Time After Time (24 page)

At dawn, when he rose from the bed to leave, Leah kept her eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. She felt him stroke her face, and his touch crucified her with its gentleness. Then he turned away and quietly left the room.

This couldn't happen again, she thought. Each time they made love, it was more difficult to imagine life without him. Each time attached her more firmly to a man who didn't want that kind of attachment.

Never once had he mentioned love. He had some crazy idea that they were destined to be together, and he was acting on that idea, rather than any real desire to marry her.

For Leah, it just wasn't enough. But she would have to break away from him soon. Because if she didn't do it soon, she wouldn't have the strength to do it at all.

Later that day Leah sat stiffly at her desk. It had taken some maneuvering, but everything was set. Her bags were in the car. She had arranged to take another week of vacation. She would stay with her brother in San Francisco. Maybe she would look for an apartment while she was there.

This was necessary, she told herself. She needed the distance to reinforce the decision she had made the night before. In a week she would feel stronger. Then she would come back to Dallas and make arrangements for the move.

Right now she had a letter to write, she thought, picking up a pen.

It wasn't long, and it wasn't complicated with emotions. In the letter she simply told him that marriage was not for her. She wanted the San Francisco job because her career was her life. Knowing him and working under him had been an experience she would never forget.

The last part was the only truth in the entire letter.

Leah knew she was running away. She simply couldn't see that she had any other choice. Paul could change her mind without even lifting a finger. And that would be disastrous for both of them.

Reaching out, she picked up the telephone and buzzed Charlotte. "I need you to make a reservation for me on the next flight to San Francisco International," she said stiffly. "Bump someone if you have to, but get me a seat."

Charlotte gasped. "Leah, I can't do that. Not even the chairman of the board bumps."

"Do it, Charlotte. I want to be on that flight."

Replacing the phone, she waited, her face blank. Five minutes later Charlotte confirmed that she had a reservation on Universal's one o'clock flight to San Francisco.

Rising slowly to her feet, Leah picked up her purse and the sealed envelope, then walked into the outer office.

"This is for Mr. Gregory," she said, handing Charlotte the letter. "I want you to hold on to it until this evening, then give it to him before he leaves the building. I would rather he didn't know until then that I'm going out of town."
                     
,

The brunette nodded slowly. "Leah, is something wrong?"

Leah smiled. "I hope you have a wonderful life with Lester, Charlotte. You were right; he's changed."

"We'll be fine as long as I don't take my foot off his neck," Charlotte said, her gaze still trained on Leah's face. "But you—" She broke off, tears forming in her eyes. "I don't know why... you look the same as always, but something's different."

"I got my promotion. Associate vice president, Charlotte. What else could I possibly want?" She turned and walked toward the door, then paused. "Please don't forget the letter to Mr. Gregory."

"No, I won't.... Goodbye, Leah."

Paul sat at the conference table, listening to one of the directors speak. He didn't hear the words. He couldn't get last night out of his mind. Why had their

lovemaking felt so desperate? He had never seen her like that. She had seemed on the verge of breaking.

Was it something he had done? he wondered, his fingers tightening on a pencil. Or something he hadn't given her that she needed?

Maybe what she needed she couldn't get from him. He didn't want to think about that. How could she be so absolutely right for him when, by every indication, he was so obviously wrong for her?

There were very few things in his life that Paul hadn't been able to arrange to suit himself. When he ran across a problem, he fixed it. In the past it had been just that simple. Why couldn't he fix this? Why couldn't he break down the barrier she had built around herself?

Suddenly the room felt airless and a strange tightness gripped his chest.
Something was wrong.
The thought was as clear as if someone had spoken it aloud. Paul felt panic shake through him. Something was wrong.

He stood up and walked out of the conference room, unaware of the astonished eyes that stared after him.

He took the elevator down to the next floor. He didn't stop in the outer office but walked straight to her door. He already had it open when Leah's secretary spoke.

"She's not here, Mr. Gregory."

Paul turned slowly to face her. "When will she be back?"

"She's gone for the day."

The brunette looked nervous as she avoided his eyes. He stepped closer to her desk. "Where is she? Has she gone home? Is she all right?"

"She's not ill," Charlotte said, casually moving a paper to cover something on the desk. "She just decided to take the rest of the day off."

Bending slightly, he picked up the paper before Charlotte could stop him. Beneath it was an envelope addressed to him—in Leah's handwriting.

"When were you supposed to deliver this?" The words sounded thick and dull to his own ears.

"Tonight, before you left the office," she said, biting her lip.

He stared at the letter for a moment, then slowly picked it up and walked into Leah's office, closing the door behind him. His face held no trace of emotion as he ripped it open and began to read.

Leah shoved her flight bag into the overhead compartment, then took her seat. Turning her head, she looked out the window at the smooth concrete. Men were moving around the plane, loading luggage and food. But Leah didn't see them. She focused on the glass, and instead of seeing her own reflection there, she saw Paul's.

She glanced quickly away, drawing a deep breath. John would pick her up at the airport. It had been almost a year since she had seen him last. She would find out what was new in his life and let him show her the sights over the weekend. Then, on Monday, she would go to the Universal office at the airport. Tues-

day she would start checking the newspapers for an apartment. She would settle in quickly. Leah had always been an adaptable person.

Who are you trying to kid? she asked herself as she slumped in her seat. Adaptable? When had she ever tried to adapt to hell? When had she had to adapt to having a part of her soul cut away.

At that moment she caught a glimpse of a man three rows in front of her and her pulse went crazy. The back of his head looked just like Paul's. Suddenly the man turned, and she felt a dizzying disappointment spread through her. He didn't look anything like Paul.

Would she measure every man she met in the future against Paul? she wondered. Would they all be shorter or taller, heavier or lighter, than he was?

It will get better, she told herself, wiping the film of perspiration from her forehead. This was real life. Emotions faded. Maybe the pain would never go away, but someday she would get used to it.

Paul stared at the freeway ahead, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. His facial muscles were stretched tight, accentuating his bone structure.

Every move he had made since reading the. letter had been an automatic response. He didn't even know what he planned to do if he got there in time. She had made her decision; why couldn't he leave it alone?

Because it would be easier to lose a hand, he thought dully.

In the four years they had worked together, they hadn't had a personal relationship. He hadn't tried to get closer to her. But he had known she was there.

Maybe he could live without being married to her. Maybe he could get on with his life without their ever making love again.
But she had to be there.
He had to know that Leah was in his small part of the world. He had to be able to see her, to hear her laugh.

How was he going to accomplish that? Apparently she had made up her mind. But Leah was ambitious, he thought, as a calculating look came into his eyes. There were things he could do for her.

A bribe? he thought, frowning. Although the idea left a bad taste in his mouth, Paul knew himself now. He would swallow the bad taste along with his pride and do anything he had to to keep her here.

Moments later he swung off the freeway onto the airport exit and felt the tension in his body grow. He would get there in time, he told himself. He had to. And when he found her, he would change her mind, even if he had to throw her over his shoulder and carry her off the plane.

Leah looked up when a man in a vinyl windbreaker sat down beside her. He bent over, wheezing as he tried to fit a large canvas bag under the seat in front of him; then he leaned back and shoved at it with his feet.

Won't he ever stop fidgeting? she wondered, clenching her teeth in annoyance.

Finally the bag was positioned to his satisfaction. Leaning back in the seat, he glanced at Leah and

smiled. She immediately turned back to the window. He looked like a talker. If she was forced to talk, she would be rude, and the poor man didn't deserve that.

After a while a tall man in his early twenties took the aisle seat, and the two men struck up a conversation. Leah tried to tune them out, but bits and pieces kept getting through to her.

"Yeah, they're filming it in San Francisco. I was real lucky to get the part—not that it's all that big. But it could—"

"—was on television once. That's not the same as a movie, but it sure made me a celebrity in Jacksboro. My next-door neighbors—"

Leah closed her eyes, and instantly Paul's image rose before her. Dear God, she didn't want to go.
Paul, I love you so much. Why couldn 't you have loved me just a little?

"—the main character. That's the twist, you see. And wouldn't I have given my eyeteeth to play Merlin!"

Leah's hands clenched on the armrests. How much longer before the plane took off? Once they were in the air it would be easier.

"—modern language, modern dress. The Knights of the Round Table are a street gang who go around saving women and old people from rival gangs. Merlin lives in the park and gives advice to all the—"

What was Paul doing now? Leah wondered. How would he react this evening, when Charlotte gave him her letter? Her decision would matter to him, she assured herself. But would he feel any loss at all?

When she opened her eyes again, her vision blurred. Suddenly she felt the people and the airplane receding, sight and sound fading in and out around her.

* * *

Leah blinked, then blinked again. She was standing in a small clearing surrounded by trees. Directly in front of her an old man was bent over a small, black caldron that rested on the glowing coals of a camp fire.

He was dressed in green tights and a thigh-length, purple-and-gray tunic. His long thin beard was steel gray, a shade darker than the incredible hair that hung in waves past his shoulders. Several pencil-thin braids swung around his face as he moved.

In the distance Leah could still hear the buzz of voices from the plane, which left her with a slightly sick feeling of disorientation.

At that moment the old man looked up, his milky-blue eyes widening in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I don't know," she admitted hesitantly. "Where ami?"

"Camelot Park.. .a unique new camping experience. We have facilities for tents and recreational vehicles of all sizes. Also a twelve-acre lake—ignore the broad floating around in the water. She's just trying to get attention."

"And you are...?"

He stirred whatever was in the pot. "Some people call me the Wizard of the Woods, some call me The One Who Sees and Knows All, some just call me that

weird old man." He glanced up. "You can call me Merlin."

"A dream," she said in resignation as her fears were confirmed. Then she frowned. "But it can't be. There wasn't a movie, and I don't think I'm even asleep. I can still hear the people on the plane talking."

He rolled his eyes. "Why do I get all the nuts?" He sighed. "I suppose you have a problem you want me to solve for you."

"I have problems," she said. "But I'd have to be pretty desperate to come to someone who looks like a cross between Rasputin and a punk rocker."

"And you're not that desperate?''

She closed her eyes, shivering suddenly. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, I'm that desperate." Opening her eyes again, she met his gaze. "You see, I'm in love with—"

He waved a thin hand, cutting her off. "You don't have to tell me. I know all about you and Paul. What do you want me to do about it? I suppose I could turn him into an owl. It's a little hard to get worked up over a dumb bird."

"That's the best you have to offer?" she asked in disbelief. "I should have expected it. Your track record on relationships is not exactly wonderful. Arthur and Guinevere. Guinevere and Lancelot. Lancelot and Arthur, for that matter. Arthur and Guinevere died unhappy, and Lancelot became a nun or something."