Heroic Measures (continued)

Still looking across at Walter, she seemed about speak, but then apparently changed her mind and slowly began to eat. Walter waited, watching her for a moment, and then picked up his own fork and started on his meal.

The dinner passed quietly, as many of their meals together often did. Walter made occasional low noises of approval as sampled each of the dishes that she had prepared. She was a marvelous cook, although he had not known it when he had proposed to her. While they were dating, she had seemed more than willing to have him take her for meals, but those occasions had become less frequent now that they were together and saving for the future.

Walter wiped at his lips with the napkin, trying to be cultured about it, but knowing that he failed miserably. The meal had been delicious, his stomach was full, and he was with the woman he loved. He placed the napkin deftly on the table.

“That was wonderful, sweetheart,” he said, smiling at her, while trying to suppress an unexpected burp. “It seemed even better than usual.” He paused, watching her expression. Making such inquisitive compliments always made him feel awkward, never being quite certain how they would be taken.

Clara seemed pleased that he had noticed and Walter relaxed. “I braised it a little differently,” she explained. “And tried a few different spices.”

Walter nodded approvingly; it truly had been delicious.

“I made dessert too,” she added and Walter almost sighed. He was almost full to bursting now, but he would not dare even consider hurting her feelings by not at least sampling some of whatever she had made.

“But while the coffee is still brewing,” she went on, “maybe I should take just a look at what kind of chocolate you brought me.”

Walter laughed softly and passed the box over to her. He had picked out the assortment himself, choosing ones that he knew were her favorites. It was slightly more expensive that way, but well worth hollow the extra cost to see her happy. Like most women he knew, she loved chocolate, but generally consumed it only on special occasions. He had seen her make an average -sized chocolate bunny last for nearly two weeks after receiving it on Easter.

She unwrapped the box and began to examine its contents. Walter had little doubt that she could tell which variety each piece simply by looking at it. After several moments of this study, she withdrew one, along with its paper wrapper, and placed it on her plate. She then lifted the chocolate to her lips and took a small, dainty bite, closing her eyes as she did so.

Walter smiled to himself as she relished the treat. He then remembered the additional gift still nestled in his coat pocket. While she finished the small piece of chocolate, he reached down into his jacket and withdrew the small box. When he was certain that she was ready, he held it out to her.

“Something else?” She grinned, almost giggling. There was something almost giddy in her demeanor and Walter wondered if the champagne might have gone to her head. “You spoil me.”

“Yes,” he agreed, and allowed her to take the box anyway.

This one, much smaller than the box that the chocolates had come in, she opened as well. She held her breath for a moment and then stared at Walter, her eyes shining. “It’s beautiful.”

He wanted to say something corny like, “Not as much as you,” but he tried to prevent himself from spouting such foolish clichés in her presence. Not that she minded, as far as he could tell, it was just that he felt that she deserved phrases that displayed a bit more originality. Most of time, though, this left him with little to say, usually a choice between silence and the occasional nod of agreement.

“Let me put it on you.”

“Okay,” Clara agreed, her smile widening. She put the small box down and lifted the hair from the nape of her neck.

Walter stood and came around the table. He lifted the box and withdrew the item it contained. It was a pendant with a heart carved from a single ruby with a small diamond mounted next to it. He had been saving since Christmas for it, putting what little money he could in order to afford it for today. Carefully, he placed the thin gold chain around her neck and closed the clasp. Clara released her hair and turned toward him.

The small jeweled heart hung to fall just above the narrow hollow between her breasts. It looked much as Walter had imagined it would, although he had pictured it in other ways as well. He hoped she still wear it later that night after they had gone to bed. Actually, he hoped that it would be all that she would be wearing.

Clara glanced down at the pendant and then back toward Walter, but not quite looking at him. She seemed thoughtful as her fingers came up to lightly touch it. Her eyes refocused and she turned toward the cabinet.

“I have something for you too,” she said.

She picked up a small white envelope and placed it on the table between them. Walter reached for it, but she placed her hand on his before he could take it.

“I’m pregnant.”

Walter stared at Clara dumbly, not at all sure that he had heard her words correctly. Blood then roared in his ears and it took him a long moment for the light-headed sensation to pass. Not trusting that he could yet find his voice, he took the envelope and opened it. It contained a laboratory report from doctor’s office, confirming what Clara had just told him: she was carrying their child.

“Are you happy?”

There was a faint quaver in her voice that told him that she was genuinely worried that he might not be.

“Yes,” he managed to croak out. And then, more strongly, “Yes!”

She smiled softly and visibly relaxed.

“How long?”

“A little over two months, they think.”

Walter nodded, forcing himself to do the mental calculations. The child would probably be born in August or September: a late summer or autumn baby. Walter found himself still struggling to accept the news. Certainly, they had discussed starting a family, but for some reason he had thought they would plan it out a bit more thoroughly. A lot of couples let it be known when they were “trying” (which, for some couples, Walter felt it was an unnecessary insight into the pair’s sex life). While he thought it unlikely that they would have publicly announced it, he would have thought that they would have discussed it with each other. Or had they? He could not recall a specific decision on the matter, only the occasional conversation on the topic. Apparently, Clara had taken one or more of these as tacit permission and . . . Well, he decided, it was done. There were certainly old enough. Suddenly, their house felt quite a bit smaller than it had when he had first arrived home---and that was months before the child even arrived.

That night, with Clara snuggled close and softly breathing in sleep beside him, Walter found that his own mind refused to succumb to slumber. Clara had, as he had hoped, come to bed wearing nothing but her new pendant. She had looked as warm and desirable as he had expected. Yet, as they made love, there was an additional tenderness in the way he had treated her that night. Within her she now carried their child—and that changed everything.

#

August 13, 1994 . . .

Walter sat alone at the small table in the hotel bar. As darkness descended outside, no one seemed inclined to turn up the lights, leaving the interior to fill with shadows. He had talked to Clara and the boys from his room, but being two time zones away, they were now preparing for bed. Walter found himself feeling restless, as he often did after a long flight. He knew that he if he went to bed now, even if he managed to fall asleep, he would wake up too early. It was far easier to occupy his time in the evening than it was during the too-early hours of the morning.

He sipped at his second double Scotch on the rocks of the night. It was a rare indulgence, but how far did he have to go? A few yards down the hallway to the elevator, four floors up, and then down another hallway to his room. Besides, it was not as though he had downed each one in a single swallow. In fact, he had lingered over this one for so long that he was starting to notice curious looks from the bartender.

The bar was nearly empty, which surprised him given its location and that it was a Friday night. It being Friday the Thirteenth must be keeping people away, he considered with wry amusement. That, or the newly-called baseball strike had given them less reason to populate the bars that evening.

In a corner booth, five business men in department store-quality suits broke into occasional shouts of laughter. At least two of them, Walter judged, would be wise to take a taxi home. Two tables over from them, another man sat alone, apparently waiting for someone to join him. His eyes alternated between his watch and the main entrance to the bar. Something in his mannerisms told Walter that he was anxious about something involving whoever he was meeting.

The only other patrons that Walter could see were a young couple seated at a table near one of the windows. They talked energetically, the young man making frequent gestures with his arms. The young woman watched him with an intensity that told Walter that she was clearly beguiled with her companion. He seemed not to notice. Too bad, Walter concluded with bemusement. You definitely could have gotten some tonight. He smiled to himself, remembering himself and Clara during the early days of their relationship. Had he looked at her like that? He decided that he probably had.

He sipped at his drink, and then rotated the glass slowly to swirl its contents before setting it back on the table. A flicker of dark motion caught his attention and he turned to look toward the entrance. His first reaction was one of caution and alarm, but that vanished quickly when he saw who it was.

She was of average height, probably about five-foot-eight, he guessed. Her black dress, plain except for some stitching near the neckline, fit her shape perfectly. It was not so tight as to leave nothing of her dimensions to the imagination, nor was it loose and shapeless. The skirt fell to just above her knees; there was just enough of a sleeve as to not leave her upper arms completely bare. Her hair was long and dark, hanging about halfway down to cover her shoulder blades. In the dim lighting, it appeared to be fine, but with a natural wave to it. She wore short heels. They provided just enough lift to accent her slim and graceful legs.

She paused in the doorway, searching the interior with an air of self-possessed confidence. Walter’s eyes turned toward the man sitting alone, assuming that she was his intended companion. Lucky man, he thought, and returned to his drink. It was not until several minutes later that he realized that she was still there, but now seated at the bar alone. The man who he had thought was to be her date was gone. Interesting.

He studied the woman again, trying to do so covertly, looking for any additional clues as to why she might be there. Was she meeting someone, someone who was now late or had been delayed? She did not seem to have the look of a professional escort, and carried herself too well to be a common prostitute. While she did look like the type that a lonely businessman might find himself attracted to, he just was not quite getting those kinds of vibes from her—not that he would know for certain, anyway.

Starting to feel the effects of the second drink, Walter decided to allow the mystery of the dark-haired woman to resolve itself without him. He drained the last of the Scotch and then withdrew two singles from his wallet, leaving on the table underneath the glass. Rising from the chair, he paused, confirming that it was definitely time to return to his room. He made his way past the bar, trying not to give the woman more than a momentary glance, while hoping that his gait did not betray his mildly inebriated state.

Once outside in the hallway, he stopped, trying to remember which way led to the elevators, and then continued on. He had traveled only a few feet when he heard a voice behind him.

“Excuse me.”

Walter slowed and turned, trying not to react with surprise when he saw the young woman in the black dress approach him. He waited while she closed the gap between them.

“Yes?”

She gave him a tentative, almost shy smile.

“I was wondering if maybe you’d be willing to take me to my room?” She glanced quickly along the hallway. “I don’t like being alone in here.”

Walter stared at her, trying to parse her words. He silently scolded himself for his initial interpretation of her request. She was obviously a young woman who just wanted someone to make sure that she made it back to her room safely. It was certainly a sensible enough request for an attractive woman to make at night in an unknown city.

Finally, Walter answered her with a smile. “It would be my pleasure.” He was reasonably certain that he had not slurred any of the words.

She looked visibly relieved and moved into position beside him as they continued toward the elevators.

The wait for the next elevator car was brief, saving Walter from having to potentially engage her in conversation. He held the door open for her and then followed her inside.

“Four, please,” she said, giving him darting smile.

There was a quality to her voice that Walter found intriguing. It held a nuance of training or culture that he could not quite identify. He pressed the button for her floor and stepped back as the doors closed.

Now that they were alone, he felt a sudden surge of something like vertigo. The air felt close and slightly warm and he wondered whether it was really a fault of the elevator’s air conditioning system, or his own reaction to being in a confined space with an attractive woman. Although they only ascended four floors, it felt as if they had traveled nearly forty. The elevator chimed, slowed, and the doors parted. Once again, he reached his hand out to hold them open for her. She stepped past him and then waited while he exited.

As the doors closed behind him, Walter felt a renewed swell of that sense of claustrophobia. He could not attribute it to the hotel’s low ceilings, as it had not bothered him earlier.

“My room’s just down here,” she said, waving at the row of doorways.

Walter nodded once, lacking anything meaningful to add. He followed her down the hallway, realizing that her feet made almost no sound at all on the thinly padded carpet. She stopped at one of the rooms and inserted her key. Walter noted that it was Room 417, although he was not certain why that really mattered. She opened the door onto darkness and stepped inside.

“Could you wait right here while I turn on the lights?”

Walter smiled politely. “Of course.”

She disappeared into the darkness. A moment later, the light from one of the bedside lamps cast a pale, yellow-white light into the room. She reappeared, looking much more reassured.

“Thank you,” she said. “I really appreciate it.”

“It was the least I could do,” Walter replied, not at all sure why he said it, although it was essentially true.

She smiled in a sweet, almost coy way. Walter realized then that she had removed her shoes while she had turned on the light. Her eyes no longer gazed directly at his chin.

“Would you be willing to wait just a minute longer while I . . .” she tilted her head toward the small bathroom. “Then you can go?”

Walter’s eyes glanced toward the darkened bathroom and then nodded. What was the harm? For someone so confidently dressed, she did seem to possess a number of neuroses.

He waited for her to finish and, feeling conspicuous standing alone out in the hallway, took a step inside. In doing so, he lost his grip on the door and it closed behind him. He heard water running in the bathroom and reached for handle, hoping that it looked like he had not yet closed the door.

She appeared into the doorway. Her eyes noted the now-closed door, but the only change in her expression was the slight hint of a smile.

“I really do want to thank you,” she said, moving forward to stand directly in front of him.

With her standing that close, Walter could smell her subtle fragrance, something he had caught only the barest hint of in the elevator and out in the hall. He was about to speak when she reached up and, with a single motion of her hand, caused her dress to drop. It fell in a mound of dark fabric at her feet. She stood before him now completely naked—Completely. Naked.

Walter was not so addled by the alcohol that he did not recognize the seduction for what it was. She looked up at him, studying his reaction. She evidently liked what she witnessed here, for she smiled with faint, but clear satisfaction.