Passion's Promise (35 page)

"On a plate? It still looks like a fruit salad to me."

"You're a barbarian."

He laughed and pulled her into his arms. It was warm and comfortable there.

"You'd never get away with a wreath like that in a poor neighborhood. It'd be picked clean m an hour. But I will admit ... I like it. It's a beautiful wreath—for a fruit salad."

"Asshole."

"Yup. That's me." But she was still comfortably lodged in his arms as they spoke. She felt safe there; she liked it She pulled reluctantly away after a few moments, and their eyes met with laughter.

"What about some dinner, Kezia? Or are you serving the wreath?"

"You take one bite out of that and I'll brain you! One of my friends' brothers did that one year and I cried for a week."

"He must have been a sensible kid, but I can't stand women in tears. We'd better go get a pizza."

"On Christmas?" She was shocked.

"Well, they don't sell tacos in this part of the world, or I would have suggested that Can you suggest anything better?"

"I certainly can!" She still had the two Rock Cornish game hens she had been saving for Luke's Christmas dinner, just in case he came home. "How about a real Christmas dinner?"

"How about saving that for tomorrow? Will the invitation still be good?"

"Sure? Why ... do you have to go now?" Maybe he was in a hurry, and thus the suggestion of pizza. Her face suddenly fell, and she tried to look as though nothing had happened. But she wanted bun to stay. It had been such a nice evening.

"No, I don't have to go. But I just had an idea. Want to go skating?" "I'd love it"

She put another sweater on over the one she already wore, thick red wool socks, brown suede boots, and buried herself in a lynx jacket and hat.

"Kezia, you look like someone in a movie." She had the kind of beauty which appealed to him. Luke was a damn lucky man.

She told the answering service when they'd be back, in case Lucas called, and together they braved the biting night ah-. There was no wind, only a bitter frost which seared the lungs and eyes.

They stopped for hamburgers and hot tea, and she laughed as he told her of the chaos of Christmas in a Mexican home. A thousand children underfoot and all the women cooking, then* husbands drunk, and parties in every home. She told him the things she had liked about her Christmases as a child.

"You know, I never got the purple-sequined gold dress." She still looked almost surprised. She had seen it in a magazine when she was six, and had written all about h to Santa.

"What did you get instead? A mink coat?" He said it teasingly, without malice.

"No, darling, a Rolls." She looked down her nose at him from beneath the big furry hat

"And a chauffeur, of course."

"No, I didn't get him till I was seven. My own, of course, with two liveried footmen." She giggled at him again from under the hat "Shit Alejandro, they used to drop me three blocks from school when I was a kid, and then follow me. But I had to walk the last bit of the way because they didn't think it was cool for me to arrive at school with a chauffeur."

"That's funny. My parents felt the same way. I had to walk too. It's really rough what kids have to go through, isn't it?" His eyes laughingly mocked her.

"Oh shut up."

He threw back his head and laughed. Plumes of frost flew from his mouth in the cold night air.

"Kezia, I love you. You are really one crazy lady."

"Maybe I am." She was thinking of Lucas.

"Man, I wish I had bought some tequila. It's gonna be colder than shit on the ice." She giggled at him then, looking like a child with a secret. "I'm glad you think it's so funny. Me, I'm not wearing fur, and if I fall on my ass, which I will, I'll wind up with a good case of frostbite." She giggled again, and with a white cashmere mittened hand pulled a flat silver flask from her pocket. "What's that?"

"Instant insulation. Cognac. The flask was my grandfather's."

"The dude was no dummy. That's a mighty thin flask. Hell, you could wear that in your suit and no one would spot it ... pretty cool." Arm in arm, they walked into the park, and began to sing "Silent Night."

She unscrewed the cap on the flask and they each took a sip before she put it back in her pocket, feeling much better. It was one of those rare nights in New York when the city seemed to shrink. Cars had all but disappeared, buses seemed quieter and fewer, people were no longer rushing and actually took the extra second or two to smile at passersby. Everyone was either at home or away, or hiding from the fierce winter cold, but here and there groups were walking or singing. Keria and Alejandro smiled at the other couples they passed, and now and then someone joined in their songs. By the time they got on the ice at the skating rink they had all but exhausted then: collective knowledge of Christmas carols, and had had several sips from the flask.

"That's what I like, a woman who travels equipped. A flask full of cognac. Yep, you are crazy ... but good crazy, definitely good crazy." He sailed past her on the ice with a broad grin, intending to show off, and winding up instead on his ass.

"Mister, I think you're drunk."

"You ought to know, you're my barman." He grinned at her good-humoredly as he got up.

"Want some more?"

"No. I just joined A .A."

"Party pooper."

"Lush."

They laughed at each other, sang "Deck the Halls," and skated a few turns arm in arm. The rink was almost deserted, and the other skaters shared in the Christmas spirit. The piped music was merry and light, carols intermingled with waltzes. It was a beautiful night. And it was past eleven before they decided they'd had enough.

Despite the cognac, their faces were numb from the cold.

"How about midnight mass at Saint Patrick's? Or would that be a bad trip? You're not Catholic, are you?"

"Nope. Episcopal, but I have nothing against Saint Patrick's. Your mass isn't that different from ours. I'd eally enjoy it." There was a moment of worry in her face, as she thought of missing a call from Luke. But the prospect of church appealed to her, and Alejandro swept her along. He suspected what she'd been thinking. And going home to sit by the phone would negate all they'd done. It was turning into a passable Christmas, and he wasn't going to let her spoil it. Even for Luke.

They walked down a deserted Fifth Avenue, past all the ornate window dressings, the lights and the trees. It had a carnival air. Saint Patrick's was jammed, hot, and smelted strongly of incense. They wedged their bodies in way at the back of the church; they could not approach the front pews, short of standing on shoulders and walking on heads. People had come from miles. Midnight mass at Saint Patrick's was a tradition for many.

The organ was somber and majestic, the church dark except for the light shed by thousands of candles.

It was a high mass, and one-thirty when they got out.

"Tired?" He held her arm as they made their way down the steps. The cold air was a shock after the scented warmth of the church.

"More like sleepy. I think it's the incense."

"Of course the cognac and the skating have nothing to do with it" His eyes laughed at her, but kindly.

He hailed a cab, and the doorman at her place lurched his way to the door.

"Looks like he's been having a good time."

"So would you if you raked in as much money as he and the other guys do. They each get an envelope from everyone in the building." She thought of what Alejandro must make at the center and cringed at the comparison. "Want to come up for a drink?"

"I shouldn't. . . ." He knew she was tired.

"But you will. Come on, Al, don't be a drag."

"Maybe I'll just stay for a minute, and have a bite of the fruit salad."

"Touch my wreath and you'll regret it! And don't say I didn't warn you!" She brandished the nearly empty flask at him and he ducked. They giggled sleepily as they walked out of the elevator arm in arm.

The apartment was warm and cozy and the tree looked pretty all lit up in the corner. She went out to the kitchen, as he sat down on the couch.

"Hey Kezia!"

"What?"

"Make that another hot chocolate!" He had had more than enough cognac, and so had she.

"I was."

She came out with two steaming cups covered with rapidly dissolving marsbmallows, and they sat side by side on the floor, looking up at the tree.

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Vidal."

"Merry Christmas, Miss Saint Martin." It was a solemn moment, and for what felt like a very long time neither spoke. Their thoughts were drifting separately to other people, other years, and in their own ways, they each found their minds wandering back to Luke and the present.

"You know what you ought to do, Alejandro?"

"What?" He had stretched out on the floor, his eyes closed, his heart warm. He was growing very fond of her and he was glad he had made a change of plans. This was turning into a beautiful Christmas. "What should I do?"

"Sleep on the couch. It seems stupid for you to go all the way uptown at this hour. Ill give you some sheets and a blanket and you can etay here." And then I won't have to wake up in an empty house tomorrow morning, and we can giggle and laugh, and go for a walk in the park. Please, please stay . . . please. . . .

"Wouldn't it be a pain in the ass for you if I stay?"

"No. I'd love it." The look in her eyes said she needed his presence there, and he didn't know why, but he needed that too.

"Are you sure?"

"Very sure. And I know Lucas won't mind." She knew she could trust him, and it had been such a nice evening that now she desperately didn't want to be alone. It was Christmas; It had finally dawned on her.

Christmas: a time for families and friends and people you love. A time for children and big sloppy dogs to come lumbering into the house and play with the wrappings from the gifts that were being opened. Instead, she had sent Edward a set of colorless books for his library, and French place mats from Por-thault to Aunt Hit, to add to the towering stack already in her London linen closets. And in turn, Hilary had sent her perfume, and a scarf from Hardy Amies. Edward had given her a bracelet that was too large and not her style. And Totie had sent her a hat that she'd knitted, that didn't go with anything Kezia owned, and might possibly have fit her when she was ten. Totie had aged. Hadn't they all?

And the exchange of gifts had all been so meaningless this year, by mail, via stores, to people she owed by ritual and tradition, not really by heart. She was glad she and Alejandro had not tried to drum up gifts for each other that night. They had given each other something far better. Then-friendship. And now she wanted him to stay. Aside from Luke, it suddenly felt as though he were her only friend.

"Will you stay?" She looked down at him lying on the floor beside where she sat.

"With pleasure." He opened an eye, and held out a hand for one of hers. "You may be crazy, but you're still a beautiful lady."

"Thank you."

She kissed him gently on the forehead, and went down the hall to get him some sheets. A few minutes later, she gently closed the door to the room with a last whispered "Merry Christmas," which meant "thanks."

Kezia had been out shopping. She had stopped sitting in her apartment, just waiting for Luke. It had been driving her crazy. So she foraged around Bendel's and wandered through the boutiques on Madison Avenue for an hour that afternoon, and when she opened the door, Luke's suitcase was spilling its contents nervously across the floor, brush, comb, razor, rumpled shirts, sweaters lying about, two broken cigars tangled with a belt, and one shoe, whose mate was missing: Lucas was home.

He waved at her from the desk as she walked in. He was on the phone, but a broad grin spread over bis face, and she walked swiftly to his side, matching his smile, and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. It felt so good just to hold him again. He felt so big and so beautiful, his hair smelled fresh and felt like silk under her hand. Black silk, and soft on his neck. He hung up the phone and turned around in his chair to hold her face in his hands and look into the eyes that he loved.

"God, you look good to me, Mama." There was something fervent in his eyes and his hands were almost rough.

"Darling, how I missed you!"

"Baby, me too. And I'm sorry about Christmas." He buried his face in her chest, and gently kissed her left breast.

"I'm so glad you're home . . . and Christmas was lovely. Even without you. Alejandro took care of me like a brother."

"He's a good man."

"Yes, he is." But her thoughts were far from Alejandro Vidal. They were filled with the man she was looking at Lucas Johns was her man. And she was his woman. It was the best feeling she knew. "Oh Jesus, but how I missed you, Lucas!" He laughed with pleasure at the catch in her voice, and pulled her off her feet, standing up and sweeping her into his arms like a child. He kissed her firmly on the mouth, said not a word, and walked her straight into the bedroom as she giggled. He marched right over the suitcase, the clothes, the cigars, kicked the bedroom door shut with his foot, and made his presence rapidly and amply known. Lucas was very much home.

He had brought her a turquoise Navajo bracelet of elaborate and intricate beauty, and he laughed at the Christmas presents she gave him . . . and then grew silent over the book that had been her father's. He knew what it must have meant for her to give it to him, and he felt something hot at the back of his eyes.

He only looked up at her and nodded, his eyes quiet and grave. She kissed him gently, and the way their lips met told them both what they already knew, how much he loved her, and she him.

He was back at the phone in an hour, bourbon in hand. And half an hour later he announced that he had to go out. When he did, he didn't come back to the apartment until nine, and then got back on the phone again. When he finally got to bed at two in the morning, Kezia had long since gone to sleep. He was up and dressed when she awoke the next morning. These were hectic days. And tense ones. And now there were always plainclothesmen wherever Luke was. Even Kezia spotted them now.