CHAPTER TWELVE

 

Dinner was fabulous. Roast beef, scalloped sweet potatoes, steamed broccoli and cauliflower. Red sweet wine. And a chocolate brownie filled with chocolate mousse and topped with sweetened whipped cream. Dancing music supplied by the live band interlaced the scrumptious fare. Macey's smiles followed one upon the other. Each of the young men at her table asked her to dance, and kept breaking in as she partnered each on the dance floor. Several times she glanced towards the Englishman's table, and caught him watching her. Twice she saw him rise, and could have sworn he intended coming over to her table again and asking her to dance, only to find Cal suddenly beside her, asking her to dance, and staring at Lucas with the darkest glare in his sage-green eyes. After giving her such a wonderful evening as her birthday present, she was not about to refuse him. Besides, those moments in his arms, between the exhilaration of being held by the “Mr. Rights,” were a welcome and necessary respite. Cal had always had a calming effect upon her.

“Well, are you having a good time?” Cal asked, as he led her across the floor to the tune of an oldie set to contemporary music, All The Things You Are.

“Yes, Cal, wonderful time. Thank you.” Oh why can't you be Mr. Right, she thought.

A young woman in a silver and black sheath, moved to the front of the band and the stand microphone. As the woman sang the lyrics to the music, Macey felt Cal's arms clasp her closer. Her chest against his, she felt the beat of his heart quicken.

 

“...You are the promised kiss of springtime

That makes the lonely winter seem long

You are the breathless hush of evening

That trembles on the brink of a lovely song

You are the angel glow that lights a star

The dearest things I know are what you are

Some day my happy arms will hold you

And some day I'll know that moment divine

When all the things you are, are mine....”

 

Macey spoke, more to quell her own heart at his closeness, “This is a beautiful song. I don't remember ever hearing it before.”

“It's an oldie,” Cal said. “Jerome Kern composed it, and Oscar Hammerstein wrote the lyrics.”

“I guess they both knew what it felt to love and not be loved back.”

“I think there are very few humans who haven't known that feeling at some point in their life.”

Macey lifted her face and gazed at Cal. “Like you and me, Cal?”

He didn't answer, but it wasn't difficult to guess what he was thinking. He loved her, but she didn't feel the same way about him. Just like the Mr. Rights she fell for, but didn't care for her in the same way. Maybe, she and Cal should join forces—

“Excuse me.” Michael said. “May I,” he asked Cal.

Neither she, nor Cal, had noticed him approaching them.

She felt Cal tense, then relax. “Of course,” he said. He let go. Macey experienced the weirdest sensation — a sudden void. But Michael taking her into his arms, redirected her thoughts. He fit her image of the perfect man, and the way he looked at her as they danced, gave her hope. Admiration. That's what she saw on his face. Admiration from someone who fit her image of a man she could fall in love with, someone who sent warm tingling flashes up her spine, as he twirled her under his arm and bent her backwards to place a kiss on her lips.

It was a memorable moment in her life, spoiled only with something she caught site of from the corner of her eye. Cal standing at the perimeter of the dance floor, watching, resigned, turning away, dreams shattered.