Sidney Sheldon - If Tomorrow Comes

She was watching him, puzzled. “Tell me the real reason you came back for me.”

“Time to take your temperature,” he said briskly.

“Not bad,” he told her a few minutes later. “Little over a hundred. You're a wonderful patient.”

“Jeff —”

“Trust me,” he said. “Hungry?”

Tracy was suddenly ravenous. “Starved.”

“Good. I'll bring something in.”

He returned from shopping with a bag full of orange juice, milk, and fresh fruit, and large Dutch broodjes, rolls filled with different kinds of cheese, meat, and fish.

“This seems to be the Dutch version of chicken soup, but it should do the trick. Now, eat slowly.”

He helped her sit up, and fed her. He was careful and tender, and Tracy thought, warily, He's after something.

As they were eating, Jeff said, “While I was out, I telephoned Gunther. He received the diamonds. He deposited your share of the money in your Swiss bank account.”

She could not keep herself from asking, “Why didn't you keep it all?”

When Jeff answered, his tone was serious. “Because it's time we stopped playing games with each other, Tracy. Okay?”

It was another one of his tricks, of course, but she was too tired to worry about it. “Okay.”

“If you'll tell me your sizes,” Jeff said, “I'll go out and buy some clothes for you. The Dutch are liberal, but I think if you walked around like that they might be shocked.”

Tracy pulled the covers up closer around her, suddenly aware of her nakedness. She had a vague impression of Jeff's undressing her and bathing her. He had risked his own safety to nurse her. Why? She had believed she understood him. I don't understand him at all, Tracy thought. Not at all.

She slept.

In the afternoon Jeff brought back two suitcases filled with robes and nightgowns, underwear, dresses, and shoes, and a makeup kit and a comb and brush and hair dryer, toothbrushes and toothpaste. He also had purchased several changes of clothes for himself and brought back the International Herald Tribune. On the front page was a story about the diamond hijacking; the police had figured out how it had been committed, but according to the newspaper, the thieves had left no clues.

Jeff said cheerfully, “We're home free! Now all we have to do is get you well.”

It was Daniel Cooper who had suggested that the scarf with the initials TW be kept from the press. “We know,” he had told Inspector Trignant, “who it belongs to, but it's not enough evidence for an indictment. Her lawyers would produce every woman in Europe with the same initials and make fools of you.”

In Cooper's opinion, the police had already made fools of themselves. God will give her to me.

He sat in the darkness of the small church, on a hard wooden bench, and he prayed: Oh, make her mine, Father. Give her to me to punish so that I may wash myself of my sins. The evil in her spirit shall be exorcised, and her naked body shall bef fagellated…. And he thought about Tracy's naked body in his power and felt himself getting an erection. He hurried from the church in terror that God would see and inflict further punishment on him.

When Tracy awoke, it was dark. She sat up and turned on the lamp on the bedside table. She was alone. He had gone. A feeling of panic washed over her. She had allowed herself to grow dependent on Jeff, and that had been a stupid mistake. It serves me right, Tracy thought bitterly. “Trust me,” Jeff had said, and she had. He had taken care of her only to protect himself, not for any other reason. She had come to believe that he felt something for her. She had wanted to trust him, wanted to feel that she meant something to him. She lay back on her pillow and closed her eyes, thinking, I'm going to miss him. Heaven help me, I'm going to miss him.

God had played a cosmic joke on her. Why did it have to be him? she wondered, but the reason did not matter. She would have to make plans to leave this place as soon as possible, find someplace where she could get well, where she could feel safe. Oh, you bloody fool, she thought. You —

There was the sound of the door opening, and Jeff's voice called out, “Tracy, are you awake? I brought you some books and magazines. I thought you might —” He stopped as he saw the expression on her face. “Hey! Is something wrong?”

“Not now,” Tracy whispered. “Not now.”

The following morning Tracy's fever was gone.

“I'd like to get out,” she said. “Do you think we could go for a walk, Jeff?”

They were a curiosity in the lobby. The couple who owned the hotel were delighted by Tracy's recovery. “Your husband was so wonderful. He insisted on doing everything for you himself. He was so worried. A woman is lucky to have a man who loves her so much.”

Tracy looked at Jeff, and she could have sworn he was blushing.

Outside, Tracy said, “They're very sweet.”

“Sentimentalists,” Jeff retorted.

Jeff had arranged for a cot to sleep on, placed next to Tracy's bed. As Tracy lay in bed that night, she remembered again how Jeff had taken care of her, tended to her needs, and nursed her and bathed her naked body. She was powerfully aware of his presence. It made her feel protected.

It made her feel nervous.

Slowly, as Tracy grew stronger, she and Jeff spent more time exploring the quaint little town. They walked to the Alkmaarder Meer, along winding, cobblestone streets that dated from the Middle Ages, and spent hours at the tulip fields on the outskirts of the city. They visited the cheese market and the old weighing house, and went through the municipal museum. To Tracy's surprise, Jeff spoke to the townspeople in Dutch.

“Where did you learn that?” Tracy asked.

“I used to know a Dutch girl.”

She was sorry she had asked.

As the days passed Tracy's healthy young body gradually healed itself. When Jeff felt that Tracy was strong enough, he rented bicycles, and they visited the windmills that dotted the countryside. Each day was a lovely holiday, and Tracy wanted it never to end.

Jeff was a constant surprise. He treated Tracy with a concern and tenderness that melted her defenses against him, yet he made no sexual advances. He was an enigma to Tracy. She thought of the beautiful women with whom she had seen him, and she was sure he could have had any of them. Why was he staying by her side in this tiny backwater of the world?

Tracy found herself talking about things she had thought she would never discuss with anyone. She told Jeff about Joe Romano and Tony Orsatti, and about Ernestine Littlechap and Big Bertha and little Amy Brannigan. Jeff was by turns outraged and distressed and sympathetic. Jeff told her about his stepmother and his Uncle Willie and about his carnival days and his marriage to Louise. Tracy had never felt so close to anyone.

Suddenly it was time to leave.

One morning Jeff said, “The police aren't looking for us, Tracy. I think we should be moving on.”

Tracy felt a stab of disappointment. “All right. When?”

“Tomorrow.”

She nodded. “I'll pack in the morning.”

That night Tracy lay awake, unable to sleep. Jeff's presence seemed to fill the room as never before. This had been an unforgettable period in her life, and it was coming to an end. She looked over at the cot where Jeff lay.

“Are you asleep?” Tracy whispered.

“No…”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Tomorrow. Leaving this place. I'll miss it.”

“I'm going to miss you, Jeff.” The words were out before she could stop herself.

Jeff sat up slowly and looked at her. “How much?” he asked softly.

“Terribly.”

A moment later he was at her bedside. “Tracy —”

“Shhh. Don't talk. Just put your arms around me. Hold me.”