The Last Hour (21 page)

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me right now,” he murmured and put his lips to my neck.

I shivered. “Are they gone?”

“Yeah,” he said, still moving his lips up my neck, near my ear. “But … my parents are here.”
 

I winced, then put my hands on his shoulders and pushed him gently away. “Well, that’ll have to wait.”

He exhaled and said, “Yeah.”

“Shoo,” I said. “Let me dry off and get dressed. I’ll be out in five minutes.”

It was a few minutes longer than that. I was a little nervous about meeting Ray’s parents for the first time and wanted to make a good first impression. It was bad enough I was in the shower when they arrived.

Finally ready, I walked back down the hall to the living room.

Ray stood up first and walked to me, then took my hand and faced his parents. I watched him, a little startled. I think it was the first time I’d ever seen him nervous.

“Mom, Dad, this is Carrie Thompson.”

Both of his parents stood. It was obvious at one glance where Ray got his height. Ray had told me that his father once played basketball for Duke.

“Michael Sherman,” he said, taking my hand.

“Kate,” his mom said. She was a good ten inches shorter than her husband, a tired looking blonde woman.
 

“I’m so glad you could come visit,” Michael said with a genuine smile. “Ray’s spoken about you a great deal.”

Kate looked considerably less happy to see me. But if I had to deal with that, I could. The four of us sat in the living room, an awkward conversation as Kate asked me questions. I answered everything she asked. Questions about my childhood, where I’d grown up, college, my plans for the future…

When I mentioned the NIH fellowship, Kate said, “I see. That explains why Ray applied to Georgetown.”

Michael almost rolled his eyes. “Kate, Georgetown is a far better school than Stony Brook. I wish you would let that go.”

“It’s very far from home, Michael, and Ray’s just come home from a traumatic experience.”

Ray’s lips tightened as she spoke, and he leaned forward and said, “Mom, we’ve been through this. My decision’s made.”

She looked at him sadly. “I just want what’s best for you, honey.”

“I know,” he replied.

In an attempt to change the subject, Michael said, “So, will you be staying for dinner?”

Ray shook his head. “I’ve got tickets for a show tonight. We’re going to have to hit the road soon if we’re going to make it in time.”

Michael looked disappointed, and Kate looked … put out. Irritated. I wasn’t going to spend any more time worried about that. It was awkward enough that I was going to be staying here for four nights. Ray was taking the couch and I was sleeping in his room. Which was already irritating me. But it was their home, and God knows my mother wouldn’t have let us sleep in the same room either.

We finally got out of there, and it was a relief. Ray took me out to dinner that night, and then we went to see a Broadway show. The next morning, he woke me up early and we drove to the Hamptons, had breakfast in a small village and then walked along the ice-cold beach, huddled together for warmth.

I’d been in New York, of course. Six years at Columbia University. But Ray took me to see
his
New York. The clubs and other spots he’d hung out in high school and college. Out of the way places where tourists didn’t go. We went ice skating and to see classic films at The Film Forum, and Ray took me out for a wonderful birthday dinner, even though it was a week early.

I took him to my favorite haunts from college. Most of them in the Morningside Heights neighborhood, the coffee shops and bookstores and bars where I’d grown from a teenager to an adult.

It was bliss. Because mostly, we talked—in coffee shops and restaurants, at bookstores, and just walking around the city. Ray was courageous, sexy and funny, and more than anything else, he was becoming mine.

“Okay,” I said. “I agree, you were right about the car.”

Carrie smiled, which was something I always like to see. She had a purple cap on, and wore a matching purple coat. Velvet? I don’t know ... some kind of fuzzy looking fabric. I’m not really up on that sort of thing. She was driving at the moment, but she glanced over at me with that smile and tapped her cheek with one gloved finger. I snickered a little, then leaned over to the driver’s side and kissed her on the spot she’d indicated.

“You can tell me I’m right any time you want,” she said.

“I’ll let you know when it happens,” I replied, grinning. “So help me out here, I don’t want to embarrass myself, and I still don’t have your family straight. Who exactly are we meeting tonight?”

She grinned. “Well, there’s this guy Dylan. He used to be in the Army….”

“Oh, come on. Seriously, help a guy out here?”

Carrie laughed. “All right. Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. Okay ... Julia is my older sister. Last I saw her she had blonde hair, but that may have changed by now. She wears a stud in her nose, and you’ll know her because of her husband.”

“That’s Crank Wilson. The guy from
Morbid Obesity.
”
 

“That’s right. And one of my younger sisters is coming, Sarah. Julia picked her up at the airport today. You’ll know Sarah because she’ll be
very
conservatively dressed.”

“Okay. And Alex I know.”

“Right.”

“You have ... how many more sisters?”

“Two more. Jessica is Sarah’s twin, she stayed in San Francisco, and Andrea is the youngest. She’s in Spain right now.”

“Okay. I think I got it. Sarah ... conservative. Julia ... won’t be. Crank ... I know what he looks like. So I’ve got a semi-serious question for you. How the hell did your sister get involved with a rocker?”

She shrugged. “They met when she was at Harvard, he’s from Boston.”

“Strange world.”

She raised an eyebrow. “It’s no more unlikely than me being involved with a soldier.”

“Former soldier, Doctor Babe. I’m all done with that.”

“That seems reasonable,” she replied.

By that time we were almost there. I’d reserved a room at a nice hotel near Madison Square Garden, but the plan was to drop the car off there first, then walk over to Mustang Sally’s on 7
th
Ave and 28
th
, where we were meeting everyone for dinner, then over to the Garden.
Morbid Obesity
was playing a New Year’s Eve concert there.

So, we got checked in at the hotel, left the car with the valet and dumped our bags off, then walked hand in hand the two blocks to Mustang Sally’s. Even through my gloves, I loved the feel of her hand in mine. It had only been three weeks since I’d been in Texas, but it felt like an eternity.

Look, I’m not an idiot. I knew we were moving too fast. You don’t make lifetime commitments when you’ve known someone just a few days here, then a few days there, with lots of phone calls and emails in between. But the thing is, there’s one thing I learned in Afghanistan. Life is fragile. Screw all that hesitant bullshit. We were going to go for it.

As the thought ran through my mind, I tugged on her hand and pulled her to me. Her cheeks flushed red and I said, “I couldn’t walk another step without kissing you.”
 

Then I leaned in and our lips touched. People were all around us, jostling us as traffic rolled by on our right. But at that moment all I could see was Carrie. The kiss was intense, but even more so looking in her eyes. Her pale eyes, blue-green, with the dark iris surrounding them, made me feel like I was slowly falling off a cliff. She closed them as our kiss deepened, and her mouth slowly opened, our lips exploring each other, our tongues just barely touching.
 

My whole body came alive at that touch, urgent sensation, and I pulled her to me and whispered, “I love you, Carrie Thompson.”

She caught her breath and said, “I love you, Ray Sherman.”

We may have stayed there for five minutes, or maybe it was forever. But when we separated, I felt like something had changed. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. And I felt like I’d do anything, anything in the world, for her. It was overpowering, wonderful.

We slowly separated and started walking again, but at a pace which probably drove the New Yorkers around us insane. I had an arm around her waist, and I wasn’t letting go no matter what happened.

“I want to tell you about something,” I said, my voice low.

She just raised an eyebrow. I loved that her cheeks were still flushed.

“When I turned eighteen, my parents asked what I wanted to do for my birthday, and I told them I wanted to go skydiving. I think my mom had a small heart attack. But my dad and I went. We sat through the safety briefings and all that, and then we went up.”

“Skydiving? Jumping out of airplanes?” For a woman who had stalked mountain lions, her voice had a suspiciously fearful squeak to it when she mentioned skydiving. I made a note to take her up sometime. She’d love it.

I nodded. “Anyway ... the first time ... it’s hard to capture the feeling. There’s fear, when you’re looking out the door of the plane, and knowing it’s thousands of feet to the ground. And then, out the door, the wind is buffeting you, and there’s this moment of incredible terror. Will the parachute open? Will you flap screaming to your death? Is this it? But then ... everything went calm after a few seconds. The wind was intense. But there was this feeling of absolute freedom. No gravity ... flying. Absolute exhilaration. I could see hundreds of miles of land below us. I could touch the sky. It was the most amazing moment of my life.”

“Did your parachute open?” She had a wry smile on her face when she asked the question.

I grinned at her. “It did. But the thing is ... that feeling that I could touch the sky? That’s exactly how you make me feel.”

Her smile just grew, her white teeth gleaming, her eyes prominent and beautiful, and she said, “That’s the cheesiest thing I ever heard in my life.” Then she giggled and stopped and kissed me again. Which is exactly what I wanted at that moment.

Our lips parted and I said, “Would you be upset if I said I want to skip the dinner and the concert and run off to the hotel with you right now?”

“No,” she said. “But we can’t do it. I don’t get to see my sisters enough as is.”

“And I can’t wait to meet them.”

“You don’t actually have to wait. We’re here.”

I looked up, and she was right. The sign for Mustang Sally’s was three doors down from where we stood.

“Well ... I get a kiss first? To tide me over?”

She bit her lip then smiled again, and we were kissing, and I was in free fall all over again.

Then, barely at the edge of consciousness, I heard the words, spoken in a clear, loud New York accent, “Isn’t that Crank’s sister-in-law?”

Next thing I knew, there were flashes, several of them, and I flinched. Both of us whipped our heads to my right, and there was a crowd of photographers with cameras pointed at us.
What the hell?

“Oh crap,” she said. “Come on, let’s get inside.” She actually gave the photographers a friendly smile, which is a lot more than I could do, because I wanted to punch one of them. The flash had thrown me off, making my heart race, as I instantly became aware of everything around me. Every bit of trash on the sidewalk that might hold a bomb, every coat that might have a gun hidden underneath. My breath sped up and I said, “Let’s get inside now.”

I never let go of her hand as we pushed our way through the crowd to the front door of the restaurant. A bouncer stood at the front door, which was pretty unusual for a restaurant. Carrie said something to him, I don’t know what, because my mind was still focused on the photographers, and he let us in.

“Jesus, what was that about?” I said.

She shrugged. “Part of the cost of having a celebrity in the family. You get used to it.”

You get used to it.
I wanted Carrie, badly enough to get used to anything. But
that
would take some serious getting used to. I didn’t realize I was shaking until Carrie turned and put a hand on my shoulder.
 

“Are you okay?” she asked, a look of concern on her face.

“Yeah,” I said, knowing I didn’t sound it. “The flash startled me.”

Understanding dawned on her face instantly. She wrapped her arm around mine and said, “Come on. Let’s get the introductions out of the way and relax for the night, okay?”

I nodded. “Sorry. I’ll try not to be too much of a spaz.”

“Relax,” she said. “I get it. I really do, okay? It’s going to take some time before you’re ... completely home. And that’s normal, and it’s okay, and I’m here with you. You hear me?”

Okay. I’m not a guy who breaks out in tears at the drop of a hat. I’m not terribly sentimental. Sad movies don’t evoke anything from me but an order for more popcorn. But I’ll admit that her bald, open declaration that she was with me through this? It brought an unfamiliar prickly feeling to my eyes, which were blurring.

“I love you, Doctor Babe,” I said.

She grinned. “Come on?”

So we turned, and the hostess took us to a large circular booth in the very back of the restaurant.

“Weed!” called Dylan, and then he was up and out of his seat.
 

“Hey, man,” I said, grinning, and we bumped chests and growled. Some things you can’t explain. Then Alex broke off from her embrace with Carrie, and came over and folded me into a hug. Alex is a pretty girl, with remarkable green eyes, and it was always painfully obvious why Dylan had fallen for her the way he had. And while I was being maudlin about Carrie’s declaration that she was with me, I have to admit I was proud of how Alex stood by Dylan while he was being a complete dickhead earlier this year. They’d gotten through it and looked as happy as I’d ever seen them.

A couple in their late twenties, maybe early thirties, approached. Of course I recognized the guy: everyone on earth with any awareness of pop culture would. Crank Wilson was the lead singer of
Morbid Obesity
, one of the most popular alt-rock bands of the last decade. He was tallish, but only in comparison to normal people, not anything like my or even Carrie’s height. His hair was bleached pure white and spiked, and he wore black jeans and a t-shirt saying, “Chew on this.” His wife, about Alex’s height, maybe five-four, had long and lush brown hair and very pale blue-green eyes almost exactly like Carrie’s.