Winter Affair (10 page)

Leda sat and considered her situation. She could either stay there, trapped like an astronaut in a capsule, or she could try to dig her way out and get help. She chose the latter course of action and reached for the handle of her door.

It was some time before she managed to get it open, and then push it forward enough for her to slither through it. She rested for a while, leaning against the side of the car, and then reached back into the driver’s seat for her scarf and mittens. She slipped her purse strap over her left arm and squared her shoulders for the walk.

As the hour got later traffic would pick up and she had hopes of hitching a ride. But first she had to get to the road. Climbing out of the gully proved to be a tricky proposition, and she was glad her boots had gripping soles. Once out on the street, she began flagging down passing cars, which were still few and didn’t stop. Finally a farmer from Upper Makefield gave her a ride in his pickup, taking her the two miles to the closest gas station. The tow trucks available there were already out, however, and promised to be gone all morning. Leda was thinking that the story would probably be the same at every station in town when an idea struck her. Her father had always kept towing equipment out at the hangar, for company problems, not for commercial rental. Maybe the truck was still there and maybe Phelps would send it out for her.

She asked to use the pay phone at the station and called her agent, explaining why she wouldn’t be showing up for her audition. Then she called the office at the hangar and got Jim Kendall. She was in luck. He said he would send a man out for her as soon as possible. Leda got a cup of coffee from a vending machine and sat in a folding chair to wait, thinking that the appeal of winter’s beauty had been somewhat dimmed by this experience.

Leda was watching through the window of the gas station when the Phelps truck pulled into the lot and came to a halt. The man who got out was suspiciously tall and slim, and she caught a glimpse of a stern, handsome profile and snow frosted dark hair as he walked to the glass enclosure where she sat. It was Reardon.

“Are you all right?” he greeted her. “You weren’t hurt?”

“I’m fine,” she replied. “I wish I could say the same for my car.”

“Tell me what happened,” he said, narrowing his eyes against the driving snow. Leda stepped aside to let him walk past her into the small heated room and he unzipped his jacket, eyeing her coffee with longing. Leda handed it to him wordlessly, and he drank it while she told him the story of her morning’s adventure.

“So it’s wedged into a ditch, out by the river, is that right?” he said when she finished.

“That’s about the size of it. Sorry.”

“No problem. Let’s get to it. Can you show me where it is?”

“I think so.”

He gestured toward the truck. “We’ll see if we can get it out for you.”

As they walked across the lot Leda glanced at him and said, “I didn’t know Jim would send you.”

“Why not? I work for him,” Reardon answered shortly. He didn’t look at her.

Leda was trying hard not to show her disappointment at his cold reception, but it was proving a difficult task. She’d thought they had established a rapport at their last meeting, but he was acting as though she were any stranger who needed his professional services. She didn’t know the reason for his change in attitude but she knew she didn’t like it.

He helped her into the cab of the truck, and followed her directions to the abandoned car. He parked the truck and got out with her, studying the position of the car.

“I should have brought another man,” he said finally, turning to her and shaking his head. “I didn’t know how bad this was. I’m not sure I can handle it alone.”

“I didn’t give Jim the details. I guess I should have, I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” he said curtly. “I’ll give it a try, I’m just not promising any results.”

“I wasn’t expecting any promises,” she replied tartly, in the same vein. “I know the car’s in a tough spot.”

He looked at her then, his expression unreadable, and Leda faced him down, holding his eyes with hers. He looked away first.

“Stay here,” he said to her, starting down the slope. “I have to back the truck to the edge and attach the tow chain. Just keep out of the way.”

“All right, I will!” she almost yelled, perilously close to breaking down. Why was he treating her this way? She wished Kendall had sent someone else. She watched as he moved the truck into position and inched down the slope to fix the chain to the bumper of her car. As he was turning away to come back to the road, the snow crust gave way beneath his feet and he slipped. Leda watched in horror as he slid the few feet back to the car and sprawled full length, striking his head on the bumper.

He dropped to the snow and lay perfectly still. Sliding and falling, Leda scrambled down the incline. Kneeling next to him, she lifted his head to her lap. She gasped, her heart sinking, when she saw that he was bleeding.

“Kyle, are you all right? Kyle, can you hear me? Oh, why did I let you try this by yourself?” She was half sobbing, almost incoherently, terrified.

After a few seconds he stirred and blinked, attempting to sit up. Leda pushed him down again, overwhelmed with relief.

“Stay there,” she ordered. “Don’t move.”

He looked up at her, putting his fingers to the gash on his forehead, his eyes widening when they came away stained with blood.

“That was some shot on the head,” he murmured, struggling to get up again. “I must have been out for a couple of seconds.” He shrugged off her restraining arms and lurched to his feet, fishing in his breast pocket for a wad of tissues, which he held to the cut. He squinted up the slope, looking toward the road.

“I’d better try it from another angle,” he said. “I don’t think I can get the car out this way.”

“Oh, will you forget about the lousy car!” Leda yelled, and burst into tears. Reardon stared at her, astonished.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked her.

“What’s wrong with me! I thought you were really hurt, that’s what’s wrong with me. Not that you care, you’ve been treating me like a communicable disease since you saw me. Go on back to your engines and ask Kendall to give some other poor slob this dirty detail.” She turned her back on him and cried into her scarf.

Seconds later she felt a touch on her shoulder. “Kendall didn’t give me this dirty detail,” Reardon said in her ear. “When I heard you might be in trouble, I volunteered.”

Leda faced him, looking into his eyes, lost in them. The snow swirled around them, enclosing them in drifting whiteness. They were like two figures in a crystal paperweight.

“I didn’t mean to treat you like a disease,” he said softly. “I was just trying to fight the feeling...” He traced the path of a tear on her cheek with a hard forefinger, and then bent to catch the drop of wetness with his tongue. Leda closed her eyes. In the next instant his mouth came down on hers.

His lips were cold, but warm inside when he opened them. Leda responded helplessly, clutching at the lapels of his jacket, returning his kisses with all the pent- up longing of their time apart.

Reardon’s hands roamed over her hair, her neck, her face, as his mouth moved to her brow, her cheek, and back to her lips again. Leda wound her arms around his waist, trying to blend her body with his, and the barrier of their heavy clothing frustrated both of them.

“I want to touch you,” Reardon rasped, pulling at the belt of her coat. Leda stepped back and let him loosen it, sagging in his arms as he enfolded her again, running his hands under her sweater, seeking her skin.

“My hands are cold,” he whispered, hesitating, and she pressed against them, reveling in the feel of his hard palms and strong fingers on her soft flesh.

“I’ll warm them,” she responded, and he groaned, turning her to cup her breasts, clad only in a scrap of lace. Leda arched against him, resting her head on his shoulder, and he nudged her hair aside to kiss her neck.

“Let’s go up into the cab,” he murmured, pushing her toward the road and the waiting truck.

“The cab?” she repeated, uncomprehending, stunned by the suddenness and the force of his lovemaking.

Reardon looked up, taking in their location and the weather as if he had forgotten their surroundings. It was painfully clear that there was no place to go. Realization of the insane situation dawned on him and he let Leda go.

“What am I doing?” he muttered. “Look where we are, I must be crazy. I’m treating you like some...”

“No, you’re not,” Leda said, grabbing his hands. “You’re not alone, Kyle, this is happening to me too.”

“It shouldn’t be happening to either one of us,” he said firmly, and took her arm to hurry her along. “Come on. I’m taking you home, and then I’ll come back with one of the other guys and get your car. It’ll be dropped off later, once we tow it out of here.”

Leda allowed him to usher her back to the tow truck, the difficulty of the climb making conversation nearly impossible. But once she was installed in the passenger seat and he was driving across town to her apartment, she tried again.

“Aren’t we even going to talk about it?” she asked him, staring straight ahead into the cascading snow.

“No. Talking never does any good. I want you to forget it and I will too.”

“Do you think that will be easy?” she demanded, turning her head to look at him.

He wouldn’t meet her glance, but kept looking forward at the road. “Easy or not, it has to be done.”

“Why?” she demanded. “Just because you say so?”

“Because of who you are, and who I am, and the situation we’re in. It’s all wrong and you know it.”

“I only know how I feel,” she said miserably, directing him to turn at her corner. “I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future any more than you do, but I’m willing to take a chance.”

He pulled up in front of her house, staying in the middle of the street to avoid the drift that was already gathering at the curb. He put the truck in neutral and turned in his seat, finally facing her.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said quietly. “You have no concept of what it’s like living my life. I can’t share that with anybody, I can hardly bear it myself. Get out while you can, Leda, and don’t look back.”

She gazed into his eyes, pleading, but he turned his head away.

“Do you want me to walk you to your door?” he asked. “It’s very slippery and you might fall.”

“I’ll be fine,” Leda answered, lifting her chin. “Thanks for coming out to get me.” She jumped down from the cab and looked up at him. He was ensconced behind the wheel, one hand on the gear shift, ready to go.

“Merry Christmas,” she said, and slammed the door.

She watched as he drove off down the street, at a snail’s pace like the rest of the vehicles on the road, and then she trudged through the snow to her door, too drained to cry.

The snow stopped falling around noon and the sun came out, its brilliance reflected from every surface with blinding brightness. The plows and sanders appeared, grinding and dragging past Leda’s windows, clearing the roads. The radio announcer kept interrupting the Christmas carols with cheery bulletins about how traffic would be flowing freely in time for holiday traveling. Since Leda planned to go nowhere, she finally turned off the radio and switched to tape cassettes, desiring to skip the happy chatter between songs.

She spent the afternoon baking compulsively, making five dozen Christmas cookies to take to Monica’s the next day. She wanted to be busy in order to drive Reardon from her mind. But her thoughts still ran while her hands worked. She ended up with a mound of goodies fit for the throne of the Ghost of Christmas Present, but without the inner peace traditionally promised for such a special night.

At five o’clock she gave up and took a shower, sitting in front of the television to brush out her wet hair. She switched it on and was treated to several minutes of
Christmas in Connecticut
, a holiday oldie starring Barbara Stanwyck and a festively decorated New England farm. Leda turned off the set and went into the kitchen to make tea.

As she was filling the kettle with water she caught sight of the piles of pastry stars and wreaths and trees, all frosted and ready to be eaten, all dressed up with no place to go. Leda put down the teapot with a bang.

She was not going to wait for that stupid, stubborn man to realize he needed her. She had felt it in his kiss that morning, and he couldn’t deny what he had told her in that most basic form of communication, no matter what he said with words.

Leda went into her bedroom and dried her hair, getting dressed and selecting a sheet of wrapping paper from the stack on her desk. She returned to the kitchen and put together a plate of cookies, wrapping it with the gold foil and finishing off the package with a red velvet bow.

Reardon had come to her aid that morning. There was no harm in bringing him a little gift to show her appreciation.

Leda put on her coat and snatched up her keys with a determined smile.

Kyle Reardon was in for a visitor this Christmas Eve.

And it wasn’t going to be Santa Claus.

Chapter 6