Once Is Not Enough (44 page)

She jumped out of bed and went to him. “Tom . . . I love you.”

He turned and looked at her. “I’m sorry about letting go like that. I don’t think I’ve shed a tear in twenty years.”

“Did I do anything to cause it?” she asked.

He stroked her head. “No, baby . . .” He led her back to bed and they lay beside one another. He held her close and said, “You’ve made me very happy, January. I think the tears
were for both of us. For me because I’ve found a girl with such class . . . and for you because you’re only getting the remnants of Tom Colt. Not that my equipment was any better . . . a man can only use what he’s got . . . but at least it was always workable. For the last ten years it’s been call girls, aphrodisiacs . . . you name it—nothing worked. Until tonight . . . with you.”

“But Tom . . . You have a baby.”

“I want you to know the truth. You see, all my life women went along with me . . . accepted the fact that I wasn’t built like a stallion. But they wanted to be seen with me. And hell, I could satisfy them in other ways. But a few years ago I got to thinking . . . all the years of writing, all my body of work . . . who was I leaving it to . . . who would care? I had no one. I lost two brothers in World War Two. I have an older sister who has no children. And suddenly I realized I wanted a kid. So I decided to adopt one. But you have to be married to adopt a child. So I started casing all the women I knew, trying to figure out which one would make the best mother. None of them fit. Either they had kids of their own from another husband . . . or they frankly stated they hated kids. There was just no one around who fit the bill. Then about a year and a half ago I ran into Nina Lou Brown, a little starlet type at a party at Malibu. She was slightly over the hill for a starlet . . . twenty-seven at the time . . . and she had just about given up. She was doing some TV commercials. She came on strong and we got to talking. She told me she was from Georgia and had twelve brothers and sisters and hadn’t worn shoes until she was twelve. She loved kids and said she was even thinking of marrying a cameraman she knew because she wanted kids and at twenty-seven she felt she was getting on. At first it all sounded too good to be true . . . but I realized it was no put on because she didn’t know I wanted a kid. Our host had two little boys and later in the afternoon, the youngest one, he was about five, got a splinter in his foot. A big angry-looking thing from some driftwood. He wouldn’t let his mother touch him. Suddenly Nina Lou moved in. She began to play a game with him. Told him she bet he could help her get it out. She asked for a glass of Scotch. She made him stick the
needle into the Scotch to sterilize it. But she told him she was going to get his foot drunk. Well, believe it or not, he allowed her to pick that damn thing out . . . and it was wedged in there deep as hell. When it was over, he kissed her. And I knew right then that she would be the mother of my kid.

“We dated for about a month. And I never went to bed with her. But I asked her to marry me and I explained about my problem. And it was Nina Lou who came up with the idea. Artificial insemination. It had never occurred to me. We got married . . . went straight to a doctor . . . it took several months . . . but it worked. And six months ago she bore me a son.”

January lay very still. Tom lit a cigarette and handed it to her. “Now you know the story of my life.”

“Wow,” January said softly. “Then you really must be in love with her.”

“Grateful is the word. I was never in love with her. But I love her for what she gave me. In exchange, I’ve given her sexual freedom . . . as long as she’s discreet. She’s got a young actor type who comes and services her now and then. But she’s a hell of a mother to Tom, Junior. And she likes being Mrs. Tom Colt—she likes the prestige, the parties she’s invited to, the house at Malibu . . . And the marriage is working, if you can call it a marriage. But hell, I can’t expect a girl of twenty-nine to give up normal sex for the rest of her life. She loves the baby and—”

“Tom . . . it happened with us tonight. Did you ever really try with her? It seems to me you weren’t even going to try with me.”

He shook his head. “Of course I tried. She was positive she could work miracles. I suffered the humiliation of letting her try . . . night after night . . . until we finally agreed there was no chance. I never expected anything to happen with us tonight . . . but I cared for you enough to let you know the score—” He held her closer. “January, you can see what you’ve done for me. Even if it never happens again . . . I’ll be grateful for the rest of my life.”

“It will happen again.”

“January, I can’t get a divorce. Nina Lou would never give
it to me . . . and I can’t give up my son. I want him to have everything. That’s why I agreed to do the tour bit. I have enough money to live fine for the rest of my life. But I want to leave a bundle to her and my son.” He got off the bed and brought the bottle back. “Shall we have a nightcap?”

She shook her head. “I’m happy this way,” she whispered.

He took a long drink. “I don’t know how to put it in words . . . I love you . . . like I’ve never loved any woman. I never leveled with any woman except you and Nina Lou. I had to with her, but I wanted to with you. I’ve been a heel with most women. I just tell them
they
don’t turn me on. I act like maybe with the right woman my pecker grows six feet. Look, I don’t know how long you’ll want me, but as long as you do . . . it’s going to be your way . . . no games. I’ll love you all the way . . . and if you want what there is of me . . . then . . . I belong to you.”

She held him close. “Oh, Tom . . . I love you. And I want you . . . and I’ll be with you whenever you want me . . . and for as long as you want me . . . forever . . . we
are
forever. I swear it.”

They lay together for a while, and after a time his even breathing told her he was asleep. She was still wide awake and longed for a cigarette. She also wanted to think things out. She loved him—the size of a man’s penis wasn’t a barometer for love. She had to convince him of this. She slid out of bed, careful not to disturb him, put on her robe and tiptoed down the steps. The living room was deserted and the fire was just about dying. She put some newspaper on it and added another log. Soon it was crackling and warm. She sat on the couch, her legs curled under her, and stared into the fire and thought about Tom. She had always thought all men were built pretty much alike. Oh, she knew some were larger than others . . . but she never knew anyone could be like Tom. Suddenly she wondered about her father. Was he a stallion like David? Of course. He would have to be. But poor Tom. Her emotions were confused. She thought of him protectively, yet with tenderness and desire. It was the desire to be in his arms . . . to feel his bare chest against her breasts . . . to
feel the closeness of him . . . to feel his lips on hers—that was what love was all about.

She heard the door open and she knew Hugh was standing behind her. He came around and stared at her. Then he glanced upstairs.

“He’s asleep,” she said. “He’s finished the bottle of Jack Daniels.”

He went to the wooden table that served as the bar and poured himself a Scotch. “Want one?”

She shook her head. “I’ll take a Coke though.”

He handed her the drink. “Want some cold steak? You must be starving. You didn’t eat a thing at dinner.”

She stretched. “I feel marvelous. Just marvelous. I don’t need food.”

He looked concerned. “January, I don’t know how good his marriage is, but he loves that baby and—”

“Hugh, I know he’ll never marry me. Don’t worry about it.”

“You’re in love with him?”

“Yes.”

He sat beside her. “I’ve seen girls fall in love with him before. And they all say they can handle it. But when he decided to walk . . . several of them reached for the pills.”

“Hugh . . . how well do you know Tom?”

“Does anyone really know Tom? I’ve known him for six years. We met when he was writing something about space in one of his novels. He came to Houston for research. We buddy-buddied together. And when I came to Los Angeles, he was just getting a divorce, so I shacked up with him. He fixed me up with some of his rejects and I had me quite a time. My own marriage was coming apart, but I had that thing about divorce . . . you know the bit . . . wait until the kids can understand. Hell, they never really understand . . . even when they’re grown and have kids of their own. My daughter, God love her, has a three-year-old, and she says, ‘Dad, why are you and Mother splitting . . . after all these years!’ Well, hell—” he stopped suddenly. “What am I doing, rambling on like this? You ask me a simple question and I give you my life’s story . . . when it’s really Tom’s you want. Okay. How well do I know
Tom? I don’t. It’s not easy to know Tom. We’re friends, good friends—I know if I ever needed him, I could call on him. And he knows the same about me. We’re a lot alike in some ways. A man like Tom gets lost in his writing, the characters become him, or vice versa. I get lost in my work . . . I never even got to really know my kids . . .”

Then he began talking about his children, about his early days of flying. She listened carefully, realizing he was unburdening his own guilts—his wrecked marriage, the loss of contact with his children. She told him not to feel guilty, that he was only following his destiny. “You really think that people should do their own thing?” he asked. She nodded, and it never once struck her as odd that she was offering Hugh Robertson advice, because at that moment she felt she could solve anything. They talked about the mystery of life . . . the solar system . . . infinity. He explained that the concept of intelligent life existing beyond our own solar system was now an accepted fact. He felt that in centuries to come there would be communication between solar systems. There would be telstars and satellite planets . . . chains of them . . . stretching out into space like a giant bridge connecting the planets and the solar systems.

“But how will we communicate with the little green men?” she asked.

“What makes you think they’ll be green? If a planet is adjacent to another sun in the same position earth is to our sun, it has to breed the same kind of being.”

“You mean there could be another earth? With a superior race?”

“Millions of them. Some, billions of years ahead of us . . . and of course some, billions of years behind.”

They were both silent after that. Then she smiled sadly. “It makes everything we do or think about seem awfully small in comparison. I mean, when you think that on all those other worlds there are people like us, praying to God. Like when I think of how I used to pray to Him to help me to walk . . .”

“Walk?”

They both turned, and it was Tom coming down the steps.
He had on a robe and he was carrying an empty bottle. “I woke up and found both my girl and my booze gone.” He came and sat beside January. “Did I hear you two say something about a walk? It’s almost two in the morning.”

“No,” Hugh said. “January was saying how she prayed to God to learn to walk.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said as she snuggled against him. “Hugh and I have been talking about the stars.”

“What about the walking?” Hugh asked.

“It’s a long story.”

“It seems to me I’ve told you some pretty long stories tonight,” Tom said. “Now it’s your turn.”

She began to talk, hesitantly at first. And then she found herself reliving those long hopeless months. The fire died out, but neither of the men seemed to notice. And as she talked Tom’s dark eyes held her, offering silent compassion and admiration. She realized she had never told anyone how much she had really endured. She had told Linda just the facts. Even Mike never knew the total desolation she had felt, because she always put on a brave front with him. But sitting in the darkness with Tom’s arm around her, all the suffering and loneliness she had known suddenly spilled out. When she finished, neither man spoke. Then Tom stood up. “I think we all need a drink now.”

Hugh poured himself a Scotch. “Can you use this? We’re clean out of bourbon.”

“I came prepared,” Tom said. “I had the driver put a case in the kitchen. I’ll be right back.”

Hugh watched him leave the room. Then he raised his glass to January who was still huddled on the couch. “I get a whole new picture of you now. You know, I think everything’s going to be fine with you and Tom. Looks like he found himself a real hunk of woman in a skinny little girl.”

The front door opened so quietly that neither of them heard the two men enter. January turned just as a hand clamped over her mouth. She saw the gleam of the knife that was held at her throat. At the same moment, the other man flashed a light in Hugh’s face. “Okay, Mister . . . if you don’t want
your old lady killed, give us your jewelry and the money. If you shout or try to get help, your old lady gets her throat slashed.”

“There is no money or jewelry,” Hugh said hoarsely.

“Come on, Mister . . .” The man towered over Hugh. He was close to seven feet. “Last week we hit someone down on the beach. A weekend couple like you. Had to threaten to cut his balls off before his old lady coughed over her rings. You people who come out for weekends on the beach . . . you always got cash and jewelry.”

“She’s got no rings or anything,” whispered the one with the knife at January’s throat.

Hugh emptied his pockets. Some change . . . two fives . . . a few singles and keys came spilling out.

“That’s chicken shit, man,” the giant said. Then he glanced at the stairs. “You hold the girl,” he called out. “I’ll take him upstairs. Maybe I can convince him to show me where he keeps things.”

January was left alone with the man with the knife. Where was Tom! The kitchen was behind the workroom. Unless she screamed he wouldn’t be able to hear her. She stared at the man, who was breathing heavily and smirking at her. He was a little man, he hardly reached her shoulder. But he had a knife and it was at her throat.

One of his hands reached out and untied the sash of her robe. It fell open, and he stared at her nude body. His smirk became an evil grin. “Oh . . . Caught you and the old man ready for a little action.”