“Are you sure that’s all right? Won’t you be tired?”
“I’ll have two days off to rest,” Paula replied. “I’ll take a quick shower and change.” She paused in mid stride. “I hate to leave you here alone.”
Cindy smiled with a wry awareness of her situation. “You’re not my babysitter, Paula. I’ll be fine.”
Paula went into the bathroom, and Cindy sat on the edge of the bed, looking around at the room that had been her home for several weeks. It was barren now, empty of her personal items, like a hotel room when the guests have left.
At that moment, it seemed the perfect complement to her desolate soul.
* * * *
After Paula left Cindy tried to read some of the glossy magazines that Paula bought in stacks of five. The articles on miracle diets and the latest makeup techniques failed to hold her interest, and she switched on the television set. The schedule offered nothing but situation comedies full of unfunny situations and canned laughter, and she shut it off again in frustration. Finally she put on a local FM radio station, turning the volume up on the rock music that filled the apartment. She felt warm in the enclosed rooms and opened the outer door to the screen. It was a cool night, and Paula hadn’t turned on the air conditioning. Drinking in the fresh air that flooded in from the hall like a tide, Cindy began to hum along with the singer whose voice canceled the silence and lifted her spirits.
“I can’t hold back; I’m on the edge,” she sang as she started to dance, which she often did when alone. Too reserved to perform in public, she liked to fling herself about when no one was looking. She indulged her need for self-expression and got the benefit of the exercise at the same time. She soon became overheated trying to keep pace with the driving rock beat and paused between songs to strip to her chemise, tossing her clothes on the sofa.
A new number began, and she joined in with it. She shimmied and spun around, carried away by the music, lost in the throbbing drums and wailing guitars. It was bliss just to move, not to think, to feel her heart beating and blood pumping, the air filling her lungs. She was alive, and that, at least, was something to celebrate.
Cindy was so absorbed in what she was doing that when she whirled past the door and caught sight of a figure there, she stopped cold, gasping with shock. Her eyes widened and the back of her hand went to her mouth. It was Fox.
She had no idea how long he’d been there, but from his expression, it was a while. He was breathing hard, his broad shoulders rising and falling, his face filmed with a fine sheen of perspiration. The fever pitch of his excitement flowed from him to her in potent wordless communication.
Cindy stared at him, mesmerized.
He pushed the screen door open and stepped through it, never taking his eyes from hers. He kicked the storm door shut with his foot and locked it without looking at it. As he passed the stereo he shut it off with a snap.
He was wearing a blue cotton shirt, open at the throat, with a turquoise amulet on a silver circlet around his neck. It was the first Indian thing she had ever seen on him, and it glowed like a sapphire against the honey bronze background of his skin. His jeans, as always, fit him like a sheath, clinging to his slim hips and powerful legs with flattering precision. His feet inside the battered brown moccasins were bare.
Cindy took a step toward him, forgetting that she wore nothing but a silken teddy, forgetting everything but the miracle of his presence. When he saw that she wasn’t going to send him away, he covered the remaining distance between them in a second. He caught her to him in an embrace so powerful that it lifted her bodily into his arms.
He just held her for a few moments, savoring the sensation, and then knelt, lowering her to the floor. He looked at her for a long, breathless beat, then ran his hands over her body from shoulders to knees, molding the damp silk to her slender form. Cindy’s lashes fluttered, and then her eyes closed.
Fox slipped the straps of the sleek ivory chemise down her arms, and then pulled it from her body, tossing it aside. He bent and encircled her waist with his hands, laving the tip of each breast with his tongue. Cindy sank her fingers into the wealth of hair at the back of his neck, holding his head against her. When he finally sat up she clutched at his shirt, desperate to maintain contact.
He put her hands aside gently and took off his shirt as she watched through heavy lidded eyes. When his torso was bare she reached up and caressed him, moving her palm from pectoral to bicep, admiring his beauty. His large fingers covered her smaller ones, and he pushed her hand down his muscular midsection to his thigh. When she touched him he closed his eyes and sighed so deeply that it echoed in the stillness of the room.
He was motionless for a time, absorbing the feel of her hands on him. Growing impatient, she put her arms around him and tugged him toward her. Then he stood and removed his pants while she shifted restlessly, anxious for his return.
When he joined her again, she put her arms around his neck and received him eagerly. He kissed her for the first time since he had arrived, his mouth full and warm on hers, and entered her at almost the same moment. Tears gathered in the corners of Cindy’s eyes, and she turned her head, squeezing her lids shut to hide them. She knew that this was his farewell. She would never have this with him again.
It was over quickly; they were both too hungry to go slow. At the end, exhausted, they fell asleep immediately. Cindy’s final impression was of Fox surrounding her, of being pinned to the earth by his sweet weight.
* * * *
When she woke up, Fox was gone. Her head rested on a throw pillow from the sofa, and he had brought the quilt from the guest room, covering her with it. Her chemise was folded in a neat square on the chair by the door.
Cindy got up and, dragging the quilt after her, looked for a note. There was none to be found, but she hadn’t really expected one. Dissatisfied with their brittle goodbye at the lake, he had come at the last moment to do it properly, to say with his body what he would never put into words.
Cindy glanced at the clock. Paula would be home soon. She pushed her hair back from her face, and, trailing the quilt like a child dragging a teddy bear, went into the bathroom to take a shower.
* * * *
When Paula returned from work she found Cindy sitting cross legged on the sofa, wearing a bathrobe and staring into space.
“Oh, oh,” Paula said. “I know that look. He was here, wasn’t he?”
Cindy nodded. “Paula, I’m such a fool. I had made up my mind to forget him, and then when he showed up here tonight it all went right out of my head. He didn’t even have to say a word.” She covered her face with her hands. “I feel like an idiot.”
Paula sat next to her and patted her arm. “You’re not a fool, Cindy. You’re in love.”
“I used to think I was so strong,” Cindy went on. “But it was just because I didn’t know. I didn’t realize what it was like to feel this way.” She shook her head slowly. “Fox is the strong one.”
“I don’t know about that,” Paula replied. “He seems to be having a lot of trouble letting you go.”
“He may be having trouble, but he’ll do it,” Cindy said.
“You’re very certain.”
“You’ll see,” Cindy said sadly.
In the morning Paula seemed to be waiting for the phone or the doorbell to ring. But as the hour of their departure for the airport approached and there was no word from Fox, she gradually realized that Cindy had been correct.
“I can’t believe he’s not going to stop you,” Paula said to Cindy as they loaded her bags into her car.
“It’s all right,” Cindy said to her friend, who seemed more upset about it than she was. “I’ve accepted it. Now let’s get going before I miss the flight.”
They didn’t hit much traffic on the way and Cindy was early for the plane. Paula hung around morosely, staring up at the flight board and then at Cindy, her expression uncomfortable.
“Why don’t you go?” Cindy finally said to her. “There’s nothing you can do here and you must be tired. I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?” Paula asked, obviously relieved.