B004183M70 EBOK (6 page)

"Jerry!" Bradley tried. "I'm
sure Miss Bennett is bored by this old story."

I turned innocent eyes toward him.
"Not in the least, Mr. Williams. In fact, I'm totally intrigued." At
Bradley's frown, I turned and smiled at Jerry. "Please, do go on."

"Where was I?" Jerry thought out
loud. "Oh, yeah, so the American supply lines were stretched real thin
because the advance had been so fast. Miss Bennett, some of the GIs were
without food or ammunition when we began a forced retreat."

"How awful," I said, imagining a
skin-and-bones Bradley, possibly without a gun.

"Oh, it was. Picture this: The Chinese
soldiers flanked us; then they surrounded us; killing some of my buddies right before my eyes, taking others prisoner. We
were humiliated by our retreat, and we were scared. The Chinese had taken the
high ground along the river gorge. Land mines could be found anywhere from the
middle of the road to the rocky hillsides."

"Land mines?" I gasped,
horrified.

"You better believe it. Sarge here was
barely in his twenties, but they had given him a field promotion to sergeant.
He was leading the platoon through the gauntlet. I was standing next to him
when I took a step forward and heard the worst sound of my life: the distinct
sound of a pressure mine being activated."

"Oh, good Lord!" I exclaimed.

"You bet I said a prayer. I knew if I
took my foot off the top of the mine, it would explode, killing me. That's when
Sarge saved me. He told me not to move, and he got the other men away. He even
appointed someone to take over in case he got killed trying to rescue me."

Jerry looked at Bradley, admiration shining
in his eyes.

I put my hand on Jerry's sleeve. "Go
on; I must hear the rest."

"Okay," he said, wiping his eyes
real fast. "Sarge's plan was for the men to build a circle of boulders and
large rocks around me, which they did. When they were done, the men stood back
and Sarge told me to jump over the rocks. I tell you, Miss Bennett, I was
sweating despite the freezing temperature. I was a coward. I couldn't
move."

Bradley said, "You weren't a coward.
You were an eighteen-year-old with his foot on a land mine. Anybody in his
right mind would be terrified."

Jerry paid no attention. "All the men
had backed off, but Sarge stayed close. I-I was crying by then, thinking I was
gonna die. Then, all of a sudden, Sarge pointed at a spot in the distance and
yelled, 'What's that?' When I looked, Sarge grabbed me and hurled me over the
circle of rocks."

I felt tears burn the backs of my eyes.
What a brave, selfless thing to do. I took a deep breath so I wouldn't cry.

Jerry said, "The mine exploded, but we
landed safely except for Sarge's left eye. A piece of shrapnel had hit the left
side of his face, but it was his eye that was injured. We got to a MASH unit,
and they evacuated him to Tokyo."

I stood speechless, trying to keep my chin
from trembling and the tears from falling. The scar under his left eye. The one
I always wanted to trace with my finger and kiss. The one I had always assumed
was from a childhood accident in a baseball game or some other boyhood mishap.

"What happened then, Mr.
Williams?" I asked.

"Yeah, Sarge, you look all healed now.
I can just see the scar now that I look for it," Jerry said, peering up at
him.

Bradley spoke in a low voice, one I could
barely hear over the street traffic. "They thought I was going to lose the
sight in my left eye, but that was hogwash. I had a hard time seeing the pinup
girls, but after a month, the eye cleared."

I felt sure he was making light of what
must have been a frightening time.

"I'm relieved to have run into you,
Sarge," Jerry said. "They sent me home, an honorable discharge. Heck,
they thought I'd gone off the deep end. Did take me a long time to stop having
nightmares about what went on over there, especially my stepping on that mine.
I guess it's the kind of thing that never leaves you. When I think of those
boys over in Vietnam ... well, let's just say I ache inside for them."

"Yes," Bradley said. "I know
what you mean."

We all stood silent for a moment.

Then Bradley said, "It was good seeing
you, Jerry. Are you doing all right now as far as a job goes?"

"Sure! I'm a bank manager in Jersey,
just came into the city for a big meeting at headquarters later today. You're
doing well yourself, I can see."

"I'm running a modeling agency for my
great-uncle."

"Oh, yeah, I remember you mentioning
him. He's the rich guy who doesn't have a son to leave all his companies to,
right?"

"Yes. I've got two cousins vying with
me to be the one Uncle Herman appoints to take over after his death."

Jerry hit him playfully in the arm. "I
have every confidence you'll be the one." Then he turned to me. "Miss
Bennett, it was sure nice to meet you."

"You too, Jerry."

With a last grin at Bradley, Jerry walked
on down the sidewalk.

"Mr. Williams," I said, looking
up into his blue eyes, "I'm proud to work for a man who fought for his
country and saved another man's life at risk to his own."

He frowned. "Don't put me on any
pedestals, kid. Because the way I live doesn't merit any medals."

He strode ahead, but pushed the revolving
door for me and stepped aside. Over my shoulder, I said, "I'll put a fresh
coffeepot on right away."

"Good," he said, as we entered
the crowded elevator and faced front.

My heart beat fast simply because I stood
close to him and breathed in his lime aftershave. Darn you, Bradley.

Just when I thought I could toughen my
feelings against him, I found my heart reaching out to him more than ever.

CHAPTER FIVE

After I'd made coffee and poured some into Bradley's St.
Louis Cardinals mug, I returned to my desk. I still didn't have the files in
the credenza behind me arranged to my satisfaction. I bent over as modestly as
I could in my miniskirt, a tricky maneuver. By lunchtime I felt quite pleased
with the organization of the files, and slid the last one into place.

"Miss Bennett?" Bradley said from
the other side of my desk.

I stood—how long had he been watching
me?—so fast that I knocked over the new lamp with the circular paper shade. It
fell to the floor, and the hot lightbulb hit the paper, which burst into flame.

"There's a bit of fire there,"
Bradley said with amusement.

I grabbed my own full coffee mug and threw
the contents on the flame. An icky burning smell came from the once-fashionable
lamp, and there was a brown stain on the hardwood floor. Bradley tamped out the
last burning ember with the tip of his shiny black shoe.

I looked at him, certain I was blushing,
and said, "I'll clean this mess, and you can deduct the price of the lamp
from my paycheck."

"I've never seen you act so
uncoordinated, Miss Bennett. You're not ill, are you?"

"If you hadn't sneaked up behind me
and scared me half to death, maybe I wouldn't have jumped like that. You usually use the phone to buzz me when you want
something."

A smile played about his full lips.
"Do I really? You see, Miss Bennett, I saw you bending over by the files
and didn't want you to have to get up to answer the phone. I was thinking of
your comfort."

So, in other words, he had enjoyed the view
long enough to come out to my desk and get a closer look. I smiled to myself.
In a smooth tone, I said, "What can I do for you, Mr. Williams?"

"I need you to call the florist and
have a dozen roses sent to Suzie Wexford," he said. "You have her
address, don't you?"

Bradley Williams had real talent when it
came to playing Ping-Pong with my emotions. I turned my gaze from him to a
lined pad on my desk. "Yes, I do. What color roses do you want sent?"
I bit my tongue. If I hadn't asked, I could have sent Suzie all black roses,
assuming the florist had such a thing.

"Red, long stemmed."

I made notes on the pad. "Will there
be a card to go with the flowers?" Something like, I never want to see you
again.

"I positively don't know what I'd do
without you, Miss Bennett. You're so efficient."

I glanced up at him, eyebrows raised into
my bangs. "Is that what you want written on the card?"

He threw back his head and laughed.
"Efficient and with a sense of humor. Ah, let's see. Just have the florist
write, 'I'll pick you up at seven for an early dinner.' And have them sign my
name."

"Very well, Mr. Williams," I
said, as my heart pounded in my chest. Another date with Suzie!

"Thanks, kid. I'm going out to lunch
now."

"Bon appetit!" I said, and
watched him stride toward the elevator.

He turned around, caught me looking at him,
adjusted his cuffs, and said, "Oh, and kid, don't worry about
paying for the lamp. The company will cover it."

"I'm very sorry—"

The elevator dinged. He pointed at me.
"Be sorry for nothing."

Then he was gone, leaving me with my
emotions all stirred up like they'd been through an electric mixer.

First I phoned in the order to the florist.
Then I cleaned away all traces of the burned lamp. When I felt Bradley would be
safely away from the building, I took the elevator downstairs and went outside.
The weather was glorious, springlike on this first day of May, with the promise
of new adventures in the air. I dashed down the sidewalk to the corner hot-dog
vendor.

"Hi, Marv! How's your wife
today?" Eating a hot dog and drinking a Coke for lunch were my guilty
pleasures. I'd found Marv on Monday, and I'd been down to his stand every day
since. He had a wife who was expecting their first baby any day.

"Not too good, Bebe," he said,
fixing my order, remembering I liked my hot dog with mustard and relish—no
onions. The smell of the hot dogs made my stomach growl.

As he passed me my order, I handed him some
money. "What's wrong?"

Marv had a big heart when it came to his
wife and was suffering right along with her during her pregnancy.

I waited while Marv served another customer,
then another. Finally he turned to me, wiping his hands on his stained white
apron. "Her back is killing her, she tosses and turns all night trying to
get comfortable, and she keeps sending me out for pineapple."

"Oh, Marv, I'm sure all this is normal.
Just stock up on canned pineapple."

"Betty only wants fresh. The doctors
don't have a certain date for the delivery. They say it can be anytime between
now and the next two weeks. I'm losing my mind." He shrugged, starting to
refill the ketchup from the big jar of mustard.

"Marv," I said, touching his arm.
"You've got the mustard there. . . ."

He looked at what he was doing and shook
his head. Deep circles under his eyes told me he wasn't getting much sleep.

A group of women approached the stand, and
Marv snapped to attention. I couldn't help but laugh.

As I strolled back toward the Ryan building
with my hot dog and bottle of Coke, I enjoyed the sunny day. What would it be
like, I wondered, to be carrying Bradley's baby? The thought sent a tingle
through me. One of the goals in my life was to have first a boy, then a girl. I
imagined lying in a hospital bed holding a baby Bradley. Big Bradley would come
in, grinning, clutching a bouquet of red roses.

My fantasy screeched to a stop. Big Bradley
had just sent red roses to Suzie!

I headed back to the office, where I found
a man seated in the reception area. He stood when I walked in.

I smiled, put my food on my desk, and said,
"Hello." I gave a quick glance to the sign-in sheet that we used to
keep track of arrivals and departures. All I could make out was that a new name
had been scrawled at the bottom.

"Nice lunch you've got there," he
said, and grinned.

Surely he was a model. Striking green eyes
looked at me from a face that was all angles and topped with shiny black hair
worn in the same style as John Lennon's. His teeth were very white, he seemed
about Bradley's height, and he had a vaguely European look about him. He wore a
black suit and white shirt with a narrow paisley tie.

Suddenly, I felt shy. "I'm Bebe
Bennett, Mr. Williams's secretary."

He held out his hand, and I took it. He
gave it a tender squeeze, then said, "I'm Louis Kinnaird, Miss Bennett.
Nice to meet you." He'd pronounced his first name Lou-ee.

"Thank you. Are you here to see Mr.
Williams? Because he's at lunch right now." I walked around my desk and
got out Bradley's calendar.

"Oh, I don't have an
appointment," Mr. Kinnaird said.

Was there a hint of a Scottish accent in
his voice? "I see. Well, when Mr. Williams returns, I could ask him if he
has time to meet with you. That is, if you want to wait."