Now and Forever 5, Love's Journey (6 page)

“Good,” Rex said, picking up her hand. He
kissed the back of her hand and moved his chair nearer to her.

“How about we seal this with a kiss?” he
suggested.

She looked at him before moving closer. Rex
reached out for her and took her face in his hands, like he’d seen
handsome actors do in the movies. He kissed her, lightly at first,
then parted her lips and took possession of her mouth. Deena didn’t
resist him, but she didn’t help him either.

“Now you can take me back to The Tee Shirt,
I gotta get my car,” she said, drawing back from him.

Rex liked kissing her. He smiled.

“Time for you to go home and collapse in
bed…alone,” he said, picking up the check. He dropped some bills on
the table and put his hand on the small of Deena’s back as he
followed her out.

“I don’t always collapse alone. It
depends…”

“On what?”

“Maybe on what kind of kisser a guy is.”

“Do I qualify?”

“You might,” she said, getting into his car.
Rex closed her door and went around to his side. It looked like he
would be scoring on all fronts soon. He smiled. Life in Willow
Falls was going to be pleasurable and profitable.

Chapter Four

After breakfast, Peter set the GPS system
with Bianca’s address, put the car in gear and began the end of a
journey started eight years ago. Bianca lived about sixty miles
away. After a short phone conversation, she’d invited him for
lunch. Peter’s stomach was in a knot but he had to have closure…had
to know why she left him. He thought she returned his love, was it
a lie? He made good time on the highway and pulled up to a gated
community. After being cleared, he drove to her home, a modern
house, beautiful, but cold and uninviting. He walked up and rang
the bell.

Bianca answered the door in a white bikini
with a short white terry robe open in front, setting off her black
hair perfectly. She looked older but still incredibly beautiful.
Her body had filled out a bit since her modeling days, which was an
improvement in Peter’s eyes. Her hair was short and stylish, her
nails polished, figure perfect and her lips barely tinted. She
flashed him a warm smile.

“Peter! Come in…you look fantastic!” She
stepped aside to let him in.

Bianca looked him up and down unconsciously
running her tongue over her lower lip.

“No more the skinny intellectual kid.”

They walked through the massive living room
decorated in black and white with lots of chrome, out to the patio
where a small table was set elegantly with two places. Peter could
see the shimmering turquoise of a swimming pool beyond the
patio.

“I hope you brought your bathing suit.”

“I didn’t.”

“Doesn’t matter. You don’t need a suit.
Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“I’m not in the habit of skinny dipping with
married women.”

“Just kidding. Iced tea?” A becoming blush
tinted her cheeks belying her words. She turned away from him after
handing him a glass.

He welcomed the tall frosty glass and drank
deeply to wet his dry throat. Bianca coming on to him confused and
embarrassed him. Did she expect them to take up where they left
off?

“So what have you been doing with yourself,
Peter?”

“I’m on tenure track at Vaal University in
South Africa. I’m in the U.S. to teach at Kensington State for a
year.”

“I’m glad you’ve made a success of teaching.
No wedding ring, are you married?”

He shook his head.

“What a shame. Some deserving young woman is
missing out.”

“Bianca, can we talk about what happened?”
Peter leaned forward and the glass down on a small side table.

“It was so long ago, Peter…sure, why not,”
she said, crossing her long legs and smiling at him.

“Why did you leave?”

“I moved on. We had a very satisfying
affair. What did you think?”

“I thought we were in love.”

“Love? No. Lust, yes.”

“It was love for me,” he said, lowering his
gaze to the elegant ceramic tile on the patio floor.

“Did I break your heart? Oh my God. Is that
why you’re here?”

An uncomfortable silence fell over them.

“I had no idea. I’m so sorry. I never
would’ve considered marrying a college professor. My husband,
Henry, owns and runs a financial services firm. He makes millions.
I’ve always wanted this lifestyle.” She sat back in her chair.

“You never said so.”

“I wasn’t totally honest with you. You were
so sweet to me and such a passionate lover. It was fun.”

“Fun? That’s all it was to you?”

“I wouldn’t have married you even if I
didn’t have the European fashion show.”

“So the show was an excuse?”

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. I’ve
always wanted more…security.” She shrugged.

“What you have here?” He glanced at the big
house and the pool.

She nodded.

“Do you have love too?”

Bianca shifted in her seat. “There are all
kinds of love, Peter, not only the idealistic type of puppy love
you have in your early twenties. I love Henry and the way he takes
care of me. We have a child, a two-year-old boy. Henry provides
very handsomely for him. I grew up poor. I vowed I’d never force a
child of mine to endure the same hardships.”

Bianca always gave off the air of being
wealthy. She was stylish, beautiful, poised and confident
. So it
was all an act to attract a wealthy husband
.

“Are you happy?”

“I have everything I want,” Bianca said,
moving her gaze away from him. “What about you, Peter? What are you
looking for?”

“Love. Real love,” he said, staring straight
into her eyes.

“I hope you find it. You’re so sweet…” She
brushed his hair out of his eyes.

“I’m no longer the ‘sweet’ boy who fell in
love with you.” He grabbed her hand.

“What are you?” She dropped her hand.

“A man tired of pursuing…I think I should
go.” He stood up and tugged on his shirt collar.

“Stay! We haven’t even begun to catch
up.”

“I’m not interested in swapping stories
about vacations, great restaurants, friends we’ve made and dropped
along the way. I came to find something out and I got it. It’s time
to go,” he said, moving toward the door.

“What did you come here to find out?” Bianca
stood up.

“I came to find out the real reason you
wouldn’t marry me.”

“Now you know. And?”

“I can see you weren’t the woman I thought
you were. Perhaps it was better you dumped me before we made each
other miserable. You did me a favor.”

She stepped back as if she had been slapped
across the face.

“That was uncalled for,” she breathed.

“Sorry if it was harsh, but you asked.”
Peter moved to the front door.

“But we had fun. Perhaps we could have fun
again…” She followed him.

“You’re joking, right? What about Henry? I
don’t want to have sex with a married woman and pretend it’s love.
You have what you want. I have to get what I want. Thank you for
lunch,” Peter said, pulling the door open. “Time for me to move
on.”

“I’m sorry to end things like this,” she
said, as a hungry look swept across her face.

“It’s okay. I’m free now.”

“You sure do look great. I’m sure you’ll
attract your Miss Right before long,” Bianca said, desire and
regret in her eyes.

She took Peter by the lapel of his jacket
and kissed him slowly. He kissed her back. Then they broke.

“We still have the magic, Peter,” Bianca
said, her eyes closed.

“Go have your magic with Henry.”

* * * *

Peter drove home from Bianca’s house in a
daze. All this time she was his gold standard, his ideal, the one
he compared all women against…others who always came up wanting.
But today, Bianca’s image crumbled like stale bread.

He had never known her. He loved an image,
an illusion. Peter was devastated. He got home about five thirty to
find his father in the living room.

“Where were you?” Sam asked.

“To see Bianca.”

“And?”

“Nothing. Never was, never will be.”

He pulled out the sheet music for
Liebesträume No. 3
by Franz Liszt, sat down at the piano,
and played it for the first time in eight years.

Peter, totally immersed in the music,
noticed, out of the corner of his eye, a young woman, standing
nearby. A quick glance told him there were tears streaming down her
face.

“Keith,” she sighed.

When Peter finished he took a deep breath,
closed the lid on the piano and put his head in his hands, blinking
back tears. The young woman reached out, feeling for a chair. She
knocked into a lamp, almost sending it tumbling over, lost her
balance and fell to the floor. The sound drew Peter’s attention. He
rushed to her side.

“Are you hurt?” He helped the sobbing girl
up. Sam reached out to stop Peter from touching her, but Lara
didn’t shrink from Peter. She shook her head. Peter took her in his
arms and held her. She buried her face in his chest, trying to
catch her breath.

“What happened?” Sam asked.

“Keith. Our song,” she choked out.

Peter helped her into a chair.

Lara was wearing a T-shirt and shorts. Peter
stared baldly at her face, neck and thighs. The bruises were
obviously old, turning different colors before they disappeared,
but they were still evident. He stared, unable to look away.

“Thank you. Who is the other man here?” she
asked, her light brown eyes vacant.

With the realization she was blind and the
sound of her voice, came the understanding she was the bitch from
next door. Peter froze.

“This is my son, Peter. Peter, Lara Stewart.
She lives next door.”

“He’s staring at me, isn’t he?” she asked,
turning to where she last heard Sam’s voice.

“Guilty as charged. Sorry. What was that all
about?”

“The
Liebesträume No. 3
? Keith, my
partner in the Metropolitan Ballet…that was our song. We danced a
duet to it for five years. He was my best friend. Last year, he
died of AIDS,” she said, “I haven’t heard that lovely piece
since.”

“I haven’t played it in…a long time.”

“You played it beautifully,” she said,
standing up. “I’m so sorry I burst into your house…very rude of me.
I must go, Fran will be in a snit if I’m late for dinner. Sam,
could you please direct me to our front porch?”

“Of course,” Sam said, pushing to his
feet.

“Wait. I’m sorry, Peter, for being so nasty
about your playing. Please keep playing. I promise I won’t scream
at you anymore. I miss having classical music in my life.
Especially the
Liebesträume
,” she said, smiling.

When she smiled, her whole face lit up. She
was beautiful in spite of the bruises. Peter looked at her slender
body and felt his blood stirring.

* * * *

Sam noticed a familiar expression on his
son’s face and shook his head. He rushed Lara out the door.

When Sam returned he confronted Peter.

“Lara is off-limits, Peter,” he said,
walking into the kitchen and opening the refrigerator.

Peter followed behind, then pulled open the
silverware drawer.

“I saw you sizing her up. She’s had a rough
time. She lost her parents on 9/11. She’s been attacked and is now
blind with no memory of the attack. I don’t want you seducing her
and then dumping her in your quest for I-don’t-know-what. Leave her
alone,” Sam said, pulling out a package of chicken.

“Who said anything about seduction? Can’t I
even look at a pretty girl?”

“I doubt it. I’m aware of your reputation,
Peter, and I’m not proud of you for it. Leave her alone, will you?”
Sam slammed the chicken down on the counter and turned to face his
son.

“So I like women. Can I help it if they like
me back?” he asked, shrugging.

“You know very well what I’m talking about.
Lara is off-limits, okay?” Sam snapped.

“Can’t we be friends?”

“You’re not capable of friendship with an
attractive woman.” Sam ripped the packaging and plunged the raw
chicken into the sink and turned on the cold water.

“A low blow, Dad. What is it with Lara,
anyway?”

“She needs friends, like me, not seducers
like you.”

“So what if I become her friend too?” Peter
took out enough silverware for two.

“Think you can?” Sam asked, turning to face
his son, leaving the water running to rinse the chicken in the
sink.

“I’m not as shallow as you think,” Peter
said, putting the silverware on the kitchen table.

“Go ahead…become her friend. But if you
break her heart, I swear I’ll break your neck.” Sam took down some
herbs in jars and sprinkled them on the chicken, then rubbed them
in.