“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 Porthault to Aunt Hil, 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. Their 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.”
Chapter 24
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 his 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.
“Jesus, darling, I feel like I didn’t even get to talk to you yesterday. Are you already going out now?”
“Yeah, but I’ll be back early today. I just have so much to do, and we’ve got to get back out to San Francisco in three days.” Three days. Where had she gotten the idea that they would be spending time alone in New York? Time to walk in the park, and talk, to lie in bed at night and think aloud, time to smile at the fire, and giggle over popcorn. It wasn’t going to be like that at all. It already wasn’t. The hearing was less than a week away now, and at his insistence, she was sticking close to home. He had been adamant about that. He had enough to think about without worrying about her.
He left ten minutes later, and the promise that he’d be back early went by the wayside. He walked in at ten that night, looking tired and nervous and worn, reeking of bourbon and cigars, with dark rings under his eyes.
“Luke, can’t you take one day off? You need it so much.” He shook his head as he threw his coat over the back of a chair. “Just an afternoon? Or one evening?”
“Goddammit, Kezia! Don’t press me! I have too fucking much to do as it is.” Gone the dream of peace before the hearing. There would be no peace, no time alone, no rest, no candlelight dinners. There would be Luke coming and going, looking ravaged, up at dawn, drunk by noon, and sober again and spent by the end of the evening. And nightmares when he finally allowed himself a few hours of sleep.
A canyon had opened between them, a space around him which she couldn’t even begin to approach. He wouldn’t let her.
On their last night in New York she heard Luke’s key in the door and turned in her seat at the desk. He looked pathetically tired, and he was alone.
“Hi Mama. What’s doing?”
“Nothing, love. You look like you had a bitch of a day.”
“Yeah, I did.” The smile was old and rueful, the lines around his eyes had deepened noticeably in the last few days. Luke sagged visibly in his chair. He was beat.
“Want a drink?” He shook his head. But tired as he was, there was a familiar light in his eyes. It was as though the old Luke had finally come home … the one she’d waited weeks, and now days for. He was worn out, exhausted, but sober and alone. She went to him and he put his arms around her.
“I’m sorry I’ve been such a sonofabitch.”
“You haven’t been. And I love you … a whole bunch.” She looked down into his face, and they smiled.
“You know, Kezia, the funny thing is that no matter how hard you run, you can’t run away from it. But I got a lot done. I guess that’s something at least.” It was the first hint he’d given her that he was scared too. It was like a train heading straight for their life, and their feet were rooted to the tracks while it just kept coming at them … and coming and coming and coming … and….