“What is the matter with you?” she asked point-blank, the tone of her voice bringing his glance her way. “Have we fallen in love with each other or not?”
At last she had his full attention. He stopped his pacing and looked at her as if he’d forgotten she was in the room and was surprised to see her sitting so nearby.
“Well?” she said, standing to put her hands on her hips. “I’m waiting. Are we in love or not?”
He frowned. A glimmer of his spirit shone in his eyes, and his lips began to twitch into a lopsided grin. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I want to know. Because I’ve been dreaming about falling in love since I was a little girl, and I have certain expectations and conditions I want met.”
His brows rose with amusement and interest. “Like what?”
“Well,” she said with some consideration, “I expect it to be a sharing thing. Rich and poor. Good and bad. I don’t expect to be happy all the time. I expect problems. I expect the person I fall in love with to share my troubles with me. And I expect to share his.”
He wasn’t laughing anymore. He was in love. She didn’t know what she was asking for, of course, but he liked the way she was thinking. If she hadn’t looked so dead serious about her demands, he’d have grabbed her up and kissed her until she went limp in his arms—and even then he wouldn’t have let go of her.
As it was, he locked his fingers behind his back to resist the temptation and walked several steps closer to her. “What if this other person’s problem could destroy the love between you? Would you still want to hear it?” he asked.
She pondered his questions, wondering what could be so awful that it could destroy love. “Would it be something so horrible, it couldn’t be forgiven?” she asked.
“No. It’s more like something that would have to be lived with. Always there, out in the open.”
She was starting to wish that she hadn’t brought it up, when she looked at him and saw the hesitation and regret in his eyes. He plainly wanted to tell her, but ... What could possibly be so awful?
Due to her nature, she’d never considered herself a particularly brave person. There were risks one took and risks one avoided, for fear of death. But also due to her nature, she’d come to know her limitations fairly well. She knew when she could trust someone and when she couldn’t. And she was beginning to recognize what it meant to be in love. She loved Tom, and she had faith in him. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind about his goodness or his integrity. There wasn’t anything about him that she couldn’t learn to live with. She was sure of it.
“I’d want to know,” she said firmly, looking him straight in the eye.
The gentlest of smiles came to his lips, and the warmth in his eyes settled deep within her, spreading its heat to remote, untouched places in her heart and soul. She wanted to reach out and touch him, comfort him. But his misgivings wouldn’t allow it.
“Let’s sit,” he said, motioning to the chairs, thinking she wouldn’t have so far to fall when she went into convulsions after hearing what he had to tell her.
They sat on opposite sides of the table, their fingers automatically seeking and finding the other’s. She watched him intently, braced for whatever words came out of his mouth while he mentally debated the best place to start.
“I was going to tell you earlier,” he said, and then he corrected himself. “I wanted to tell you earlier, but I never know how people will react, so I usually wait until I know them a little better before I say anything. In your case, I waited too long.” He paused. “But I suppose if I’d told you sooner, we wouldn’t be sitting here now anyway, so I guess it’s just as well I didn’t tell you right away.”
Sydney sighed. Sooner, later, now. She had a feeling that whatever he wanted to tell her would have taken forever no matter when he’d chosen to tell her.
“But later, after ... at the hospital, I knew I’d have to be very careful and pick the right time and the right place and the right words to tell you.”
She nodded. It was a nod of encouragement, not understanding. He was taking so long in telling her that her sense of humor was coming back. She recognized a worried person when she saw one, and she laughed inside at the thought of two intense worriers living in the same house, locking the same door twice, checking the unplugged coffee pot over and over again ...
He looked around the room, released a short laugh, and then continued. “This isn’t exactly the place I had in mind, and it’s probably not the right time, after all we’ve been through tonight, but I’ve got to tell you. You have a right to know before we get any more involved with each other.”
“Okay. I’m listening,” she pointed out.
“It’s about my job, Sydney. What I do for a living.”
She gasped dramatically and pulled her hands away, crying, “You are the state executioner!” But when he looked shocked and horrified by her remark, she took his hands back into her grasp and shook them. “Tom, lighten up. What could be so terrible? But I trust you, and I know that whatever it is, we can work it out together.”
The door opened, and Mr. Edgewater stepped into the room.
“Not now, Peter,” Tom said, holding his hand in the air to ward off the attorney. “We need a few more minutes alone.”
The stony-faced man stood in the doorway holding his briefcase. Only his eyes moved as he slowly surveyed their surroundings. He apparently found nothing that caught his interest, and he returned his steady stare at Tom. “You’re free to leave whenever you choose, Thomas,” he said.
“Thanks,” Tom said with only a cursory glance at the lawyer, his attention riveted on Sydney and her reaction to what he had to tell her.
Sydney, however, was rather impressed with the attorney’s accomplishment.
“That’s it?” she asked. “We’re free to go? That’s wonderful. Mr. Edgewater, you’re wonderful.”
He shook his head as he disclaimed the compliment. “No great feat, Ms. Wiesman. I simply retold the story as you told it to me and explained to the officer in charge that Mr. Ghorman had a reputation to protect and that he was hardly the sort of person who would risk his family name and business burglarizing pawnshops.”
“A reputation to protect?” she asked, smiling as she looked at Tom. Ministers and politicians had reputations to protect. Teachers, lawyers, doctors, policemen ... Lord, there were any number of professionals who dealt in human services and needed to keep their reputations clean. What was he so worried about? she wondered.
“It’s no big deal,” Tom said, dismissing the lawyer and his statement with a few careless words.
“I beg to differ, Thomas,” the austere gentleman said, arching one eyebrow in disapproval. Sydney was grateful her father had never learned to use such facial expressions and pitied the man’s children—if he’d ever worked up enough enthusiasm to have any.
“Don’t,” Tom said, but too late to keep the man from speaking his piece.
“Ghorman and Sons is a distinguished and reputable institution in this city, Thomas. And a name is only as good as its reputation. It’s important to consider—”
“Ghorman and Sons?” Sydney broke in, her confusion exposing her to the lawyer’s harsh stare.
He looked at her as if to say that he was well aware of the fact that he never stuttered over his words and that she had indeed heard him correctly, but he repeated himself nonetheless.
“Ghorman and Sons,” he said. “It has an impeccable reputation.”
“Ghorman and Sons?” she repeated, this time in disbelief, her gaze moving slowly in Tom’s direction.
Tom swallowed hard and frowned with foreboding as he watched her. He could almost see the gears in her mind begin to grind and shoot sparks of recognition. Her silence made his ears ache. His heart felt like lead, sinking low in his chest. He wanted to hide from her, but he wanted to be with her more. He wanted to touch her, but he was afraid of what she’d do.
“You’re Ghorman and Sons?” she asked in a dece
ptively quiet voice.
He nodded once. “Actually, I was an only son, but my father was an ambitious man.” He tried to smile, but it was more of a pained grimace. “Now ... now I’m Ghorman, and I’m ambitious.”
In a louder but a fairly even tone of voice, she said, “You’re the Ghorman and Sons on my desk, back at my office?”
He was glad she’d brought that up. He’d been planning to explain the coincidence. “Yes. But it was just a fluke that you’d be the one auditing my business. I didn’t know. I can’t add more than three numbers in a row, so I leave all that stuff to my accountant. And the reason I didn’t explain who I was right away was because it was obvious that you hadn’t made the connection with my name, and I figured there’d be time to explain it all—”
“You’re the Ghorman and Sons of Ghorman Mortuaries?” she broke in, her voice tight and a little shrill as she stood and looked down at him, appalled.
“Yes. But it’s not what you think, Sydney.” He stood as well, to be on a level with her. Physically anyway. Spiritually he could feel himself sinking deeper and deeper into a hole from which there was no escape.
Sydney’s world was reeling off its axis. She had only one question left to ask, and she didn’t want to hear the answer. She wished she’d never heard the name Ghorman before. She wished she didn’t already know who he was and what he did. She wished their night together had never happened and that she hadn’t gotten out of bed the day before. She wished ...
“You’re a mortician!” she shouted, making it sound like an accusation. “You knew. You knew about me. You knew what you were. And you didn’t tell me?”
“You didn’t tell her?” Edgewater reiterated from the doorway.
“I was waiting for the right moment,” Tom said, addressing himself to the lawyer, who at least appeared willing to listen to reason. Sydney was staring at him as if he’d suddenly taken on the persona of the Grim Reaper.
“You should have told her, Thomas.”
“Well, I know that,” he said, running an agitated hand through his hair. “I was going to, but I didn’t know if she was some sort of kook who’d think I had the inside track on the next world or not. And by the time I’d decided that it was okay to tell her, there was the thanatophobia thing to get around, and then we were arrested. ...
“The what to get around?” Edgewater asked.
“Thanatophobia,” Sydney answered on her way to the door. “I’m a kook who’s afraid of dying.”
Tom could see she was leaving and rushed after her. “That’s not what I meant, Sydney. I don’t think you’re a kook. You have a mental disorder. No. An emotional problem. That’s not it either,” he called after her as she walked out the door. “A hang-up is all it is. We can work it out.”
Of all the men in the world, the most exciting, understanding, and compatible man she’d ever encountered turned out to be the nemesis to her greatest fear. And she was stupid enough to have picked him, stupid enough to have fallen in love with him, and certainly stupid enough to have volunteered for the game show in the first place.
But it wasn’t television anymore. It was life. Television had magic and a way of making things perfect. Television had actors who pretended to be someone they weren’t for ten hours a day and then went home to their real lives, separating life from fantasy. But how could she separate a real man from his real profession? Actors were actors. CPAs were CPAs. Morticians were morticians. It would be like trying to dissect the soul from the body ... like death.
“Sydney, wait,” Tom called. “I didn’t mean what I said. It’s not that big a problem. We can work it out.”
“Go to hell,” she said without turning around, needing to lash out at someone for her stupidity, trying to focus on the door at the end of the hall through the tears in her eyes.
The last thing she heard as she walked out the door was Tom’s irritated voice. “Go to hell? Go to hell? I thought this was hell!”
Eight
REX SWANN SAT STARING at Sydney in astonishment and disbelief.
“The police handcuffed you and took you to jail?” he asked.
Sydney nodded.
He turned to look up at Tom, whose expression was attentive but guarded.
“Tom. Tell me the two of you made this up. Tell me it didn’t really happen,” Rex said, his comic incredulity and amazement causing the audience to howl with laughter.
Tom chuckled in his good-natured way and shrugged helplessly. “Every word of it is true, Rex. It was a date unlike any other—and one I won’t soon forget.”
The audience roared, and for the first time in her life, Sydney wished she could die. She would have gladly embraced it, in fact, had the crowd and Rex Swann known the whole truth.
Between the two of them, she and Tom had told the major events of their date, omitting such minor details as her reaction to being stuck in the elevator and her subsequent indulgence with Jerry’s flask; her vomiting at the sight of Tom’s blood; her irrational behavior at the hospital; and the hurtful accusations at the police station. Despite the apprehensions she’d had before the taping began, Tom had very kindly refrained from mentioning her phobic illness—which dismayed and confused her all the more.
Shame and remorse had become her constant companions in the two weeks following their disastrous date. She hadn’t gotten back to her apartment that morning before she realized what she’d done. Bewildered and hurt, she had allowed her fear to take control and had denied Tom his one request—an understanding of his profession. To top it off, her imagination had conjured up an image of Tom in a rage, thirsty for revenge. Yet he had allowed his best opportunity to punish her go by without the slightest slur against her. Not only had she hurt him, she had misjudged him, she realized now. She felt lower than low.
“Obviously you weren’t sent to prison,” she heard Rex Swann speaking to Tom. “Or we’d be having this discussion from behind bars. Although it seems as if that’s the way this date should have ended.” He paused to let the audience enjoy his humor. “Tell us how the date did end.”
“The police were quick to realize that there’d been a misunderstanding, and we were released,” Tom said simply.
Sydney felt like worm spit.
“Did you try to continue the date after that?” Rex asked.
“No. Ah ... we were both pretty tired,” Tom said with a small smile. “Calling an end to the evening seemed like the best thing to do.”
Rex turned to Sydney with sympathy etched on his face.
“I’m speechless,” he said. But he didn’t hesitate to continue. “That has to have been the world’s worst date. Was there any romance at all?”
She glanced at Tom and back to Rex before answering. “Yes. Some.”
“Well, quickly tell us about that,” he said eagerly.
“We ... um ... we talked quite a bit and got to know each other pretty well.”
“Any kissing? Any good stuff?”
“Yes. Some.”
“Any sparks there?” He sounded hopeful. “Did this date have any redeeming qualities?”
“Yes. Some.”
“Yes, some what? Sparks or redeeming qualities?”
Again she looked up at Tom. “Both,” she said.
“Ah-ha! So it wasn’t a complete bust. Would you like to see who the audience voted to be your date?” he asked.
She didn’t really have a choice in the matter. Stills of the three videos she’d had to choose from were displayed somewhere for the television audience, and a tally was run with the number of votes showing up in each picture on the monitor in the studio.
“Oh, look. The audience chose Tom too.” Rex grinned at her. “If you’d like to live dangerously and ask Tom out again, well pay for the date. If not, you’re on your own.”
There would be no sleeping or eating for Sydney until she was alone with Tom one last time. She didn’t think she could bear to go out on another date with him, but continuing the way she had for the two weeks she’d spent
obsessing about him would be far worse.
He’d consumed her every thought. Food lost its flavor and lay heavily in her midsection, as if she’d swallowed an anvil. Her nights were restless and plagued with dreams of his kisses, his touch, and the twinkle of humor in his eyes. She had to see him one more time. She needed to make peace with him, or he’d haunt her for the rest of her days.
“We, ah, wouldn’t have to come back and talk about it, would we?” she asked, before she acted on the impulse that was teasing her brain. Over Rex’s shoulder, she saw Tom’s confusion. Plainly, he had expected her to scream hysterically at the very suggestion of a second date with him.
“No. Not if you didn’t want to. Although I’d personally love to hear how a second date between the two of you turned out,” Rex said, encouraging the people in the studio to agree with him. Which they did readily.
“Well, if it’s okay with Tom, I would like to see him again,” she said bravely, all too aware that he might refuse to have anything to do with her.
This was his chance to humiliate her on national television and get even with her for embarrassing him at the police station. This was his opportunity to snub her and hurt her. This was his opening to show a complete lack of understanding and compassion that was as great as her own.
“I’m game,” Tom said, deftly hiding his bewilderment from those who didn’t know him as well as Sydney did.
The crowd let out a whoop that very nearly drowned out Rex’s amplified approval. “That’s the spirit,” he said. “Come on out here, Tom.”
The screen behind Rex went blank while both he and Sydney stood in anticipation of Tom’s appearance on stage. Of course, Rex’s anticipation was well rehearsed and a part of every show he did. Sydney’s felt more like a riot in the pit of her stomach, threatening a total revolt at any moment.
Tom stepped from behind the false wall onto the stage and shook hands with Rex before approaching her. As she’d been the first time she’d seen him, Sydney was struck by how much more lifelike he was in person than on the video screen—bigger than life, actually.
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