Love By The Book (6 page)

“I understand,” he said. “Dwelling on the past can be painful. I too lost my father when I was rather young.”

Suddenly realizing what he was saying, my ears perked up. How long had he been making references to his youth? Were these chunks of returning memory or was he just slipping up and forgetting to hold onto his amnesia story? Either way I had to be careful not to do anything to draw his attention to the fact.

“How old were you when your father passed away?” I asked, keeping my voice casual with an effort. It seemed like a cruel topic to draw him out on but I told myself it was for his own good. Besides, if he was faking his memory loss I had a right to know.

“I was sixteen years old when he met with his riding accident. Horse threw him cleanly out of the saddle. The physician said his neck was broken by the fall, and death was instantaneous.” His voice grew thick as he became caught up in the memory. “I was away at school at the time. Everyone said there was nothing anyone could have done. I suppose they were right, but all the same I’ve always regretted that I wasn’t there when it happened.”

I asked gently, “And what happened to you then?”

“After that…” His voice trailed off and he looked at me suddenly. I knew in that moment that we were both aware of his slip-up. He cleared his throat. “You did that on purpose,” he accused.

“Yes,” I admitted. “Wasn’t it good to recall something from your past?”

“I suppose,” he said but still looked wounded. “At the hospital they said this might happen,” he added defensively. “Bits of memories might come floating back at any time. The whole might take longer to return but there could be patches of light in the darkness.”

Patches of light in the darkness? Was that all it had been, I asked myself. I had never fully believed in his amnesia story. At times I had come very close…This afternoon I had come close. But at this moment I found that I once again didn’t know what to make of him.

Under my examination, he looked away over the pond but not before I saw the look of betrayal in his eyes. I decided now was not the time to try and trap him into further confessions. Already he was mistrustful. Besides, whatever the truth was it was clear he had been moved by the memory of his father’s death. It felt wrong to press my advantage at such a moment.

I sighed and wrapped my arms around myself. Suddenly the warmth had gone out of the day. “Listen,” I said with forced cheerfulness to his back, “you want to get out of here and grab a bite to eat?”

“That would be good,” he said but I sensed he still had his guard up. He wasn’t about to put his secrets out into the open again.

We lingered another half hour beneath the roof of the pavilion, waiting for the rain to stop but we kept to opposite sides of the shelter. Whatever temporary bond had begun to grow between us this afternoon had been severed.

Chapter 11

Afternoon had faded into evening by the time we left the park behind. I persuaded Duke to take a cab this time and soon we found ourselves seated in a beat-up booth at my favorite pizza restaurant. The tables were dirty and the lights overhead were dim and flickering, but the smells coming from the kitchen were enough to set the driest of mouths watering. I didn’t realize I had skipped lunch until my stomach started rumbling in response to the scent of cheese and tomato.

“I’m starved,” I confessed to Duke as the waitress left our table, leaving behind a thick pan of pepperoni and an order of bread sticks.

My belly gave another particularly loud rumble to punctuate the statement. If Carlita had been there we would have laughed about it, but with Duke it was embarrassing. I snatched up my soda and swirled the ice cubes around in the glass, hoping their gentle clinking noise would cover any further awkward commentary on the part of my insides.

But if the pizza looked great to me, Duke was less impressed. He sat opposite me, eyeing the cheesy meal at if he expected it to crawl off his plate any minute.

“So, what is this concoction exactly?” he asked.

“Pizza.” I was getting used to explaining things to him as if it was the first time he had seen…well,
anything
. “Just give it a try. You’re going to love it. It’d be unpatriotic not to. It’s, like, our national food.”

Duke poked reluctantly at his plate. “Do you eat here often?” he said in an apparent effort at conversation.

“Sure, several times a week. Or at least I used to back when I was working and could afford it.” But as I said it, I looked around the dimly lit interior and tried to see it as a newcomer must. The wallpaper was peeling and under the stronger scent of the pizza the room had an unpleasant aroma. The tables were scratched up, the chairs rickety. The blaring jukebox in the corner was playing songs twenty years behind their time. The cooks behind the counter wore tomato-smeared aprons that looked as if they’d never been washed, and the waitresses dressed like hookers.

“The food’s good, and they have the cheapest pizzas in town. Believe me, I’ve tried everywhere else.” I laughed but he didn’t seem to get it.

“But don’t you find the neighborhood somewhat seedy?”

“Er, well, I live just two blocks away…” I said quietly.

“I see.” There was no implication in the words but I felt defensive nonetheless.

“Listen,” I continued, “I don’t know what sort of luxuries you’re used to, but around here ordinary people make do with what they have. Especially ordinary people who are devouring pizza someone else paid for.”

He looked abashed. “You’re right. I apologize. It was not my intention to appear ungrateful.”

“Hmph,” I said. “Eat your pizza.”

And he did. All of it in fact and most of the second one we ordered.

“Wow. You know how to put away a pie,” I commented as he finally sat back and called it quits. Around us the waitresses were locking the doors and making half-hearted efforts at cleaning up the empty tables. I looked at my watch. “I think maybe it’s time we got out of here. Looks like they’re trying to close up.”

“Is it so late already?”

“I’m afraid so. You know what they say, ‘time flies when you’re having fun’…or pizza.”

“I suppose you have a point,” he said. “I still need to find a place to lay my head for the night anyway.”

I felt a qualm, imagining him wandering the streets of a strange city in the dark. “Look,” I began as we left the restaurant, “this isn’t the safest place to be wandering around lost in the middle of the night. Besides, you’ve got no money and nobody around here’s going to put you up for free. At least nobody you want to spend a night with.”

He missed the humor, as he usually did. “What do you suggest then?”

I looked at my shoes. Carlita was going to kill me for this. “I don’t know. That you come on home with me, I guess.” I wasn’t used to asking strange men to spend the night in my apartment. Then again, did Duke really count as a stranger?

I spoke quickly to cover the awkwardness. “It’ll probably be a bit…
simpler
than anyplace you’re used to but it’s clean and reasonably safe, I hope. I can’t offer you anything more than a couch to sleep on, but it’s got to be better than sleeping in the gutter.”

There, I’d accomplished two purposes in one. Reminded him he had nowhere else to go while tactfully clarifying any misunderstandings he might harbor about the sleeping arrangements.

I half expected him to refuse the offer. Somehow I could easily imagine him, like some old-timey gentleman, putting up a fuss about propriety and a lady’s honor. I could see him pulling off his gloves and challenging someone to a duel. Except in this case there was no one to challenge but the lady herself.

With thoughts like these it was a welcome relief when all he said was, “It sounds like a reasonable proposal. I’m sure I shall be quite comfortable on whatever accommodations you provide.”

I nodded. “Yeah, well, the ‘accommodations’ are this way then.” And I led the way homeward.

***

My roommate was beyond not pleased. I could see it as soon as I walked in the door with Duke. I could see a lot more as well as I surveyed the wreckage of our living room. Carlita had struck again.

“It’s, um, usually a little tidier around here,” I said apologetically as I watched him take in his surroundings. Laundry littered the furniture. There was trash on the floor and a half-eaten frozen dinner growing cold on the coffee table.

“It looks more than adequate,” he said reassuringly. “I’m sure I’ll be very comfortable here.”

“Oh, you will, will you?” Carlita asked dryly from where she stood, having just stepped out of the bathroom doorway.

“Carlita,” I said, forestalling any further comments. “Can I have a word with you, please? Duke, excuse us.”

I took my friend by the wrist and dragged her into the bathroom, closing the door behind us.

“Who is this guy?” she demanded when we were alone. She didn’t seem concerned about the way her voice carried, echoing across the bathroom tiles. “I thought we had an agreement. When we moved in together we decided—both of us—to set up certain rules. And the cardinal rule, in case you don’t recall, is no boyfriends—”

“It’s not like that, he’s just a friend. He wants to sleep on the couch. He has no money and nowhere else to go. What could I do?”

“Pitch him out on his ear,” she suggested coldly. “I don’t like the look of this bozo. The fact he has ‘no money’ and ‘nowhere to go’ is hardly a rousing recommendation for letting him live on our sofa.”

“It’s only for one night. Please let him stay. He’ll be on his best behavior, I promise. It’ll be just like the time your brother Marlo stayed over. Only this guy won’t get drunk and puke on the rug.”

She still looked unconvinced.

“Look, I give my word he’ll be outta’ here by morning.”

We were interrupted by a subtle throat clearing noise from beyond the door. “Is everything all right in there?” Duke called from the other side.

“Everything’s fine,” I snapped back. “We’ll be out in a minute.”

I turned back to my roommate. “Please, Carlita. He’ll be good.
I’ll
be good. I’ll owe you one, okay?”

“Hmmm…” she wavered visibly. “I have just one question.”

“Yes?”

“Are you at all into this guy or anything?”

I hesitated and she continued, “Because if you are, I guess my answer’s ‘yes.’”

“What? I thought I wasn’t supposed to have any boyfriends.”

“No boyfriends
in the apartment
,” she clarified. “That was the deal. But…I do want to see you happy. You’ve been depressed lately and you’re outta’ work—”

“All right, all right. I get the picture. So he can stay then?”

“If you really like him,” she reminded me.

“You know…I think maybe I do.” I frowned. “I do,” I repeated more firmly to myself. For a moment I was caught up in the surprise of the revelation.

Then I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My face was flushed and glowing. My eyes sparkled and…“Oh, my gosh! Look at me!” I screeched. “I look like a wet cat. I’ve been out all day with the first guy I’ve liked in I don’t know when, and I’ve been running around with my hair plastered to my skull and mascara dripping down my cheeks.”

At my screech, a gentle knock sounded on the door. “Are you sure you’re all right in there?” Duke called through the door.

“Go away,” we shouted simultaneously.

I surveyed myself in the mirror again.

“Hey, are those my clothes?” Carlita asked.

“Oh, my gosh,” I moaned. “My pants are stained. My shirt is plastered…My bra’s showing!”

“That’s a good thing,” Carlita put it helpfully.

“No, it’s not, it’s embarrassing! Why didn’t somebody tell me I looked so awful?”

“We were all trying to be polite. Anyway, he obviously doesn’t think you look ‘awful’. I mean, he followed you home, didn’t he?”

“Like a lost puppy,” I admitted.

“Well, there you are.”

“You think so? Do you really think he’s interested?”

Another gentle throat clearing sounded from the other side of the door and Duke’s muffled voice filtered in. “Uh, ladies, at this stage it no longer seems delicate to tell you this but…I can hear you.”

“Oh, no,” I wailed softly. Burying my burning face in my hands, I sank down to sit on the edge of the tub. Of all the horrible, humiliating things that had ever happened to me…

“It’s okay,” Carlita whispered, dropping down beside me. She patted my shoulder comfortingly. “I mean, he was bound to find out sooner or later, right? And it’s not like you said you were in love with him or something. You just admitted to maybe liking him a little bit.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I groaned, unconvinced.

“Um, I can still hear you,” said the voice again from beyond the door.

“Hey, jerk-o,” Carlita shouted, beating my knuckles against the bathroom door. “Act like a gentleman and don’t listen at the door!”

That at least seemed to silence him. Carlita dropped her voice. “I do think he likes you,” she whispered.

I didn’t raise my head. “Do
you
like me?”

“Of course.”

“Then do me a tremendous favor and go keep him busy while I compose myself and get cleaned up. I can’t face him like this. You go out and talk about something distracting. Make him forget what he heard. Feed him. He likes food.”

“Sure, Meggs. I’ll do that for you. You take your time and make yourself beautiful. And don’t worry about what he heard. One whiff of my famous cranberry muffins from a box and he’ll forget everything he ever knew.”

“Thanks, Carlita.”

After my friend was gone I showered, washed away my wrecked makeup, and combed out my hair. Waiting until Duke and Carlita had their backs turned at the kitchen counter, where they were indeed paying homage to a pan of fresh-baked muffins, I crept out of the bathroom in a towel and slipped into my room.

In minutes, I was in my own cozy pajamas and feeling much more like myself. At least I looked human again. I could face anything now. And then I peeked around the corner of the door to spy on the darkened living room. Carlita was out of sight, and Duke was already sprawled sleeping across the couch.

It was just as well. I didn’t think I could have looked him in the eye tonight without blushing up a storm anyway. It was best if we all just went to sleep and forgot today ever happened. Crawling into bed, I told myself it might even be best if I didn’t see him at all after this. Carlita could show him the door in the morning. I’d never have to handle the embarrassment of facing him again. Trying to sort out how I’d feel if that happened started my mind working so furiously I knew I’d never be able to sleep.

Dimming the lamp, I reached into the drawer of my nightstand and withdrew
Noble Hearts
from its resting place. Now, the duke’s lady, she would never shove her foot in her mouth the way I had just done. Even if she did,
her
duke would’ve been too discreet to call attention to it. Settling back against the pillows, I revisited the world of the nineteenth century gentry with all its mystery and romance.