Danielle Steel - Passion's Promise

She had crumbled into tears in front of his eyes, and now she stood there, broken, holding out both arms, her handbag askew on the floor, the last of her control dissolved.

“Kezia … pobrecita … babe … take it easy …”

“Oh Christ, Alejandro…. I can’t stand it!” She let herself fall into his arms and buried her face on his shoulder. “What can we do? They’re going to take him back. I know it.” She sniffed and pulled away to see his eyes. “They will, won’t they?”

“They might.”

“You think they will too, don’t you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do, godammit. Tell me! Somebody tell me the truth!”

“I don’t know the truth, damn you!”

She was shouting and he was shouting still louder. The walls seemed to echo with what they had both penned up—fear and anger and frustration.

“Yeah, maybe they will take him back. But for chrissake, lady, don’t give up till they say it. What are you going to do? Let yourself die now? Give him up? Destroy yourself? Wait till you hear, for chrissake, then figure it out.” The room had been full of his voice and she could hear tears creeping up on him too, but she was quiet. He had brought her back to her senses, to a point of control.

“Maybe you’re right. I’m just so fucking scared, Alejandro. I don’t know what to do to hang on anymore…. I get this rising panic like bile in my guts.”

“There’s nothing you can do, except try to be reasonable and hang in. Try not to panic.”

“What if we run away? Do you think that they’d find him?”

“Yes, eventually, and then they’d kill him on sight. Besides, he’d never do that.”

“I know.” He came close to her again and held her in his arms. She was still wearing the coat and fur hat and her face was streaked with mascara and tears. “The worst of it is that I don’t know what to do to help him, how to make it easier for him. He’s under so damn much strain.”

“You can’t change that. All you can do is stand by him. And take care of yourself. It’s not going to help anyone if you fall apart. Remember that. You can’t give up your whole life for him, or your sanity. And Kezia … don’t give up yet Not till they say the word, if they do, and not even then.”

“Yeah.” She nodded tiredly at him and leaned back against the desk. “Sure.”

“I didn’t know you were a quitter.”

“I’m not.”

“Then don’t act like one. Get your shit together, woman. You’ve got a rough road ahead, but nobody said it was the end of the road. It isn’t to Luke.”

“Okay, mister big mouth, I get your point.” She tried to muster a smile.

“Then start acting like you ain’t going to quit. That big dude loves you one hell of a lot.” And then he walked back to her and hugged her again. “And I love you too, little one … I do too.” Tears started to squeeze from her eyes again and she shook her head at him.

“Don’t be nice to me, or I’ll cry again.” She laughed through her tears and he rumpled her hair.

“You’re looking mighty fancy, lady, Where’ve you been? Shopping?” He had just noticed.

“No. To lunch with a friend.”

“It couldn’t have been heroes and Cokes from the look of it.”

“Alejandro, you’re nuts.” But they shared the moment of honest laughter, and he reached for his coat on the back of the door.

“I’ll take you home.”

“All the way downtown? Don’t be silly!” But she was touched at the thought.

“I’ve done enough here for one day. Want to play hooky with me?” He looked young as he made the offer, his eyes dancing, his smile that of a playful boy.

“As a matter of fact, that sounds just fine.”

They walked away from the center arm in arm, her red coat linked with his drab army surplus jacket and hood. He gave her a squeeze and she laughed into the warm eyes. She was glad she had come up to see him. She needed him, differently but almost as much as she needed Luke.

They got off the subway at Eighty-sixth Street and stopped in one of the German coffeehouses for a cup of hot chocolate “mit schlag”: great clouds of whipped cream. An oom-pah-pah band was doing its best, and outside, Christmas lights were already blinking hopefully. They said nothing of the revocation, but talked of other times. Christmas, California, his family, her father. It was funny; she had thought about her father a lot lately, and wanted to share it with someone. It was so hard to talk to Luke now; every conversational path led them back to the tangled emotional maze of the revocation.

“Something tells me you’re a lot like your father, Kezia. He doesn’t sound all that much of a conformist either, if you scratch the surface a little.”

She smiled at the melting whipped cream on her hot chocolate. “He wasn’t. But he had a nice way of pulling it all off, judging from what I’ve been told and what I remember. I suspect he wasn’t as compelled to make choices.”

“Those were different times. He didn’t have the same choices. That might have had something to do with it. What’s your trustee like?”

“Edward? He’s lovely. And solidly to the bone everything he was brought up to be. And I think he’s lonely as hell.”

“And in love with you?”

“I don’t know. I never gave it much thought. I don’t think he is.”

“I’ll bet you’re wrong.” He smiled and took a swallow of the warm sweet drink, his lips frothed with the cream. “I think there’s a lot you don’t see, Kezia. About yourself and your effect on other people. You’re naive in that sense.”

“Is that so?” She smiled at him. He was nice to be with. And she had needed someone to talk to. Years ago, she had talked so well with Edward, but not now. In an odd way, Alejandro was replacing him now. It was Alejandro she had turned to, when she couldn’t talk to Edward, or even Luke. Alejandro who gave her solace and fatherly advice. And then she had a funny thought. She looked up, and giggled. “And I suppose you’re in love with me too?”

“Maybe so.”

“You nut” She knew he didn’t mean it, and they sat back and listened to the pounding of the old-fashioned music. The restaurant was crowded but they sat apart from the noise and the movement as isolated as the old men reading German newspapers alone at their tables.

“What are you guys doing for Christmas?”

“I don’t know. You know Luke. I don’t think he’s made up his mind. Or if he has, he hasn’t told me. Are you staying here?”

“Yeah. I wanted to go home to L.A., but I’ve got too much to do at the center, and the trip is expensive. There’s a facility I want to check out in San Francisco, though. Maybe next spring.”

“What kind of facility?” She lit a cigarette and relaxed in her chair. The afternoon had metamorphosed into something delightful.

“They call them therapeutic communities out there. Same as the center, except the patients live in, which gives you a much better chance of success.” He looked at his watch and was surprised at the time. It was just after five.

“Want to join us for dinner?”

He shook his head regretfully. “No. I’ll leave you two lovebirds in peace. Besides, there’s a ‘little piece’ of my own I want to check into, closer to home.” He cackled evilly, and she chuckled.

“Havoc in Harlem? Who is she?”

“A friend of a friend. She works at a day-care center and probably has big tits, bad breath and acne.”

“You’ve got something against big tits?” She grinned again.

“Nope. Just the other two. But it’s a type. There are two or three like that who work at the center. And yeah, I’m a snob. About women.” He signaled for the check.