Hide and Seek (16 page)
He was in a wonderfully expansive mood. I enjoyed seeing him this way.
“The good news,” Will told me, “is that the camera loves me. The bad is that I can't act.” It was a funny line, and we both laughed.
He talked nonstop. He seemed genuinely amazed by his reception in Hollywood. I found that I was really happy for him. We laughed a lot over dinner. I felt completely relaxed around Will now. People kept pointing us out, but they were considerate enough to stay away. Maybe they thought that we were in love?
By the time dinner was over, it was snowing. Wind whipped the trees so they bowed like exotic dancers; the flakes bit into our eyes as we dashed for the car. Even as we ran, I wanted to reach out and hold him. I just did. It was how I felt.
Will drove home carefully, and walked me to the front door. I still wanted to be held so badly. He had on a very nice, subtle cologne. He'd only worn a sport coat and looked dashing. His cheeks were rosy red, and when he smiled, it was quite something.
“Good night,” he said. “Thanks for going to dinner and listening to me talk way too much about the new career.”
I didn't want him to go.
Sorcerer
, I thought.
“Hold on,” I said. “It's a mess out. I don't want you driving in this storm.”
There had already been too many accidents in my life
.
There was a strange, soft light in his eyes. His smile was soft and kind too. “It's only a few more miles. I think I can make it, Maggie.”
“Please?” I said. “Just come in for a bit.”
Will nodded, and followed me inside. He seemed reluctant to stay.
He said he had to make a quick phone call—that he was supposed to have a drink with the Lawrences and had to let them know he wouldn't be coming.
When he returned, we settled down in the living room. I'd checked on Jennie and Allie, and they were sleeping soundly. Unless someone set off a cannon in their bedrooms, they'd both be dead to the world until morning. Then I'd need the cannon to get Jennie up and ready for school.
I am a single woman, thirty-eight years old
, I told myself.
I'm in control of this situation. I can handle it. I'm not doing anything wrong. I enjoy this person I'm with very, very much. Of course, he has cast a spell over me!
“I never would have imagined
this
happening,” I told Will as we sat and watched the snow fall. “The two of us like this. Snowflake watching.”
“Truthfully, neither did I. I didn't think you'd give me a chance to prove that I'd finally come to my senses, become a grown-up, that I could change for the better. How am I doing? Do you see any improvement?”
“You're doing just fine. Don't push it,” I said, and we both laughed.
I put my head on his shoulder and enjoyed the moment. I liked feeling his back and shoulder muscles. I really would never have imagined myself with Will, but I was so comfortable now. I even allowed myself to admit that he was an incredible hunk. I loved the clean, fresh smell of him. His hair was thick and amazing. I wondered what he liked about me.
He turned his head, and kissed me. “Not
too
grownup,” he whispered. His kiss made me a little dizzy.
It was my decision, my choice. I took Will's hand, and led the way to a guest bedroom near the pool. I was conscious of his fingers curled around mine. I'd straightened up the guest room earlier in the day. Fresh linen. Aired the space out.
Just in case
.
I guess I wanted this to happen. No, I knew that I did.
And that night, it did
.
Cut to train going through very picturesque mountainside tunnel.
Again, and again, and again.
S
PECIAL MEMORIES—SO
confusing now.
Like photographs that don't really tell the whole truth, like photographs that can lie
.
The blue-and-white-striped Land Rover flew up the imposing rock face at the famed resort hotel in Las Veides. Will and I had three unbelievable days to ourselves. Just the two of us.
Our Mexican driver rounded a curve so fast that the Rover nearly skidded off the narrow road; a fall would have hurtled us a thousand feet down to Acapulco Bay. I held Will tightly, wanting to be as close as I could. I was into all the tiniest details: how I fit up against him, the contours of his body, every little scar and its origin; how fast his light blond beard grew. I wanted to know everything there was to know about his life, not the exaggerated stories in the tabloids.
“How about a swim, Maggie?” he asked when we got to our room. He sounded shy, and I liked the sound of his voice. “Let's throw on our suits and explore the deep blue sea.”
Will and I were gently rocking back and forth, hugging each other under a revolving teak ceiling fan in our suite.
“Maybe a little later,” I murmured. “We're alone right now, and I think I want to enjoy this. I'm sure I do. Can we … just … do nothing?”
He laughed. “Okay, no deep blue sea. How about no suits, and an exploration of the intimate, private pool that management has so thoughtfully provided?”
“That sounds better. I like that idea a lot.”
We kissed softly, for a long, long time, the way we often did. I had the thought:
Am I losing myself, or am I finding something I've lost along the way?
Will slid the glass doors that opened onto a spectacular terrazzo. We continued to undress until we stood in front of the small pool that glittered with hundreds of sun diamonds and stars. Yellowbirds and colorful parrots chattered in the surrounding brazilwood trees. This was paradise, wasn't it? Or so it seemed at the time.
Through a curtain of royal palms and bougainvillea, I could see the red roofs of other cottages, but not the other private swimming pools. I liked that touch.
No one could see us either
.
With a tiny whoop, I jumped into the pool, pulling Will after me. We weren't being silly—just playful, like a couple of children.
He grabbed my arm, drew me to him. He was already hard. I slid my hands down his slender, muscular body and stroked his thighs. He was always so warm and tender with me; he was nothing like what I had expected.
We kissed again—soft and long.
Will raised me from the tile floor of the pool, and turned me so I could brace myself against the pool's edge. He slowly, slowly entered me. I closed my eyes, becoming aware of new sensations, relishing the warm sun on my face, and an even greater heat building inside.
I had never been with anyone like Will. He made me feel so special. I have to say that, because it's the truth.
T
HERE IS A powerful, powerful image that never fits for me, that will always be a mystery, a beautiful and sad and troubling mystery.
After Will and I returned from our quick trip to Mexico, we spent a long weekend doing everything the kids wanted to do. Doing
some
of the things Jennie and Allie wanted to do anyway. They were so excited, and Will was wonderful with them.
We went to New York for one day, and we played out-of-towners—the Trade Center, the Statue of Liberty, the museum mile, even the Hard Rock Cafe. But then, we spent an even more special day on the grounds around the house—as a family, seeing if that's what we all wanted.
I watched Jennie and Allie with Will, and I could tell they adored him. I was almost certain he liked being around the kids, that he ached to bring up children just right, the way it ought to be done, not the way it had happened to him. He had told me as much.
I remember seeing him with Allie that afternoon at the house. The extraordinary picture sticks with me, one that will always play on my mind.
It was an Indian summer kind of day, brilliantly sunny, in the high fifties. The two of them were riding on one of our tamer horses, a sweet mare Jennie had named Fleas. Will and Allie rode across a wide field of tall grass that looked sea-green in the light.
They had their winter jackets on, but open, acting
very manly
, both of them strikingly blond. They were laughing uproariously as Fleas loped on, seemingly in very slow motion.
Will held Allie tightly and very securely in his arms, and he was beaming with joy. I knew the happiness was real, and I loved what I saw. I loved the look on their faces.
Jennie came and stood beside me. “Aren't they just beautiful?” she said. “They look like a real dad and his boy. Oh, I love it now, Mom. I feel so good inside, so right.”
“Me too,” I said and hugged Jennie.
W
ILL TOLD ME everything; we told each other everything, until
I believed that we had no secrets
. One night he shared a terrifying story of his father beating his mother, then of his mother's words to him:
“Only Mommy loves you. Only Mommy does.”
Listening to Will talk, I'd never felt closer to him. Maybe I'd never felt close to anyone. Certainly, I'd never had so much pain revealed to me.
“But she left me anyway,” he said. There was a faraway look in his eyes. “So she didn't really love me, you know, Maggie.”
He could be so sweet, and at those times, I imagined the way he must have been as a boy. I could picture Will as a boy, as a beautiful, blue-eyed boy.
“You think it was your fault she went away?”
“Yes. But I'm getting better about it. I'm almost there. I couldn't have done this without you, Maggie. You, Jennie, Allie, just being around all of you has made all the difference.”
I reached to hold Will's hand. His pain, his
love
for me, seemed so clear. It was very touching. I could identify with his sad family history, and
maybe
, I was trying to help convert my own angry father through Will.
“I'm not going to leave you,” I whispered to Will. “Not ever.”
“Marry me, Maggie. Don't give up on me. Promise.”
In the morning, I told him I would marry him to prove it.
C
AT AND MOUSE
:
the glorious game of love
. A wanna-be model, Cam Matthias, took Will in her mouth and rolled her long tongue slowly over and around, eliciting a groan and a tightening of his hands in her flowing red hair.
God, he was such a fabulous, untamed animal
, Cam thought.
He might actually be the most exciting man on earth. Someone had to be, right?
“Oh,” Will said. “Jesus, Cam. That feels wonderful.
You
feel wonderful.”
They had been going at it for hours. He was insatiable, and made her feel the same way. When she knew, or thought, he was about to come, she released him and lay on her back, placing his cock between her breasts, and once more increasing the pressure until she thought he could stand it no longer. He kept going though, on and on, like some kinky version of the Energizer bunny. The image made her howl with laughter. They both howled.
Next, she knelt in front of the wall. She reached behind and spread the cheeks of her perfect bum.
“Take your time, as if you wouldn't anyway,” she said.
It was the night before Will Shepherd's wedding.
A
T ONE O'CLOCK, three hours before “the wedding of the decade,” two dozen policemen in their finest navy blue uniforms and dress-white gloves took up their positions at the main and service entrances of the Bradford home, as well as down along Greenbriar Road. Their first assignment: clear Greenbriar of the people from New York, Yonkers, and as far away as Tennessee and Texas, who had come to catch a glimpse of Will and me on our wedding day.
They would all be disappointed, I was afraid. Neither of us was interested in any publicity on the day of days, or even after, for that matter.
By three o'clock, Greenbriar Road had been officially closed to the public by the Bedford police. The entire street was off-limits to everyone except those bearing the silver-engraved cards from Cartier that simply stated:
Wedding Guest
.
I had carefully selected one of the out-of-view rear bedrooms as a dressing room, as well as for getting my head together before the madness started in earnest.
Jennie (who treated my wedding as the greatest day in
her
life), the dress designer Oscar Echavarria, and two of his young associates were fussing over me that afternoon. Allie was content to stay close to our nursemaid, Mrs. Leigh, and watch the excitement. I wore a beautiful gown of creamy satin. Both the veil and train were of understated Belgian lace. A single strand of pearls encircled my throat. I couldn't have been any happier. I
felt
beautiful inside and out. Not only was Will healed, but so was I.
“Elegant. Lovely. Perfection.” Echavarria pronounced approval, eyeing me as though he were Leonardo and I the Mona Lisa. I found it hard to keep from laughing at his forgivable grandiosity.
“You look cool, Mom,” was Jennie's assessment.
“Give me a few minutes alone,” I finally said. “I just need a little time to take it all in.”
“Sure,” Jennie said matter-of-factly.
“C'est ça
, everyone out,” said Echavarria, clapping his hands like a ballet master.
They left, but I held Jennie aside. “Thanks for putting up with me these past few weeks,” I told her. “Now go get pretty. Only not too much prettier than the bride, okay?”
“Don't worry about that. That couldn't happen even if I wanted it to, which I don't.”
“I love you,” I whispered.
“I love you even more, Mom.”
“Couldn't.”
“I do. Get it? I
do
.”
The wedding list read like a who's who. Will's manager and friend, Winnie Lawrence, would be there, of course. Nathan Bailford, Barry, my friends from Bedford, my sisters and their families from upstate, musicians and singers, soccer world people. And reporters and photographers from all the metropolitan papers, the local TV stations, the networks,
People, Time
—I swear, there almost seemed more strangers than friends.
One of the final cars to arrive, I found out later, was a gleaming burgundy Maserati. Behind the wheel sat Peter O'Malley.
