lost all its color and became an empty shell.
Chapter 5
She was awakened the next morning by a screaming telephone. She jerked it to her ear and mumbled a response.
"Well, sweet cousin, how are you?" came a pleasant male voice over the receiver.
"Horace! How are you?" she laughed sleepily.
"Hopeful. What's this I hear about you and a man?"
"Wishful thinking, only a new neighbor. Have you been talking to Brenda again?" she teased.
"Listening, was more like it. Say, I thought I'd come down for a visit in a week or so. Got enough room?"
"You know you're always welcome—even if we are at odds about the house," she added gently.
"Thanks, cuz, I think you're pretty swell, too, but this is the smallest apartment and twenty miles from my job...."
"Now, Horace...."
"I know," he sighed. "Horace, shut up. Okay. By the way, Mom and Dad send their love and want to know when you're coming up for that vacation?"
"Oh, I'm not sure," she said, horrified at just the thought of being that far away from Cal even for a week. "Someday."
"That's what you always say. Oh, well, Brenda got my hopes up, and I just thought I'd check. No offense," he said, and she could picture the boyish grin on his thin face.
She smiled, shaking her head. "No offense, cousin. Bye."
❧
Cal's four days turned into a week, and never had Madeline felt more alone. She kept watching the house over the hedge with her eyes that grew sadder by the day. She couldn't eat. She couldn't sleep. Even on the job, she was more and more depressed and irritable. The waiting, the wanting, were incredibly hard. It was ridiculous, she kept telling herself, to get so emotionally involved with a man that she almost stopped breathing when he wasn't around. But that didn't ease the persistent ache to see his dark face, to hear the deep, slow voice. Where was he all this time, what was he doing, what kind of business was keeping him away so long? Until the night before he left, he'd told her nothing about his work. For all their wanderings together, he was still very much a stranger in some respects.
There was a story about a light plane crash on the news, and she had visions of Cal lying torn up in some rented airport in a forest, and nobody knowing. It haunted her, that picture. If there'd been any way she could have called, anonymously, to find out if he was all right, she'd have done it. After that, she barely slept at all.
It was Thursday, and raining, and she was curled up in front of the television late that evening in her silky blue caftan, reading while she listened to a game show, when the door bell rang.
Half expecting cousin Horace, she opened the door without thinking and froze, her heart brimming over, her lips slightly parting in mute astonishment.
Cal looked unusually tired. His face was heavily lined and drawn, his eyes bloodshot, as if he hadn't slept at all. He needed a light shave, and his tie was off, his shirt open wide at the throat—and he was the most beautiful sight she'd ever seen. The light came back into her world, full of warm colors and soft delight.
She bit back tears. "You look terrible," she whispered unsteadily.
"So do you," he replied, noting the wan little face, the shadows under her eyes.
"You were gone a long time."
"What I went for took a long time."
They stared at each other, the door wide open, the sound of the rain filling the darkness outside, a pleasant, pelting thudding sound that made the house seem cozy and safe.
"Oh, God, come here," he whispered huskily, and held out his arms.
She went into them as if she'd been lost in the woods for days and was finally home, her arms stretching up around his neck, her face buried in the soft silk shirt, her body trembling as he pressed it hungrily against his own.
He sighed her, deeply, slowly. "Next time, you're coming with me," he murmured. "I'm not going through this again."
"You didn't miss me," she teased tearfully. "I'll bet you had women following you everywhere."
His big
Chapter 5
She was awakened the next morning by a screaming telephone. She jerked it to her ear and mumbled a response.
"Well, sweet cousin, how are you?" came a pleasant male voice over the receiver.
"Horace! How are you?" she laughed sleepily.
"Hopeful. What's this I hear about you and a man?"
"Wishful thinking, only a new neighbor. Have you been talking to Brenda again?" she teased.
"Listening, was more like it. Say, I thought I'd come down for a visit in a week or so. Got enough room?"
"You know you're always welcome—even if we are at odds about the house," she added gently.
"Thanks, cuz, I think you're pretty swell, too, but this is the smallest apartment and twenty miles from my job...."
"Now, Horace...."
"I know," he sighed. "Horace, shut up. Okay. By the way, Mom and Dad send their love and want to know when you're coming up for that vacation?"
"Oh, I'm not sure," she said, horrified at just the thought of being that far away from Cal even for a week. "Someday."
"That's what you always say. Oh, well, Brenda got my hopes up, and I just thought I'd check. No offense," he said, and she could picture the boyish grin on his thin face.
She smiled, shaking her head. "No offense, cousin. Bye."
❧
Cal's four days turned into a week, and never had Madeline felt more alone. She kept watching the house over the hedge with her eyes that grew sadder by the day. She couldn't eat. She couldn't sleep. Even on the job, she was more and more depressed and irritable. The waiting, the wanting, were incredibly hard. It was ridiculous, she kept telling herself, to get so emotionally involved with a man that she almost stopped breathing when he wasn't around. But that didn't ease the persistent ache to see his dark face, to hear the deep, slow voice. Where was he all this time, what was he doing, what kind of business was keeping him away so long? Until the night before he left, he'd told her nothing about his work. For all their wanderings together, he was still very much a stranger in some respects.
There was a story about a light plane crash on the news, and she had visions of Cal lying torn up in some rented airport in a forest, and nobody knowing. It haunted her, that picture. If there'd been any way she could have called, anonymously, to find out if he was all right, she'd have done it. After that, she barely slept at all.
It was Thursday, and raining, and she was curled up in front of the television late that evening in her silky blue caftan, reading while she listened to a game show, when the door bell rang.
Half expecting cousin Horace, she opened the door without thinking and froze, her heart brimming over, her lips slightly parting in mute astonishment.
Cal looked unusually tired. His face was heavily lined and drawn, his eyes bloodshot, as if he hadn't slept at all. He needed a light shave, and his tie was off, his shirt open wide at the throat—and he was the most beautiful sight she'd ever seen. The light came back into her world, full of warm colors and soft delight.
She bit back tears. "You look terrible," she whispered unsteadily.
"So do you," he replied, noting the wan little face, the shadows under her eyes.
"You were gone a long time."
"What I went for took a long time."
They stared at each other, the door wide open, the sound of the rain filling the darkness outside, a pleasant, pelting thudding sound that made the house seem cozy and safe.
"Oh, God, come here," he whispered huskily, and held out his arms.
She went into them as if she'd been lost in the woods for days and was finally home, her arms stretching up around his neck, her face buried in the soft silk shirt, her body trembling as he pressed it hungrily against his own.
He sighed her, deeply, slowly. "Next time, you're coming with me," he murmured. "I'm not going through this again."
"You didn't miss me," she teased tearfully. "I'll bet you had women following you everywhere."
His big
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