In a Heartbeat (9 page)

23

Mel was in the hospital, sitting next to him, watching over him.

Ed could sense that she was there, he could
smell her sweet, fresh scent—thank God one of
his senses was still functioning. . . . But he
needed to touch her, to hold her. . . . With a
mighty effort he reached out for her.

Mel watched as his hand crept, agonizingly slowly, across the tight white hospital sheet toward her. She took it in both of hers, bent her head, and kissed it.
He knew she was there. . . .
Ed knew.

Standing in the doorway, Art Jacobs knew he was looking at a miracle.

“She can stay,” he told the nurse. “In fact, she can stay as long as she likes.”

You’re here,
Ed thought,
you’ve finally found
me. Please, don’t ever take your hand away from
mine. As long as you’re holding me, I’ll know
I’m still in the land of the living. I can feel your
blood pulsing, maybe it’ll inspire mine to get to
work again, pump this old heart . . . which always pumps twice as fast when you’re around
anyway. Right from that moment I first saw
you. . . . That’s sentimental, I know. But if a man
can’t get sentimental on his deathbed, then
when can he? I wish you would kiss me again,
I just want to feel those sweet lips on mine, I
want to hold you, Zelda, make love to you. . . .

I remember the first time. I had invited you to
New York for the weekend. I went to meet you at
the airport. I was waiting for you at the gate and
you strode out of that corridor, gazing around,
searching for me. I could tell from the expression
in your eyes you were afraid I hadn’t shown . . .
that I’d left you in the lurch. When you saw me,
it was as though someone had lit a candle in
your eyes. You just glowed. I thought you looked
wonderful . . . a golden girl. Except your nose was
red.

“Don’t kiss me or you’ll catch my cold,” you
warned, turning your face away. As if I hadn’t
gotten you to come to New York with the express purpose of kissing you. Boy, you can be a
hard woman when you choose. . . .

So I held your hand instead, all the way to
Manhattan in the limo. You were so impressed
by Vincent Towers Fifth you insisted on walking
all the way around it. You inspected the lobby
from corner to corner, saying, “Wow, this place
must have cost a fortune. And you built it all by
yourself.”

I was modest. “Well, not quite . . . ,” I replied.

You were even more impressed when we
got into the elevator and I pressed the P for
Penthouse button. You were all wide-eyed with
wonder. . . . Sometimes you are so like Riley, I
don’t know which is the kid, you or her. . . .

When we got there, you ran to the floor-to-ceiling windows and looked out at the view, all
of Manhattan spread in front of you. . . . “Central
Park,” you said, awed, and I wanted so badly to
throw my arms around you and hug you. But I
didn’t want you to think I had brought you all
the way to New York just to seduce you . . .
though of course I had. Except there was more to
it than just that. I knew it, even then. . . .

He felt her moving away from him.
Oh, baby,
don’t take your hand away. . . . Please don’t
go. . . . Oh, Zel, I need you now more than
ever. . . . I’m scared of leaving you, Zel, I don’t
want to die. . . .

He could smell her familiar scent as she leaned over him, felt the softness of her lips on his and the cool wetness of her tears. “I’m here, honey,” he heard her whisper. “I’m never leaving you. Detective Camelia would have to drag me away. Except I’m bigger than he is.”

She giggled through her tears, that intoxicating giggle that erupted at all their most serious moments, breaking him up. . . . Had he been able to, he would have heaved a sigh of pure happiness, but the machine was doing his breathing for him. . . .
Damn those machines . . . he had to
get out of there. . . .

She was saying something. He strained to catch her words, spoken softly, almost as if she were talking to herself . . . remembering. . . .

“I walked into that penthouse,” Mel said, “expecting—I don’t know what—the Taj Mahal, the sultan’s palace. I mean, there was this huge space—and just these few old sticks of furniture. A table, a couple of chairs, an old rug, and a sofa that looked as though it came straight from the thrift shop. I guess my jaw must have dropped because you were laughing.

“I said, ‘I didn’t know you were just moving in.’

“ ‘Actually, I’ve lived here for five years,’ you said. ‘This is it.’

“ ‘Mmmm, definitely not the nesting type,’ I said. I was laughing, too, as I inspected your bedroom. It was just what I’d expected by then. A bed, a chair, a lamp. My, but you were basic. Except for the hi-fi equipment. I’d never seen anything like that. ‘The latest and the best,’ you told me proudly, putting on a CD of Chet Baker’s ‘Long Ago and Far Away.’ I’ll never forget it . . . it became our song. . . .

“I walked to the windows. The lights sparkled down Fifth Avenue and it was snowing. You came and stood beside me . . . not touching, but it felt as though you were, with those little electric vibrations zinging between us like Morse code. I was so aware of you I swear my hair stood on end. I had never felt anything like it before . . . never. . . .”

Mel looked sadly at Ed, so still, so silent, in the white hospital bed, kept alive by machines. “I hope you remember too, honey,” she said wistfully. “Oh, I hope you remember, my love. . . .”

I remember. I was looking at you, storing you
in my mind for just such a time as this, when I
couldn’t see you. I guess the right description for
you would be “gamine,” but that implies someone smaller, and you were my Valkyrie. I remember thinking I’d never be able to run my
hands through your hair, it was barely a couple of
inches long except for the jagged golden bangs
falling into your eyes. And I remember those
huge, urgent copper-brown eyes that I melted
into when they met mine. I loved those long
curling golden lashes, they made you look so innocent,like a fawn. And I liked your nose too.
Straight, rather long—kind of arrogant if you
want the truth, but it went with the bone structure. And your mouth, oh boy, your mouth was
special, it really got to me, even if your lips were
chapped. Full and kind of pouty. “Vulnerable”
was the word that came to mind.

“Let’s go out,” you said, just as I was about
to take you in my arms. . . . “I want to walk
down Fifth Avenue in the snow.” So I took my
California alien out walking in the blizzard. . . .

“Heaven,” Mel remembered, smiling. “It was sheer heaven. The snow covered our hair and got stuck in your beard. The horses outside the Plaza had on little bonnets and blankets, and there was even the smell of chestnuts roasting. ‘It’s magic,’ I said to you, and you laughed and said, ‘Only you could think so, just take a look at the traffic.’ It was crawling along bumper to bumper. We could see the drivers’ angry faces and feel their frustration, but we were outside of it. ‘Get out and walk in the snow like us,’ I yelled at them, laughing.

“We were in our own magic circle. Even the little diner on East Forty-ninth with the windows steamed and the smell of bacon and burgers and hot coffee was wonderful. The snow melted off our hair as we shared a toasted ham-and-Swiss on rye and drank coffee so hot it burned our throats.”

I’d meant to take you out to dinner someplace fancy, woo you with fine food, champagne,
roses. Impress you with my savoir faire and
the fact that the maitre d’ knows me. Hah, I
didn’t even get a chance . . . and you didn’t
care, you loved walking in the snow, you practically danced along on those wondrously silly
high heels. And you insisted on eating at the
diner. . . .

“We window-shopped all the way back up Fifth Avenue,” Mel said, laughing. “Saks, Gucci, Bergdorf, with me planning what I would buy when Moving On finally made some money. And you telling me you would buy me anything I wanted . . . until I had to remind you that my southern mama would definitely not approve. Well, she certainly would not have approved of what happened next. . . .”

We melted in the elevator,
he thought,
only this
time into each other’s arms. We couldn’t even wait
until we got to the top. When I stopped kissing
you for a second, you said, “What if somebody
else gets in?” “Let them,” I said. “Like Rhett, I
don’t give a damn. . . .” And then you were giggling so hard, I couldn’t get my mouth over yours
again. . . .

“We were still kissing when the elevator doors opened,” Mel remembered. “Somehow we managed to get out of there without removing our mouths from each other’s. God, we were so hot for each other, we could have melted that entire blizzard. . . . You unfastened my coat, and I slid my arms out of the sleeves, letting it fall where it may. Then I was unbuttoning your coat. ‘Naked,’ I said triumphantly, throwing it to the ground and laughing. ‘Not yet,’ you said. Then you put Chet Baker on again. . . . You were setting me up with sweet music, soft lights. . . .

“You said, ‘I should offer you a glass of champagne, give you the roses.’

“ ‘Forget it,’ I murmured. Then my eyes popped. ‘What roses?’ I asked, astonished.

“You took my hand and walked me to the bedroom. And there were roses everywhere. White roses, cream roses, pale pink, peach, apricot. . . . In the couple of hours we had been out, that bedroom had been transformed into a veritable bower. ‘I just thought it looked a bit sparse,’ you said apologetically.
And I knew then I loved
you. . . .
”

I knew I loved you,
Ed remembered,
when I
saw that look in your eyes when you looked at
the roses. Awe and wonder and astonishment,
and then that melting again. . . . “How did you
do it?” you asked, shaking your head in amazement. I just shrugged. “You’re in New York now,
baby,” I said, grinning like a fool.

“And you are its king,” you cried, throwing
your arms around me. Which, you being as tall
as I am in those heels, you could do very easily.
In fact I’m not sure whether you swept me
off my feet or whether it was the other way
around. . . . We were so hot for each other, we
just tore off our clothes, stepped out of them. We
stood looking at each other. You were exactly as
I had known you would be: your rib cage curving into a narrow waist, the flare of your hips
and the smooth line of your flanks, your deliciously soft golden mound, and long, tapering
legs. And your high, round breasts that I knew
would feel like satin under my hands. . . .

Mel was smiling. “I looked you up and down. Down and up again. You were fit, muscular, and ready for me. . . . Oh boy, were you
ready
for me. . . . I was unable to tear my eyes away. I couldn’t help it, I had to laugh. Why do I always manage to laugh at the wrong moments, just when it should have been so . . . so intense . . . so sexy. . . .
‘And they say size doesn’t matter,’
I remember saying, amazed.”

Ed remembered it too. He remembered his
great shout of laughter as he snatched her to
him and fell backward onto the bed, helpless
with laughter. He could taste her mouth now,
sweet and juicy as strawberry jam.

Your arms were twined around my neck, pressing
my face to yours. “More please,” you murmured
when I came up for air. And I laughed again as I
obliged.

“I could feel you, pressing between my thighs, hard as a baseball bat, and hot. I wanted you, Ed. Oh, I wanted you as I had never wanted anyone before. I wanted you to devour me, to enfold me, to enter and claim me as your own. I wanted everything. I could feel your heat seeping deep inside me, sending unstoppable shivers through my entire body. Your kisses were soft as butterfly wings on my face, so sweet, so loving, while you rocketed me to heaven.”

We were one, Zelda,
Ed remembered. And surprisingly, his body remembered too, recalling the way she had felt, the scent of her, her heat and passion. . . .
You threw back your head at the final moment.
“Oh, God,”
you gasped, and then
your cry matched my own.

Mel remembered opening her eyes, she had needed to see him. . . . “I looked at your face, still contorted with passion,” she whispered, “and I was awed that all that emotion was for me . . . for us. Your body was heavy on mine, but I never wanted to move. We were as slick with sweat as a pair of sumo wrestlers. I remember even now, the smell of the roses and sex, the magical aroma of our love. I’ll never forget it, Ed, never. . . .”

Her tears ran onto his face as she kissed him, and the reality of the hospital bed took over. For a moment, she had been transported back in time and that time had seemed their reality. Not this, she thought, agonized. Not Ed lying here, hooked up to a machine that keeps him breathing. . . .

“You will
not
die,” she said, gripping his hand urgently. “I will not let you. Do you hear me, Ed Vincent, you great oaf?”

I hear you,
he thought with an inner smile.
And
if anybody can keep me alive, it’s you, baby. Only
you. Though I’m trying my darnedest. . . . It’s win-or-lose time. . . .