Home Again

  He stared at her. “You should,” he said in a feather-soft voice. “Now, put them in water so we can go.”

  She plopped them in the vase and wished fleetingly that she were gifted in floral arrangement. “Go?” she asked distractedly, moving one large blossom to the front of the vase. It snapped off in her fingers and she winced.

  “I have big plans for us tonight.”

  She balanced the broken flower on the cracked golden rim. “I can’t go out…. Lina—”

  “Lina called me before I left the house. She told me she was going to the movies with Zach.”

  She turned to look at him. “Are you telling me we’re going on a date?”

  He laughed. “I see those fifteen years in college weren’t a complete waste.”

  She couldn’t help laughing. The idea of a date with Angel made her feel almost dizzy. “Where are we going?”

  His smile faded, and for a second he looked so serious, she thought it must all be a lie, and then he smiled again. “You’ll see.”

  Before she could respond, he pulled a black bandana from his pants pocket and dangled it in front of her.

  She eyed the black and white strip of cotton. “What’s that?”

  “I’m blindfolding you.”

  A surprised laugh slipped out. “So that stripper in Florida was telling the truth.”

  “Get your mind out of the gutter, Doc. I just have a little surprise for you.”

  “It doesn’t involve handcuffs or dog collars, I hope.”

  He moved toward her. “Turn around.”

  She turned slowly away from him. He came up close behind her, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath stroking the back of her neck.

  “Close your eyes.”

  She did as he asked. He tied the bandana behind her head, and in the complete darkness, her other senses sprang to life. She heard the quiet ticking of the mantel clock, the even rhythms of their tangled breathing, smelled the fresh scent of the daisies and the musky heat of his aftershave. His hands slid down her arms and gently twirled her to face him.

  She could feel him; he was standing directly in front of her. The heat of his body touched her in a dozen places. She wanted to see his eyes, to know how he was looking at her right now.

  Very gently his finger traced her upper lip, and she shivered in response. Then he took hold of her hand and led her across the room. She heard the front door creak open again, felt the blast of cold evening air on her face.

  She reached up to touch the bandana. “This feels really weird.”

  “Trust me,” he whispered.

  She started to make a flip comment, but suddenly it felt important. She wanted to trust him, wanted it desperately. “Okay.”

  “Now, stand here. I’ll go get you some walking shoes and turn off all the lights.”

  “My room is the first door on the left. The shoes are in my closet.”

  “Thank God you told me. I was going to look in the refrigerator.”

  She heard his footsteps disappear down the hallway. Cautiously she felt her way out the front door and stood on the porch.

  The night was full of sounds. She could hear a door opening and closing somewhere on her street. An anemic breeze rustled the last leaf on her apple tree. Cool air shivered across her cheeks and tangled in her hair. Beside her, the porch swing creaked, the metal chains jangled. She thought she heard a sigh—but it had to be the wind—then she thought she smelled the tangy scent of Francis’s cologne.

  “Francis?” she whispered, feeling like a fool.

  Angel shut the door behind her and led her to the porch swing, guiding her to take a seat. His knees creaked as he kneeled in front of her, gently took off her slippers, and eased her feet into shoes.

  She felt like Cinderella.

  Then he took her hand and led her down the steps, across the yard, and helped her climb into the passenger side of his Mercedes. In silence he started the car and pulled away from the curb.

  Madelaine tried to keep track of where they were going, and she did pretty well for the first few blocks. Then all the twists and turns tangled in her mind and she leaned back, enjoying the drive.

  Finally he came to a stop and killed the engine. She sat there, waiting for him to open her door. Anticipation was a sweet ache in her chest, a flutter in her breathing.

  He helped her out of the car. She felt his hands on the bandana’s knot. When it was untied, he held it in place and leaned closer to her, whispering in her ear, “Welcome to 1978.”

  He took off the blindfold and she couldn’t believe her eyes. They were in Carrington Park, but it had been transformed into a carnival, a garish, dramatic display of lights in the velvet darkness of the night. Stars were everywhere, drizzling down, getting captured in the flashing yellow and pink and red lights of the midway. A huge Ferris wheel sat in the center of it all like a mechanical king, turning slowly on its well-lighted track.

  She could feel the magic of the carnival wrap around her, pulling her back into the past, until she was a young girl again, standing on the edge of forever with the boy of her dreams. It was so much like before. It smelled of popcorn and grease and possibility. The sounds of chattering barkers and mechanical-ride music floated on the still night air.

  She turned to him, awestruck. “How did you know this would be here?”

  He smiled, tucking a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear. “I brought it here. For you … for me.”

  She shook her head. “You mean you—”

  “My former doctor is a tyrant. I knew she wouldn’t let me go out in public, so I hired these guys. I promise I’ll wear my mask around strangers and only take it off for you.”

  “You really don’t need a mask anymore, you know….”

  “Are you going to stand here analyzing our date, or are you going to enjoy it?”

  She looked out at the brightly colored midway. Closing her eyes, she drank in all of it. The past and the present came together in her mind until there was no then, no now, there was just her and Angel and the magic of the carnival. “I’m going to enjoy it.”

  “Thank God.” He took her hand in his and pulled her down toward the lights. Laughing, she followed him, clinging to his hand as he led her back to the place where it all began.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Madelaine and Angel walked hand in hand down the midway. The surreal smear of sound and color and light exploded around them. Barkers called out, laughing, urging Angel to try his hand at the ring toss, or buy a corn dog, or get his photograph taken with Heloise the fat woman in booth number six.

  Madelaine was mesmerized by all of it. With each step she felt the years falling away. Angel’s betrayal faded into insignificance, and the days and nights she’d waited for his return were forgotten. She couldn’t carry that weight anymore, not now, when she felt lighter than air, and young … so young.

  “Look!” Angel pointed at a booth on the midway and dragged her toward it. She stumbled after him, laughing, clinging to his hand.

  At the booth he slipped on his mask and leaned over the wooden edge. The barker, a wrinkly-faced old man, grinned at him. “Win a bauble for your girl, mister?”

  Madelaine saw what Angel was looking at, and her breath caught. It was a pair of gaudy, red plastic earrings, dangling from a coat hanger stapled to the wooden backboard.

  She knew she shouldn’t look at him right now. If she did, he’d see everything in her eyes. He’d know what this moment meant to her, what his remembering made her feel. But she couldn’t look away.

  When their gazes met, she felt a jolt of electricity. “The earrings,” she whispered.

  He smiled and tenderly touched her cheek.

  “Okay, you lovebirds,” the barker called out in a booming voice, jangling the change belt at his waist. “You gonna play or what?”

  Angel grinned. “Or what.”

  Before Madelaine could ask what he meant, he’d grabbed her hand and was pulling her down the midway. Laughing, s
he clung to him, letting him sweep her away. It wasn’t until they’d reached the edge of the carnival that she understood where he was taking her. She caught her breath and felt a tiny pinching pain in her heart.

  He took her to the tree, their tree.

  The memories came back in a rush, squeezing her chest until she could barely breathe.

  He kneeled in the dying grass, dragging her down beside him. Wordlessly he let go of her hand and started clawing at the earth, digging until there was a pile of dirt at his knee. “Got ’em,” he said at last, drawing the dirty red earrings from the damp black ground. He pulled the mask from his face, let it hang limply around his throat, then he turned to look at her.

  Madelaine stared down at the cheap plastic trinkets and remembered their last night together—when they’d lain under this old oak tree and promised to love each other forever.

  It should hurt, remembering that; it always had in the past. But tonight, with the earrings in his hands and the smell of popcorn and magic in the air, nothing had the power to hurt her.

  “You remembered,” she whispered, biting down on her lower lip. When she looked at him, the tears came, cresting, slipping down her cheeks. She couldn’t stop them, didn’t want to.

  He used one muddy finger to push a strand of hair from her eyes. “What did we say back then? Crazy teenaged words about our love never ending, about these earrings being a reminder of our love for always …”

  She forced herself to laugh and wanted to say something glib or easy, but nothing came out except a croaking, quiet “Silly words.”

  No smile curved his lips. “Not silly. You said, ‘Let’s leave them here. That way a part of us will always exist under this old tree. When we’re old, we can come back here with our grandchildren.’”

  “Oh, my God,” she whispered. “That’s exactly what I said.”

  “I tried to forget, Mad. I ran and ran until there was nowhere left to go. A lot of the time I did forget, but the words were always back there, buried inside me.” He took her hand in his and placed the cheap, filthy jewels in it. “I never forgot you. I know that doesn’t make everything all right, but I never forgot…”

  She wanted to say I love you right then, wanted to say it so badly, the words burned in her throat. “I never forgot you, either.”

  It wasn’t the right thing to say, but it was all the courage she had. This moment meant too much; she couldn’t jeopardize it with words he wasn’t ready to hear.

  “Let’s go on the Ferris wheel,” he said.

  She smiled at him and nodded. He pulled her to her feet and held her close. Together, clinging to each other like teenagers in love, they strolled down the midway. Halfway there, she bought a huge puff of cotton candy and pulled off a winding, sticky strip.

  He stopped in front of the Ferris wheel, shaking his head at her. “I can’t believe you’re going to eat that stuff in front of a heart patient.”

  “You never did like it.”

  Surprise darted across his eyes, and then he smiled. “I forgot how well you knew me.”

  She pulled off another piece and popped it in her mouth.

  He pulled out the bandana and wiped the sticky smear off of her nose. “You should have had stuff like that as a kid,” he said.

  She tried to laugh, but it wasn’t funny and they both knew it.

  “Come on.” He took her hand and led her onto the Ferris wheel. The ride operator—a young girl with bleached hair and a pierced nostril stared at Angel in obvious awe.

  “M-Mr. DeMarco,” she said, “are you the one who rented us for the night?”

  He nodded. “Give us a long ride, willya, darlin’?” He dragged Madelaine onto the wide, black-vinyl-covered seat and clicked the safety bar in place. Then he gave the girl a thumbs-up. The ride began with a whining, mechanical groan, and they were pulled away from the ramp.

  Madelaine leaned back and stared up at the night sky. The seat swayed and rocked and lifted them higher and higher into the darkness, until stars were all around them, close enough to touch, and the midway was a faraway haze of yellow and white light.

  Angel draped an arm around her shoulders and drew her close to him. In the distance they could hear the rollicking calliope of the merry-go-round and the mechanical whoosh of the Round-up.

  But up here, tangled in the blanket of stars and touched by the light of a half-moon, the carnival seemed a million miles away.

  Angel twisted around to face her. “Mad…”

  There was something in his tone of voice that frightened her—he sounded so serious. She was suddenly afraid that this was it, that he’d done all this just to say good-bye. Maybe he wanted to do it right this time. Now he had a daughter to think of—he didn’t want to roar out of town on a Harley.

  “Don’t say anything,” she whispered, gazing into his eyes, knowing in that instant that she’d never be able to forget him this time, never be able to get over him. If he was going to leave, she’d rather he just did it, just picked up his stuff and ran. She couldn’t take a good-bye.

  “I wanted to thank you for saving my life.”

  Her breath escaped in a rush of relief. She was so thankful for what he hadn’t said that it took her a second to realize what he had said. “Thank you for saving your life?” She swallowed hard. “Is that what this is about, Angel? Thanking your cardiologist?” The words tasted bitter.

  He smiled softly. “No. I don’t mean thank you for saving my physical body—although I do appreciate it.” He leaned toward her and touched her cheek, giving her a tender smile. “I mean, thank you for saving my life. Without you in these past few weeks, I couldn’t have found the strength to go on. I think I would have drunk myself sick and run away. But you… and Lina, you gave me another way.”

  She didn’t know what to say.

  “That’s my Mad,” he said, laughing, tugging a strand of hair from her lip. “I’m going to kiss you now, Mad. If you’ve got a problem with that…” Smiling, he leaned toward her.

  She stared at him, mesmerized by the yearning she saw in his eyes. The desire to kiss and be kissed by him was irresistible, and before she knew it, she was leaning toward him.

  He took her face in his hands and tunneled his fingers through her tangled hair, tilting her face up. Slowly he kissed her.

  His mouth fit hers perfectly, just as it had so many years ago. It started out soft and gentle, that first kiss after so many lost and lonely years. She clung to him, kissing him with everything in her, as if she could draw that essential spark of him into her very soul, as if she could have some piece of him to take away from this magical ride.

  The kiss deepened, turned wrenching and dangerous. His tongue slipped into her mouth, tasting, exploring, memorizing, and still she clung to him, moaning her response, molding her body to his.

  The Ferris wheel bucked and carried them back up into the stars, but Madelaine hardly noticed. All she felt was an overwhelming need to be touched and held and stroked by this man.

  The ride came to a jerking stop.

  “That long enough, Angel?”

  Madelaine pulled out of his arms and stared at the young ride operator. The girl gave her a grin.

  “I think we’re done,” Angel said, pulling his mask back into place. “Come on, Mad.”

  Madelaine felt light enough to float off the ride. He took her hand and led her, stumbling, down the midway.

  They walked together for hours, talking, laughing, remembering the good times and letting go of the bad. Angel was his usual larger-than-life self, tossing dollar bills to the employees as he passed them, signing autographs, and standing patiently to have his photograph taken.

  Finally they made their way back to the entrance. There he stopped to talk to an older gentleman in a ragged wool coat. “The first wave of kids will be here at ten o’clock tomorrow. Show them a good time and you’ll see a hell of a tip.”

  Madelaine frowned at Angel as they walked away. “Who was that? What kids?”

 
He shrugged. “Tomorrow I’ve arranged for a bunch of kids from the Make-a-Wish Foundation to have the carnival to themselves. Them and the kids from Children’s Orthopedic. No big deal.”

  Madelaine stared at him. “You really have changed.”

  He pulled the mask down and grinned at her. “You got off the Ferris wheel with your clothes on. Now, that’s a change.”

  She didn’t blink. “What makes you think I want them on?”

  He swallowed hard. His smile fell. “Get in the car.”

  “Where are we—”

  He unlocked her door and swung it open. “Let’s go.”

  Angel had never wanted to make love to a woman as desperately as he wanted to right now. Every time he looked at Madelaine, he felt the ache grow and swell. It had taken all of his self-control—and probably some of Francis’s—to get off that Ferris wheel without ripping her clothes off.

  It was all he’d thought about at the carnival, wanting her, needing her, and yet now that he had her close beside him, he was scared to death. He drove slowly through the deserted streets, his hands sweaty on the steering wheel. He tried not to think about having sex with her, but the thought kept coming back to torment him. He’d planned for it, fantasized about it, but—

  Could he do it? That was the question that paralyzed him, made the sweat break out along his forehead. He didn’t know if he could last the distance, or if he could even start the race. Before the surgery? No problem, but that was a hell of a before.

  By the time they reached their destination, he was barely able to utter a coherent sentence. He eased the Mercedes up to the curb and killed the engine.

  She gasped quietly and turned to him. He didn’t need to hit the interior light to see the look on her face. Her eyes would be wide and unblinking, her teeth nipping nervously on her lower lip. “Why are we here?” she said softly.

  He cracked his door open and let light splash across her face. “You’ll see. Come on.” He felt her reluctance and forced himself to ignore it. He’d given this thing a lot of thought, and it had to be done. Some demons could be swept under the rug, but some just had to be faced.