Breathe You In

Saturday, June 19th, 1954

Maggie was the first thing Dean thought of in the morning and usually the last thing at night. Teddy as well figured into this. The boy was friendly, enthusiastic, and well-mannered. At the same time it caused those ugly uncomfortable questions to surface.

If I had only stepped up, been more involved, would Danny have been a different boy? Less self-centered or belligerent?

As Dean pulled his clothes on, he did his best to push those thoughts away. Danny was gone. The pain of his loss was a dull ache in Dean’s heart, as if a large piece of himself was gone from the world. No amount of wishing for a different outcome would make him suddenly reappear. This was the bitter part of the sweet he continued to feel each moment he spent with Teddy.

Dean heard the shrill ring of the phone downstairs and adjusted his shirt cuffs with a sigh. He heard Ms. Abney answer, then the familiar tread of her feet upon the stairs. A knock on the door confirmed it, “Mr. Edmonds? You have a phone call from that man again.”

Dean suppressed a smile. After two weeks of daily phone calls she had ceased referring to Scotty Abernathy by name.

Dean opened his door, “Thank you, Ms. Abney. My apologies.”

He followed her down the stairs. “He’s quite persistent. You may consider doing whatever he is requesting, I fear none of us will get any peace unless you do.”

“How well I know it.”

At the bottom of the stairs he picked up the receiver, “Hello Scotty.”

“Dino! For Christ sake, I’m a gonna come down to the boonies and fetch you myself. I’ve got folks calling all down the Coast asking if we can set something up and you are wining and dining some broad?”

Dean closed his eyes. “I know, I know, and the tour is important.”

“Important? Hell, Dino, the books are flying off the shelves here! Every time you make a radio appearance the sales double. I hear Viking is authorizing another reprint and I got radio stations, five of them, askin’ to interview you.” His exasperation was clear even over the patchy connection. “But you are so damned busy playing Romeo to bother.”

“I know Scotty, I know. I promise, it will be soon.”

“You said that last week, Dino. I gotta have a date. I gotta have a commitment damn it, I’m trying to sell books here and you, my literary friend, are a real pain in my backside. When are you going to be out here?”

He couldn’t keep putting off the inevitable. “I can fly out on Monday.”

“This Monday?”

“Yes, Scotty, this Monday. I can give it five days.”

Scotty began to swear loudly and Dean cast a glance around. Ms. Abney was out of sight, and he desperately hoped she was out of earshot as well. Scotty could swear worse than most. And the combinations he suggested, Dean was sure he had never heard such colorful and base words put together quite like Scotty could.

“Dino, damn you, now I gotta make calls and set it all up.” He paused, “Be at LaGuardia by noon on Monday. How about eight days, no, ten?”

“Scotty, I’m giving you five days. Book me back to back, give me four hours of sleep a night, but all I can give you right now is five days.”

His agent sighed, “Fine, fine. Five days. Damn it, Dino, just sleep with her, or marry her or whatever, but get over her soon. We got books to sell.”

“I’ve got books to write, Scotty, you have books to sell.”

Scotty barked out a laugh, “And damned if we aren’t selling ‘em Dino. Cha-fuckin’-ching! I’ll see you Monday.” He paused, “You know you are a goddamn pain in the ass, right? I’m gonna work you like a rented mule while you are here too.”

Dean laughed and hung up. I’ll be lucky if I get a decent night’s sleep in any of those five days.

“Thank you, Ms. Abney,” he called and walked back upstairs. He still had to take a bath and shave. This evening was special. Just him and Maggie.

Teddy was off with the neighbor, an invitation from months before to take the boy with the rest of the family and go camping. After seeing the two of them on a near daily basis, he and Maggie would finally be alone.

Just the two of us. He had picked the restaurant, a well-regarded one, and with a little trepidation and no small amount of hope, reserved a room at the hotel adjacent to it.

He had put the convertible top down, then up, then back down. He was standing there in front of the house when one of the boarders, a pinched-face girl barely out of her teens, came out onto the porch.

“Alice, isn’t it?” He called out to her.

“Yes, Mr. Edmonds.”

“Alice, I need a woman’s opinion on this.” The girl looked around, as if searching for the purported woman he was referring to before realizing that Dean was asking for her opinion.

“Oh, um, the top...down?”

He smiled, “You don’t seem too sure.”

“Well, if the top is up, the sun is off of her, but there’s less breeze. Down and it will be bright, but airy.”

Ms. Abney stepped out then, “It all depends on the lady, Mr. Edmonds. Is she very particular about her hair?”

Dean tried to think back. They had driven in the car, both with the top up and down, and Maggie hadn’t seemed to mind in either case. At least, I don’t think she minded.

Ms. Abney’s mouth twitched in amusement.

“It looks very nice either way Mr. Edmonds,” Alice offered, staring longingly at the car.

“It is for a nice dinner out.”

“Definitely up, Mr. Edmonds,” Ms. Abney said, and Alice nodded.

He tipped his hat, checking the time on his watch.

“Thank you, ladies, your advice has been invaluable.” He slid into the seat and pushed the button to bring the top back up, used his handkerchief to mop his already damp brow, and put the car into gear, waving at Alice and Ms. Abney as he drove away.

The summer sun was still high in the sky as he cruised to a stop in front of Maggie’s little house. Dean knew he had made a good choice when Maggie’s front door opened. The pale blue dress was form-fitting. Around Maggie’s neck was a string of pearls, at her ears was a pair of matching earrings edged with gold filigree.

“You look,” Dean stopped, momentarily at a loss for words, “absolutely stunning.”

Maggie blushed and looked nervous, “Is it too much? I could find something else. You said it would be fancy, but you didn’t say where, so I wasn’t sure.”

He put a hand on her arm. “You are perfect, just as you are.”

Touching her, he could feel the attraction between them and from her reaction, she felt it too. Her lips parted, and her beautiful blue eyes focused on his. Dean leaned forward and kissed her. It was full of promise and desire. Maggie reciprocated, pulling him close, mouth soft against his. The kiss lasted, intensified, and Dean stepped inside the house, letting the screen door swing closed behind him. The umbrella stand banging against the wall brought them back to present.

Maggie broke the connection first, licking her lips and staring at Dean with a mixture of desire and alarm. “That was...”

“Something I have wanted to do for several weeks now,” Dean finished for her.

She surprised him by laughing. “Same here.” Her fingers crept up to his lips. “But I think you have more of my lipstick on now than I do!”

Dean reached into his pocket for a handkerchief and wiped at his lips while Maggie turned away and used a small hall mirror to freshen her lipstick.

They walked to the car, Dean opening Maggie’s door for her. She put a delicate hand on his as he started the car. The engine rumbled steadily, “So, where are we going?”

“How does dinner at The Savoy sound?”

Her eyes lit up. “I’ve never been, but I hear it is excellent!”

It was a short drive to the bustling restaurant. They entered and Maggie paused, entranced by it all.

“Oh Dean, look at those murals!” she pointed to one depicting a covered wagon with a team of oxen crossing a river.

“They were all painted by Edward Holslag, back in 1903. My parents collected some of his work and I still have one of them. Gloucester Harbor.” Dean laughed, “Call it a childhood obsession, but all I wanted was to grow up and become a sailor. At least that was my life goal before I learned to read.”

Maggie giggled and threaded her fingers through his. “Did you have a sailor hat?”

“How did you know?”

The maitre’d showed them to their booth and handed them both menus.

“Everything sounds fantastic,” Maggie murmured, one delicate finger running down the list of entrees. “I don’t know how I will make up my mind.”

“They are well known for their steaks and lobster. However, if you are in the mood for something else, the Coq au Vin is especially good.” Dean said, looking over his own menu. “I think I might indulge in a steak and some lobster bisque.”

“The Coq au Vin does sound wonderful,” Maggie commented staring at the menu, “Yes, I think I shall try that.”

The green leather seats were surrounded by dark wood and the sun outside illuminated the art deco stained glass window above them. Maggie’s eyes shone as she took in the tasteful decor.

Dean leaned forward and whispered, “I hear that President Truman sits in this very booth whenever he dines at The Savoy.”

“Really?”

“Good evening sir, madam, welcome to the Savoy.” The waiter wore a white coat and had a round silver pin with the number five embossed on it.

“I see you have water, may I bring you a glass of wine or a cocktail? Perhaps an appetizer to start with?”

“We will have some wine with our dinner. I’m particularly interested in the Crab Meat Ravigote for an appetizer.”

“Excellent choice, sir. Are you both ready to order then?”

“Yes, the lady will have coq au vin with a Caesar salad and I would like the steak and some lobster bisque, please.” Dean stared at the wine menu, “What would you suggest for a wine pairing?”

The waiter leaned over, “A burgundy would be an excellent choice for both entrees, and we have a bottle left of the 1949 Volnay. It was an excellent year.”

“Yes, that will be fine.” The waiter nodded, collected their menus and disappeared.

Maggie sipped water and glanced around. “I feel so out of place. I’m used to an apron, an overheated kitchen and a boy who hates eating his vegetables.”

Dean laughed, “We could see if they have an apron for you to wear, but believe me, you do not look out of place. Not at all.” He reached over and took her hand, gently squeezing her fingers. “You look absolutely stunning. If I don’t keep your interest I fear that half of the men in here will swoop in and run off with you.”

Maggie laughed then and her smile sent a warm glow surging through him. She was so beautiful. More than that, he mused, she was intelligent, well-read, and incredibly kind. How had no one seen it before?

The evening was humid and heavy as they left the Savoy, heading back to the Board of Trade garage where they had parked the car. The sun had slipped below the horizon and the orange glow of it was obscured by the clouds gathering, thick and billowing.

“It looks as if it is going to rain.”

“Indeed,” Maggie replied, staring up at the sky.

“Did you enjoy dinner?”

“Need you ask?”

“We men need our egos stroked often.”

Maggie laughed, “Well then, by all means, consider your ego stroked. It was absolutely amazing. Thank you for sharing bites of your lobster bisque, it was divine. And the dessert,” she sighed, “It was everything I had heard it was.”

He squeezed her hand and they walked slowly towards the car.

“Maggie, I don’t want this night to be over.”

Maggie paused, stopped walking, and met his eyes, “Neither do I.”

“We could, we could go back to your house. Or we are here at the Savoy.”

Dean’s stomach twisted with nerves as he said it. He shouldn’t have called ahead and made reservations. Would she be angry? Insulted? Still, he would be damned if he would stand in a lobby and be turned away with Maggie on his arm.

“You made reservations, didn’t you?” Maggie asked, tilting her head, assessing him.

“I did.” His stomach did flip-flops. Had he screwed it all up? “That was very presumptuous of me. Is this the part in the story where you slap me, hard?”

A smile twitched at one corner of her mouth, her eyes steady on his. “I think this is the part in the story where the woman is rather modern and says ‘Yes, I would like to go with you, Dean.’”

“It is? I mean,” He blinked a moment, “Are you sure?”

She leaned close. Her lips on his ear, a whispered promise that sent waves of desire through him and he nodded, his mind and body full of thoughts of her and they turned back around and re-entered the building through a different door. Maggie’s steps slowed as she gasped at the round dome of stained glass above them. They stood there, unmoving, and drank in the detail and workmanship in the glass.

“I love stained glass,” Maggie murmured, her fingers entwined in his, “Such beauty coupled with utility.”

“Indeed.”

They continued to stand there looking up.

“Are they looking at us?”

“Who, the staff?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t worry.” He slipped his arm around her and, finally tearing her eyes from the dome, Maggie walked beside him to the desk. “I reserved a room for my wife and I, it should be under Dean Edmonds.”

The thin man in his impeccable black uniform with shiny buttons nodded, “Yes, Mr. and Mrs. Edmonds, we have you in Room 505.” He did not ask if they had bags or needed a porter. “Please let us know if you need anything to make your stay more comfortable.”

Hours later, in a well-appointed room, they lay close, spent. A sheet covered everything but one long, slender leg. Maggie’s hair, so perfectly coiffed at the beginning of the evening, lay spread out in a fan behind her, the roots damp with sweat. Dean ran a thumb over her profile and she stretched, her eyes closed, a small, content smile upon her face. Outside the thunder grumbled and the rain fell in long, heavy sheets. The storm had cooled the air significantly, and a cool, damp breeze pushed its way in through the window, washing over them.

“You have be-spelled me, Dean Edmonds.”

“I have be-spelled you?” he laughed, “I fear I must claim the same. You and Teddy both.”

She opened her eyes, her face serious and troubled, “I don’t do this. At least, not with anyone since, since...”

“Since Teddy’s father?”

She nodded. “I just don’t want you to think I’m easy.”

His laughter echoed through the small room, “That is the last thing I would slander you with, believe me.” He leaned close and brushed his lips against hers.