in the pin-striped chair, once again. She glanced at the side table and saw the latest issue of the glossy magazine “US.” She caught a glimpse of a sandy beach and a couple walking in the aqua surf. Shuddering, she turned back to Patricia. “I’m fine.”
“No you’re not. You’re moody and fat.”
“Sheesh! I’m not fat!”
“Keep it up and you will be. Want a cigarette?” Patricia pulled a pack from her desk drawer and shook it in front of Erin. “Go on; it cuts your appetite.”
“No thanks. I’m not interested in getting cancer. You shouldn’t be smoking either, you know.”
“Eh, I don’t. I quit a few years ago. These are left over,”
Patricia said, examining the crumpled package. “These must be at least three years old.”
Erin watched, her mouth agape, as Patricia withdrew a bent cigarette and sniffed it. Her eyes closed and she wore a dreamy smile. “I know it’s not fresh, but I can still smell the tobacco.”
The older woman slid the cigarettes into her desk drawer and sat back in her leather chair. She templed her thin, bony fingers, stared at Erin and waited.
After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Erin said, “I’m not fat.”
“Right. Why don’t you give me an update on Professor Campbell.”
With a sigh of relief, Erin bent over and withdrew a folder from her briefcase. She placed it on Patricia’s desk. “I’ve got the last pages of his memoirs transcribed and I’ll begin interviewing him next week. I’ve sent his photo albums to the graphics department for scanning and once they’re complete I’ll start working on the captions.”
Patricia shuffled through the papers and nodded. “These are good. Do you think you have enough material for the early years?”
“Too much, actually. He’s kept everything. It’s the later years that lack depth.”
“Humph. Oh well, people really want to know about the young and sexy Alex Campbell – the one who slept with all the movie stars going to him for voice lessons. Wasn’t Marilyn Monroe his student? It will sell better to younger audiences that way. The only wild-haired old man that sells on book covers is Einstein.”
With downcast eyes, Erin nodded. “You’re right, of course. I’ll concentrate on those interviews,” she said, but it was another sexy young man she imagined.
* * *
It was November and she caught the Acela high-speed train to New York. The trip took less than three hours and Aidan met her at the New York Penn Station with a frozen turkey. His bear hug swept her off her feet.
“I hope you know how to cook that,” she said, eyeing the bulging grocery sack with mistrust.
He took her hand in his and smiled. “We’ll figure it out. I’ve picked up a few other things and we’ll stop by the deli for a fresh pie.”
The trip to New York has been spontaneous; Aidan had called with the invitation for Thanksgiving and because it hurt too much to think about going home to the farm, Erin agreed.
When Aid
an suggested she spend a couple of days in New York, shopping and sight seeing with him, Erin hesitated.
“No hidden agenda; I’ll be on my best behavior,” he promised.
Erin was glad she accepted his offer and anticipated a few days of wanton shopping. Thanks to a daily jogging routine, she had shed the extra weight and a few bonus pounds. She joined a local gym and added weight training to her regimen, slowly replacing her soft curves with sculpted shoulders, arms and legs.
She accepted Patricia’s compliment with grim satisfaction when the older woman noticed and said, “You’re looking much better. Now don’t go overboard.”
Erin didn’t want to admit it, but the older woman’s stinging criticism in October had motivated her. Her anger subsided after the first few days and then she realized that the exercise and running made her feel good. She also noticed other people jogging in the neighborhood and they silently nodded to each other. She stopped feeling quite so lonely.
Aidan hadn’t known about her weight gain and subsequent loss, so he didn’t notice any physical changes. But he did note the lightness of her step and the confidence in her posture. Tactful, he said nothing.
They caught the green line subway to the Bronx where Aidan had rented a large studio apartment.
“It’s only a thousand bucks a month,” he said, shoving the door open with his foot, juggling the turkey in one hand and his keys in the other.
Erin stepped inside the short hallway, which led to a small kitchen on the right before opening into a bright and airy room with new hardwood floors. Erin glanced around and noted a bathroom beyond the kitchen. Aidan’s large bed dominated the room. Bookcases flanked the walls along with stacking crates filled with clothes. A small, glass-topped bistro table served as Aidan’s desk, its surface filled with his laptop computer, folders and papers.
“It’s cozy,” Erin said, dropping her duffle bag by the bed. “But there’s only one bed.”
“That’s okay; I’ll sleep on the floor. Or you can. Or we can sleep together if you promise to keep your hands off of me,” he teased, dropping the turkey on the kitchen floor. “It’s only for a few days, anyway. I couldn’t fit the futon in here because of my books. Besides, I don’t entertain.”
Erin glanced at Aidan, one eyebrow raised.
“Sure. I believe that. Anyway, do you realize this is the first time you’ve had your own place since college? It’s strange, isn’t it?”
Aidan nodded. “Yeah, it is strange. We’ve known each other for so long. It’s lonely, that’s for sure.” He stepped closer and rubbed a hand up and down her arm briskly. “Oh well. You’re here now and we’ll have a great time.”
Erin tugged her jacket off and tossed it on the bed. She kicked her shoes off and shrugged. “Let’s get that turkey into the refrigerator and see what’s in the pantry.”
Aidan laughed. “Funny, ha ha. Like that’s going to fit in the refrigerator. And my ‘pantry’ consists of two cabinets. Things are pretty tight in here.”
“I see. We’ll make do,” Erin said.
* * *
The turkey still had not thawed by early Thursday morning so they headed to Manhattan to watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. They pushed their way through the crowd along Central Park West for a glimpse of the bands, balloons and floats. Clowns preceded the parade, flinging confetti and enlivening the crowd.
“Clowns scare me,” Aidan said, shuddering. “They’re really creepy.”
Next came the marching bands representing high schools and universities across the United States. Erin couldn’t help but smile at the serious expressions on the nervous teen musicians.
Floats filled the street until, hours later, the traditional Rocky and Bullwinkle balloons signified the end of the parade.
Amazingly, the crowd dispersed into Central Park and down side streets. Aidan and Erin worked their way to his favorite restaurant near Central Park South, between the Ritz-Carlton and Park Lane hotels.
“I told you it was great,” he said twenty minutes later, sipping a cool draft beer and admiring the baseball memorabilia that decorated the walls of Mickey Mantle’s.
After splurging on lunch and a decadent dessert of New York cheesecake, they ambled along Fifth Avenue, admiring shop windows. At Rockefeller Center, they watched people ice skate in front of the giant Christmas tree.
“Thank you, Aidan. This is wonderful,” Erin said, her eyes on an elderly couple holding hands while they skated. “I wasn’t looking forward to the holidays but everything is so exciting and all the stores are beautiful here. I’m glad I came.”
“I am, too.” He turned towards Erin and put a hand on her shoulder. “You know, you can stay if want. Leave D.C. and work here. There’s dozens of publishers in Manhattan and you could be a book editor, like you wanted.”
Erin bit her bottom lip.
“Thanks, but I like D.C. I’m working on a new project and Patricia and I are getting along much better. I mean, she’s forgiven me for the mess I made.”
“Are you still seeing that guy?” Aidan refused to call Spence by name.
Erin gripped the railing but kept her focus on the ice skaters. “Oh no; that’s been over for months. We haven’t spoken since …. There’s nothing to talk about.”
Several minutes passed in silence.
“Let’s go to Radio City Music Hall,” Aidan suggested. His spontaneous invitation brought a smile to Erin’s trembling lips.
“Sure. That’s a great idea. My treat since you bought lunch.”
* * *
The turkey finally thawed on Sunday, but by then Erin’s trip to New York was winding down. They had spent the days with Erin shopping and exploring Manhattan and in the evenings they went to a Broadway play and a movie. They ate out, and Aidan’s small refrigerator filled with leftovers.
Aidan offered the bird to his superintendent and they caught the subway to the Pennsylvania Avenue station. They shared a final dinner at a small Chinese restaurant before walking Erin to the train platform.
“I think this is a misspelling,” Aidan said, frowning as he read his fortune cookie. “Listen to this, ‘You will have good luck and overcome many harmships.’ That’s gotta be ‘hardships,’ right?”
“Here’s mine,” Erin said, squinting at the tiny red print. “It says, ‘Good luck bestows upon you. You will get what your heart desires.’” She crumbled the slip of paper and tossed it onto her plate.
“Hey, cheer up. We both have good luck fortunes,” Aidan said. “At least it didn’t say, ‘That mole is cancerous.’”
Erin sighed. “It’s been wonderful visiting you and going shopping. You’ve been so nice to me this week. Too nice, actually. You didn’t try anything. What’s up with that?”
“I promised,” Aidan said.
“Yeah, and it seems like it was an easy promise to keep. Don’t you find me attractive anymore?”
Now it was Aidan’s turn to sigh. “Women! You complain if I’m a gentleman, you complain if I’m not. Make up your mind.”
Erin smiled slyly. “You’re seeing someone, aren’t you? You’ve moved on. Admit it.”
“No, I’m not seeing anyone. Not really. There is someone I’ve been chatting with but it’s nothing.”
“Chatting? Like online chatting? Are you saying you have an Internet girlfriend? How do you know it’s a woman? It could be some hairy shirtless guy with potato chips on his belly, pretending to be a woman,” Erin teased.
“Ha, ha, funny. She’s a doctoral student in Australia who’s also working on climate theory. I know she’s a woman because we’ve had video conferences to share research.”
“So, she’s Australian?”
“No, she’s Japanese. She’s studying in Australia.”
Erin nodded, not knowing what to say. She searched her heart but couldn’t find the jealousy that burned through their marriage and divorce.
“So yes, I guess you could say I’m trying to move on,” Aidan added softly.
�
�That’s great. Really, I mean it,” Erin said as she glanced at her watch. “Well, it’s almost time for my train. Time to go.”
She stood quickly and pushed the chair back. As she reached for her shopping bags, Aidan caught her hand. Standing also, he pulled her close and cradled her head to his chest.
“Erin,” he whispered. “You know I’ll always love you. You didn’t want me anymore. You know what you want. Who you want.”
She hitched with a sob. Aidan really had grown up. She realized, though, not even the tiniest part of her was sad about that. She wondered if she could ever let go of Spence the way Aidan had finally let go of her. “Yes, but he doesn’t want me. I ruined it. Nobody wants me now,” she wailed.
“Give it time. You’re young and beautiful and intelligent ...”
“Funny how that order is so important to men, instead of intelligent, beautiful and young,” she muttered.
“You know what I mean. You’re gorgeous and brilliant …” Aidan trailed off at her glare. “I mean you’re brilliant and gorgeous and your fortune today said you would have good luck. Give it some time,” he repeated, then kissed her quickly – on the cheek – and shoved her away.
“Go. Your train is here,” he said.
“Thank you. I’ll always love you, too. Bye Aidan.” She kissed him hard – on the lips – and smiled wickedly although tears glistened in her lashes. She adjusted her shopping bags and her rolling luggage and walked out of the restaurant.
A few minutes later she stowed her packages in an empty seat and sat next to the window. Leaning her head against the cold plastic pane, she surrendered to the tears.
Chapter Thirteen
It was mid-December in D.C. and Erin rode the escalator up to the snowy street. The comforting aroma of donuts greeted Metro riders. On one corner, a musician played his saxophone, his case open on the sidewalk to catch coins and dollars. On another corner, a tall man preached loudly, “Whose side are you on?” Handmade signs with black, blocky letters quoted scripture. Another man, this one selling flowers to couples, approached her. “A rose for the lady?” Erin gave him a withering glare, and his hand dropped.
Distracted Page 13
