A Loving Man (16 page)

“Rose is my delight, my dessert, and my life. She glows when she smiles, and opens the sunshine of my heart. She holds it in the palm of her hand and I can only breathe when I am near her. Like good cheese and wine, she will only grow better with time. I am a happy man. I adore her. Every freckle and every scent and every look and—”

Henry frowned at Stefan. “Say, Steve, could you say
something romantic in French so I could make points with my wife? After watching you with Rose, she thinks I need to study your technique.”

Stefan taught Larry and Henry endearments, and as they curled over his lips and drifted into the night air, he savored the moment when he could whisper them to Rose. He smiled again, and thought of how he would teach Rose and how she would whisper them back to him….

The next morning, Rose stepped out onto her front porch. She did her warm-up stretches for running and sailed out of the front yard. She thought of the tense moments between Yvette and Stefan. Rose decided to call Yvette and Estelle and make certain they knew how much Stefan loved them. He always seemed so strong—Rose wondered if they knew how much he needed them in his life, how he needed to be needed. Rose decided to visit Leroy and explain how important it was for Stefan to help those he loved, and to see that they were treated gently. Rose’s needs ran to seeing that Stefan wasn’t hurt; she wanted his life to be safe, even though she wouldn’t be in it when he returned to the city.

She’d hurt Stefan’s feelings that night after they’d made love; she’d seen it in the flash of his eyes, the tilt of his head and the set of his jaw. Two nights ago after their reheated dinner, he’d been very silent as he dressed, gave her a brisk kiss on the cheek and walked out of her home. There had been no evening calls, that beautiful language curling around her, and last night she’d missed him all through the night at the Lizard. She kept wishing for him, wanting him to hold her. It should be so easy to tell him she loved him, but it wasn’t. She thought of how she could hurt him when the panic set in—her fear of loving too much.

Stefan surged down the street and soon ran at her side. This morning he wore sunglasses and he hadn’t shaved. She remembered the scrape of his beard against her skin, the exotic texture of man. When he didn’t speak, Rose asked, “Having a good day?”

“Hmm,” he returned darkly, clearly not wanting to indulge in conversation. He glanced down at the blue ribbon trailing out of his pocket and jammed it back in without explanation.

He smiled briefly, as if he were both satisfied and anticipating whatever memories the ribbon stirred.
But he wasn’t speaking to her. He was preparing to end their summer. That’s all that it was—a summer love…he wasn’t a teenager anymore…she could adapt to this…life moved on…
Rose wanted to make ending their affair easy for him, though she would remember him forever. “You’ll feel better when you’re back at the helm. You know, steady at the rudder, and all that business talk.”

The mirrored sunglasses flashed down at her and Stefan’s taut mouth did not resemble a happy lover’s. Rose decided this wasn’t the morning for talk. Then he sailed off and left her with old Walt, who was panting and tired—and Rose ached. “I love him, of course,” she whispered to old Walt. “But you see this is for the best, don’t you? Stefan deserves someone who isn’t going to panic at the thought of commitment. Estelle is in college now and he’ll be going back to the city, and I’ll be staying here with you, and life will go on the same as always.”

Life went on that morning at the paint store, the same as always for Rose Granger. She moved through the sales as if she were a robot, and knew that every day after Stefan left would be the same. He’d become a part of her life—the morning jogging, the late-night calls, those steamy, soul-shattering kisses— Stefan’s emotions ran deep, de
spite his sometimes cool, controlled exterior. She’d hurt him; there had been that tilt of his head, the arrogance and pride in his too soft tone.
Do you think that I would want your body, and not your heart?

Then at midmorning, Stefan carried a tray into the store and walked back into the storeroom without speaking. She hurried back to see him, to explain how she’d miss him and that things were for the better, and— She looked at the tray filled with crepes and strawberries, coffee and a beautiful rose. “For me?” she asked, delighted that he would think of her.

Then her delight shifted into wary expectation—
the beautiful food was Stefan’s way of softening the end of their interlude, and that’s all it was,
Rose repeated to herself.
An interlude that both knew would end.

“Danny let me make crepes this morning. They called them ‘Steve’s pancakes,’ but it is no matter. They were a success with the breakfast crowd, and these are for you for helping me resolve those first yelling matches.” His boyish, triumphant smile dazzled her and while she wasn’t thinking of the summer ending, filling herself with how beautiful he looked, Stefan closed the storeroom door and locked it.

“I’m really hungry—” Rose began. Her body vibrated at his dark, intense look as he moved toward her, tugging her into his arms.

“I am hungry, too. For you,” he whispered huskily as his hands ran over her, and his mouth came down to meet hers. Because she needed the taste of him, because she loved him and knew that time ran short between them, Rose locked her arms around him, pouring herself into the kiss.

Stefan tensed and slowly eased her away, sweeping the tendrils that had escaped her braids back from her face.
He studied her flushed, upturned face, her closed lids and sensitive, well-kissed lips. “You want me now?”

He always reacted so well, she thought. His tone held surprise, amusement and hunger and anticipation. Rose licked her lips and looked at his body, wondering where to start— “Start here,” Stefan whispered and touched his lips.

T
he next time Rose saw Stefan, it was at closing time. She looked out of the store’s windows to the sidewalk where he had parked the big leased black Town Car he used for traveling to the airport. He wore those mirrored sunglasses, and the wind tugged at his expensive dress shirt and slacks. He looked nothing like Danny’s cook or her lover. Stefan had that lean, stiletto look of a fierce, determined knight going off to battle, already leaning into it, his mind preoccupied with specifics. He glanced impatiently at the expensive watch on his wrist, and Rose’s heart began to ache. When he looked up to the dark gray clouds as if he couldn’t wait to be off,
she knew that it was closing time between them.

She forced herself to swallow, her throat gone dry and tight. There would be the usual nicey-nicey talk, the explanations that didn’t really need to be made. She’d known
all the while that he’d be leaving, once business called him back to Chicago. She fought running and hiding, pain streaking through her. She damned herself for wanting him so, for being so selfish as to take some part of life for herself.

He’d called during the afternoon, but she’d been too busy. He’d been hesitant to tell her what bothered him, and she’d said she’d call him back. Rose inhaled and wished she’d closed the store and taken the time, because now she had to paste a smile on her face when her heart was breaking. She smiled brightly as Stefan entered the door and came toward her. He wouldn’t see the tears she guarded closely. She would see him off and step back into the dull reality and safety of her life. “Hi, Stefan. How goes it?” she asked cheerfully.

He’d been so passionate this morning, growling playfully and teasing and hungry for her, just as she wanted him. But the hours had shifted and reality had come to call….

He took off the glasses and his eyes were dark and stormy. She could almost feel his touch, his body as it riveted and completed hers this morning. She could almost hear his chuckle as he held her limp body close and safe on the storeroom’s picnic table.
You knew this time would come. Be a good sport, and let him go. Don’t get mad. Don’t cry. Don’t make him feel as if he needs to stay because of you. Stefan is doing the best that he can and you’re not going to interfere in his life. What were you thinking?

“I’ll be back,” he stated firmly.

“Sure,” she returned with a smile that didn’t show her breaking heart. She started to study the cardboard adver
tisement that she’d just unbalanced with her elbow, but her hands shook and it tumbled off the counter.

Stefan picked it up and watched her as he replaced it. He ran his hand through his hair and glanced at his watch and studied her. “I would like you to come with me.”

Why prolong the ending? Why not make a clean break?
“I’ve got work to do. You know how it is.”

She sounded too chirpy, too happy, and she avoided Stefan’s study of her expression as she began clearing the cash machine. “It’s business. I’ve just got time to make my flight,” he said quietly. “I wanted to tell you this morning, but I was so—”

Hungry for her. But then she wasn’t exactly calm, and had torn his T-shirt to kiss that beautiful chest and place her body against his. The old picnic table in the back would always hold a memory of moving over Stefan—

“Sure. See you.” Rose couldn’t bear any more. “Look, let’s just leave it, okay? No long goodbyes, no promises, no future together. I understood from the start what I was getting into—that you would be leaving and that we had just…intersected at a time when we both needed—”

“I love you, Rose,” Stefan said quietly. “I’ll be back.”

The admission broadsided her, hanging in the air between them. “You don’t have to say that. There’s no price tag on what we’ve had. I’m a big girl, Stefan. I know when the ball game is over and there is no need to make it easier for me. Go on, take care of business.”

Stefan’s jaw tensed. “I’ll be back,” he repeated darkly. “And we’ll settle this between us.”

“Sure. For holidays and vacations. That will be nice. It’s settled. See you.” Then because her heart could not bear more, Rose turned and ran out the back door. She ignored Stefan’s call and ran as fast as she could into the
woods near town. She scrambled up the old tree where she hid from life long ago and let the tears flow.

After a time, just after sunset, her father came to stand below her. He looked up at her and called softly, “Rose? He’s gone. You can come down now. There’s something you should see.”

Rose hesitated; she knew how she looked—torn by emotions, her face streaked with tears, her hands and knees scraped by the climb. Then because she didn’t want to worry him more, she made her way down the tree. “I’m just fine, Dad. Honest.”

“Sure,” he said in a wry, disbelieving tone. He took her hand as they walked back into Waterville on a course they’d walked many times. “You always are, aren’t you, kitten?”

“This is silly of me, getting all worked up like I didn’t expect him to leave. Is this how it felt? When Mom left?”

Maury shook his head. “No. Your mother left with another man. Stefan left because he holds other peoples’ lives in his hands, in his decisions. Families depend on him, and retirees need him to protect their pensions. He’s a powerful businessman, Rose, but he’s also just a man. He’ll be back. Everything will be fine, you’ll see.”

They walked to their front gate and Maury said, “Let’s go around back. It’s pretty out there in the rose garden. Your mother named you ‘Rose’ because it was the flower she loved best. I think she tried to stay, for your sake.”

He watched Rose for a moment as she stared at the faeries in the moonlit garden. They would be there when the fiery leaves began to fall and when snow came and when spring came again to the roses. Then Maury left her alone with Stefan’s gift. He paused at the back door and watched Rose wander amid the faeries, looking very much
like one of them. “He’ll come back, Rose,” Maury said quietly to the night, because he believed in Stefan.

Rose skimmed her hands over each unique faerie. They were firmly set in concrete, too big to move, too beautiful to dismiss in the moonlight. She wrapped her arms around the largest one and held it close, just as she wished she could hold Stefan now.

She touched a delicately fashioned wing, smoothing it.
What did Stefan’s gift mean? Was it a parting gift? Something he thought might ease the break? Dare she believe?

Then Rose waited for the faeries to answer her questions, but they only smiled softly. “I’ve got to be careful that I don’t interpret this the wrong way, you know,” she told them and settled down to discuss her next move, which of course, was to thank Stefan.

He’d said he loved her…. He’d said he loved her. Stefan wasn’t a man to say anything he didn’t mean.

Rose went into the house and got the old shoe box that was her mother’s. It was battered by a young Rose, furious with life. But now it was time to put away the pain and begin living—to be complete as a woman and leave the rest behind. She’d never wanted to get married, despite her engagements, because part of her still mulled the past and feared how she would be as a wife and mother. The memories had dulled, but they remained inside, simmering, until loving Stefan began to open the unresolved past. She had feared commitment, and the pain of losing. She’d wanted to be so strong and independent within her walls that nothing could ever touch her again.

Then Stefan had come into her life—big and bold and sweet—opening and tearing away the past, bit by bit, filling it with beautiful memories. Rose moved carefully through her thoughts, sorting the important from the clut
ter. It was time to meet life and what it offered, rather than running from it.
I love you,
he’d said and Stefan wasn’t a man to toss words easy and free—he always meant what he said.
I love you.

Rose scrubbed away her tears and leaned against a faerie. If ever she wanted to believe in fairy tales coming true, it was now. “I love you, too,” she whispered to her palm and blew the words away into the wind.

The next morning in Chicago, Stefan sat at the Donatien discussion table, his mind on Rose, on her too-bright expression, and on the way she ran from him. Nothing would have been gained by following her and pressing a point she already doubted. And he’d been hurt, too, that her belief in him ran so thin. In the end, he thought it best to give Rose time—one of the hardest decisions of his life.

A hot debate raged between the Donatien businessmen, some of them elderly and steadfast in his father’s strict policies. The younger staff presented a new retirement plan and struggled against the “We’ve always done it this way.” The older members had their points and logic, and the two factions weren’t agreeing on anything.

Stefan tapped his pen on the table and tried to follow the debate. He was too tired, and not up to the decisions he must make. He’d tried to call Rose until all hours; she wasn’t taking his calls, locking herself away in her safe place, away from his love. She’d been stricken when he told her he loved her, and he’d chosen the wrong moment and issued his emotions too hurriedly. But he’d struggled to give her time to adjust, and then there was no time, an elderly retiree calling him with pension problems that affected several hundred other people.

The issues soared back and forth across the table and
Stefan made notes. He found it best to let the tempers rage, clearing the air and getting to the real heart of the issues, rather than the polite cover-ups. He itemized each issue, dissecting it on his yellow pad. He smiled briefly at the small faerie sketches he’d drawn, and picked his way through the latest storm on the discussion table. “Tim isn’t going anywhere. He’s made his mistakes and learned from them. He has years of service at Donatien’s and I stand behind him,” he said quietly. “You’re not moving me on this issue.”

The older businessmen nodded sagely, because when Stefan’s father sounded like that, there was no arguing.

Megan, his secretary, moved close to whisper, “Private call. Line one. It’s her. A Miss Rose Granger. Shall I say you’ll call her back?”

Stefan knew the value of staying with heated debates and not leaving the room at a crucial time—but he wanted to talk with Rose. “I’ll take the call here.”

“Here?”
Megan’s tone reflected her astonishment— Donatien business meetings were never to be interrupted with personal calls—Miss Rose Granger must have indicated she had personal business with Stefan.

“Stefan here,” he said and waited for Rose to speak. Had she seen the faeries? What would she think? Would she believe his love? Had he terrified her, telling her of his love, giving her gifts of his heart?

“I can’t pay for all these,” she said finally. She spoke as if she didn’t know where to start and that was the top issue on her mind. “Larry and Henry said they were custom made.”

“They’re a gift from me. To keep you company while I’m away.” Her silence said she was weighing his words
and that struck Stefan’s pride. There was always that doubt in her, that tiny nagging lack of trust.

“I have nothing to give you,” Rose said quietly.

“But of course you do, my darling. And this isn’t a gift to be equaled, Rose. It’s one of the heart and freely given.” Stefan ignored the silence around his board table, the downcast faces, the tense poses that said they were listening closely. Stefan studied them, the staunch, elderly peers of his father who wanted to change nothing, and resisted women into the mix. The women at the table had earned their place and the younger men were all part of a family—his family. Estelle had expressed interest in entering the business, in managing it. It would take her years to win over the old guard, but then Estelle had learned a few things from Rose. Simple things, like listening and that gentle persuasion.

He saw no reason not to throw his “Rose” problems on the table with the rest of the current business. “I love this woman. I want to marry her,” Stefan told them, making certain that Rose could hear, because he’d punched the loudspeaker button. “I gave her faerie statues for her rose garden and now she wants to know how much to pay me. What do you think of that?”

Stunned silence flattened the room. Stefan Donatien was his father’s son, bred to business, not to emotions or romantic gifts. His heritage was grim and weighty. He smiled at Rose’s slight gasp at the other end of the line. “I love you, Rose. Get used to it. I’m not going to be an ex-fiancé. I want to be your husband, if you’ll have me. I asked your father some time ago, because after all, I am a traditional man. I have his permission to ask you. All we have to do—you and I—is to settle the fine points between—like
if you love me and want to marry me. We’ll live in Waterville, of course. We’ll take whatever time you need.”

He smiled grimly at Rose’s next gasp. “Is everyone listening to this?” she asked unevenly.

“I have nothing to hide. You make me very happy.” He hadn’t meant to hurl his intentions at her that way, but he was still new at separating business and love. “You’re very good at relationships, the best at facilitating tense situations. I’m in a discussion now where no one wants to budge. Please help me, Rose.”

He smiled and waited, because Rose always knew the right answers when it came to people. She was wandering through his “I love you,” and her fears, but she never let anyone down who needed her. He held up his hand when the staunch old guard looked like they might object.

“Well,” Rose said softly, thoughtfully. “First of all— I think you should send out for ice-cream cones. They always make things better. And if the weather is beautiful there, as it is here—a bright fall day—open the window to let the wind blow in and clear away the tension. And listen to the life passing through on the sidewalk below. I think by the time you’ve done all that, and talked about the different flavors of ice cream, everyone might be flowing along in the same track.”

“That’s a good idea. Thank you, Rose. I miss you.” Stefan nodded to his secretary, who blinked and silently mouthed, “Ice-cream cones?” He nodded again and she hurriedly left the room.