Chapter 12

Grandma was standing out on the porch when they arrived and Paris went toward her at once and flung his arms around the old woman, lifting her off her feet.

“There she is. How’s my girlfriend?” he asked Grandma, then he stole a quick, naughty glance at Marianne. “Don’t get jealous, my love, but I’d like you to meet my favorite lady. Marianne, this is Mrs. Kujiroaka, but you can just call her Mrs. K. like Alex and I do. Mrs. K., allow me to present my fiancée, Marianne Thompson.”

Marianne stepped forward and was greeted as warmly as she could wish. Grandma led her into the house, followed by Samantha, who left the men to carry in the luggage.

As she expected, Marianne fell in love with the room as soon as she saw it. Though it wasn’t really to her taste, she knew it was absolutely perfect for Samantha.

“This is the room Alex fixed up for you?” she asked, impressed that he got it so right.

“Yes. He had it done before I even got here. He must’ve spent a whole day in Los Angeles picking out wallpaper and drapes and furniture.”

Marianne grinned, dropping into the nearest comfy chair.

“I told you you should dump Randy. See how well everything is working out? Way better than being trapped in a sucky marriage with Randy.”

“Yep. You were right, Marianne. I just wish I had your confidence.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll learn. By the way, what are you going to tell your parents?”

Shocked, Samantha realized she hadn’t even given it a thought. In fact, she hadn’t called her parents in a couple of weeks.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “My dad’ll kill me when he finds out. He didn’t want me to come over with Alex in the first place.”

A sudden knock at the door prevented Samantha from pursuing this thought. Paris entered, Albert behind them with their luggage.

“You two gossiping again? You’d better come out. Mrs. K. is about to serve dinner.”

With that, Samantha forgot about her parents and took Paris’s arm. He escorted the young ladies into the dining room and tucked them into their places at the table.

Samantha felt a pair of lips on hers and opened her eyes.

“’Morning, sweetheart,” said Alex, smiling down at her. “Sleep well?”

“Yes, thanks. You helped, you know.”

He perched himself on the edge of the bed.

“Did I?”

“Of course. Where’s everyone else?”

“Paris took Marianne out exploring for the day. Due to the newness of our situation, he thought we might like to be alone.”

She grinned and snuggled onto Alex’s lap, slipping her arms around his waist. She kissed him several times before he interrupted her.

“By the way,” he asked, his voice deliberately casual, “what did you tell Marianne about us?”

“Just that I’m in love with you,” she replied. “Why?”

Alex fought back a grin.

“She asked me what my intentions are.”

Samantha sighed, rolling her eyes.

“Oh, Alex, I’m sorry. She thinks she’s being helpful.”

He stroked Samantha’s curls, silent for a while. She lay with her head against his chest, listening quietly to the sound of his heart, but thinking back to her conversation with Marianne, she straightened up and looked him in the eye.

“She did bring up a good point, though: what’ll I tell my parents?”

Alex chuckled nervously.

“Why do you have to tell them anything?”

The smile faded from her face and her eyes widened in surprise.

Was it to be a secret?

“Alex, I can’t lie to them. They’re my parents. Can’t you talk to them and explain things?”

His expression became guarded, the same as if she brought up his past.

“What exactly should I tell them, Samantha? That I’m slipping it to their innocent young daughter, just as they knew I would?”

Samantha slipped from his grasp and climbed to her feet.

“Just tell them how we feel about each other.”

“Why can’t you tell them?”

Samantha’s lip trembled as she imagined what such a conversation would entail.

“My father will ask me if you love me or not,” she said, trying to sort out her own thoughts.

She sank to the bed, just out of Alex’s reach. How, oh, how could she tell her father Alex loved her, when he’d never even so much as mentioned the word.

“He’ll ask me if you’ve ever said you love me,” she went on, her voice quavering. “And you haven’t, Alex. You haven’t.”

Alex came to her, put a gentle hand on her shoulder and forced her to look up at him.

“Samantha, what do words matter when we have each other?”

“Did you even tell your mom about me, Alex? Does she even know I exist?”

“Not yet, but I’ll tell her when the time’s right.”

“When’s it going to be right? I mean, I thought we were in a committed relationship now.”

“Samantha...”

“No. This is crap. You weren’t even going to tell Paris and Marianne, only they figured it out for themselves. Are you embarrassed by me or something, Alex?”

“No.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I don’t know. It’s just...not a good idea to broadcast my personal life all over the planet. You know how these things get blown out of proportion.”

He bent down to kiss her, but she turned her face away, resentful and hurt. She quickly rose from the bed, but Alex didn’t try to stop her. Samantha felt his eyes on her, watching her as she quietly slipped from the room.

Try as she might, She couldn’t understand his reluctance to declare his love. She felt it every day, was reasonably sure of it, but something deep within her also needed desperately to hear it.

She managed to avoid him most of the morning, and he didn’t try to approach her, but finally, while she was out on the terrace brooding, he came to her.

“You’re acting like a spoiled child,” he said gruffly, his patience nearly at an end. “Our friends’ll be back soon. Come in the house and behave yourself.”

Samantha caught her breath. Not for all the world would she admit defeat to those two, so she obeyed him. And though she felt betrayed, there was nothing else to do but carry on with this charade, with this parody of a couple in love.

Entering the house, she turned on him.

“Would it kill you to say you love me, Alex? What do you think I’m going to do, leak it to the press?”

She stormed into the study and slammed the door. In a flash, he was after her, for once disregarding a closed door. He, too, slammed himself inside, confronting Samantha, enraged.

“Just what the hell’s the matter with you?” he demanded. “Haven’t I proven I love you? Haven’t I said everything but that?”

Her heart pounding, Samantha nodded.

“Yes,” she agreed, irony in her voice. “You have. Everything but that.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I need you to say it,” she told him plaintively.

Alex frowned, his lips pursed together. He went to her and held her, pitying her.

“Please don’t rush me, Samantha,” he begged. “I’ll say it in due time. Just don’t rush me.”

Samantha shut her eyes, trying hard to understand. She suspected it was due to his failed marriage, this reticence of his. She felt silly, for she knew in her heart Alex loved her, that he was simply afraid to say so, and she had to be patient.

Above all, she had to be patient.

For the rest of the day, Alex treated Samantha especially well, going to great lengths to display his devotion to her. After dinner, he took her for a walk around the rose garden while Paris and Marianne stayed behind to swim.

Samantha was wearing one of her pretty new dresses. She brought with her a basket and a pair of shears, and she gently clipped a few roses, careful not to crush the tender blossoms.

He snaked an arm around her waist and kissed her ear, sighing.

“My mother kept roses,” he told Samantha wistfully. “You remind me a little of her, so sweet and hopelessly romantic.”

She squeezed his hand.

“I thought that’s what you liked about me.”

“I don’t deserve you, you know,” he said, releasing her.

Samantha slowly turned to face him and he brushed her cheek with his fingertips.

“You’re like a china doll,” he told her, slipping the shears from her hand. “I’m always afraid I’m going to break you. I never wanted to cause you any pain, Samantha. I never planned any of this.”

“None of that matters, Alex.”

“It seems we were made for each other.”

“I know.”

“And yet...”

His voice trailed off and he broke their eye contact. Samantha, stung, felt once again she was being toyed with, and she jerked the shears from his hand and began furiously clipping roses to throw into the basket.

“Samantha, talk to me.” he pleaded.

She whirled around to confront him. “Oh, sure, Alex. Get a little closer, but not too close, right?”

“What are you talking about now?”

“Do you play this game for fun? It’s amazing, you know, how you can hold me so close and yet so far away from you all at the same time.”

Alex’s expression hardened.

“Damn it, I thought we settled all this earlier.”

Samantha brushed away a quick tear.

“How long ago did Jennie leave, Alex?”

He shifted his gaze.

“I don’t see what that’s got to do with this.”

“It’s got everything to do with this. How long?”

“How should I know? You were probably in kindergarten when it happened.”

Their glances met briefly.

“But I’m nearly twenty-four.”

“Right. That’s about how old I was when we got divorced.”

Reaching for him, Samantha placed a gentle hand on his forearm, heartbroken for him.

Jennie must have hurt him much more than she’d ever guessed if he was still carrying his grief around like this.

“You need to get over it now, Alex. Let me help you.”

“You are helping me, Samantha, but I still need more time.”

She sighed impatiently, not fully sure she could agree to such a request.

“How much more time do you need, Alex? Another year? Ten?”

He shrugged, unable to look her in the eye. She put down her basket and made a difficult choice.

“All right. All right, Alex. Go ahead and take your time, but there’s one thing. I’m not spending another night in your bed until you can forget about Jennie and commit yourself to me. There’s no way I’m about to compete with her memory.”

Picking up the basket, Samantha started away. Alex came after her, stopping her on the brick path, apprehension in his eyes. He directed her gaze toward the house, toward Marianne and Paris, who were still out on the terrace. She read the worried expression in his eyes.

“Oh, don’t you worry, Alex. We’ll keep the façade up. I’ll sleep in the study and they’ll never even guess.”

When she got to the terrace, the others were just toweling off. Samantha set the basket of roses on the table nearby, Alex just behind her.

“I just adore the way you guys live,” Marianne was saying. “It’s so romantic, all these gardens and flowers and things. I think I’ll get Paris to plant me a garden when we get home.”

Paris kissed Marianne’s shoulder and then he glanced up at Samantha. A broad grin swept his face.

“It’s true,” he told her. “You’re perfect for Alex. Really. And I’ve never even believed in such a thing.”

He came to her and put his arms around her, squeezing her tight, his eyes welling with tears, even.

“Thanks for reaching him, Samantha. I’ve never seen Alex so happy.”

Samantha glanced over Paris’s shoulder and met Alex’s glance. Betraying herself, she burst into tears and wriggled free of Paris’s embrace.

“Lover’s quarrel,” she heard him tell the others as she ran into his room and through to the study to lock herself inside.

A moment later, there was a knock at the door.

“Sweetheart, it’s me,” came Alex’s voice.

Miserable and limp with defeat, Samantha opened the door and let him in. She expected him to scold her for her behavior on the terrace, but he said nothing. Instead, he sat her down in his big, soft chair, the one he worked in. Kneeling down in front of her, he took her hands in his.

“Would you care to tell me what’s bothering you?”

“Why should you get to be so happy when I’m so miserable?” she demanded.

Alex laid his forehead on her knee.

“Look, Samantha, I know you want to tell your parents about us, but I don’t think your dad’ll put up with anything less than an engagement, do you?”

Reflecting on this, Samantha was forced to shake her head.

“He’ll think I arranged this whole thing to get you into bed, and you have to know I didn’t. You do know that, don’t you?”

“Yes, I know.”

Unable to help herself, she ran her fingers through his hair. He raised his head, looking mournful, and Samantha dried her eyes.

She let Alex draw her to her feet and his mouth sought hers, demanding satisfaction. Feeling weak, Samantha clung to him, her heart pounding wildly.

More than anything else, she was afraid to lose this passion, fearing she might never be able to recapture it.

True to form, Alex guided her toward the bedroom. Leading her inside, he stepped back just long enough to whisk back the heavy suede cover on the bed. The masculine scent of leather permeated the room for a brief moment as he rejoined her.

“No,” she whispered faintly, half-forgetting her vow not to make love to him again. Trembling, she tried desperately to resist him. He kissed her again, this time more aggressively. For a moment, Samantha feared she might give in, but with a deep breath, she regained some of her resolve and shoved him away.

“I can’t, Alex,” she insisted. “I meant what I said in the garden. I’ll sleep in the study tonight.”

Stiffening, Alex left her standing there alone. Samantha went back into the study and remained there the rest of the evening.

Grandma brought her a cup of tea later that evening, silent, afraid to ask what the trouble was, and for once, even Marianne left her alone.

Late that night, she heard Alex come into the bedroom and she glanced up.

He opened the door joining the two rooms and their glances met briefly.

“There are some extra blankets here in the chest,” he told her gruffly. “You can even have some of my pillows, if you’d like.”

Without a word, Samantha went and retrieved the bedding from his room, then she slipped into the bathroom to change for bed.

When she came out, she got onto her hands and knees and began arranging the blankets into a makeshift bed, her heart pounding once again.

Glancing through the open door to Alex’s bedroom, she saw that he was having his nightly cigar, was watching every single move she made. A stab shot through her heart as she saw the pain in his eyes.

Samantha knew she couldn’t sacrifice her own principles, though, not even to ease his pain. She’d only ever slept with two men her whole life - Alex and Randy.

Both of them had loved her in his own way, she believed.

Well, it was getting harder and harder to believe in Alex’s love and she despised casual sex, so there was no way she’d be getting back into his bed until she sincerely believed in his love.

“Damn you, Samantha, would you quit being so stubborn and come to bed?” he asked. “I swear to God I won’t touch you.”

Ignoring him, she went on fixing her bed.

She knew she couldn’t possibly spend the night next to him - even in a bed as large as his - and come away unscathed, so she ignored him.

“What do you want from me, Samantha?”

“Love.”

“I don’t have any love to give. Why can’t you be like the rest of the women and chase me for my money? I’ve got plenty of that.”

“Because I’m stupid.”

He was standing next to her now, she felt his presence.

“I knew this was going to happen,” he told her. “Damn it, Samantha, come to bed. You’re the one who wanted all this, not me.”

Mortified, she stared up at him.

“And what were you? My victim?”

“How many times could I take it, the way you threw yourself at me?”

With a gasp, Samantha rose to her feet, anger coursing through her veins. Before she knew it, she flew up at him and slapped his face hard.

Alex caught her up in his arms before she had time to get away and, for a second, she was afraid he meant to hit her back. She tried desperately to wrest herself away, but in the end, to her immense relief, he merely wrapped his arms tightly around her, pinning her securely to his chest.

“Oh, Samantha, I’m so sorry,” he said softly. “That wasn’t fair of me to say.”

Her hands were trembling and she wished she could think of some witty comeback, but nothing came to her and Alex, sensing the fight had gone out of her, eased his vice-like grip on her.

“Please forgive me, sweetheart.”

Steeling herself, she stiffened in his arms.

“Go to bed and leave me alone, damn you.”

And Alex, defeated, crept alone to his bed, leaving Samantha to her floor.

Come morning, Samantha’s body was stiff and sore from lying on the hard floor all night, but she had managed to stay out of Alex’s bed. When she finally emerged from his bedroom (she’d gone through the adjoining door and through his room) it was clear Marianne and Paris were oblivious to the truth and believed she and Alex had patched up their differences.

Neither of them bothered setting the other couple straight. Instead, they behaved pleasantly and politely in front of their friends, never once airing their grievances or revealing the truth by so much as a word or a look.

They’re going home tomorrow anyway, Samantha told herself. Surely we can get through one more night.

She avoided Alex as much as she reasonably could without being too blatant about it. For her own protection, she kept near at least one of their guests at all times. This strategy worked out pretty well for her, and after lunch, Marianne came out into the garden to sit with her. Samantha, at peace there and unencumbered by her worries, fell to daydreaming.

“You’re smiling,” Marianne remarked after a while. “What are you thinking about?”

Samantha told her friend about the centipede bite and the way Alex had looked after her, nursing her wound.

“He told me I was beautiful,” she sighed wistfully, feeling a vague twinge of pain. She thought back over the past few weeks, and particularly to her own failed plan to seduce Alex.

“Maybe he’s right,” she muttered. “Maybe I have thrown myself at him.”

“Well, try not to worry about it,” Marianne told her. “I’m sure everything will be okay.”

The rest of the day passed far too quickly to suit any of them. Both couples lingered long over the dinner table, each conscious of the impending separation.

Samantha, suddenly feeling generous toward Alex again, realized she was, indeed, partly to blame for the way things had turned out.

After all, she’d never made his loving her a prerequisite to their sleeping together. She just assumed it would all work out.

“You know, Samantha,” said Marianne, “I could talk to your dad for you. I could explain how things are.”

“No. No, don’t.”

“Why not?”

Samantha sat back in her chair and took a sip of wine. She slipped her hand under the table and rested it on Alex’s knee, casting a long, meaningful glance at him.

“Things just don’t work out for me like that, Marianne. I have to let nature take its own course, where you can force things to happen. If this is meant to be...”

Squeezing his thigh, she glanced over at Alex again.

“If this is meant to be, then I guess it’ll just happen.”

Thankfully, they changed the subject and the four of them sat up late, loath to part from one another. But in the end, fatigue forced them all to bed.

Alex closed the bedroom door and Samantha went straight through to the study where she began making a bed for herself on the floor again.

“What’s all this?” asked Alex, bewildered.

“My bed.”

“I don’t get it. At dinner you said - ”

“I know,” she answered, cutting him off. “I’ve decided not to be angry with you anymore, but I’m still not sleeping with you.”

He sat down hard on the edge of the bed.

“I swear to God, I’ve never met such a hard-headed woman in my life.”

Samantha stopped what she was doing for a moment and looked him in the eye.

“Oh, Alex, I love you more than I care to admit, but I also love myself. I have to do what’s right for me.”

He leaned forward then and tipped the connecting door shut, effectively shutting her out.

Just one more night, she thought, and then I’ll have my own room back.

She heard Alex rummaging about in his room and smelled the sweet aroma of his cigar. For a long time, she lay there, hoping against hope that she was doing the right thing.

Morning came too soon for Samantha. Her neck ached from sleeping in the wrong position and she felt as if she’d gone into battle during the night, so stiff and sore she felt. Terrible dreams had haunted her all through the night, dreams of loss and abandonment. Several times, she even woke herself with her own anguished cries.

Trying her best to be cheerful, Samantha ate breakfast with the others and even helped Marianne get her things together.

“This is a great room,” Marianne told Samantha, looking around one more time in admiration. “You are such a lucky girl.”

“So are you.”

Marianne shook her head, humble for a change.

“No. Not like you. Paris’ll never love me the way Alex loves you, with such depth and passion. You guys really have something here, something real. I’m so glad you’ve made up with him.”

Samantha smiled wanly, wishing she could share her awful secret with Marianne, but she dared not. Instead, she let her friend remain blissfully unaware of the truth.

She thought her heart would break when it was finally time to take their guests to the airport. She knew she’d be alone with Alex again, and he was certain to ignore her, was certain to begin avoiding her anew.

Steeling herself to this ordeal, she smiled indulgently as Paris flirted with Grandma, kissing the old woman’s cheek roughly. Samantha saw that even she had tears in her eyes.

As Marianne and Paris prepared to board their plane, they promised to come back and visit very soon and reminded Alex and Samantha of their promise to be in the wedding party. Samantha merely smiled and kept quiet as Marianne teased Alex, urging him to hurry up and make an honest woman of her best friend.

At last, they were safely tucked away on the plane and Samantha sighed with relief.

The truth was she was sick of them, sick of hearing about their upcoming wedding, about how great their lives were going.

Disappointed in herself and knowing she was being a jealous little baby, she pushed such ignoble thoughts from her mind.

On the way back from the airport, Alex stopped in town and pulled up right in front of the post office. When he came out, he was carrying a large, flat parcel, which he carefully stowed in the back of the Jeep.

At home, he set the parcel on the floor at Samantha’s feet.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“I ordered it for you when I was by myself in Waikiki, when I really thought we could be together. It seems pretty stupid now, but go ahead and open it.”

He handed her his pocketknife and she cautiously cut away the plastic bindings. She peeled back the cardboard and there, nestled inside, lay a beautifully framed reproduction of a Titian painting, “Venus of Urbino.”

Samantha gasped, her heart filling with pleasure as she lifted the painting from its wrappings.

There she lay in all her splendor, the lovely young Venus. Samantha, overcome with gratitude, smiled up at Alex.

“Oh, my God. This is my favorite painting in the whole world, Alex.”

He smiled kindly, so she pressed her luck.

“Does this mean I can change the manuscript?”

“No.”

“What if I showed you why I think it’s not Baroque?”

“Jeez, Samantha, would you just let it go? Forget that manuscript and let’s just go and hang this damned painting.”

She followed him into her bedroom. Alex perched himself on the edge of her bed, waiting for Samantha to decide where to place the painting.

She wanted to be able to see it from her bed, to be able to look at it always. She really couldn’t keep away from her, this pretty young nude. She smiled regretfully, painfully aware she and Alex had never made love here in her room.

Her body ached for him and she realized there was no way she’d be able to keep away from him, either.

“Alex,” she called, her voice scarcely above a whisper. He glanced up at her, his eyes full of passion, watching her as she strutted around the room, painting in hand, really and sincerely pleased with it.

When she saw he was looking at her, she put the painting down and went to him. She reached out to stroke his cheek and her heart softened once again.

She wanted to taste his breath, wanted to hold him close. She cupped the back of his head and pressed it to her breast.

“You still don’t love me, do you?” she asked pensively. When he tried to answer, she covered his mouth with her hand.

“I don’t care anymore, Alex. It doesn’t matter. Really.”

He crushed her to him, pulling her down onto the bed. He settled her there and kissed her cheek tenderly as he got up. He then slipped her shoes off, one by one, and pulled the blankets over her. Before he moved away, he bestowed a chaste kiss on her forehead.

“Come on, Samantha, you’re just exhausted. I want you to sleep.”

Incapable of fighting this suggestion, Samantha shut her eyes and drifted off.

She slept for hours, and when she awoke, the house was completely dark except for a shaft of light that streamed through her open door.

“Alex?” she called, hearing a noise in the other room. She sat up in bed.

There was no reply, but seconds later, he came to her door, a tall, slim figure lit from behind. The light gently outlined his body and she called out to him again.

Samantha’s eyes grew accustomed to the dim light and she could see he was wearing only a pair of striped pajama bottoms. His chest glistened in the dark and she motioned for him to come to her.

He did come forward, and her heart leapt with joy as he sat on the bed beside her. He lovingly took her cheekbones between his palms and tilted her face up to his, his generous mouth moving to form her name.

“Samantha.”

“Yes, Alex?”

“You’re fired.”