In a Heartbeat - Elizabeth Adler [33]
Mel looked sadly at Ed, so still, so silent, in the white hospital bed, kept alive by machines. “I hope you remember too, honey,” she said wistfully. “Oh, I hope you remember, my love. . . .”
I remember. I was looking at you, storing you in my mind for just such a time as this, when I couldn’t see you. I guess the right description for you would be “gamine,” but that implies someone smaller, and you were my Valkyrie. I remember thinking I’d never be able to run my hands through your hair, it was barely a couple of inches long except for the jagged golden bangs falling into your eyes. And I remember those huge, urgent copper-brown eyes that I melted into when they met mine. I loved those long curling golden lashes, they made you look so innocent,like a fawn. And I liked your nose too. Straight, rather long—kind of arrogant if you want the truth, but it went with the bone structure. And your mouth, oh boy, your mouth was special, it really got to me, even if your lips were chapped. Full and kind of pouty. “Vulnerable” was the word that came to mind.
“Let’s go out,” you said, just as I was about to take you in my arms. . . . “I want to walk down Fifth Avenue in the snow.” So I took my California alien out walking in the blizzard. . . .
“Heaven,” Mel remembered, smiling. “It was sheer heaven. The snow covered our hair and got stuck in your beard. The horses outside the Plaza had on little bonnets and blankets, and there was even the smell of chestnuts roasting. ‘It’s magic,’ I said to you, and you laughed and said, ‘Only you could think so, just take a look at the traffic.’ It was crawling along bumper to bumper. We could see the drivers’ angry faces and feel their frustration, but we were outside of it. ‘Get out and walk in the snow like us,’ I yelled at them, laughing.
“We were in our own magic circle. Even the little diner on East Forty-ninth with the windows steamed and the smell of bacon and burgers and hot coffee was wonderful. The snow melted off our hair as we shared a toasted ham-and-Swiss on rye and drank coffee so hot it burned our throats.”
I’d meant to take you out to dinner someplace fancy, woo you with fine food, champagne, roses. Impress you with my savoir faire and the fact that the maitre d’ knows me. Hah, I didn’t even get a chance . . . and you didn’t care, you loved walking in the snow, you practically danced along on those wondrously silly high heels. And you insisted on eating at the diner. . . .
“We window-shopped all the way back up Fifth Avenue,” Mel said, laughing. “Saks, Gucci, Bergdorf, with me planning what I would buy when Moving On finally made some money. And you telling me you would buy me anything I wanted . . . until I had to remind you that my southern mama would definitely not approve. Well, she certainly would not have approved of what happened next. . . .”
We melted in the elevator, he thought, only this time into each other’s arms. We couldn’t even wait until we got to the top. When I stopped kissing you for a second, you said, “What if somebody else gets in?” “Let them,” I said. “Like Rhett, I don’t give a damn. . . .” And then you were giggling so hard, I couldn’t get my mouth over yours again. . . .
“We were still kissing when the elevator doors opened,” Mel remembered. “Somehow we managed to get out of there without removing our mouths from each other’s. God, we were so hot for each other, we could have melted that entire blizzard. . . . You unfastened my coat, and I slid my arms out of the sleeves, letting it fall where it may. Then I was unbuttoning your coat. ‘Naked,’ I said triumphantly, throwing it to the ground and laughing. ‘Not yet,’ you said. Then you put Chet Baker on again. . . . You were setting me up with sweet music, soft lights. . . .
“You said, ‘I should offer you a glass of champagne, give you the roses.’
“ ‘Forget it,’ I murmured. Then my eyes popped. ‘What roses?’ I asked, astonished.
“You took my hand and walked me to the bedroom. And there were roses everywhere. White roses,