A Woman's Choice

by Rita Clay Estrada

  "No class," Catherine had mumbled around her popcorn when he had offered it to her.

  He leaned back to rest against the sofa, his legs stretched out on the floor in front of him so she could snuggle between them, toboggan style. He kissed the nape of her neck. "I know. Isn't it wonderful?"

  "Wonderful," she said, bending her head back to be more accommodating to his lips.

  "A bowl of popcorn, wine and thou. How happy can a guy get?"

  "And a movie that you already know the plot to."

  "Nope. I thought we agreed." He kissed between sentences. "This isn't the right movie. Somebody just bought the title and character's names and made up a whole new story."

  Catherine twisted her neck. "You missed a spot."

  "Where?" His lips grazed the entire back of her neck, only stopping to kiss the softness just under her right ear.

  She sighed. "That was it."

  "I knew I'd find it sooner or later."

  Catherine leaned back in Sam's arms and gave a small sigh of contentment. Was it possible to feel this happy, this right with another person? She never would have believed it. But Sam was becoming everything to her, and with him she didn't need anything else. The thought was comforting instead of terrifying, but she didn't stop to analyze it. She just reveled in it.

  In the back of her mind was still her home up in the canyons, but since Sam hadn't brought up the fact that the locks had been changed, neither had she. The police had requested it and Sam had said he would take care of it, but no word had been uttered since. They were both floating along on a raft down a quiet river of peace, and neither wanted to head for shore yet. It was too special, too wonderful, just to be where they were.

  Until the doorbell rang. Sam groaned and Catherine moaned.

  "It better be good, it's almost midnight," he said, standing and tucking his shirt into the waistband of his pants.

  But when the door opened, Sam knew that everything had changed. An old man stood on the porch. In worn baggy tan trousers, a faded denim shirt that still held the leftovers of yesterday's breakfast and a fedora on his head, he looked as if he could have been transplanted anywhere, and he still would have been a has-been. In his hand was a small flight bag.

  His smile was lethal, and with a sinking feeling deep in the pit of his stomach, Sam knew who he was.

  "Mr. Samuel Lewis?"

  "Yes," he braved, hoping against hope he was wrong. If Catherine had been raised by this, this…

  "I'm Kitty Slovak's papa, Grady Turner. Most folks call me Grady." The older man held out his hand as if this were a cocktail party. Sam stared at it.

  "Sam," Catherine began as she walked toward the front door only to stop in midstep. Her hand clenched at her stomach. "No," she finally whispered, and a bleakness came to her eyes that Sam hadn't seen since that first day in his office.

  "I need to talk to ya', sweetheart," Grady said, looking meaningfully at Catherine.

  "No, you don't. You need to talk to me," Sam said quietly but threads of steel laced his voice.

  Catherine stood still, her hand still clenching her stomach, her bright-blue eyes shadowed with doubts and fears Sam would probably never know the complete source of.

  He ushered the man in and they sat down on the couch. "I believe you have something of Catherine's that you need to give back," Sam began.

  "Kitty promised me money," he whined. "All I did was take it for collateral."

  "Where is the necklace now?"

  The man patted his flight bag. "Right here. Don't ya know, nobody wanted to lend me money on it. They thought I stole it."

  "Which you did." Sam's voice would have told most people not to tread too closely to him, but this man must not have sensed the value in leaving well enough alone. "Just like you stole the TV and stereo."

  "No, I jest borrowed them. Ask Catherine! She wouldn't want her papa to be called a liar! Neither would her poor mama!" His rheumy eyes sought to beg from Catherine but she was curled up in the corner of the couch, watching him with eyes that didn't see. Her hands were trembling just as much as the old man's, only for different reasons.

  "Hand the necklace over."

  "But the money…" the old man croaked before he finally recognized the threat in Sam's voice. Another glance at Catherine was enough to confirm the fact that she wouldn't help him.

  "Hand it over or the cops will be here in less than five minutes. I'll have you under arrest and press charges you never dreamed of." The look in Sam's eyes was enough to convince Grady.

  It took him several minutes before the zipper could be undone and the necklace rooted out, but it was finally accomplished. The old man grinned, one shaky hand holding up his trophy. "Here, here it is."

  "Give it to me." Sam held out his hand and the necklace was plopped into it. His fingers clenched as if they were squeezing a neck.

  "Now," Sam went on conversationally, "I'm calling a cab, paying for it in advance. It will take you to the Los Angeles Airport. You will have your ticket paid—one way—to New Orleans. You will never bother Catherine again, under any circumstances. Do you understand?"

  "Now wait jest a cotton-pickin' minute. Let Catherine talk. She'll tell you that she's supposed to be takin' care of her mama and me. I don't have to listen to you. You're not my daughter!"

  "And she's not your daughter, either," Sam growled, his anger showing clearly. "So you listen. Get out of here and out of her life or you'll be in jail. The police don't regard stealing as borrowing. Neither do they take kindly to destroying someone else's property. They'll be more than happy to put you where I'd like to."

  The old man turned toward Catherine, his arms outstretched, his voice a whine. "Kitty, honey, tell this man that you gotta take care of us. Tell him, honey."

  Sam stood, taking in a deep breath. His body was larger than it had ever looked, and Catherine's eyes darted to him, suddenly afraid.

  "You get the hell out of here and never come back, or I'll put you in jail and keep you there so long you'll never see daylight again! After all the things you wrote on those mirrors, you don't deserve a thing! And I haven't even mentioned breaking and entering and theft." His voice was a growl from deep in his throat.

  The old man seemed to know he had lost, but a sly smile came over his lips, showing teeth that were cracked and stained. "You'd have a hard time proving breaking and entering. I got the key and walked in the front door."

  "Who gave you the key?" Sam wanted so badly to look at Catherine, but he was afraid to. He was scared of what he'd see.

  "It was on a ledge above the screen door in the back. Most folks put an extra key out back somewhere. I jest had to look." He grinned again. "So you can drop those charges, Mr. Attorney," he said.

  "You don't know the law very well or you'd know that the charges still stand. You were not an invited guest, therefore it was breaking and entering." Sam motioned toward the door. "You can wait at the curb for the taxi, but you're leaving now. Another attorney will pick you up in New Orleans and describe the rest of the arrangements to you."

  "But, but—"

  "No buts! Just get out of here before I break your neck!"

  11

  Sam hung up the telephone and began stroking Catherine's back. She'd hardly said a word since her stepfather walked in the door. Almost like a robot, she had followed Sam into his study, then sat across from him while he made several calls. But he couldn't stand the distance between them. He had finally gone over and picked her up, holding her close to him as he warmed her body with his own. She was curled up in his lap now, listening while he made the rest of the necessary phone calls that would get that damn family of hers out of her life, for good.

  Grady would be picked up by another attorney and taken back to the apartment he'd shared with Catherine's mother. There would be food in the house, but no money would ever be given to him. Apartment and utility bills would be paid, clothing would be bought, but it would all be done with the aid of a counselor there. If, just once, th
at man tried to reach or speak to Catherine again, all monies would stop instantly. There would be no second chance.

  "Are you all right?" he asked quietly, and Catherine nodded her head, afraid to look into his eyes to see the hate and derision there.

  He had found the culprit, and she wasn't sure she was pleased or more frightened than ever. Why couldn't things have just gone on forever just as they were? Why did Sam have to find out just how despicable she, her family and roots were? In the space of minutes her magic dream world with Sam had crumpled, just like a house made of cards. God, it hurt!

  She told herself that it was bound to have happened sooner or later because she hadn't confronted the situation head on, and when that happened, the situation had a way of confronting you. She should have handled it sooner. She should have done something, taken some action, not let things drift along until events snowballed and there was no time to act.

  With a flick of his wrist, Sam turned out his desk lamp and stood, carrying Catherine in his arms as he walked out of the darkened room and toward the bedroom.

  "I can walk, Sam. Let me down." Her voice was low and deep and hurting but she couldn't hide her feelings tonight. Tomorrow…but not tonight.

  "Just relax. I want to carry you." His voice was soft, but firm all the same. His chest and shoulders moved with each step and she could feel the flexing muscles beneath. Somehow that comforted her and made her sad at the same time. How wonderful it would have been to stay like this, with Sam, forever. How so very wonderful…

  He didn't put her down until he reached the bed, then placed her gently in the center. As if they were in no hurry, they undressed for bed, neither being coy or sexy.

  Catherine finished first and climbed between the sheets. She watched Sam, not with the eyes of a lover but with the eyes of someone in love. He was beautiful.

  Strong arms and chest that tapered down to slim hips and firm thighs. But his eyes were the best feature of all. His face showed the strength of character and the humor he found in life, but his eyes showed the tenderness that he was so capable of. Some might look at him and think he was too soft, but Catherine knew better. He was rock hard when it came to getting what he wanted. He was firm and yet never a bully. And she loved him with all her heart.

  The notion of her loving him was also firm and strong, without the feeling of surprise that she thought she should have felt. Her love for him washed over her like warm water gently lapping at a shore. It was right and peaceful and inevitable.

  He slipped between the sheets and his arms enclosed her. She rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes, giving a small sigh of contentment. She would enjoy this closeness with him now. It would have to last for a long time. Her hand rested on the flat plane of his stomach, her touch reassuring her that he was real. She was asleep almost immediately.

  Sam stared at the ceiling, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. If he had been a teenager right now, he might have jumped up and down and whooped up a storm, then run to the nearest tree to carve a big heart that said "Sam loves Catherine."

  But he was an adult and all he could do was smile crazily at the ceiling, tighten his hold on the one person he loved and think of the future.

  The mystery was solved and her stepfather gone. Now he could concentrate on Catherine and hopefully make her fall in love with him.

  But what about your lack of money, his conscience asked. I'll make more, he silently answered. Besides, she wasn't poor. They could split the bills and both still have enough leftover. And he would always pay when they dined out. What about her career? She can do anything she pleases. I'll just be there for her when she needs me, he answered again, but the niggling truth was that he wanted her here with him, not on the road doing one-night stands across the country. He wanted her in his arms at night, in his home when he arrived. Male chauvinist! I know, I know. I said that's what I wanted, not what I would settle for. I'll settle for anything that keeps Catherine by my side. He closed his eyes and rested his cheek against the top of her head, taking a deep breath of the perfume of her hair. When he drifted into sleep, the smile on his face was still there.

  Catherine woke just before dawn. Her head was still on Sam's chest. She moved slowly, cautiously, afraid to wake him yet knowing his arm must be pins and needles.

  A lock of brown hair had fallen over his forehead, a small tinge of a smile graced his lips, making the crinkles at the corner of his eyes more noticeable. He was so handsome, so beautiful, so perfect. Well, maybe not perfect, just perfect looking, she conceded wryly, remembering some of their arguments.

  Then the smile left her face. She had to leave today. She had to find peace with herself before she could ever find peace with someone else. She had to leave him before she spewed on him the venom life had built up in her. When he finally put two and two together, he would hate her for her past. It would never work between them. Never.

  He groaned, then began snoring softly, and a need so perfect and so primitive washed over her. Before she could even control it, her hand reached out to stroke his chest and feel the furring there. Her hand rose and fell with his even breathing, making her even more aware of the life force that filled him. She wanted him.

  His eyes opened to slits and stared back at her, almost immediately telegraphing the same needs and adding fuel to her already-out-of-control fire. His hand reached out to touch her breast, cup it. Her hand followed the same pattern on his chest and they teased each other with promises of fulfillment. Shallow breathing was the only sound in the room.

  Sam rolled toward her, finally unable to contain his caresses to just one part of her. He wanted all of her, wanted every inch of her velvet smooth skin pressed against him until he dissolved inside her so they could never be separated again.

  Tears like dewdrops graced Catherine's cheeks as she smiled at him, her hand stroking his jaw as if to burn the memory of him into the palm of her hand. He kissed the tears away, then lingered to taste the sweetness of her mouth as it opened to invite him in.

  His hands traveled her abdomen and thighs, caressing the skin with his fingertips, making love to her in Braille so that she would know that not only his words showed the depth of his feelings, but his whole body also. He knew she understood. He loved her.

  His lips followed the same path as his hands, reaching tender areas that brought a blush to Catherine's milky skin. He chuckled softly in the dimness. "Don't move away, Catherine. I promise I won't hurt you," he murmured.

  Still she pulled away, drawing his shoulders back up to her level. "Please, Sam," she said throatily, still blushing. "I need you now."

  He chuckled again, giving her a light squeeze. "It's nice to be so needed," he teased. "And I can't disappoint my Lady Love."

  Bending down he took one rosy tip in his mouth and sucked gently. From far away, he heard her small groan of pleasure and doubled his efforts.

  His strong lean body finally came to rest on top of hers and they synchronized as never before. With each thrust he felt her answer as they rode toward a spiral of heat and color and a complete sense of oneness.

  Then slowly, ever so slowly, he kissed her neck and cheeks, telling her silently again just how much she meant to him. Soon he slept with her curled against his body. One hand rested possessively on her breast, as if to reassure himself of her presence.

  Sometime early in the morning, Sam stirred. He turned to reach for Catherine, finding only a cold pillow in her place. He raised his head, glancing about the room. None of her clothing was strewn around. Everything was in order. He listened for sounds from other parts of the house. There were none.

  His skin prickled with dread.

  He called her name. "Catherine?"

  Nothing.

  He called again. "Catherine?"

  Nothing.

  Without knowing how, he knew that she was gone, but he had to prove it to himself.

  He slipped from the bed and threw on his slacks, hitching the snap and zipper as h
e walked down the hall toward the kitchen. It was empty.

  He checked each room, his heart thudding harder and heavier with every step.

  His fears were confirmed when he reached the study. On his desk, next to the phone were the Yellow Pages. They were opened to the taxi companies. Next to the book was a scribbled note, written in obvious haste.

  Sam,

  Thanks for all your help, but it's time I helped myself now. Please, let's leave this relationship where it is and not see each other again. That way we can both have our memories.

  Kitty Slovak

  His fist came down with a bang. "Damn, Catherine! Why?"

  He slumped in his desk chair and stared at the note, willing it to disappear, imagining he could hear Catherine's voice coming from the kitchen. Suddenly the pain in his chest was so strong he could hardly breathe. She wasn't coming back. She hadn't made a trip to the store and would return soon. She was gone.

  For the first time since he was twelve and had wrecked his bike, he cried. Great gulping sobs that made his throat ache and blinded him with salty tears.

  "Tommy? Catherine, here. Get a messenger service to send the sheet music over to the Beverly Hills Hotel so I can begin studying it." Catherine sat in the plush bungalow, twisting the cord of the phone as she tried to block out all thoughts except one—get back to work.

  "Right, honey," the agent said, a smile in his voice. "But what are you doing at the hotel? I thought you were staying with that attorney fella?"

  "I was. ,Now I'm not. And, Tommy, don't let anyone, anyone know where I am."

  "Right, honey. But you know you have a few questions to answer when I see you."

  She scraped back her hair from the side of her face, her hands shaking! "Right," she muttered before hanging up.

  Putting both the pillows behind her, she leaned back in the bed and closed her eyes to keep the tears at bay.