Rating: Adult, General
Synopsis:
A man tries to save an older woman's life on a desolate Carolina seashore -- but fails. He is haunted by her mystery, and goes in pursuit of learning why she killed herself. In the process, he meets and falls in love with her blind sister --and together they seek to solve the riddle of her sister's mysterious life.
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BLIND LUCK
By: Cara Swann
Chapter One
Geoff abandoned his beach cottage at Nags Head early Saturday morning. The low dark clouds hovering over the ocean looked ominous, so he packed his small suitcase, ate a quick breakfast, then drove his flame-red Corvette (a recent divorce consolation purchase) along the National Seashore coastline, past Whalebone and Bodie Island to Oregon Inlet, nearly oblivious to the choppy waves roaring ashore.
The narrow strip of outer banks was now accessible through bridges, ferries and highways, but in the past it had been isolated from the mainland of North Carolina. Geoff liked it; the bleak mid-December landscape, with few people around, suited his mood.
At Cape Hatteras, he located a motel that was open year round and checked in. This was an ideal spot for deep-sea fishing but Geoff wasn't here for that; he'd enjoyed it in the past, but now all he wanted was privacy, solitude to brood over his failed marriage.
In the cramped motel room, Geoff flopped down on the bed, lost in thought. He could smell the ocean dampness, a tangible scent that permeated the room -- an old, cold moldiness.
Why had Micky left him? Was it just her driving ambition to be a successful architect that had prompted her to move from Raleigh to Charlotte? Better career prospects only?
No, Geoff knew it was more than that; it was over between them, ten years of marriage down the tubes. And mostly it was because he'd learned she'd secretly had an abortion -- destroyed the baby he'd wanted desperately. Didn't even bother to consult him, just went ahead and did what she wanted to do!
He sat up, rubbing his beard stubble, wondering if his depression would ever diminish? God, it was killing him! As he stood, he caught a glimpse of himself in the wall mirror -- a grief-stricken man, old before his time. Only thirty-five, but he thought he looked past fifty -- thinning, receding blond hair, pinched lines at the corners of his eyes, tightness near his mouth, a grim look of defeat in his face.
He felt physically out-of-shape, hadn't had much exercise lately, and the extra ten pounds on his five-foot, ten-inch build gave him a paunchy, disgruntled demeanor. Worse, he realized he didn't even care. What was the point in taking good care of himself now?
All those years he'd worked at the Loan Agency, steadily building a reputation, finally being promoted to manager... pointless. No family, no wife to come home to. For one second, Geoff had the feeling he was falling, falling into a gaping abyss that would consume him, devour his very soul -- a feeling he didn't like, wanted to escape.
Suddenly he was holding the fifth of vodka, pouring it in a glass, about to take a drink...but the image of himself in the mirror, a lost, confused man taking refuge in the bottle, caused him to wince.
He slugged the drink down neat, tossed the bottle back in his suitcase, got out a thick jacket and went out into the windy late-afternoon gloom.
Walking aimlessly, he went past the motel and the restaurant where a few cars were parked, then to the beach, his eyes searching the dim horizon merging with the ocean, while white foamy waves washed ashore. Looked like a wild incoming spring tide as he stood there, staring at the sea gulls swooping and soaring.
To the south he could see the 208-foot tall Cape Hatteras Lighthouse, the tallest in the country; it loomed starkly in the growing darkness. He poked his hands in his jeans pockets, began walking along the shore, staying out of the water. Cold, dark, rushing tides...an invitation to oblivion...
Almost as soon as he had the suicidal thought, how easy it would be to walk into the mindless escape of the ocean... he saw a figure standing rigidly at the end of a pier. He stopped, watching...
The long pier hung suspended over the chaotic ocean waves, and the figure was precariously close to the far end, standing still as death, looking out into the distance. He began walking, faster now, starting onto the pier, feeling an eerie foreboding...
Midway of the pier, he saw the figure was a woman -- straight black hair down over the turned-up collar of a mink coat. He took a deep breath, broke into a slow trot, trying not to let his footfalls warn of his approach. She was edging closer, dangerously closer to that void beyond the pier...her hand going out in front of her, as if to balance herself.
Starting to run now, Geoff felt sweat break out over his body; she was going to jump, he knew it, and a shot of adrenaline went through him, rushed his feet forward with a stealthy speed he'd never dreamed possible.
She must have heard him coming, turned slightly and looked over her shoulder, a surprised expression on her face. He called, "Don't! Wait..."
And then, remarkably, he was upon her, grabbing her from behind just as she had started to move hesitantly toward the edge, about to leap off into the tumultuous ocean...her breath going out in a gasp as he yanked her back, both of them falling backwards, him catching a wooden post for security.
She was trembling, silent...and the boards of the pier creaked beneath them, his heart racing wildly, his arms in a tight grasp as she began to struggle, cursing, "Goddamn it! Let me go!"
He managed to say, "You...you were going to jump!"
"You damn right I was, and you stopped me!" She was fighting his hold, trying to get loose, so he relaxed his grip, but still held her protectively.
Then suddenly she went limp, sobs racking her body as she moaned, "Why...why didn't you let me...while I had the courage?"
He was stunned, unable to think clearly, and said thoughtlessly, "That's all the thanks I get for saving your life?"
She got loose, moving away from him, and started running back along the pier toward the beach, getting away from him. He took off, ran after her, yelling, "Wait! I'm sorry, I...didn't mean to be so blunt..."
At the shore, she stumbled onto the wet sand, falling down and looking up as he came rushing toward her, saying, "Why did you stop me?"
He found himself standing over her, looking down into her stricken eyes, and said honestly, "I...had the same idea myself, about killing myself."
She flinched, shook her head. "You think I believe that?"
Geoff looked at her more closely in the dimming twilight -- she was exceptionally beautiful, wide-spaced luminous brown eyes, oval face, high cheekbones, that jet-black straight hair to her shoulders. But there was a hauntingly sad, forlorn look about her, tragic almost. "No, I doubt you believe it, but it's true -- I had been thinking of how easy it would be to end all my problems the same way you were about to do."
She sobbed, burying her head in her folded arms. "I had the courage and you took it away."
"Hey, no matter what your problems, it can't be that bad."
Silence.
"I mean, things might look brighter in the morning."
"What a trite answer!"
"Trite but true," he countered.
She shrugged. "Not for me."
He leaned down, held out his hand to her. "Look, I'm not feeling real great myself. But...seeing you out there, it made me realize my problems aren't bad enough to kill myself over."
Slowly, she reached to take his hand, allowed him to help her to her feet. "And why...how do we cope?"
"Well...there's always tomorrow..."
"God, another trite answer."
"Excuse me, but profound philosophical answers don't come to mind at the moment. I...I'm just trying to save you, keep you alive, let you know you're not alone."
She was staring at him with her penetrating brown eyes, and suddenly, to his amazement, she smiled a slight, mysterious smile. "Maybe you were trying to save your own life too?"
"Yeah, I guess so." He grinned, feeling more optimistic about his own life for once.
She threw back her head, laughed. "Were you really thinking about suicide?"
"Yes." He laughed too, catching her darkly ironic sense of humor.
"Does this mean you own me?" she asked coyly, smiling the mysterious smile, moving closer to him.
Geoff was pleasantly surprised at her mood swing, but said, "That sounds like a nice idea, I suppose."
As they started along the shore, she slipped an arm through his, snuggled up close as they walked. "Brrr, it's cold out here. Shouldn't we go back to the motel, where it's warm?"
"My thoughts exactly...?"
"Antonia Roth, famous fashion model."
He said nothing, helping her across the sand dunes, through the sea oats, then crossing the highway as he thought she might be lying -- yet, she was certainly beautiful enough to be a model.
Stopping outside the restaurant, she asked, "Your name, my gallant knight?"
"Geoff Eliot, nondescript loan manager." Then impulsively asked, "How about a drink in my room?"
"Yes."
Once inside the room, she took off her mink coat, stood quietly as he turned on the lamps, then got the vodka out of his suitcase. As he handed her a glass, she smiled at him and he realized she was older than he'd guessed at first -- in her forties. But she was very tall, a bit taller than himself...elegantly slender, and the shimmery black dress she wore made her skin seem like pale ivory, glowing in the lamplight.
As he poured her drink, he silently toasted another lost soul -- a kindred spirit who, like himself, had been on the brink of self-destruction.
But he'd saved her, hadn't he?
And then later, when they slipped beneath the covers together, he found himself falling, falling deeper and deeper into her mysterious sultry spell -- the sex between them was raw, almost desperate as if both were seeking that same oblivion by losing themselves in the passion and ecstasy.
When he awoke near dawn, found her gone... he knew before he walked outside to see the rescue squad, the ambulance, a growing crowd of curiosity seekers...
Antonia had killed herself after all -- and he had no idea why. Only that he'd somehow failed her in the moment of sexual surrender to needful lust.
Chapter Two
Geoff was questioned by the authorities; he told them precisely what had happened, even the lovemaking, saying that Antonia seemed to have recovered her emotional equilibrium. She'd even said she was sorry she'd been contemplating suicide.
One hard-nosed detective asked bluntly why Geoff didn't try to get her immediate professional help?
And Geoff felt sick at heart when he tried in vain to explain that she seemed fine, that he'd had some of the same suicidal thoughts earlier -- that often such attempts were merely momentary impulses.
The officers took down the name she'd given Geoff, requested his own name/address, said he might be contacted later, then departed to handle other official details.
Goeff was relieved when they all left, yet felt guilty about the selfishness of pursuing his own pleasurable escape with a woman on the brink of suicide. If he'd been more attentive, insisted she get help, called someone...not just so easily engaged in casual sex...
But he'd been so depressed himself, acutely afflicted with the melancholy of his divorce. Still missing Micky, wanting a woman, any woman to reassure his masculinity, restore his faltering ego. Antonia, God, she was beautiful --a fashion model she'd claimed.
The motel room seemed to be closing in on him as he stood looking at the rumpled bed covers, the stale moldy scent from the endless dampness. Quickly, he packed and checked out, dodging questions at the desk by an impertinent boy who'd watched the circuslike atmosphere of police and reporters attending the grisly dawn spectacle.
He drove the Corvette back along the desolate seashore, racing down Highway 12...then slowing through Kill Devil Hills. He crossed the bridge to the mainland, hitting the interchange and heading into Raleigh. His thoughts were disjointed, jumbled and he'd never known such an overwhelming weariness, tired to his bones.
Exhausted and sad, he arrived at the small apartment complex by evening, glad to retreat inside his apartment. Looking at the bare walls, the few pieces of furniture he'd been granted by Micky, he saw how transitory it all seemed; why bother to fix it up? Nothing was permanent, nothing lasted...
He felt slightly hungry, but didn't bother to eat or detour for a shower; instead, he went directly into the bedroom, took off his pants and shirt, then fell into bed. He was wide-awake though, and stared at the blank ceiling, car lights from the highway streaking through the room.
He couldn't get that woman off his mind: Who was Antonia? Was she really a model? If so, why had she killed herself? The questions went round and round in his thoughts, and he finally got up, fixed himself a strong gin and tonic, sat on the edge of the bed to drink it.
Why would such a beautiful woman want to die? Did she have a terminal illness? Cancer? Or...AIDs? The shock of that idea made him aware how foolish causal sex was in this day and time; and although it frightened him, he somehow wanted to remember the vibrant life in Antonia's passionate lovemaking. She'd been so alive, so vibrant...
Antonia represented the ultimate feminine perfection, sensual allure smoldering beneath the cool, aloof persona of a model. He could still see her dark eyes and hair, feel her satin-smooth skin, and remember her easy surrender to his seduction. Yet he had caught a glimpse of an empty despair in those dark eyes after they'd made love, and would never be able to forgive himself for not understanding what it meant.
Geoff finished the drink, took a brisk shower, and turned his thoughts back to Micky. She was a hellcat, one of those bitchy blondes who knows she's gorgeous and expects to be spoiled. She could be childish when she didn't get her own way; but she usually did. An only child, she was sure spoiled by her parents; and he had gone along with the program. Always buying her little surprise gifts or flowers...for no reason other than he loved her.
Back in the bed, Geoff recalled how often they'd argued during their ten year marriage -- especially about children. He wanted a few; she didn't. He felt he needed a child, to care for, to protect, to help and guide through the world.
Perhaps it was the result of his own childhood? He'd always been protective of women, his mother and his younger sister, Nancy. Saved Nancy's life one summer at the lake; she almost drowned when she accidentally tripped and fell off the pier.
It hit him that Antonia's striking image at the end of the pier had triggered that long-ago memory of his sister, that perhaps it had made him aware of her intentions and he'd taken action to save her...
Surely Antonia Roth had a family out there somewhere. He wondered how they'd be able to cope with her suicide? Shouldn't he try to locate them? Might they want to know about her last night...no, not the intimate moments, but just about how she'd seemed so lost, so forlorn?
He drifted off into an uneasy sleep, and the dream came to him: The lonely image of Antonia standing on the pier, him moving as if in slow-motion toward her...but not making it in time, her leap into the raging ocean just as he reached the edge, almost going over himself...
He awoke, drenched in sweat, trembling with the helpless feeling of having done nothing to truly save her, rescue her from that dark fate. And he knew that one way or another, he had to learn who Antonia Roth was -- what had happened in her life to make her commit suicide.
Chapter Three
However, Geoff found himself putting off delving into the mysterious woman's past, and returned to work on Monday morning. Perhaps it was best to try and forget her, put it out of his mind?
Yet curiosity made him do strange things: He looked through women's fashion magazines, and finally located photos of her -- exquisite in high-dollar clothing, looking bored and aloof, cool and untouched. Her raven hair pulled straight back off her sculpted face, the brown eyes daring and doomed.
He bought a few magazines, studied Antonia's photos at home -- telling himself she was merely a face in a photo. But nights he still had dreams, almost always awakening just as she jumped from the pier.
As winter slowly turned into a green wonderland of spring, Geoff heard only once from the hard-nosed detective, and that was to say the case was officially closed, ruled a suicide. Geoff wanted to ask about Antonia, her family, her life...but had been afraid the dick would misconstrue his curiosity.
Thus he tried to forget it, the whole episode. Work was hectic, departmental changes in the wind, and Geoff made a concentrated effort to keep his mind occupied.
Several single secretaries began coming on to him, and he chose one to take out. She was nice, outgoing and yet made him feel even more depressed; she looked too easy, too desperate.
And then he heard from Micky. She was enthusiastic about her renovation of a prominent ante-bellum home in Charlotte, said the reputation from this project would establish her name as a restoration architect, and that she was really proud of her accomplishment. The phone call was interrupted when Micky paused, said to someone else with her, "Yes, be there in a jiffy!"
Geoff listened, wary. Micky breezily said, "By the way, I just wanted you to know, I'm getting married again."
He didn't reply.
"I didn't want you to hear it from someone else. Geoff, are you there?"
"Yes...uh, my congratulations. Who's the lucky man?" Lucky my ass, he thought bitterly.
"Winfred Harrison. He owns the home I'm renovating and..."
Geoff hung up, devastated, unaware until then how he'd secretly longed for Micky's return.
* * * * * *
Summer arrived, hotter than Hades. Geoff was plagued not only by grief over the loss of Micky forever, but now by the compulsive and obsessive thoughts of Antonia.
Days, he was often unaware of his trancelike states at his desk, until one of the secretaries asked if he was meditating. His boss was growing irritated by his performance and thought Geoff wasn't living up to his potential (Geoff's father had been a prominent banker in Raleigh; his reputation had preceded him and big things were expected of his son).
Geoff was swimming in uncharted waters; he listened, but didn't hear. Nothing registered with him...nothing, except that increasing and driving desire to learn about the mysterious life of Antonia Roth. God, guilt was such a vicious taskmaker!
Deep into August's searing heat, Geoff had a terrifying nightmare: He was back in the musty motel room, Antonia's dead body lying on the bed, her empty eyes staring at him accusingly. When he awoke, drenched again in sweat, he felt that he might be losing his mind.
The next day he told his boss he had to have a vacation, and it was granted in short order. Geoff had to learn about Antonia, what had caused her suicide, if nothing else...before her memory destroyed him with guilt.
He phoned the hard-nosed detective and learned Antonia had a sister living near Birmingham, Alabama. The address was given reluctantly, but Geoff explained that he wanted to express his regret about what happened -- and that perhaps the sister would like to know about that last night before Antonia's suicide.
He had his Corvette serviced, packed a suitcase and was ready to leave by the last week of August. Geoff felt compelled, obsessive and consumed in a quagmire of guilt, plagued by a nagging worry he could have somehow prevented Antonia's death, had he not so selfishly indulged in a brief, meaningless sexual encounter.
What he would learn, he had no idea. He only knew he HAD to uncover the mysterious reason Antonia Roth had taken her life.
* * * * * *
Geoff was exhausted by the long drive by the time he checked into a Holiday Inn on the outskirts of Birmingham Monday evening. From what he could see, the city didn't look all that appealing -- the same snarled traffic on I-65, rancid pollution in the stifling, still air.
Once inside the room, he plundered through his suitcase and found the city map he'd bought. According to the dick, Hillary Roth lived in Gardendale, which wasn't exactly inside the larger metropolitan city. He found the location of the street address, saw it was only about five miles from his motel.
He was tired, but made a snap decision, showered, shaved and put on clean jeans and shirt, heading outside into the late afternoon heat. Driving along the streets, he wondered what Antonia's sister would be like: as beautiful, as sexy?
Locating the tree-lined street, he drove past the well-maintained older two-story dwellings, feeling a sense of the past still lingering in this historic district. A signpost pointed the way, and soon he was pulling to the curb at Number 221.
The house was perched elegantly on a grassy knoll, weeping willows sweeping the manicured lawn, a two-story dwelling with Dutch architecture, arched roof, sharp angles and features. He sat there, staring. It had been his impression that Hillary lived alone, no parents, no husband; the dick said she was single, young, just twenty-five. So how come this large house?
He was about to get out of the car when he saw a young girl come out of the house, pausing on the brick porch. He sat still, watching as she waited for a large silver-and-black German Shepard to proceed ahead of her down the steps, then onto the sidewalk. A beautiful girl, long curly black hair lifting in a sudden gust of wind, she stopped and halted the dog by a jerk on the leash attached to a harness.
He thought if this was Hillary, she was somewhat different to Antonia -- a shorter, petite build, curly black hair framing a heart-shaped face that looked utterly devoid of makeup. There was a youthful glow about her skin, a fresh, innocent vulnerability in her wide-eyed expression.
He started to get out once again, but his hand remained on the door handle. She had begun to walk now, and the dog was leading, her steps measured, but somehow confident.
At the curb, she sensed the dog's hesitation due to his parked car. As Geoff watched warily, the dog finally turned upon her command, and they headed down the sidewalk bordering the curb.
Geoff swallowed hard: the girl was blind! She had to be, not to have acknowledged a strange car parked at the curb. He felt disturbed, and couldn't understand why. He'd never been uncomfortable around handicapped individuals, but this...he was about to reopen a painful wound by coming here, relating Antonia's suicide.
He watched her move on down the street, the dog still leading, guiding her. He sat dumbfounded, wondering what to do. Suddenly he knew he had to think this over, not just approach her out of the blue, unannounced.
He started the car, eased away from the curb, and drove along the street, passing her at the corner stop sign. She had waited at the crossing, hearing the car apparently and being alerted by the dog's stance. He had a flood of deep compassion, unlike anything he'd ever experienced -- God, what must it be like to be BLIND? Never know the beauty of life as a sighted person, how horrible it struck him to be in her shape!
Well past her and the dog, he gunned the motor, sped away, perhaps subconsciously running from the image of her helplessness, thinking he must reconsider this meeting before approaching her.
Chapter Four
After a meal at the restaurant and a few drinks in a bar, Geoff came back to the motel room, looked up Hillary's phone number. Around nine, he called, and the phone rang many times.
He was about to hang up when she answered.
"Is this Hillary Roth?"
"Yes. And who is this?"
Her voice was like a soft velvet touch, and he forced the words, "Uh, this is Geoff Eliot and I, uh, I..."
"I don't believe I know you."
"No, you see... Uh, I mean..." He could have kicked himself for the slip of tongue.
"What do you want Mr. Eliot?"
He detected the irritated edge in her voice and quickly said, "I'd like to talk with you, meet somewhere or something. I uh, I knew your sister."
"Toni? You knew Toni?"
"Yes, I did and I've been meaning to look up her family...only I'd been busy and..."
"Mr. Eliot..."
"Please call me Geoff."
"Um Geoff, I'm her closest living relative and I would love to see you, any time."
Warmth, instant acceptance without reservation; Geoff blinked, trying to clear away the alcoholic fog. "Well, how about tomorrow?"
"Yes, but um, would you mind coming here, to my house?"
"No, if you'll give me the address."
She told him, then added, "I miss Toni terribly, she was..." Her voice broke, and she was silent, then coughed. "I'm sorry, it's just that I miss her."
"I'm sure you do. One thing I'd better explain, Hillary...I was with Antonia the night before she...uh, died."
"Oh."
"I just didn't want to spring that on you later."
"I've wondered about that night, what happened and why."
"I don't know why, and won't pretend I do...but I can tell you what I knew about her, if you wish to hear that."
"Yes, please. Oh Geoff, I...I can't understand why Toni did that! She had everything, EVERYTHING to live for -- such beauty, a great modeling career, a possible movie deal."
"I'm so sorry..."
Perhaps sensing his awkwardness, she interrupted, "What time will you be here tomorrow?"
"Is morning okay? About ten?"
"Yes. I'll be looking forward to meeting you."
"Same here. Bye Hillary."
"Bye."
Geoff hung up the phone, and fell into bed. She sounded so sweet, so NORMAL; no one would guess she's blind, he thought, then chided himself. After all, she wasn't mentally impaired!
He mixed another drink, and sipped it, thinking tomorrow would be a very interesting day indeed.
And that night he slept soundly, absent of nightmares.
Chapter Five
Geoff got up at dawn, unable to stay in bed any longer. His mouth tasted sour from the drinks, and he grimaced at the drawn look on his face, the grizzled beard stubble. He'd often thought he looked older than his years, and this morning proved it.
Showering in a steamy spray, he wondered again about Hillary. She was so young! No doubt the family line had endowed her beauty, just like Antonia, but with a more subtle, gentle touch.
As he toweled dry, he realized how hungry he was, and hurriedly shaved, brushed his teeth and got into a sport shirt and slacks. His thin blond hair was still wet, but would dry almost instantly in the hot August morning.
Outside, he walked to the motel restaurant and ordered a huge breakfast -- bacon, eggs, toast and coffee. He waited to be served, watching an older couple sipping coffee at another table. They were easily in their sixties, but had that comfortable, confident rapport you see between a husband and wife of many years. He sighed, suddenly sad again about Micky; even after all this time, he still regretted their failed marriage.
After the meal, he drove through the golden morning sunlight, gazing at children playing in the peaceful Gardendale neighborhood.
As he pulled up to the curb, eyeing the familiar Dutch structure, he smiled; it made him feel good, just being this close to learning about Antonia, and making the effort to share his experience with her sister.
The willows were moist with morning dew, and he knew he was almost an hour early, but still rang the doorbell as he stood on the brick porch, looking at a large bay window. When there was no answer, he felt awkward, self-conscious, and started to walk away. But just then, the door opened.
He turned and saw Hillary Roth; she was dressed in a pink silk floral dress and the dog was at her side. She said, "Who's there?"
"It's Geoff Eliot. I know I'm early, but I..."
"Mr. Eliot, please come in. I've been up since dawn, anticipating you." She moved back, the dog following her command to sit.
Geoff hesitated; the dog was staring at him suspiciously, clearly distrustful. "Uh, the dog..."
She laughed, and it was a beautiful, cheerful sound. "Princess is trained well; she won't harm you."
Nevertheless, the dog watched him warily as he opened the screendoor, and stepped into the foyer. It was a small hallway area, leading directly to a stairway. He said, "I'm sorry to come early but I was so eager to talk with you."
She turned, saying, "This way please." And walked to a doorway, stopping to add, "We'll talk in the parlor. Would you care for some coffee?"
"No thanks, I just had breakfast." He marveled at her ease in judging her direction, her steps measured accurately; she had no cane, and the dog wasn't harnessed.
"Princess," she commanded, "come!"
The dog trotted beside her as she went into a spacious formal parlor, then halted as Hillary came to a high-backed armchair. "Princess down!" The dog obediently crawled under the chair, and lay down, but still eyed Geoff warily.
She sat down, saying, "Won't you have a seat, Mr. Eliot?"
"That's Geoff, remember?" He sat on the sofa, wondering how she knew he'd not sat down yet? His gaze moved over the oblong room, the oriental carpet, antique furniture; it was extremely orderly, tidy to the point of being obsessively neat. He glanced at lacy curtains at the bay window, letting in muted sunlight, wondering why she opened the heavy brocade drapery when it clearly didn't matter to her.
"I'm sure you realize I'm blind, but thank you for not making a big deal out of it," she said, catching him offguard.
"Uh, I...it's amazing how you manage."
"I've had all my life to learn to cope; it's second nature to me, of course, to manage."
Geoff stared, unable to take his eyes off her; she was even more beautiful up-close than he'd thought. There was a fresh, pure innocence in her direct but empty gaze from big, rounded sightless blue eyes. Her curly dark hair framed a delicate heart-shaped face, and he swallowed hard, thinking how glad he was she couldn't see him studying her like a book.
"Geoff, you said you knew Toni?"
She turned toward him, as if she knew how to direct herself to his voice, to focus her speaking at him. He gulped, said, "Uh, yes...I did."
"Please, tell me what happened that night. I need to know, I really do." She leaned imperceptibly forward, anxious to hear his story.
"Well you see..." he mentally slapped himself. "Uh, I mean..."
"Geoff, please treat me like any other sighted person. I'm not hypersensitive about my blindness, nor should you be."
The dog rearranged its paws, lapping them over one another, the eyes never leaving Geoff's face.
"I'm sorry. Um Ms. Roth..."
"Hillary."
"Hillary, the truth is that I've been haunted by Antonia since her death. We met quite by accident, on the pier... she was about to jump and I saved her."
"Oh no! How awful for you, but I'm glad you did try to save her."
"Actually, I didn't save her for long. I did make an effort, and that's one reason I felt I had to see her family, to let you know. But you see, she was very angry with me, I'm afraid." He paused, cleared his throat. "I'd been sort of depressed myself, and seeing her like that, it snapped me out of my own dark thoughts. I managed to save her then, and talk to her awhile, then we went back to my motel room. She didn't want to talk much about why she was about to kill herself, but somehow she convinced me she wouldn't try it again."
"Oh? How?"
"That's not important, and it was stupid of me, but I believed her. I was not really in a good mood myself, due to some personal problems, so we spent the night together."
Silence.
Geoff studied the blush spreading over her face, and said softly, "I'm sorry, but I thought you'd want to know."
"Yes, I do. Toni was very...passionate, a liberal and liberated lady. I shouldn't be shocked, but I...well, you two didn't even know one another."
Geoff cleared his throat nervously again, feeling embarrassed in front of this obviously demure, chaste girl. "Yes, well, uh, you know...it was just one of those things. I mean, I was overwhelmed by her beauty, her directness, her assertiveness."
"Yes, that was Toni's way."
"And she came on so strong, and I'd been so lonely. Well, hey, I'm not making excuses, it just happened, seemed natural. I fell asleep afterward, and when I awoke, she was gone. I knew before I even left the room that I'd failed her. She had killed herself, of course."
Hillary lowered her head. "It wasn't necessarily your fault, though I'm sure you feel guilty. Toni...I loved her, I really did. But at times, she could be very stubborn, self-centered and selfish about having her way. I'm afraid, I fear that her suicide was, perhaps, the height of her selfishness."
Geoff felt instant compassion, moved to her side, took her hand even though the dog lifted its head, almost threateningly. She said, "I loved Toni and she could be extremely generous at times too. She bought me this house, furnished it, helped me financially since our parents died in a car wreck years ago. We were only children. So Toni wasn't selfish with me, but she could be ruthless when it came to men."
She did not shy away from his touch, but he backed off, saying, "I keep blaming myself, the guilt... I really had some bad nightmares about her, about my not having saved her from the sea."
"Toni was a complex woman, yet flighty, reckless. Geoff, I was wondering, would you mind if I told you about her?"
"That's one of the reasons I'm here. I need to know about her, how I might have helped..."
"I don't think you could have saved her, but I would like to tell you about her life, if you wish."
Geoff sat back down on the sofa, and the dog seemed to relax, lowering its head on the paws. "Yes, please tell me about her."
Just then a peculiar disembodied voice said, "The hour is nine a.m. at the sound of the chimes."
She laughed. "That's my talking clock, another of Toni's little gifts. I'm sorry, but I'm due at the school soon, perhaps I can tell you about Toni later?"
"Yes, that will be fine. School? You teach?"
"Yes, I work with blind children, helping prepare them for life, the real world. I love children, and have a teaching degree so it's a natural career choice."
"How admirable."
"Thank you, but it really is my pleasure. Anyway, how long will you be in town?"
"About two weeks. I'm from Raleigh, North Carolina."
"Maybe we could have dinner tonight, talk?" She smiled at him, her eyes so big and clear he almost didn't believe she couldn't see him.
He stood and replied, "Yes, around six?"
"Fine."
"I'll take you to a..."
She stood too, interrupting, "Oh no, I'll make us a bite here, since you've been so kind as to come here all the way from North Carolina."
"Thanks, that would be nice," he graciously accepted, bewildered at her suggestion -- did the girl do everything sighted people did, and possibly better?
The dog was instantly beside her, and she stroked its head, saying, "Princess, come!"
They went across the room, Geoff following. At the hallway, she said, "You can let yourself out?"
"Yes." He hesitated, then took her extended hand. "I appreciate you seeing me, Hillary. I really needed to talk about Antonia."
"It's been my pleasure." She shook his hand politely, but her face flushed with a soft glow of warmth.
As Geoff left, he saw the dog watching him; he'd have to earn its respect if he hoped to become better acquainted with Hillary.
Chapter Six
Geoff was restless all day, and took a tour of Birmingham, seeing the cast iron statue, Vulcan, getting a panoramic view of the city from high atop its Red Mountain perspective. He walked through the lovely Botanical Gardens, savoring the variety and magnificence of flowers across the street.
He spent the afternoon watching animals at the Birmingham Zoo, tossing peanuts to the monkeys and elephants. His heart grew heavy, knowing that Hillary had never seen these extraordinary sights. It made him more appreciative of his vision, yet gave him a poignant pain for the beauty she'd never know.
Around five, he drove back to the motel room, changed sweaty clothing for jeans and pullover, then fought the temptation to have a drink before going to Hillary's for dinner. He reluctantly admitted to himself that he'd been leaning on liquor too much lately and now was a good time to curb that tendency.
* * * * * * * *
The sun was still hot and brilliant as it made its way down the western skyline; he put the air conditioner on, and drove through the heavy traffic, worrying about his tenseness. He felt nervous, not wanting to seem overly self-conscious with Hillary; but this was a new experience, something he'd never even thought about. How did one treat a blind person?
As he pulled to the curb, his eyes sought the familiar house, the gracious willows sweeping the ground majestically: it looked homey, welcoming. He got out, smoothed his jersey pullover, and walked casually up the sidewalk to the porch.
The neighbors seemed not to be around; no children out now...of course, it was the dinner hour.
He rang the doorbell, and waited. It was a good three minutes before the door opened, and Hillary appeared; she was now wearing jeans and a trim blue blouse.
"Hi," he said, "I'm not too early this time am I?"
"No, come in won't you, Geoff." She moved aside, and Geoff entered, sidestepping the dog.
"Hey, big lady," Geoff greeted the dog, reaching for it. The dog wagged its tail, and did not resist his touch; he patted it gently, then said, "You have quite a partner here, don't you?"
"Yes, I do. Don't think I could manage without Princess, she's been with me five years, and we've been through a lot." Hillary said firmly, "Princess, come!"
They headed down the hallway, and Geoff followed them into the living room, stood by the sofa and asked, "Is there anything I can do? Something sure smells delicious." He sniffed appreciatively.
"I made roast turkey with a white wine stuffing." She did not sit but instead said, "Princess, stay!" The dog lay down, beneath the bay windowseat, calmly curling into a relaxed position.
"I just have a few more things to do, so it'll be a little bit. Would you care for anything now?" Hillary moved expertly across the room, stood near the doorway.
"No, but surely there's something I can do?" Geoff said, wondering if he was being too pushy.
"Well, I suppose you could set out the candles, and light them, if you wouldn't mind."
Geoff had to stifle his surprise at her abilities; she was incredible! He joined her, and they went across the hallway into a room that was apparently the formal dining area: a connecting arched doorway led to a modern kitchen.
He said, "This is very nice; you have a comfortable home here."
"Thanks mostly to Toni, and the insurance money I received from my parents' untimely death. I owe the decor to Toni; she insisted on valuable antiques, which I really can't appreciate, but she said they would increase in value."
Geoff appraised the ponderous mahogany furniture, the massive china cabinet, huge round table, gleaming and polished, set with fancy china and silverware. He saw another oriental rug on the floor, and beneath double windows with white lace sheers another matching piece--a small buffet. "This is really valuable stuff, all right."
"Toni bought it all from an older family, but the last son apparently decided to close their ante-bellum mansion and sell the land. We got the best pieces, and all the furniture is authentic."
"Aren't you afraid of burglars?" He felt his face go hot, and was glad for once she couldn't see him.
"Because of blindness you mean?"
"No," he rushed on, "just due to the high crime rate everywhere these days."
"Ah, life is a dangerous business, isn't it?" She grinned, and turned for the kitchen, saying, "The candles are in the bottom of the buffet."
Geoff went to the small buffet, pulled open the doors, and found the brass candle holders, long white candles, and then just marveled at the exquisite organization; the precise placement of the candles; the organized top of the buffet--white cloth napkins, neatly stacked, a silver tray, and small tapes indicating where each was to be laid.
He figured she had to be organized, otherwise how could she "feel" where things were? The full magnitude of her situation washed over him, and he stood there stunned, thinking how much she had to remember, just to get through the house, cope with an average day and night! It was staggering, and he couldn't even begin to imagine how much extra effort she had to exert to appear so "normal".
Hillary called from the kitchen, "Find them?"
"Sure," he said, snapping out of the trance, and setting the holders on the table, adjusting the candles in them.
She said, "If you don't mind, bring that silver tray off the buffet and I'll let you help me with the turkey."
He was immensely pleased she didn't resist his help; it made him feel warm, good and needed. As he strode into the small kitchen, he again was awed at its convenient arrangement: one long line of cabinets that wrapped into the corner, dishwasher, microwave, oven and stovetop, all situated within a few steps, and the ever-present tapes on knobs, handles...
"I guess you're looking at my little taping act, huh?" She laughed, the tinkling bells laughter, and then opened the oven door.
"You are very organized."
"I have to be, or I'd be lost." She took out the roasting pan, and edged it up to the counter, setting it precisely on the large heat-proof pad.
"You are amazing," Geoff heard himself say.
"Nah, just average, a normal person who has to cope with being blind. It's not such a terrible handicap, you know." She faced him, smiling, white teeth flashing.
"Uh, what can I do?"
"Put the silver platter down, and let me test the bird." She took a knife, placed it against the browned turkey skin and sliced a small bite, tasted it and said, "Perfect I have to taste it to be sure it's browned."
"It looks delicious, and perfect."
"Okay, now there's a tossed salad in the fridge; ice tea and frosted glasses, and some asparagus. For dessert..."
"Wow, you sure know how to tempt a man!"
She blushed furiously, said, "You can help me put the bird on the tray now."
Geoff ate with relish, and genuine appreciation for the extra effort that had gone into it. They chatted about trivial things, the weather, her job--which she told him was as an instructor, although she owned the special educational school for blind children, bought with the insurance money to help inner-city blind youth from Birmingham. He told her about living in Raleigh, North Carolina and his job, his home, leaving out the terrible devastation from this divorce.
When the dishes were all in the machine, he realized he hadn't thought of Antonia once during the meal; it was as though he'd finally shaken the hold it had on him, which was a vast relief.
Hillary suggested they sit out on the back patio and watch the sunset; he almost said something dumb, an inappropriate comment, but caught himself just in time. It was a pretty backyard: an old oak, knotty and curved with age, silver-leafed maples with dusty leaves drying in August heat; and the neatly clipped lawn, flowerbeds of petunias, and several rocked walkways. They sat in the rockers, and enjoyed the mild evening breeze as he said, "This is super! A mild evening too, for a change."
"Yes, I love to sit out here at night, and imagine what it must be like to look up at the stars, to see the moon..."
His heart felt like someone had stuck a knife in it; he couldn't reply to the deep longing he'd heard in her voice.
"Of course," she went on smoothly, "I can feel the cool night air, hear the whippoorwill, the mourning dove... so I do love it."
"Uh, I..."
"Please, I'm sorry if I sounded whimsical. People are always telling me how wonderful the sunset is, but frankly, I'd just like to be able to read a label on the rice package, so I could cook it." She laughed ebulliently. "It's the little things that drive you nuts!"
Geoff swallowed hard; he finally found his voice, "It must be difficult..."
"Oh don't mind me; actually, my worst problem is that there is so much prejudice against blindness. If people would just treat us as normal, not being so touchy and self-conscious.. .so afraid to react naturally."
He wet his lips, looking off at the reddish skyline beyond a tall cedar fence; roses were draped along the fence, and the scent drifted to him.
"I'm sorry. You're not here to listen to my situation. Forgive me?" She turned her face to him, smiling sweetly.
Geoff wished he had met her elsewhere, not like this: how could he ever overcome the fact that he'd arrived to learn about her sister? "That's okay; I'm learning about you, and...I find this all so interesting, fascinating really."
Chapter Seven
Hillary leaned back in the chair, fingered pearl buttons on the blouse. "About Antonia..."
"Yes?"
"How much do you want to know?"
He hesitated, then said, "I don't want to pry into anything that really isn't my business."
She sat forward slightly, her blank eyes on him. "Were you in love with my sister?"
"No! I mean, I hardly knew her...it was...I..." Geoff floundered, unable to scratch his way out of the tangled feelings. "I...it was..."
"My sister often left men speechless."
He detected a hint of bitterness, or maybe he imagined that. "Uh, I was not in love with her...Hillary."
"Well, Toni was beautiful; I know that, even though I never saw her myself. She was a highly paid model, but even before then, my mother often told me how lovely she was, how unbelievably beautiful..."
"I can see a strong resemblance between you two."
She laughed. "No, you only imagine you do. I know I'm nothing like as pretty or sophisticated as Antonia. You could never realize what it was like, growing up with a sister as beautiful, talented, as perfect as she was."
Geoff was quick to sense the hurt beneath her words.
"Maybe, but I felt like Antonia was sad too, not a happy person even though she seemed to have it all."
"Toni was a cheerleader, Homecoming Queen in high school; then in college, after the first year when she was discovered by a fashion photographer who came to the Alabama University campus, and sent her photos to a New York agency, well, she quit and went North. An overnight success. My mother always said, and it was true. Mother thought the world revolved around Toni, and I guess that's why she was so selfish, spoiled. Married twice, both times to very wealthy men; they divorced Toni because they found out she was unfaithful. She seemed always to hurt men, to need to prove her beauty was irresistible."
Geoff was getting the picture, and didn't like it: sounded too much like Micki, at least in some ways. He felt used, and it stung. "You mean she was incapable of a long-lasting relationship?"
"Yes, and...well, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be talking about my own sister like this, because she was always so good to me, but with others she could hurt and cause deep, deep pain."
Geoff remembered Antonia's initial pursuit of him in the motel room, the way she seduced him in spite of his hesitation: it fit Hillary's character insights, and he knew she was telling the brutal truth. "But why would such a woman kill herself?"
"That's the mystery! At the time, she also seemed to be sure of a movie offer. Toni had just turned forty, on December 4th, and modeling was getting beyond her looks. She had taken acting lessons, and this producer she was having an affair with had promised her the lead in a new movie..."
"Hmmm," Geoff mused aloud, getting up to pace around.
Hillary tilted her head, listening to him. She said, "I learn a lot about a person by their walk; you are tall but not quite six foot, and not heavy; and by the way, you have a pleasant, warm voice."
He stopped, stood there looking at the shadowy woman in the deepening twilight of a summer evening. His heart melted; he felt overcome by emotion, a rush of crushing sensitivity and suddenly had an urgency to leave, to get away from the frustrations of her plight.
"I'm sorry. Did I offend you?"
He walked to her. "No. I find you admirable." He bent down and tipped up her chin.
"Thank you." It was a mere whisper.
He moved away, said, "About Antonia and this producer, do you think maybe he left her, or canceled her part in the movie?"
"I don't know; I couldn't get him to call me, and he was never in when I phoned the studio in California."
"You know his name then?"
"Yes, and his office number too. Why? Do you think you could find out something about him and her?"
Geoff sat down in the chair, stretching out his legs. "Well the official investigation proved it was suicide, and I know that the case is closed. But just between you and me, maybe we could find out WHY it happened."
"Oh Geoff, I'd appreciate any help you can give me. I know Toni could be exasperating, but she was my sister, and I...I loved her very much."
"I'm sure you did, Hillary; you have a loving, sensitive nature."
In the silence, the mourning dove called and called again, its plaintive echo coming through the darkness. Lights were on in neighboring houses now, and a quarter moon rode the eastern horizon; it was cooler, and a slight wind softly trembled across the patio.
Geoff sighed and stood, flexing his shoulders and arms, stretching and yawning. "Hillary, I must be going but if you'll give me that number I'll call and see what I can learn, okay?"
She got up slowly, and said, "Yes, that would be wonderful."
Inside, they went down the hallway and she led him into the small den at the front of the house, "Here, in this drawer."
He stood watching her find the address book, open it and take out a slip of paper. "I use the print reader here on my desk for most printed matter, but you can take this, I have a copy."
He saw the computer, and various additional attachments that had recently made being blind less of a problem for reading; yet, as he took the paper, she said, "I know Braille of course, and teach it too, but I need to have printed material read sometimes. This helps me, and lessens my dependence on others."
"Do you have someone who helps you here?" be asked, unable to curb his curiosity.
"Oh my, yes! I have several friends/teachers from the blind school who assist me, they are sighted. And one of my elderly lady neighbors reads to me; I have a housekeeper who comes around once a week, just to make sure I haven't missed something, like spots on the mirrors, or washing a load of whites with a fading colored garment!" She laughed again, then said, "But seriously, it's not so bad; I've never known any other kind of life, so I suppose that makes it easier to accept."
Geoff wondered about that, but wasn't going to depress her so he said, "Well, you have impressed me greatly."
"Thank you." She snapped on a lamp. "You don't have to be in the dark just because I am."
Geoff moved closer, drawn to her, and she slowly put a hand against his face. "You don't mind?"
He shook his head, saying, "No... please...go ahead."
Tentatively, she stroked his face, ran fingers in feathery touches across his forehead, his nose, down his jawline and then stopped at his lips; but he put his hand over hers.
"Don't stop," he said, helping her fingertips touch his lips.
"Geoff I..." she pulled away, and as she stepped backwards, almost stumbled over the desk chair.
He caught her, and held her in his arms: they were both surprised, and did not move. He said, "You are very beautiful Hillary."
"Thank you..."
He felt his heart melting again, and it frightened him; the words came unbidden, "Hillary, I'm going to California, find out why Antonia killed herself but when I come back..."
"Yes?"
He brought her against him, holding her tightly. "You aren't seeing anyone, are you?"
"No. I, there's never been a man who would take the risk..."
"And have you ever been in love?"
"No, although I dated a boy when I was a teenager. He was more of a friend though."
He allowed her to pull back, reach to touch his lips again, and then said, "Hillary, I've never known anyone with such courage, such inner strength, such a brave spirit."
"I'm not brave, just capable."
He couldn't resist it, he bent and kissed her: slowly at first, then with mounting intensity. She surrendered sweetly, but pulled back finally to ask, "And you? Are you free?"
"Yes. I'm divorced, but that's a long story I'll tell you when I get back from California. In the meantime, honey, I want you to think about a change in your life, what we could share, if we both give it a chance."
She sighed deeply. "But my blindness..."
He put a finger gently over her lips. "Honey, I believe in blind luck."
Chapter Eight
Geoff arranged a flight to Los Angeles; he had called the producer's number early Wednesday morning, but was told curtly that Mr. Robert Demonia was out, and wouldn't return any messages related to Antonia Roth--which in itself aroused Geoff's suspicions.
His plan was to depart from the Birmingham Airport near noon, and he phoned Hillary for a chat before leaving the motel. He would drive his car to her house and leave it later, but she would be at the school by then.
They were awkward at first, perhaps because of their feelings last night, but grew more comfortable: she warned him that the producer might be hurt, bitter, or in some way defensive if Antonia had cast him aside. Geoff assured her that he would still probe into their relationship, at least enough to satisfy himself as to whether he was in any way knowledgeable about a suicide threat, prior to its occurrence.
When Geoff was on the plane, he sat quietly; people around him murmured as takeoff was accomplished, but he was absorbed in thoughts of Hillary. She was unlike any woman he'd ever encountered; he felt admiration, keen physical attraction and a need to be needed by her. That, he knew, was his one weakness; as a man, he had always preferred being needed by a woman...and in this day and age it was almost impossible to establish that kind of relationship. Not that he didn't respect Hillary's own independent spirit, her accomplishments, but she herself allowed him to "help" ...not resist his natural impulses, his gallantry.
"Would you like a drink, sir?" The young lady flight attendant was staring at him. He said, "No thanks," happy he didn't need liquor now.
He looked around; the flight attendants, as usual, were quite young and attractive. But somehow they seemed so easily capable of managing their jobs, their lives. How would they cope if blind?
The flight was long, boring and he had time to think about the future: this two weeks vacation would be well spent. He'd never been to California, and never desired such a trip -- but now that he was on his way, he determined to make it worthwhile. Maybe do some sight-seeing, if he couldn't reach Mr. Demonia soon.
Repeatedly, his mind drifted back to Hillary: could there be a future with her? She'd not told him why she was blind; but he suspected it was from a premature birth, she'd mentioned that. Sometimes premature babies were given too much oxygen, and it resulted in blindness; if so, there was no reason she couldn't have normal, sighted children, and she had said she loved them...
"Sir, the light is on; would you mind buckling your seatbelt?" The flight attendant was smiling at him, doing her job.
He belted up, said, "I'm sorry; I was preoccupied."
* * * * * *
Los Angeles was steamy, hot and smog-glazed; Geoff got a rental car at the airport, and drove to a nearby motel. He checked in, and phoned the producer's office again, but was told no appointments were being scheduled. Geoff was disgusted with the man's evasive tactics; this was proving more difficult than he anticipated.
He did some driving around the city, passed through the dingy, dirty part of Hollywood where teen runaways had dreams shattered; then, on to a tour of Universal Studios, and a trip to Rodeo Drive, marveling at the posh, wealthy district. No actors or actresses crossed his path, and he figured they were all "hidden" behind security-protected fortresses: lately, they were game for every loony running loose, and he couldn't blame them for their extreme measures.
Eventually, he had dinner at a fine restaurant; then back to his room, and a phone call to Hillary. She told him her day had been hectic, and she was tired: he said the same for him, and then impulsively said, "Wish you were here."
"Oh, I'd only be a burden...
"Don't ever refer to yourself that way, Hillary. I'd be honored to have you with me anywhere, anytime."
She was silent, then murmured, "Geoff, you are different; I've never known a man like you."
"That's a nice compliment."
"Geoff, I'm sorry you're having such a difficult time with the producer. Do you think he'll ever see you voluntarily?"
"I don't know," he said, "but if Mr. Demonia thinks he can hide from me, he's wrong! I'll go to his home, if necessary."
"Oh Geoff, I'm so glad you care enough to do this."
"Hillary, we need to learn the truth behind her suicide; she wasn't the type to do that, so it sort of seems fishy."
"Princess, sit!" Hillary commanded, laughing. "She is anxious for our walk so I must go now."
"You be careful on the streets, this time of night..."
"I'm used to this late walk, don't worry." She hesitated. "But thanks for your concern."
"I'll call you tomorrow night, with a progress report."
Geoff hung up the receiver, and felt so lonely he wanted to crawl right through the line and hold Hillary: the yearning surprised him, and he quickly flicked on the TV to divert his attention.
* * * * * * *
"I demand to see him! You tell him I will come to his home if he doesn't see me now!" Geoff blustered, his face red from the angry outburst.
The artificial-looking secretary adjusted her designer glasses, and said, "I'll go ask him, but he has not taken any calls from Ms. Roth's family."
Geoff sat down in the plush chair, studying the chic decor--glass tables, lots of chrome and black lacquer-looking furniture: artsy paintings with splashy blotches; deep pure-white carpet. Not one other person was in the office, so he felt he had a chance now to see the producer.
The secretary emerged, said, "He'll see you, have to be a short visit. He's expected at a meeting in fifteen minutes."
"Thank you," Geoff said, walking past her and into a spacious office, the walled windows overlooking a spectacular distant, smoggy Los Angeles. A gigantic gleaming desk was positioned before the windows, a man with his back to him.
Geoff said, "Mr. Demonia, I'm sorry to be so insistent but I'm sure you can appreciate how much Antonia's family wishes to know about your relationship with her."
The swivel chair swung around, and Geoff was facing a balding, overweight sixtyish man, his brown watery eyes glaring. "I have talked with the authorities! You're another obnoxious investigator, I presume?"
"No, I'm not. I am only a friend of the family."
"Well, didn't the detective from North Carolina inform you of my information?"
"No...or at least, not that I'm aware of."
Mr. Demonia leaned forward, his hands flat on the desktop. "And your name?"
"Geoff Eliot, from North Carolina."
Mr. Demonia stood, sighed. "Look, how do I know who you are?"
"Here's my driver's license, but actually, I am the man who tried to save Antonia's life that night. But she slipped away from me, and did it anyway."
Geoff pulled out his wallet but the man shook his head. "Never mind. I'll tell you what I told the authorities. Yes, Antonia and I were lovers; yes, I knew she was interested in acting: yes, I'm a married man: yes, I perhaps didn't anticipate her reaction when I told her she was too old for an acting debut, had no talent."
"What?"
"Look, the broad was a fine piece of ass but I get all kinds of ex-models here, and few are talented enough for an acting career."
"So you were using her, having a sexual fling at her expense?" Geoff shot at him.
The man sat back down, heaved his massive chest, said sarcastically, "And I presume you didn't sleep with her? Hell, she was a promiscuous woman, what do you expect?"
Geoff felt his face go hot; he sat down in the chair, shaking his head. "Yes, she did come on strong, but I never used her."
"Oh? Exactly why did you have sex with a woman who was suicidal?"
Geoff dropped his head; he couldn't reply, because he realized that in a way he HAD used Toni. They'd escaped loneliness, the deep pain of failure, and in essence, used one another. Only, Geoff had not really been suicidal, and she had.
"I suggest you not come storming in here making accusations you can't afford to." Mr. Demonia stood. "I have a meeting to attend, but I'll tell you this: Ms. Roth was a self-centered bitch. She came to me for a screen test, and I gave it to her. Everyone knew it bombed; but she kept pursuing me, cajoling me, throwing her body at me, and then when we began having sex, she began threatening to inform my wife if I didn't give her a part in the movie. I couldn't allow her to blackmail me like that, so I told her to take a hike, that she wasn't star quality."
He paused, lit a cigar and took a long drag, letting the smoke out slowly. "The bitch had enough nerve to send a suicide note to me, and it arrived the day AFTER she killed herself. Now, how was I suppose to know in advance, huh?"
Geoff suddenly felt an overwhelming sorrow; Antonia must have been devastated by the news of failure; it was something she'd never had to face, and so, she'd selfishly killed herself. A simple solution for a selfish person, with no inner strength like Hillary had had to develop.
"I said, how was I suppose to stop her, huh?" The man had ground out the cigar, and was glaring at Geoff.
"You couldn't have, of course. Neither of us could have prevented what happened. I spent a lot of time blaming myself, but if she was determined, no one could have stopped her. I'm sorry, Mr. Demonia, for my behavior." Geoff stood, extended his hand. "I hope you'll forgive my rudeness."
They shook, and he said, "No harm done. But why didn't you ask the detective who investigated her death?"
"Maybe it was my own guilt, and the fact that we slept together that night. I was afraid he'd think I had something to do with her death, I guess."
Mr. Demonia came around the desk. "You tell her family she was weak, a very unstable woman. It was more than sexual behavior, it was selfishness and utter lack of any strength, no ability to handle life without trading on beauty alone."
"I think her sister already knows that."
"I've seen hundreds like her out here in Hollywood -- some are lucky enough to hit on the poor bastards who'll put them in films, talented or not, but I've always had certain standards artistically."
Geoff headed for the door. "Thanks and I appreciate your time, and your candor."
"Yeah, well I'm sorry I had to be so blunt...but then, maybe it's best."
The words rang in Geoff's head, all the way on the flight back to Alabama. That night, he called Hillary from the airport, told her he'd take a cab to her house, let her know what he'd learned and not delay the news.
She was anxious when he got there, and he didn't waste time, just told her what the producer had said. As he talked, her face went crimson; her eyes closed and she absently petted Princess at her feet.
"So that's about it, Hillary; I'm sorry."
"Geoff, I'm well aware of Toni's past; she usually confided about it, but not this Robert. All she'd say was that he promised her a film career."
"Maybe he did, but he wasn't serious."
Geoff sat on the sofa, taking her hand. "Why didn't you ask the detective about these things?"
"Uh, I...um, didn't want to discuss her sexual habits with a stranger; he didn't volunteer any information either."
Geoff was again aware of her demure nature, her rather shy reluctance to discuss sexual topics candidly. He touched her face. "I understand, and I'm also sorry because I perhaps used Antonia also. Not intentionally, but as an escape from my own pain during that time."
She asked, "How so?"
"I was recently divorced; my wife, Micki, had left me after she'd... well, done something unthinkable to me."
Princess lifted her head, gazing at him with almost human curiosity. He patted the dog's head, then stood. "This is difficult for me. I really haven't told anyone what happened, not even my parents, nor my sister, Nancy."
"I'd like to listen, if you want to share it." Hillary relaxed, curling her legs underneath her on the sofa. The white shorts and blouse she had on emphasized her tanned, healthy good-looks, and Geoff couldn't help being attracted to her.
He sighed, and said, "Micki and I met right after college, and I knew she was ambitious then, but we fell in love. I got a job in a bank, and the pay was excellent, but I grew bored with it. She entered a partnership with some friends, an architectural firm in Raleigh, and seemed satisfied. From the first, we'd discussed having children, but she said in time, not till after her career was established. I was willing to wait, but...well, I wanted them badly. Anyway, I switched jobs several times, dissatisfied with banking, and eventually became manager at a loan agency, where I'm at today, although still not entirely satisfied there.
"But the point is, I made good money; I wanted a family to indulge with it. Micki was an only child, spoiled and used to getting her way. I admit I didn't help any, by continuing to let her have her way, buying her presents, stuff like that."
"You sound like a good husband," Hillary interrupted, her eyes downcast. "And I'm sure you'd be a fine father."
"Yeah, well, I thought so, but maybe Micki didn't. After I turned thirty, I kept begging for a child, but she kept putting it off. Then last year, right after I turned thirty-five, she did get pregnant, quite by accident. But she had an abortion, without telling me beforehand!" He had been unable to keep his voice from becoming shrill, angry.
"Oh Geoff, I'm sorry."
"She could have at least told me, or given me a chance to persuade her differently--but no! She just went right ahead..."
"I'm so sorry..." her voice was a murmur of softness and compassion.
"Anyhow, she told me afterward, and I was furious. Still, I didn't ask for a divorce, but I think she realized it was over, and she took a job out of town, a renovation project on an older ante-bellum home, and we separated. Then, of course, the divorce. That's why I was alone at the shore, when I met Antonia. I was, in fact, thinking about suicide when I saw her, on the pier about to..."
Hillary got up, found her way to his side and said, "I'm glad you changed your mind."
He took her in his arms, holding her tightly, as though he'd never let go. "Maybe I have Antonia to thank for that. When I saw her, it dawned on me that I really didn't want to die."
"At least one good thing came out of her dying then." Her hand came up to explore his face, feel the tears there on his cheeks; she wiped them away. "You are a special man, so kind, so caring."
"Thank you, I uh, I needed to hear that."
Princess had crossed to Hillary, and she leaned down, patted the dog and said, "Sit girl!"
Geoff slowly kissed Hillary, lifting her slightly off the floor. Then he said, "I have to go back to Raleigh, take care of some business, but then I'd like to come back here, apply for a job in Birmingham..."
"Oh, that would be wonderful."
"I know it will take some time for us to know one another entirely, but...I have to tell you Hillary, I think I'm falling in love with you."
She took a deep breath, touched his lips and then murmured, "Geoff, I think...I mean, I'd never want to burden you."
"You could never be a burden; you are the brightest light in my life now." He kissed her softly, touching her hair, tracing her face, her lips. "I want to be near you, close, until we can build a future together."
"Yes, I'd like that too," she said, sighing and leaning into his open arms.
"You see, I believe in blind luck," Geoff whispered huskily, knowing life would not be easy with Hillary, but the struggles, the triumphs, the strength of them together would be far greater than any simple solutions in the sighted world.
THE END
