Beyond Eden (24 page)

Lindsay mailed Melissa's Christmas present on December 4. Not ten minutes after she got back to her apartment, Dr. Gruska called. She had no idea how he had found out her unlisted number. She was sweating and clammy after she'd hung up on him. She called the phone company immediately and secured another unlisted number.

She said nothing to Taylor about the call, but she discovered she was watchful and felt low-grade fear whenever she came out of her apartment building. Evidently Dr. Gruska hadn't discovered her address, thank God. She could handle him if he did come, she was certain she could, but she simply didn't want to. She didn't want to have to run again.

Christmas approached in a snowstorm that turned quickly into a blizzard and grounded Lindsay's plane to San Francisco. She wasn't going anywhere and she was delighted. She called up and gave her apologies. For the first time in her adult life she spent a quiet Christmas with a man. It was incredible, the feelings that poured through her. She gave him the newest smallest cell phone. It fit neatly into his shirt pocket. He programmed in her
number the first thing. He gave her an Epilady razor, telling her that her razors were now his alone.

When Taylor handed her a box that announced Tiffany's, Lindsay hesitated. Her hands began to tremble.

“Open it.”

She did, careful not to shred the paper, so careful, so exacting. So frightened. She slowly pulled back the lid to discover another, smaller box nestled inside. It was a ring box. Inside, settled firmly in lush black velvet, was a marquise diamond ring. She gasped aloud, she couldn't help it. It was the most beautiful ring she'd ever seen in her life. And it was more than a ring. Much more. Oh, God. She looked over at him, frozen, scared, excited.

“Marry me, Eden. Marry me.”

She stared at him. She wanted to yell that she wasn't Eden. He'd asked a woman who wasn't real to marry him, a woman who was a lie, a fraud, a sham. She was afraid to touch the ring, afraid of what she'd say, afraid she'd fall apart and weep all over herself, all over him. She drew deep upon herself and said slowly, “I can't marry you, Taylor, because I'm not what you think I am, or who you think I am.”

He smiled at that, and said, “It doesn't matter that your name isn't Eden and that it's Lynn. Lynn is a nice name, a solid name, a name with substance. I can tolerate Lynn.”

“What?”

“When you were sick last month, Gayle slipped and called you Lynn, then broke it off and switched real fast to Eden. If you prefer Eden, I don't care. Don't you understand, I don't give a damn.”

“I hate Eden. As for Lynn—”

“Well, then—”

“It's more, much more, and I don't know how to—You're the one who doesn't understand.”

He said nothing, forcing himself to wait, forcing himself to patience, endless patience. She remained silent, staring down at the ring. He rose to stir the burning logs in the fireplace. The room was warm and smelled of holly and pine tree and hot chocolate. He looked over at the small Christmas tree, sparkling with multicolor lights. Together they'd threaded strings of popcorn and argued how best to place the bulbs. He insisted that half the decorations be his—a motley assortment of bulbs his sister had given him a good ten years before, and ancient tinsel, tangled and faded, looking as if a cat had mangled it. A Santa Claus bulb without a beard hung next to a very expensive antique Victorian Santa. He grinned every time he looked at the two of them side by side. It was the most beautiful tree he'd ever seen. He remained silent. The firelight made her candlelit living room glow and shimmer. He'd never been more scared in his life. Or more certain. He slipped the poker back in its rack, pulled the mesh back across the fireplace opening, then returned to join her on the floor. He sat opposite her, not next to her. He had all evening to get what he wanted.

“The ring is beautiful, Taylor.”

“Yes. I wanted the ring to be beautiful since I want it on your finger for the rest of our lives.”

“I'm very surprised. I wasn't expecting—”

“A man to propose to you? A man who hasn't yet even told you he loves you? You're right. I didn't do it right. I love you Lynn/Eden. Marry me.”

She was silent, not looking at him now.

“I could get on my knees and ask you again, but you're already sitting on the floor so I don't think it would have much romantic impact.”

“Oh, no, no.”

“Also, I didn't have to sell my car to pay for the ring. I do have sufficient funds to keep us both very comfortably. My job is steady and the hours aren't bad, except from time to time, as you already know.”

She was still silent, seemingly studying the nap of the carpet.

“If you want to keep modeling, that's fine with me. If you want to sit on your rear end and eat chocolates all day, why, I'll bring you a box of Fanny Farmer pecan turtles every night. If you want to start a family right away, that's also fine. I'm easy, sweetheart. Whatever you want. I just want you to be happy. With me.”

His heart pounded. His mouth felt dry as dust. He wondered about the nap on the carpet. It must be fascinating, because now she was running her fingers against the grain. Why didn't she say something, dammit? But she didn't. He forged ahead. “If you want to stay here, I'll move in with you. Or if you prefer my apartment, we can live there. However, I think the two of us together need more room. I think we should find a new apartment. I like the East Side, but the West Side is fine with me. I know a number of great hangouts over there. As I said, I'm easy. Whatever you want.”

Still she looked shell-shocked. She looked incapable of speech.

“Do you love me, Eden?”

She looked up at him then, so still she could have been a statue. She drew a deep breath and said, “I
don't know about love. I do know, though, that you're miraculous, Taylor.”

He blinked at her. “You're always surprising me,” he said, and that was true.

“I mean it. I never realized before that a man like you could even exist.”

“Why not?”

Too much too fast, he realized, and wanted to kick himself. Too straightforward, punching too quickly.

She merely shrugged. She still held the ring box. She hadn't touched the ring inside.

“I guess you could say I haven't had many good experiences with men.”

“They're not me, these other men.”

“No,” she said. “They're not. They weren't.”

“Because I'm miraculous and I don't ever want you to forget it. I also love you.”

He saw the fear in her and wished he could have the man or men who'd done this to her. And what had this man or these men done? His hands clenched into fists.

Tears were in her eyes. “I can't. Not yet. I'm sorry, Taylor—”

He raised his hand and said easily, “I've got an idea. Tell me true now. Have you enjoyed having me around for the past month and a half?”

“Yes.”

“Have I ever frightened you?”

“Yes.”

“Let me rephrase that. Do you trust me now more than you did two weeks ago?”

“Yes.”

“Do you trust me not to hold you down and rape you?”

Hesitation; then, “Yes.”

Okay, he thought, she'd probably been raped. And she'd been in Paris in April nine years ago. He could check that out—French newspapers, magazines—to see if what had happened to her had happened there. He had a war to win and he couldn't afford to have niggling scruples, not anymore. “Are you remembering how I slept with you for two nights? Are you remembering how you woke up in my arms?”

“Yes.”

“I didn't try anything, did I?”

“Maybe you were afraid I'd vomit on you.”

He grinned at that. “Could be, but I don't think so. I was hard as a rock all night. I'm talking about my penis, in case you don't know. But, Eden, it didn't matter and it won't matter. I would never do anything to hurt you, and that includes forcing any kind of sex on you that you don't want.”

“Stop, Taylor, just stop! It's not that. It's just that I can't—I know what you—that all men want sex and they want it often, but I can't, I just can't—”

“Not now,” he said easily. “No problem. I'm not blind or stupid, Eden. I have known for a good while that you don't want to have anything to do with me, woman to man. No, don't look so surprised. I won't lie to you. In fact, it would be stupid for me to try to lie to you because when I kiss you, I know you can feel how hard I am, especially when you're wearing your high heels. And we're not just nose to nose. We're everything to everything. It drives me crazy. I want you so bad I hurt with it. But I'm not a raving hormonal teenage boy, nor am I a macho fool. I want you the woman, not just your body. Can you possibly understand that?”

No, he saw, quickly enough, she didn't understand that.

“No matter. We'll work on it.”

She made a move to thrust the ring box toward him; then, just as quickly, she drew it back again. He was greatly pleased with the show of indecision.

“The ring is yours, Eden, just as I am also yours. You toss the ring away and I'm tossed away with it. You keep it, you also keep me.”

“I don't know.”

“Listen to me, I've got an offer.” He sat back against the sofa, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked very big, very strong, very much a man, and she found herself, having focused on that, pulling back.

“You can go in the other room if it makes you feel any safer,” Taylor said mildly. “Is this position frightening you? No, okay, then. Ah, you're looking surprised again. I know you, at least I'm coming to know you more every day. I have to walk on egg shells around you. Well, it's tough and I'm getting tired of it, so I propose that we come to grips with things.”

“What do you mean?”

“You're still here? You've decided to show some courage? You're sure I won't jump on you?”

“Stop it, damn you!” She picked up the box that had held his portable phone and threw it at him. It hit him square on the chin.

“Good shot. Thank God you didn't break it. Here's my offer: I want to move in with you tomorrow. We'll be roommates, not lovers. We'll be as close as any two people can be without having sex. No sex, Eden, no sex until you're ready. That's a promise.”

“Where will you sleep?”

“With you. Just like we did those two nights.”

Her brow furrowed and she was chewing on her lower lip. Good, he thought, just maybe I've got her.

“That would mean you'd discover all my bad habits,” she said.

“I've got bunches myself. We'd be in this together. Do you floss every morning or every night?”

“Night.”

“I'm morning. Do you snore like a pig?”

“I don't know,” she said with perfect seriousness. “I've never heard myself. Do you?”

“Only when I'm stressed out or dog-tired. I run three mornings a week and work out at Mueller's Gym up on Sixty-sixth another two days. I won't get fat on you. I'm also a pretty good cook.”

“I won't get fat either,” she said.

“Yeah, but is that through personal commitment or because you have to starve yourself to make a living? Will you get fat when you stop modeling?”

“I don't think so. I've never had a problem before.”

He smiled at her. “Good. I think we've got all the bases covered.”

“I don't cook very well.”

“No problem. Since you don't eat, why bother learning? I do great things with lettuce and tofu and pork chops.”

“All right.”

“Give me the ring.” He held out his hand.

She handed him the box.

He pulled the exquisite ring from its bed. “Give me your left hand.”

She hesitated, and he just waited, his hand still out, palm up.

She thrust her left hand at him. He held the beautiful ring out, staring down at it as he slid it on her finger. It was a tight fit, a very tight fit, and she had to help him, wincing as she forced it over her knuckle. He'd rather thought a size five would do the trick.

“Good, it'll be a real pain to get the thing off. If you're ever really pissed at me and want to throw it in my face, you'll have trouble doing it immediately, in the heat of passion, so to speak. That, sweetheart, will give you time to cool down and me to talk you out of your snit.”

“You're miraculous, Taylor. You're also a devious smart-ass.”

“Tell me more. Come here now, I want to hug you.”

She came between his legs, stretched out, and leaned back against his chest, and his arms came around her waist. He kissed the top of her head. “You are now my fiancée. It's official. How does that sound?”

“Miraculous.”

He laughed, pulled her hair back, and bit her earlobe.

“Taylor? Why don't you stay tonight?”

He wondered if she was pressed close to him to feel how hard he was. “All right,” he said. “We've got our Christmas stocking for tomorrow morning. It'll be nice not to have to come trudging over here in the cold and snow at seven o'clock in the morning. This way, we can sit in bed, drink cocoa, and attack the stockings whenever we feel like it.”

“I can't imagine it,” she said, her voice low and just slightly bewildered and disbelieving.

“I can,” he said, and kissed her earlobe. “Now I can imagine it very easily.”

“The last time I had a Christmas stocking, I was eleven years old.”

“Oh, yeah? You want a real sob story? The last time anyone gave me a Christmas stocking, I was in the police academy and it was my instructor. Mean bugger, my instructor. Lots of wrapped goodies—things like hand grenades, tear-gas canisters, a toy gun, bullets, handcuffs, you wouldn't believe those handcuffs, all fur-lined—Lord, she was something else, my instructor, especially with those handcuffs. Her name was Marlene ‘Ball Buster' Jakoby and she was—”