Chistmas Ever After (18 page)

“You must have wandered off somehow. Don’t you think you should be examined?” Dr. Phillips asked.

“No… I’m fine.”

“You should have an examination,” he said, lifting a gleaming eye.

“No, I’m fine, really.” She paused and looked directly into Dr. Phillips’ eyes. “So was Jason really… dead?”

He nodded.

“For how long?”

“About twenty minutes,” Dr. Phillips said. “It’s kind of a miracle.”

The elevator door opened and Jennifer looked over. “I should go.”

Dr. Phillips stepped toward her, took out a business card and handed it to her. “Like I said, I’m off in an hour. Call me.”

Jennifer took it, reluctantly, gave Alex a last look and hurried into the elevator, seconds before the double doors closed behind her. As the elevator descended to the lobby, she twisted her hands restlessly. Her stomach was in knots. When she closed her eyes, all she saw was Alex’s face.

After the elevator door opened, she rearranged her bags and walked briskly through the lobby, hearing her heels click across the floor. She needed to get to the front door. She needed air. But as she walked, the double glass doors seemed to move farther and farther away. Something had happened when she’d looked into Alex’s eyes. It was as if the two of them had connected in an ineffable way. As a result, some deep-seated fear in her had been released from its cage and was snapping at her heels like an angry dog.

Outside, the air was cool and damp. She let the snow fall in her hair and on her shoulders while she allowed herself to take some deep breaths. All about her was shimmering winter, pressing crowds and restless traffic. Just as she was beginning to relax, she heard Alex’s deep voice behind her, a rich voice that sang with strength and sensuality.

“Do you want to share a cab?”

She didn’t turn. “Ah… No, thanks, I’m going to walk.”

He came up alongside her. “In those shoes? They look expensive.”

“No, not really. They’re not really expensive at all... well maybe they are.”

“But aren’t your feet cold in them?”

“Cold?” she asked, looking down at them, definitely cold. “No… no, my feet seldom ever get cold.”

He stared doubtfully, pocketing his hands. “J-boy, I mean, Jason, commanded me to come after you to thank you. He threw me out of his room.”

“You did thank me.”

“Well, yes… Have you got time for coffee or something?”

“I’m a… well, I’m supposed to…”

“I don’t know what happened on that sled, but I do know that Jason is alive and he says you’re the reason. Please, let me at least buy you a cup of coffee.”

“Aren’t you supposed to meet your fiancée or something?”

“She’s shopping. She won’t mind. So… coffee?”

Jennifer fully intended to say no. “All right…”

“I know a great little place up on West 70
^th
Street.”

In the taxi, they were both silent. Jennifer watched the many lights of Christmas drift by, feeling a persistent drumming in her chest. Alex kept a good two-foot distance between them, as he gazed absently out the opposite window, his fingers drumming on his right leg.

“Have you been in New York long?” he finally asked.

“No,” Jennifer said, seeing his reflection looking at her in her window.

On the radio, Bing Crosby sang
White Christmas
.

“Do you have family in New York?” Alex asked.

“No.”

“Are you visiting friends?”

“No.”

“Are you here alone?”

Jennifer waited. “Yes.”

“A vacation?”

“No.”

“Business?”

She finally turned to him, forcing a smile. “Are you an attorney?”

He laughed nervously. “Oh, yeah… the 50 questions. I’m sorry. I guess I’m a little tense and when I’m tense, I ask a lot of questions.”

She let her eyes linger on his timid smile and moist lips. Her right foot began to jiggle. “That’s okay.”

They entered Café Pierre. A hostess seated them at a table looking out onto 70
^th
Street. Alex helped Jennifer out of her coat as she took in the elegant café—its photographs and paintings of New York City street scenes, an old grand piano and a large glass-enclosed dessert display.

By the time they were seated and had received their menus, a pianist began playing
The Moonlight Sonata
.

Alex looked up from his menu. “Who wrote that piece? Mozart?”

Jennifer listened. “No, Beethoven, I think… The only reason I know is that I had a boyfriend who loved Beethoven. He loved music.”

“What happened to him?”

Jennifer put her nose back into the menu. “He died a year ago.”

He spoke in a near whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

They studied their menus, listening to the music. The melody took Jennifer back to quiet evenings in Tennessee, when she and Lance had prepared dinner and listened to music. She’d often thought of it as an irritating intrusion. She was even a little jealous of it, because Lance’s attention often strayed from the topics of office politics and spreadsheet short cuts to the sounds of Bach, Beethoven or Duke Ellington. His eyes took on a faraway distracted stare, as if he were entranced, and he absently contributed to the conversation with an occasional “Really” or “I see.”

“Did you know that Beethoven didn’t name that piece
The Moonlight Sonata
?” Jennifer asked.

Alex looked up. “No, I didn’t.”

“A music critic wrote that the sonata reminded him of moonlight reflected off a lake or something like that. So a publisher gave it the name, because he thought it would sell more copies. As it turned out, it did. It became the all-time best-selling piece of sheet music during that time. The publisher was a good businessman.”

“Yes, I would think so. Your boyfriend told you that story?”

“Yes… I hadn’t even thought about it until now. I’m surprised I remembered. I guess I admired the publisher’s business savvy and it stuck in my head.”

“Are you a good businesswoman?” Alex asked.

Jennifer feigned modesty. “I think so.”

Alex studied her. “An entrepreneur?”

“Until recently.”

Jennifer ignored the menu and listened carefully to the music. It was as if she were hearing the piece for the first time. It didn’t sadden her as it often had in the past; on the contrary, she felt comforted and soothed by it.

Jennifer felt Alex’s eyes on her as she listened. She liked his one-pointed stare, the little furrow on his brow, his smile, tentative and reflective. She had coyly stolen quick looks into his searching dark eyes, and she saw a tinge of sorrow in them that added to his attractiveness.

When the piece quietly ended, her eyes had misted with tears.

“You must have been very close to him,” Alex said, softly.

She reached into her purse, drew out a tissue and gently blotted her eyes. “I’m sorry…Where did that come from?”

“Don’t apologize. I understand what it’s like to lose someone you love.”

“It’s strange, you know. For the first time in a year, I feel like I can almost let go of him.”

Alex felt the impulse to reach for her hand, but he didn’t. They stared at each other for a moment then, awkwardly, they avoided each other’s eyes, only to finally give in, drawn by an insistent hope and a remarkable attraction.

They ordered coffee, a cannoli and a cheesecake. Jennifer was hungry, so she also ordered a grilled chicken sandwich. After the waitress left, they both eased back in their chairs, unsure of what to say or do next.

The pianist started playing a lively variation on
Jingle Bells
and the room came to life. Cheerful faces peeked out over laptops and from behind newspapers; even the waiters and waitresses stopped to pay attention and tap their feet. As the music danced and leapt about the room, Jennifer brightened, gently tapping her fingers to the rhythm. She glanced at Alex and, when he smiled back at her, a searing heat rose to her face. She was stunned by it, so she held herself utterly still, afraid that moving would shatter the magical spell and plunge her right back into the all too-familiar reality of darkness, confusion and pain.

When the pianist’s hands bounced off the final chord, his head snapped back dramatically, and the room erupted in applause. Jennifer and Alex joined in, buoyant.

Moments later, the coffee, sandwich and desserts arrived. Jennifer picked up her knife to cut her cannoli into two pieces, then stopped and watched Alex surgically divide his cheesecake into two equal parts. He presented her his plate. “Want half?”

She scratched her cheek and smiled, as she cut the cannoli in two and slid half over into his plate. He did the same thing, grinning into the table.

“Just like we’ve known each other for years,” Alex said, his eyes shining brightly.

Jennifer avoided his eyes and remained silent as she took a bite of her sandwich.

“How long will you be in town?” Alex asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Why did you come?”

“It was a gift.”

“Really. From whom?”

“Are you sure you’re not an attorney?” she asked, amused.

Alex grinned. “Funny you should ask. I’m starting law school next month.”

Jennifer nodded firmly, impressed. “A law degree is a good degree to have. You can always find a well-paying job with a law degree. You have so many more options for careers.”

“Yes,” Alex said, unenthusiastically.

“You don’t seem very excited about it.”

“History and literature are my first loves.”

“What can you do with history, except maybe teach, and there’s no money in that,” Jennifer said.

He looked at her, strangely. “That’s true, but I sure did love it. Not that it was ever easy—kids are so damn complicated, but I love seeing the sparks in their eyes when something grabs them: an idea or an event, or some historical figure like Teddy Roosevelt or Abigail Adams. It’s so much fun watching them work and grow with an idea. You don’t get them all, of course, but that’s also a fun challenge. You keep refining and working your techniques.”

Jennifer kept passing glances toward the pianist. She saw the pleasurable expression on his face, as if he had found his secret to living. He was connecting completely and joyfully to life. People around him looked on with admiration and contentment and she, herself, felt enriched and gladdened by the music and the celebratory atmosphere that it was helping to create. She slowly turned back to Alex.

“You get excited when you talk about teaching. I see the sparks in your eyes, just the way you spoke about the kids when an idea grabs them.” She took a beat, surprising herself with her audacity. “What do you want, Alex? What do you really want to do with your life?”

His face opened, suddenly buoyant and young. “I loved teaching.”

Jennifer straightened, and when she spoke, her voice held authority. “Then maybe that’s what you should do. Go back to teaching. There’s nothing wrong with getting a law degree, if that’s what you want to do, but if you’re just doing it for the money or for whatever, then I think it’s a mistake.”

Alex looked at her admiringly. “Over the last two years, I’ve worked as a waiter and a painter… I’ve worked in construction, even pretended I was a cowboy for a while out in Montana…Boy, did J-boy love that! We had such great times out there! Anyway, the whole time, I kept thinking about going back to teaching, but I thought I needed to find something where I could just make a lot of money.”

“I’m sure you’re a wonderful teacher,” Jennifer said, “and you’d probably make a good attorney.”

As soon as the words left Jennifer’s lips, she felt something in the back of her mind struggling to work its way forward, in recognition. It was a name or phrase, half remembered, the fragment of a conversation, lingering out on the periphery, just out of reach.

“Anything wrong?” Alex asked.

Jennifer shook it away. “No, just a feeling or something.”

Jennifer took her first bite of the cheesecake and beamed in approval. “This is
so
good!”

“Your teeth are perfect,” Alex observed.

Jennifer reached for coffee, a bit surprised by the comment. “Now you sound like a dentist!”

They exchanged smiles and Jennifer continued. “I had braces. My parents couldn’t afford it but…”

“But?”

“Oh, nothing. I was just thinking how hard it must be to be a parent. How tough it must have been for my parents.”

“Yes, it’s incredibly challenging on many levels.”

“Especially when you’re also trying to find yourself, as my father was.”

Alex hunched his shoulders, and turned reflective. “Yeah… I hope Jason doesn’t grow up to hate me for what I’ve done—dragging him around like I did. Sometimes I wonder what the hell kind of father I’ve been. J-boy hasn’t had a very good home.”

“He knows you love him and it’s obvious that he loves you.”