Are You Afraid Of The Dark Part 3

CHAPTER 4.I'M AFRAID I have some bad news... killed last night. . . we found his body under a bridge. . . .

For Diane Stevens, time had stopped. She wandered aimlessly through the large apartment filled with memories and thought: Its comfort has gone . . . its warmth has gone. . . without Richard, it is only a collection of cold bricks. It will never come alive again.

Diane sank onto the couch and closed her eyes. Richard, darling the day we were married, you asked what I would like as a gift. I told you I didn't want anything. But I do now. Come back to me. It doesn't matter if I can't see you. Just hold me in your arms. I'll know you 're here. I need to feel your touch once more. I want to feel you stroking my breast. . . . I want to imagine that I can hear your voice saying that I make the best paella in the world. . . . I want to hear your voice asking me to stop pulling the bedcovers off you. . . . I want to hear you telling me that you love me. She tried to stop the sudden flow of tears, but it was impossible.

FROM THE TIME Diane was told of Richard's murder, she spent the next several days locked away in their darkened apartment, refusing to answer the telephone or the door. She was like a wounded animal, hiding. She wanted to be alone with her pain. Richard, there were so many times I wanted to say 'I love you,' so that you would say 'I love you, too.' But I didn't want to sound needy. I was a fool. Now I'm needy, she thought.

Finally, when the constant ringing of the telephone and the incessant sound of the doorbell would not stop, Diane opened the door.

Carolyn Ter, one of Diane's closest friends, stood there. She looked at Diane and said, 'You look like h.e.l.l.' Her voice softened. 'Everyone's been trying to reach you, honey. We've all been worried sick.'

'I'm sorry, Carolyn, but I just can't-'

Carolyn took Diane in her arms. 'I know. But there are a lot of friends who want to see you.'

Diane shook her head. 'No. It's im....'

'Diane, Richard's life is over, but yours isn't. Don't shut out the people who love you. I'll start making calls.'

FRIENDS OF DIANE and Richard began telephoning and coming to the apartment, and Diane found herself listening to the endless litany of the cliches of death: 'Think of it this way, Diane. Richard is at peace. . . .'

'G.o.d called him, darling. . . .'

'I know Richard is in heaven, shining down on you. . . .'

'He's pa.s.sed over to a better place. . . .'

'He's joined the angels. . . .'

Diane wanted to scream.

THE STREAM OF visitors seemed endless. Paul Deacon, the owner of the art gallery that displayed Diane's work, came to the apartment. He put his arms around Diane and said, 'I've been trying to reach you, but-'

'I know.'

'I'm so sad about Richard. He was a rare gentleman. But, Diane, you can't shut yourself away like this. People are waiting to see more of your beautiful work.'

'I can't. It's not important anymore, Paul. Nothing is. I'm through.'

She could not be persuaded.

THE FOLLOWING DAY, when the doorbell rang, Diane reluctantly went to the door. She looked through the peephole, and there seemed to be a small crowd outside. Puzzled, Diane opened the door. There were a dozen young boys in the hallway.

One of them was holding a little bouquet of flowers. 'Good morning, Mrs. Stevens.' He handed the bouquet to Diane.

'Thank you.' She suddenly remembered who they were. They were members of the Little League team that Richard had coached.

Diane had received countless baskets of flowers, cards of condolence, and e-mails, but this was the most touching gift of all.

'Come in,' Diane said.

The boys trooped into the room. 'We just wanted to tell you how bad we feel.'

'Your husband was a great guy.'

'He was really cool.'

'And he was an awesome coach.'

It was all Diane could do to hold back her tears. 'Thank you. He thought you were great, too. He was very proud of all of you.' She took a deep breath. 'Would you like some soft drinks or-?'

Tim Holm, the ten-year-old who had caught the fly ball, spoke up. 'No, thanks, Mrs. Stevens. We just wanted to tell you that we'll miss him, too. We all chipped in for the flowers. They cost twelve dollars.'

'Anyway, we just wanted you to know how sorry we are.'

Diane looked at them and said quietly, 'Thank you, boys. I know how much Richard would appreciate your coming here.'

She watched as they mumbled their good-byes and left.

As Diane observed their departure, she remembered the first time she had watched Richard coach the boys. He had talked to them as though he were their age, in language they understood, and they loved him for it. That was the day I started to fall in love with him.

Outside, Diane could hear the rumble of thunder and the first drops of rain beginning to roll down against the windows, like G.o.d's tears. Rain. It had been on a holiday weekend . . .

'Do you like picnics?' Richard asked.

'I adore them.'

He smiled. 'I knew it. I'll plan a little picnic for us. I'll pick you up tomorrow at noon.'

It was a beautiful, sunny day. Richard had arranged for a picnic in the middle of Central Park. There was silverware and linens, and when Diane saw what was in the picnic basket, she laughed. Roast beef... a ham . . . cheeses . . . two large pates... an a.s.sortment of drinks and half a dozen desserts.

'There's enough for a small army! Who's going to join us?' And an unbidden thought popped into her mind. A minister? She blushed.

Richard was watching her. 'Are you all right?'

All right? I've never been so happy. 'Yes, Richard.'

He nodded. 'Good. We won't wait for the army. Let's start.'

While they ate, there was so much to talk about, and every word seemed to bring them closer. There was a strong s.e.xual tension building up between them, and they could both feel it. And in the middle of this perfect afternoon, it began to rain. In a matter of minutes, they were soaked.

Richard said ruefully, 'I'm sorry about this. I should have known better-the paper said no rain. I'm afraid it's spoiled our picnic and-'

Diane moved close to him and said softly, 'Has it?'

And she was in his arms and her lips were pressed against his, and she could feel the heat racing through her body. When she finally pulled back, she said, 'We have to get out of these wet clothes.'

He laughed. 'You're right. We don't want to catch-'

Diane said, 'Your place or mine?'

And Richard suddenly became very still. 'Diane, are you sure? I'm asking because . . . this isn't just a one-night stand.'

Diane said quietly, 'I know.'

HALF AN HOUR later they were in Diane's apartment, undressing, and their arms were around each other, and their hands were exploring tantalizing places, and finally, when they could stand it no longer, they got into bed.

Richard was gentle and tender and pa.s.sionate and frenzied, and it was magic, and his tongue found her and moved slowly, and it felt as though warm waves were gently lapping at a velvet beach, and then he was deep inside her, filling her.

They spent the rest of the afternoon, and most of the night, talking and making love, and they opened their hearts to each other, and it was wonderful beyond words.

In the morning, while Diane was making their breakfast, Richard asked, 'Will you marry me, Diane?'

And she turned to him and said softly, 'Oh, yes.'

The wedding took place one month later. The ceremony was warm and wonderful, with friends and family congratulating the newlyweds. Diane looked over at Richard's beaming face and thought of the fortune-teller's ridiculous prediction, and smiled.

They had planned to leave for a honeymoon in France the week after the wedding, but Richard had called her from work. 'A new project has just come up and I can't get away. Is it all right if we do it in a few months? Sorry, baby.'

She said, 'Of course it's all right, darling.'

'Do you want to come out and have lunch with me today?'

'I'd love that.'

'You like French food. I know a great French restaurant. I'll pick you up in half an hour.'

Thirty minutes later, Richard was outside, waiting for Diane. 'Hi, honey. I have to see one of our clients off at the airport. He's leaving for Europe. We'll say good-bye and then go on to lunch.'

She hugged him. 'Fine.'

When they arrived at Kennedy airport, Richard said, 'He has a private plane. We'll meet him on the tarmac.'

A guard pa.s.sed them through to a restricted area, where a Challenger was parked. Richard looked around. 'He's not here yet. Let's wait in the plane.'

'All right.'

They walked up the steps and entered the luxurious aircraft. The engines were running.

The flight attendant walked in from the c.o.c.kpit. 'Good morning.'

'Good morning,' Richard said.

Diane smiled. 'Good morning.'

They watched the flight attendant close the cabin door.

Diane looked at Richard. 'How late do you think your client is going to be?'

'He shouldn't be very long.'

The roar of the jets started getting louder. The plane began to taxi.

Diane looked out the window, and her face paled. 'Richard, we're moving.'

Richard looked at Diane in surprise. 'Are you sure?'

'Look out the window.' She was panicking. 'Tell-tell the pilot-'

'What do you want me to tell him?' To stop!

'I can't. He's already started.'

There was a moment of silence and Diane looked at Richard, her eyes wide. 'Where are we going?'

'Oh, didn't I tell you? We're going to Paris. You said you liked French food.'

She gasped. Then her expression changed. 'Richard, I can't go to Paris now! I have no clothes. I have no makeup. I have no-'

Richard said, 'I heard they have stores in Paris.'

She looked at him a moment, then flung her arms around him. 'Oh, you fool, you. I love you.'

He grinned. 'You wanted a honeymoon. You've got it.'

CHAPTER 5.At Orly, a limousine was waiting to take them to the Hotel Plaza Athenee.

When they arrived, the manager said, 'Your suite is ready for you, Mr. and Mrs. Stevens.'

'Thank you.'

They were booked into suite 310. The manager opened the door, and Diane and Richard walked inside. Diane stopped in shock. Half a dozen of her paintings were hanging on the walls. She turned to look at Richard. 'I-how did that-?'

Richard said innocently, 'I have no idea. I guess they have good taste here, too.'