Makin' Whoopee (19 page)

❧

The next morning when the electricity came back on, Sara took care of relighting the central heat and the water heater. As she bathed and dressed she moved with purpose. One way or another she would make Charlie listen. If there were any way to undo what she had done, she would grab it.

Irma called at about nine to add her thanks to Harmen's for keeping Dawn safe. The older wnman sounded tired but relieved when she told Sara that the specialist from Houston had pinpointed Marilyn's problem. The viral disease had an unpronounceable name but was definitely curable.

Sara was pleased for Irma's sake and for Dawn's, but she had an errand to run, and everything took a back seat to the resolution of her problems with Charlie.

As soon as she hung up the phone, she grabbed her purse and left the house. She had a gift to buy—an important gift—then she would find Charlie.

Two hours later, on the long, slow drive home, she found herself glancing continually at the package on the seat, knowing it wouldn't make everything right again, but hoping against hope that it would provide the opening she needed.

When she pulled into the driveway she saw Charlie's car parked by the back door. Her heart jerked as she stared at the red convertible.

Please, God
, she asked silently.
Please let me make him understand
. She took deep, slow breaths to calm herself, then got out of the car.

Inside the house she paused at the door to Charlie's office. He was sitting at his desk, his hands bracing his head, as though he also had spent a sleepless night. Then, as if sensing her presence, he raised his head and stared at her.

Was there really so much pain in his eyes
, she wondered,
or was she imagining it?
Her lips trembled into a tentative smile. "Hi," she said softly.

When he didn't respond, she walked into the room. "I—I bought you a present." She held out the wrapped box.

He stared at her for a moment longer, then glanced at the box in her hands. Without speaking, he took it from her and opened it.

Sara held her breath as he pulled the long white silk scarf from the box. With his head bent he said, "What does it mean, Sara? Does it mean you want me to be Charlie Just-for-fun?"

She swallowed a sob. "It means I want you to be Charlie Everything. My Everything. At least as much as I can have . . . the fun side and the serious side. Friend, partner . . . lover."

His fingers clenched tightly around the white silk, and he brought the scarf to his face, his eyes closed. "Does this mean you're not afraid anymore?"

"I'm terrified, Charlie," she said shakily. "But as scared as I am of what could happen between us, I'm even more terrified of being without you."

He stood, and slowly began walking toward her. "Terrified enough to take the next step?"

She moistened her lips nervously. She didn't understand what he meant, but she couldn't blow it now. "The next step?" she repeated hoarsely.

"Friend, partner, lover—yes, all those. But what about husband, Sara?"

She paled. "You want me . . . You want to get married? You can't really want that, Charlie." She shook her head frantically. "You walked out on me. You were going to leave me forever. . . . Weren't you?"

"I'm almost tempted to lie." His tone mocked himself. "But I can't. The truth is, I would have stayed. I've sweated it out for two years, and I guess I would have sweated it out for another forty or so if I had to." He smiled that crazy crooked smile. "I'm afraid loving you is a habit I can't break."

Sara felt a wave of dizziness hit her. She closed her eyes tightly. "You love me?"

At last he reached her, and she was in his arms. "Love you?" he said hoarsely against her hair. "I've almost gone crazy with loving you. I think I must have fallen in love the first time I saw you." He held her so tightly, it hurt. But this pain was miraculously welcome. "I've wanted to tell you so many times, Sara. You just can't know. But the picture of your reaction always stopped me. I figured you would split your sides laughing."

"Never," she said, clutching him feverishly. "I never would have laughed at you. I love you too much for that."

He inhaled sharply. Then, framing her face, he pulled her head gently away from his shoulder so he could look at her. He didn't speak; he didn't question. He merely searched her face for answers, and when he found them at last there were tears in his blue eyes.

❧

It was much, much later before they found time to really talk, but a more important kind of communication took place between them.

The sun was dropping in the west when Charlie leaned on one elbow to look down at her, lying on the bed beside him. "It's really happening, isn't it?" He sounded as deeply satisfied as Sara felt.

She touched his face. "I still might screw it up, Charlie. I might screw it up badly."

He kissed her hand. "Shut up," he said lazily. "We can do whatever we want. So if it gets screwed up, it will be because we both did it. But it won't. We won't let it." He frowned. "I don't want you to think I don't understand what's been happening to you, Sara. I blame myself for some of it. I should have seen it; I should have helped you. We all have things that eat at us—I'll tell you about some of mine later. From now on I'll share your fear with you. You won't have to face it alone ever again."

She closed her eyes as pure happiness flowed through her. She knew it would be up to her to change her outlook, but with Charlie beside her anything was possible. "That sounds wonderful. . . . You're wonderful."

"I've always known that," he said, smiling a smile that made the sun pale. "But I've had a hell of a time bringing you around to my way of thinking."

She laughed, and pulled his head down to kiss him. After a moment she dropped her gaze and, playing with the hair on his chest, said, "Charlie, there's just one thing."

"Ummm?"

"If you've loved me all this time, what were all those women for?"

He raised one brow in haughty inquiry.

"Okay," she admitted, her voice disgruntled. "I know what they were for."

He ran his hands down her back, then cupped her buttocks and pulled her closer. "No, you don't. All those women were a desperate attempt to get you out of my mind and out of my heart. They didn't work. I even tried to get involved a couple of times, especially after you started seeing Alston. But I couldn't. You see"—he laid his hand gently against her face—"none of them was Sara, my Love. I'm afraid I've always had my heart set on you, kid. No one else would do."

His eyes were shining brightly with an emotion she had no trouble recognizing as love. "This is just the beginning, Sara," he said, his exhilaration spreading to her, running wildly through her blood. "We're on our way to forever."