“What are people going to think?” she said, as he drove her from the hospital, back to Eighty-fourth street. She imagined that everyone knew her boss was hanging out with her day and night, and they were going to put it up on billboards.
“I don't think anyone really cares, to tell you the truth. Except us. Everyone is busy screwing up their own lives. And frankly, I don't think we're screwing up ours. You're the best thing that ever happened to me.” He repeated that to her when he arrived on her doorstep with a picnic. More importantly, he had a small blue box with him, and in it was a narrow gold bracelet.
“What's this for?” she said, awed by his generosity. It was from Tiffany, and it fit her perfectly, but she wasn't sure if she should accept it.
But he was laughing at her. “Do you know what day this is?” She shook her head. She had lost track of dates while she was in the hospital. She had spent the Fourth of July there, but she hadn't paid much attention after that. “It's your birthday, silly girl. That's why I had them let you out today instead of Monday. You can't stay in the hospital on your birthday!” Tears filled her eyes as she realized what he'd done, and he'd even brought a small birthday cake for her from Greenberg's. It was all chocolate, and very rich, and incredibly gooey and delicious.
“How can you do all this for me?” She felt shy with him suddenly, but so pleased. He had done nothing but spoil her since the mugging. Spoil her and be kind to her, and spend time with her. No one had ever been as kind to her as he was.
“Easy, I guess,” he answered, “I don't have kids. Maybe I should adopt you. Now there's a thought. That certainly simplifies things for you, doesn't it?” She laughed at the suggestion. It would certainly have been easier than dealing with her feelings and fears of getting involved with him.
Their relationship changed subtly once she was back in her apartment. It was instantly more intimate, closer, and more difficult to pretend that they were just friends. They were suddenly all alone without nurses and attendants to chaperon and interrupt them. It made Grace feel shy with him at first, and he pretended not to notice. He had brought a funny nurse's hat with him with her birthday cake and gift and picnic lunch, and he put it on, and forced her to go to bed and rest. He watched TV with her, and made dinner for her in her tiny kitchen. She hobbled out to help, and he made her sit in a chair and watch, while she protested.
“I'm not helpless, you know,” she objected vociferously.
“Yes, you are. Don't forget, I'm the boss here,” he overruled her, and she laughed. It was so easy being with him, and so comfortable. They lay on her bed after dinner, and talked, and he held her hand, but he was desperately afraid to go any further, or of what would happen if he did. And finally, unable to stand it any longer, he turned and asked her one of the things he had wanted to know for weeks now.
“Are you afraid of me, Grace? I mean physically … I don't want to do anything that will frighten or hurt you.” She was touched that he had asked her. He had been lying next to her on her bed for two hours, and holding her hand. They were like old friends, but there was also an undeniable electricity between them. And now it was Charles who was frightened. He didn't want to do anything that would jeopardize their relationship, or make him lose her.
“Sometimes, I'm afraid of men,” she said honestly.
“Someone did some awful stuff to you, didn't they?” She nodded in answer. “A stranger?” She shook her head and there was a long pause.
“My father.” But there were other things, and she knew she needed to explain those too. She sighed, and picked up his hand again and kissed his fingers. “All my life, people tried to hurt me, or take advantage of me. After … after he was gone … my first boss tried to seduce me. He was married, I don't know … it was just so sleazy. He just assumed that he had a right to use me. And another man I had business dealings with did the same thing.” She was talking about Louis Marquez and didn't want to explain him to Charles just yet, although she knew that eventually, if this got serious, she'd have to. “This other man kept threatening, threatened that I'd lose my job if I didn't sleep with him. He used to show up at my apartment. It was disgusting … and then there was someone I went out with. He did pretty much the same thing, used me, made a fool of me, never gave a damn. He put something in my drink and I got horribly sick. But he didn't rape me at least. At first I was afraid that maybe he had after he'd drugged me, but he hadn't. He just made me look like a fool afterwards. He was a real bastard.”
Charles looked horrified. He couldn't imagine people doing things like that. Especially to someone he knew. It was appalling. “How did you know he hadn't raped you?” he asked in an agonized voice, thinking of what she must have been through.
“My roommate took me to a doctor she knew. Nothing had happened. But he pretended that it had, and told everyone that. He told my boss, which was why he went after me, and I guess why he expected to sleep with me. That was why I quit my job and left Chicago.”
“Good luck for me.” He smiled, putting an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer.
“Those were the only men I really had any dealings with. I only went out with that one guy in Chicago, and he made a real ass of me. I never went out with anyone in high school … because of my father …”
“Where did you go to college?” he asked, and she smiled at the memory.
“In Dwight, Illinois,” she said honestly.
“And who did you go out with there?” This time she laughed, remembering what would have been her choices.
“Not a soul. It was an all-girls school, so to speak.” But she knew then that she'd have to tell him soon. She just didn't want to tell him all of it on her birthday. It was too hard to go through, and they'd had such a nice time. It was the best birthday she'd ever had, even with her broken bones and her stitches and her crutches. He had made up for everything and a lot of years with his dinner, and his present, and his kindness.
He didn't want to push her much further than he already had, but he wanted to understand something more clearly. “Am I correct in believing that you're not a virgin?”
“That's right,” she glanced up at him, looking breathtakingly beautiful in a blue satin bathrobe he'd bought her.
“I just wondered … but there hasn't been anyone in a long time, has there?”
She nodded. “I promise we'll talk about it sometime … just not tonight. …” He didn't want to talk about it on her birthday either. He suspected correctly that it was going to be hard for her, and he didn't want to spoil their evening.
“Whenever you're ready … I just wanted to know … I don't ever want to do anything that scares you.” But as he said the words, and she had her face turned up to his, listening to him, he found himself melting toward her and he couldn't help it. He gently took her face in his hands, and ever so carefully kissed her. She seemed cautious at first, and then he felt her responding to him. He lay down next to her, and held her close to him, and kissed her again, wanting her desperately, but he never allowed his hands to wander toward her body.
“Thank you,” she whispered, and kissed him this time. “For being so good to me, and so patient.”
“Don't press your luck,” he almost groaned after he'd kissed her again. This was not going to be easy. But he was determined to bring her back across the bridge eventually. He knew that whatever it took, and however long, he was going to save her.
He left her apartment late that night, after he'd tucked her into bed, and she was almost sleeping. He kissed her again, and let himself out. He had borrowed a key from her, so she didn't have to get up, and he could lock the door behind him. And the next morning, as she hobbled to the bathroom and brushed her hair, she looked startled as she heard him let himself into the apartment. He had brought orange juice and bagels with cream cheese, and the New York Times, and he made her scrambled eggs and bacon.