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A Minute to Smile Page 17


  This had been Susan’s place. The rest of the house, over the course of years since her death, had gradually taken on the stamp of Alexander’s personality. Here, she lingered.

  A small noise from the backyard drew Esther’s attention and she wandered to the back windows. Below, in the dew-wet grass, was Alexander. Dressed only in his loose cotton trousers in spite of the chilly morning air, he performed his tai chi exercise. Pale sunlight danced in his dark curls and glistened over his naked, beautiful torso.

  Esther touched her stomach, feeling it tighten, struck again by the power and grace he displayed. No movement was wasted, not a single stumble marred his smooth, circular gestures.

  In some way, seeing him at work on his discipline underlined the mystery of him, the depth of his complicated personality. He was a history professor with a passion for intellectual challenge—who junked out on old movies and suspense novels. He was a neat widower who wore hand-tailored shirts and spoke in precise British syllables, and a man who could tumble with two young boys until they were gasping for breath. His eyes could twinkle as quickly as they could go that strange, bleak gray. He was a magnificent lover, powerful and tender, and a man who was desperately afraid to love again for fear he could not survive the loss it might entail.

  And when he danced like this in the still morning, she saw he was a mystic who desperately needed to believe in something.

  She turned away, leaving him to his privacy. Her hip bumped a pile of papers on the sewing table, sending them scattering to the floor. She bent to pick them up. As she reached for them, though, her hands froze on a photograph.

  Esther picked it up, feeling a flutter of sorrow and memory—a memory that had tugged her when Alexander had told her of Susan’s eyes.

  The woman in the photograph was not pretty, but her eyes were as wide as a mountain sky, their color the shade of storm clouds. She laughed in the photo, showing good white teeth and powerful humor.

  Esther had known her.

  She settled on her knees, holding the picture in her hands, remembering. Before Esther had opened the organic foods store in the front of her house, she had worked in an herb store in downtown Boulder. Susan had been a regular customer and Esther had grown friendly with her. It had been plain that she was ill: she was pale and emaciated and wore a scarf over her hair. She bought herbs to prevent nausea and help her sleep.

  But Esther had loved to see her coming. She always had a joke to tell in her broad Irish brogue and somehow carried such a vital sense of energy with her that Esther felt revived by her presence.

  The last time Esther had seen her, Susan was very tired. It was a foggy winter day. They were alone in the fragrant store. As she paid for the small bags of herbs, Susan’s hands trembled and Esther had insisted she come sit down to have a cup of hot tea before she left.

  Settled by the broad plate-glass window, the gray mist beyond isolating them, Susan had sipped the tea. “I’m ready to go, you know,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

  Esther touched her hand in encouragement. She had learned in her nurses’ training that often the best possible thing a nurse could do was let a patient talk. Especially about dying, a subject more taboo than exotic sex.

  “I’m not afraid,” Susan said, eyeing the pale fog. “It’s my husband who can’t get past the dying.” She smiled at Esther, shaking her head. “You know how men are. They think they can control everything and rage at the heavens in fury when things don’t go just as they had planned.”

  Esther smiled in sympathy, thinking of her father.

  “His mother died when he was a teenager and he’s never quite overcome the sense of betrayal. I keep hoping he’ll get to the point where he can forgive life for taking its capricious turns, but I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

  Still Esther said nothing, just held Susan’s hand.

  “I got him a cat last week,” she said. “It’s a horrible animal—should infuriate him enough to keep him going for a while.”

  Esther chuckled.

  “Maybe they’ll let me watch over him for a bit,” she said with a lift of an eyebrow.

  Esther squeezed her fingers gently. “Maybe they will.”

  Susan’s hand tightened in return and she stood up. “I’ve taken advantage of your good nature,” she said and buttoned her coat. At the door, she paused. “Thank you for listening,” she said, and left.

  Sitting now in the middle of that same woman’s room, Esther smiled. Perhaps Susan had been given a guardian job, after all. Stranger things had happened. Thoughtfully she stacked the papers together on the sewing machine. In the yard below, Alexander had finished his series of exercises and simply stood in the grass, staring off toward the mountains, a pensive expression on his face.

  Through the joy of loving him, Esther felt a small chill. He had not told her he loved her; not once through the long hours of their lovemaking. He had worshiped her reverently with his hands and lips and eyes; he had given her everything else, but had not confessed to love. As she watched him, he sighed and turned away, his heart obviously heavy.

  She loved him. But would even all her love heal the dark scars he carried? Would he let her close enough, or would there come a moment when he shut her out, rather than risk his heart again? Would she be able to prevent it if he decided to lock himself up again in routines and schedules?

  A strange urgency gripped her and she turned away from the window and nearly ran down the stairs. He came in the back door as she was coming through the kitchen, and without stopping to think, she rushed forward into his arms, pressing herself against him as if this was her last opportunity.

  There was laughter in his voice when he spoke. “Did you miss me so much in so short a time?”

  Since she couldn’t articulate her sudden fears, she simply nodded.

  His arms tightened around her. “Ah, Esther, you are good for my soul.” He lifted her chin with one hand. “I can’t quite believe my good fortune in finding you.”

  The words were stated in hushed honesty and his eyes shone with a joy Esther had never seen in them before. Her heart swelled. He loved her, whether he knew it or not, whether he said it aloud or kept it to himself. He loved her.

  Golden happiness flooded through her, as warm as the sunlight beginning to pour through the windows.

  She smiled as a quickening of desire rippled in her belly. “I’ll look forward to this evening,” she said.

  He gave her a lazy grin as his hands slipped down to curl around her bottom. “So will I.” The lightning eyes flashed turquoise. “Already I’m beginning to feel quite vampirish.”

  The quickening in her belly spread outward as he playfully nipped her neck, and she laughed. “I’d better arm myself with garlic.”

  “It won’t help.” Reluctantly he lifted his head. “I’d best go now, before I find it impossible.”

  * * *

  Esther couldn’t make her wish of an isolated cabin or a ship awash on the Pacific come true. Her days were spent consulting with electricians and carpenters, insurance adjustors and loan officers. Alexander spent his at the university, not only teaching the few summer classes he had, but making preparations for the fall as well.

  But the nights came as close to her vision as anything could have. They watched horror and suspense movies, eating popcorn, or sat in the rose-scented garden until very late, talking quietly under a canopy of glistening stars.

  And they made love. In the usual places and less usual—on the couch while a movie played forgotten on the VCR, popcorn spilling unnoticed to the floor; in the shower while water ran silkily over their entwined bodies; once against the wall in the kitchen, moments after Alexander came home from work.

  It made her blush sometimes to think of it. Both of them seemed a little drunk with passion, drunk enough to disregard anything but the promise of joining one more time. Even now, as she stir-fried green peppers and tomatoes with strips of beef for their supper, she couldn’t wait for him to come home so
that she could kiss him. He was a wonderful lover—tender and slow at times, furiously passionate at others. She never tired of touching his sleek, hard body or feeling his sensual lips upon her. Liquid heat spilled through her, just thinking of it.

  Stirring the mix in the wok, she frowned. Even through the haze of love and hunger, she worried about things a little. While she’d always known that he led an orderly life, she’d not understood just how orderly until she stayed with him. He rose at the dot of seven and went directly outside to go through his tai chi regimen. Afterward, he drank coffee and ate an omelet or bacon and bread for breakfast, then showered and went to work.

  In the evenings, he headed directly for the kitchen for a single bottle of ale that he drank in the garden. His world was disciplined.

  He liked her children, enjoyed them in ways men often didn’t. If given the chance, he would love them. But he had no idea how radically two young boys would change his life. There would be no quiet at seven, no peace at five in the afternoon. The house, while hardly neurotically clean, was generally tidy. Children would change that, too. She grimaced. Not to mention how Esther herself would change it.

  As if her thoughts had summoned him, he came into the kitchen. His curls were tousled from the walk home, his broad nose a little sunburned. The tie with its tiny pattern of swords was loose around his neck, his shirt unbuttoned to show a broad triangle of golden chest. “It’s hot out there,” he said, shoving a hand through the riot of hair. He reached into the fridge for a bottle of ale and frowned as he caught her eye. “Uh-oh,” he said. “Looks like Esther’s been fretting again.”

  With a grin, he caught her from behind, an arm around her neck, the other around her waist. “What is it, my sweet?” There was amusement in his voice. “What are you trying to protect me against today?”

  She smiled at being pegged so accurately. “The usuals,” she admitted.

  “If I were you, love,” he murmured against her neck, “I’d worry about protecting myself against the vampire that is about to devour you.” He bit her neck.

  Esther shivered. “Somehow, I keep forgetting that garlic.”

  “Darn.” He rubbed a circle over her stomach, then wickedly over a breast. “Come on, I’ll chase those worries away.”

  And he did.

  * * *

  Alexander was required to attend a faculty dinner the following week, to which he asked Esther to go. She protested she had nothing to wear since the fire had burned her clothes. The next day, he brought a dress home with him—a brilliant blue, with winking rhinestone buttons and a flowing skirt and wide-cut shoulders. She tried it on, but looked so unhappy he took her hand.

  “If you don’t like it, you can say so. It won’t hurt my feelings.”

  “It’s beautiful, Alexander.” She sighed. “I just feel really nervous about going with you to something like that.”

  “Why?” It had never occurred to him that she would be shy in any situation.

  “They’ll all have advanced degrees and prestigious positions.” She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t belong.”

  “Ah, so that’s it, my silly queen,” he said with a grin.

  She frowned. “I’m not kidding. I’ll feel like the girl from the wrong side of the tracks. They’ll ask me what I do and when I tell them, their eyes will glaze over.”

  “You’re the colonel’s daughter.”

  “Oh, yes. And we all know how popular the Army is on college campuses.” In her warm brown eyes was the shadow of insecurity that sometimes resided there.

  He took her arms. “Esther, they’re no more intelligent or well-bred than you are. They’ll like you as much as I do.”

  “They’re better educated.”

  The truth struck him. He inclined his head for a moment thoughtfully, wondering why he hadn’t understood it before. He let the subject drop.

  But the next day, he picked up an application to the university, financial-aid forms, scholarship information—everything he thought she might need. “Here,” he said as he came into the house. “I brought you something.”

  Esther accepted the sheaf of papers curiously, brushing a stray wisp of hair from her face as she looked at them. Her smile of welcome faded. “What triggered this?” she asked warily.

  “You did, yesterday. It’s time to quit putting off that dream of yours, Esther. You want your degree, whether or not you know it.” He took a bottle of ale from the fridge. Piwacket heard the tip whoosh off, and came trotting into the kitchen, eyes blinking sleepily. When Alexander lifted the bottle and drank with great thirst in the hot afternoon, the cat meowed raggedly and bumped his leg.

  Quite suddenly, he realized how Esther’s coming had changed his life. He remembered how empty the house had been in the evenings before she’d come to stay with him, how he’d shared his bottle of ale with his cat instead of another human being. As Esther stood now in the middle of the kitchen, her cloud of hair falling forward to hide her face as she stared down at the packet of papers in her hands, his emotions grew very clear. He reached for her hand and lifted it to his lips. “I love having you here,” he said.

  She raised her head and he read the question in her eyes. Once again, he’d sidestepped expressing himself, but the moment had passed. Although he read the disappointment in her face when he let go of her hand, he found the words still choked him.

  “I thought about the dinner,” she said. “I’ll go with you if you want me to.”

  He grinned. “I don’t want to drag you to an execution or anything.”

  “No, you aren’t.” She lifted a shoulder and smiled softly. “I decided you were right. And I’d really like to be with you, wherever you are.”

  Again his emotions lit and flowed through him. I love you, he thought. And he saw the answer in her beautiful face, a radiance he felt honored to have bestowed upon him.

  She put the papers aside and hugged him wordlessly, then let him go. “I know you’re hot. Go take a shower and I’ll fix a salad for us to eat outside.”

  * * *

  As he’d known she would, Esther added a rare spirit to the faculty dinner. He watched her all evening, making the small talk she’d been schooled in since toddlerhood, putting people at ease, making them laugh. She glowed in the blue dress that he’d chosen, the simple fabric clinging to her womanly hips and strong legs. More than one man barely concealed his disappointment when she turned her attention to someone else.

  He was proud of her and proud to be with her, fiercely so. Watching her across the room, he realized for the first time that he didn’t want to let her go back home when the wiring in her house was finished, couldn’t bear the thought of his home now without her in it.

  He imagined the years ahead, the pleasure of her company easing this sort of gathering. He imagined himself being in the audience when she was awarded her degree, a child on either side of him, all of them cheering as she walked over the stage. He imagined her old, her red hair gone white, pottering around an herb garden.

  And yet, he still had not even told her that he loved her. Standing in the company of two associate professors, she laughed at a joke one of them told. The sound rang out, robust and vibrant. Then, as if she felt his eyes, she glanced toward him. Her eyes burned suddenly with a sexy fire, a come-hither somnolence.

  Grinning, he let his eyes fall to her mouth and imagined the taste of those ripe pink lips, then his gaze tiptoed over her neck and the demure but enticing swell of her breasts at the bodice of her dress. He caressed her with his eyes, watching her nipples tighten just enough that he knew she was as aroused as he. He looked back to her face and saw the lust in her smile.

  To hell with convention. He suddenly wanted her with such power he couldn’t breathe. “Excuse me,” he said briskly to the man who was telling him about an archaeological dig in Peru that promised miraculous additions to the knowledge of ancient Indian life.

  He stalked toward her, took her hand and. left the small common room. “Alexander,
where are we going?”

  “Someplace isolated,” he growled. He didn’t dare even look at her. They crossed the campus under cover of night, surprising a pair of lovers kissing in an alcove.

  In his office, he closed and locked the door. Moonlight streamed in through the window, and he flung it open to let the stuffy air out of the room. He turned back. “Come here,” he said.

  A slow smile spread over her face as she approached him, a smile that said she knew exactly what they were doing there. It was the last push he needed. He grabbed her and kissed her with a mindless, violent passion. He pushed his hands beneath her dress, his hands skimming up her thighs to her panties. Her mouth opened to him and she loosened his tie, her fingers as eager as his own.

  He tugged her panties down as he kissed the valley between her breasts. Esther unfastened his shirt and loosened the confines of his trousers, her tongue hot on his mouth, her teeth digging with barely restrained hunger into his lips, his neck, his chest. He groaned when he found with his hands that she was ready for him, and he settled her on the edge of his desk, reaching around her to push the papers scattered there to the floor. He urgently opened the buttons on her dress and the fastening of her bra, pushing them both away from her gloriously beautiful shoulders. Moonlight cascaded through the window, silvering the curve of her cheek, the pale flesh of her breasts, the long, lovely expanse of her arms.

  He drove into her and Esther met him with a muffled cry, wrapping her legs around him and lifting into him, her hips braced on the edge of the desk. He found her mouth and drove there as he drove below, and she met him violently, her nails digging into his flesh.

  Alexander had thought he could not want her more than he had already, thought his passion would ebb, that it was impossible to want a woman more than he had already wanted Esther. But now, with her skirt shoved up, her breasts bare in the pagan light, his shirt open around him, he thought if he died now, in this moment, he could not have asked more of life.