Darkness Before Dawn (16 page)

Leon inhaled deeply the cold night air. “It's been a good night,” he said. “Even with a headache, Keisha, you look like a princess.”

“Yeah, it was awesome,” I told him. But I thought only of Jonathan. I noticed him in the dark parking lot moving silently to his car and I relaxed, knowing he'd be there.

When we got to my house, Leon walked around to let me out of his car. He grinned like a puppy as he walked me up to the door, did
not
slip on the ice on the sidewalk, and
did
kiss me quickly on the lips before I hurriedly fumbled for my door key. I smiled and whispered to him, “I had fun, Leon. I really did. Call me tomorrow, OK?” I knew that asking him to call me was a signal that I was interested, but I had to get rid of him in a hurry. It worked, and he slid on the ice, on purpose, all the way to his car. I
laughed and opened my front door, waved, and watched him drive away.

My house was dark and silent. On the table by the front door was a note:

Keisha.

Dad and I went to the movies. We'll probably be home before you will! call me!

Love, Mom.

“Perfect!” I cheered. “They're not home!” I scribbled a note in reply.

I came home to change clothes, Mom. We're
going out to eat! I'll call you.

Love, Keisha

I didn't say who “we” was, and I had no intention of changing the silver dress that Jonathan obviously liked so much, but now I knew I had several hours before I had to be back home. I rushed back outside, stepped carefully over the ice that Leon had so much fun sliding on, and slipped quickly into the open door of Jonathan's car.

“Relax,” was the first
thing Jonathan said in that smooth, soothing voice of his. I wasn't really aware that I had been holding my breath, but I exhaled slowly and sighed with contentment. I looked at him with a grateful smile as he drove through the frosty night. It had started to snow. Huge flakes floated down, covering the streets and trees with magic.

“Where are we going?” I asked finally. “I'm a little hungry after all that dancing.” I glanced out of the tinted windows of the Cherokee, watching the streets change from the brightly lit business sections of the city to more dimly lit neighborhoods. “I'm not familiar with all the restaurants in town,” I said hesitantly, “but this looks like a residential area.”

“Do you doubt me?” he asked, a hint of a chill in his voice.

“I'm sorry,” I said quickly. “I was just wondering.” I felt stupid.

“We're almost there,” he said, his voice returning to its usual mellow tone. “Just relax.” He turned the music up, and drove skillfully, in spite of the increasing snowfall, through the narrow streets of the area of town called Mount Adams. The streets were on steep hills, with ritzy apartments and condos overlooking the rest of the city. I closed my eyes and almost dozed, not noticing where we were going. Jonathan pulled into a narrow driveway and turned off the motor. I sat up and looked around. Apartment buildings lined both sides of the narrow street, which I didn't recognize. Several inches of fresh snow had already fallen. The view of the city we had seen from the park was in the distance. “Dinner is served,” Jonathan said elaborately, as he came around to open my door. He bowed for me as I stepped out of the car, and I giggled with delight.

“Where's the restaurant?” I asked, stepping carefully through the fresh snow.

“Right up these steps,” Jonathan replied, as he opened one of the narrow doors of the building.

“Smells wonderful,” I commented. As we climbed the steps, I wondered how a restaurant could manage in a place like this. But I knew these little places in Mt. Adams thrived on college kids and the newly rich slicks who lived in these condos.
Wait till I tell Rhonda and Jalani about this one,
I thought with pleasure.
And they're eating the same stupid waffles they order every Saturday night!

At the top of the stairs, Jonathan opened the first door on the left and I was stunned. This was no restaurant—this was Jonathan's apartment!
How stupid could I be,
I thought, wishing I could kick myself. To Jonathan I said, “Why didn't you just tell me you were taking me to your apartment?” I stepped inside the door warily.

“I wanted to surprise you!” he said simply. The hurt and disappointment on his face made me sorry I had used that tone of voice with him. “We'll leave if you feel uncomfortable,” he offered.

Again, I found myself apologizing to him. “I'm sorry, Jonathan, but this is just a little unusual. I was expecting a real restaurant, you know.”

“I know, but look what I have prepared for you. I've been working all day.” He touched a light switch and the room was glowing with soft lights and soft music. The faint smell of lavender seemed to float on the air. While I stood there, a little overwhelmed with the scene, Jonathan walked around the living room and lit candles. Lavender. They burned low on the corner tables.

“It's lovely,” I said honestly. “I've only seen places like this in movies.” I felt a little uncomfortable, but Jonathan was acting like such a gentleman, and seemed to be trying so hard to please me that it was difficult to be angry. It was actually kinda exciting.

The living room was small, with a soft beige sofa, two wicker chairs, and a coffee table made of petrified wood. Over the sofa, instead of the usual piece of art, a huge framed mirror dominated the wall. Jonathan glanced at it as he was lighting the candles and noticed a tiny piece of lint on his gray silk shirt. He flicked it away. Smaller tables in the corners of the room held the candles and bits of decorative
artwork. He had set up the far end of the room as a dining area, with a small table covered with white linen and two wooden chairs. The dinner table was set for two with wine glasses, crystal goblets, and fine china. The room was simple but charming—a room decorated by a man with taste, I thought. The tiny kitchen was off to the left, his bedroom to the right.

I wasn't sure what to do or where to sit. I glanced at my watch.

“Let's eat,” he said, noticing me check the time. “We only have a few brief moments together. Please sit down.” He opened the oven and brought out two perfectly cooked Cornish hens, brown rice, broccoli, and soft, warm rolls.

“When did you do all this?” I asked in admiration and amazement.

“I would tell you I cooked it,” he told me as he set the food on the table in front of me. “But I won't lie. I ordered it from a gourmet company that delivered it just a couple of hours ago. That's why I was late to the dance.”

“I started to think you weren't coming,” I said, putting my napkin in my lap.

“All I have thought about today is you,” he replied, looking directly at me with his strangely golden eyes. I blushed again.

He brought out a bottle of what looked like red wine. I was trying to figure out how I was going to refuse the wine without sounding like a kid, when he showed me the label. “Non-alcoholic—just for you,” he said with a smile.

I sighed with relief. The drink was fresh and cold and
strongly carbonated. It was delicious. By the time we finished dinner, I had relaxed enough to feel comfortable in his place. I explored his rock collection and his collection of coins from around the world. I glanced at his bedroom, but decided not to even go in there. He noticed my nervousness and quickly closed his bedroom door. I was really pleased to note his concern for my feelings. He's trying so hard to show me an adult evening, I thought. I really liked feeling so grown and mature.

I walked around the small living room, lighting more candles, looking at the tiny mementos that he had collected from around the world. He had a delicate Italian vase, a hand-carved German mug, a tiny French sculpture, and a Spanish bullfighting cape. I was aware that he was watching me, admiring my silver dress. We ended up on the sofa in the living room, laughing at his photo albums: pictures of Jonathan as an infant in Italy, a small boy in Germany, and a gawky twelve-year-old in Spain. From the time he was small, he was extremely good-looking, but in none of the pictures was he smiling. I also noticed, but did not mention, that there were no pictures of his mother at all. I found one picture of his father looking dusty and brown in an old Army uniform, and amazingly, just like Jonathan looked now.

I leaned against him and he put his arm around me. I felt safe and alive and very sure of myself. I kicked off my shoes. He fingered the silver butterfly necklace.

“This is very pretty,” he murmured, “and so are you.”

I smiled. “I've been meaning to thank you. It's so lovely.”

“Thank me? Why?” he asked.

“For leaving the necklace on my doorstep on Christmas,” I said shyly. “It was the most wonderful gift I ever received.”

“I wish I could take credit for it, and I wish I had done something thoughtful like that, but I didn't leave it,” Jonathan told me.

“Then what about the flowers—the ones wrapped in the same silver ribbon as the box that had the necklace in it?” I asked in confusion.

“Nope, that wasn't me either,” Jonathan told me cheerfully. “You must have a high school admirer—one of those little boys that you've outgrown.”

I frowned and tried to think who could possibly have sent me flowers or given me the necklace. I was sure it was the same person.
Leon!
I thought to myself suddenly.
Of course! And he never said anything!
I smiled to myself and made a mental note to be sure to thank Leon tomorrow.
Jonathan is right, though,
I thought.
I'm so much more mature than high school boys like Leon. He's a good friend, but he has no idea how to act like a real man. This is a world that Leon can't even imagine. Dim lights. Candles. Romance.
I breathed with pleasure as Jonathan gently stroked my hair.

Jonathan leaned over and kissed me as the music from the CD throbbed and rolled in the background. At some point Jonathan had turned down most of the lights in the room—the only light came from the lavender-scented candles. I sighed with contentment and let him kiss me
again. This time his kiss was more demanding and he squeezed my arm so hard it hurt. I had to push him back so I could sit up on the couch. “Hey!” I cried out. “You're hurting me!” I rubbed my arm and frowned.

It was Jonathan's turn to apologize. He inched closer to me. I could feel the warmth of his leg next to mine. “I'm sorry, Keisha,” he murmured into my ear. “But you look so good in that dress, I can't help myself. Please forgive me.”

I glanced at my watch again. “I probably should be heading home now, Jonathan,” I suggested. “This has been such a wonderful evening. I want it to end at a place where I can remember it with pleasure forever.” I glanced out of the window and noticed that the snow had steadily continued to fall.

“You're right,” Jonathan agreed. “I just want to remember you and how delicate and lovely you ...” He never finished the sentence for he kissed me again, gently this time, slowly erasing my defenses just as smoothly as the teacher erased the chalk off the board at school. I felt myself fading again, but one level of my mind felt real fear—fear that I was in a situation way over my head. He kissed my ear, then the silver necklace on my neck, the fierce intensity returning as he held me much too tightly. His hands began to roam. Suddenly I didn't feel like much of a grown-up. I was getting scared and I had no idea how to make him stop, except to say so.

“No! Stop!” I said forcefully. “You're moving too fast, Jonathan. I think you better take me home now.” I pushed him away once more and jumped up from the sofa, trying
to smooth my hair with my hands and smooth the wrinkles from my dress. I didn't want him to think I was being impolite—after all, he had gone out of his way to make that great surprise dinner for me. Maybe I was overreacting.

Jonathan simply smiled. He held out his hand. “Come and sit down, Keisha. You're trembling.” It was true. I was shaking with fear. “I promise I'll behave myself,” he said apologetically. He extended his hand again.

But instead of reaching out toward him, I backed slowly away from him. I glanced nervously around his apartment, trying to peer through the smoky light, looking for something, anything that might help me. I could see my dim reflection in the huge wall mirror. My eyes were full of fear. Jonathan got up from the sofa. He never took his eyes from me. He walked toward me. Slowly I continued to back up toward the door. When I reached the door, I could go no further. I reached for the doorknob behind me and turned. Nothing happened. The door was locked.

“Why do you want to leave so soon?” he murmured in that buttery smooth voice. “You were just beginning to relax and feel comfortable.”

“I want to go home, Jonathan,” I said firmly. “I'm not ready for this. And I don't feel comfortable at all right now. You've never acted like this before!”

“And you've never acted like a stupid high school kid before!” he snapped back at me. “I thought you were different—more mature. Why'd you wear that skimpy little silver dress if you didn't want to be treated like a woman?”

I reeled as if I'd been slapped. I wasn't sure how to
respond. “I'm ... I'm sorry,” I stammered, although I didn't know what I was apologizing for. “Can you just unlock the door? We can talk about this tomorrow.” I was about to cry.

“Don't cry, Keisha,” Jonathan murmured gently. He reached out for me and wrapped his arms around me, pushing me against the locked door. His embrace wasn't gentle, however. When I tried to pull away, I found he had me pinned to the door with his body. I couldn't move. He tried to kiss me again, harshly this time, but I twisted my face away. I could feel the stubble of his beard as it scratched my face and I fought to free myself.