Petals on the Wind (Dollanganger 2)

I stared at him, disbelieving. "Paul, don't tease me."

"I'm not teasing, Catherine. I've missed you so much since you've been away. I realized what a fool I've been to deny you and myself the chance to find happiness. Life is too short to hav

e so many doubts. Now you're finding success in New York; I want to share it with you. I don't want us to have to sneak around behind Chris's back, I don't want to have to worry about the small-town gossips. I wants to be with you, I want you forever, I want you to be my wife."

"Oh Paul," I cried, throwing my arms about his neck, "I'll love you forever, I promise!" My eyes filled with tears, I was so relieved he'd asked me to marry him at last. "I'll make you the best wife any man has ever known." I meant it too.

We didn't sleep that night We stayed awake, planning how it would be when we were married. I would stay with the company, somehow we'd work it out. The only shadow that darkened our joy was Chris. How would we tell Chris? We decided to wait until Chistmas, when I would be in Clairmont. Until then I had to keep my happiness a secret, hide it from the world, so no one would guess I was about to become Mrs. Paul Scott Sheffield.

A Fighting Chance

. That was the autumn of my happiness, of my burgeoning success, of my love for Paul. I thought I had fate fully under my control; I dared it to stop me, for I was free and running true on my course. Almost on top now. I had nothing to fear now, nothing at all. I couldn't wait to tell the world about my engagement to Paul. But steathily I protected my secret. I told no one, not Julian, nor Madame Zolta, for there was much at stake, and I had to bide my time, to make sure everything would continue to go my way. Right now I still needed Julian to partner me, just as much as he needed me. And I needed Madame Zolta to have complete confidence in me. If she knew I was going to be married, something she did not highly approve of, she might not give me all the lead roles, she might think I was a lost cause and not worth her time. And I still had to be famous. I still had to show Momma how much better I was than she.

Now that Julian and I were achieving a little recognition, Madame Zolta began to pay us more money. Julian came running to me one Saturday morning, terribly excited as he grabbed me up and swung me off my feet in a circle. "Guess what? The old witch said I could buy her Cadillac on a time payment plan! It's only two and a half years old, Cathy." He looked wistful. "Of course, I always hoped my first Cadillac would be a brand new one, but when a certain ballet mistress is scared to death a certain sensational danseur might join another ballet company and take along with him her best ballerina--how can that certain someone refuse to almost give away her Cadillac?"

"Blackmail!" I cried. He laughed and grabbed my hand, and we dashed to look at his new car parked outside our apartment building. My breath pulled in, it looked so new! "Oh, Julian, I love it! You couldn't blackmail her if she didn't want you to have one of her pets--she knows you will pamper it--and don't ever, ever sell it."

"Oh, Cathy," his eyes shone brilliantly with unused tears. "Can't you see why I love you so? We're alike--why can't you love me, just a little?" Proudly he swung open the door to give me the rare privilege of being the first girl to ride in his first Cadillac.

We had a wild and crazy kind of day from there on. We drove through Central Park and all the way up through Harlem, to the George Washington Bridge and back. It was raining but I didn't mind. It was warm and cozy in the car.

Then Julian started in again. "Cathy . . . you're never going to love me, are you?" It was a question he put to me at least once or twice a day, in one form or another. I longed to tell him of my engagement to Paul, to put an end to his questions once and for all. But I steadfastly kept my secret.

"It's because you're still a virgin, isn't it? I'll be so gentle, so tender, Cathy . . . give me a chance, please."

"Good God, Julian, is that all you ever have on your mind?"

"Yeah!" he snarled. "You're damned right it is! And I'm sick and tired of the game you play with me!" He guided the car out into a heavy stream of traffic. "You're a cockteaser. You lead me on while we dance, then kick me in the groin when we're not!"

"Take me home, Julian! I find that kind of talk disgusting!"

"Right! You bet I'll take you home!" he spat at me as I crouched near the passenger door he had locked. He shot me a fierce, distraught look then bore down hard on the gas pedal! We sped down all those rain-slick streets, and every so often he'd glance my way to see how I was enjoying the terrifying ride! He laughed, wild and crazy, then braked so fast I was flung forward so my forehead struck the windshield! Blood trickled from the cut. Next he snatched the purse from my lap, leaned to unlock my door, then he shoved me out into the pouring rain!

"To hell with you, Catherine Dahl!" he shouted as I stood there in the rain, refusing to beg. My coat pockets were empty. No money. "You've had your first and your last ride in my car. I hope you know your way around!" He saluted me with an evil smile "Get home the best way you can, puritan saint," he spat out, "if you can!"

He drove off leaving me on the street corner in the downpour, in Brooklyn where I'd never been before. I didn't have even a nickel. I couldn't make a phone call, or use a subway, and the rain came down strong. My lightweight coat was soaked through. I knew I was in an unsavory district where anything could happen . . . and he'd left me here, when he'd sworn to take care of me!

I began to walk, not knowing north from south, east from west, and then I saw a cab cruising by and hailed it. Nervously I leaned forward to watch the meter click away the miles--and the dollars. Damn you again, Julian, for taking me so far! Finally we reached my apartment building--at the cost of fifteen dollars!

"What do you mean you ain't got it on yuh?" the cab driver flared. "I'll drive ya straight to the police precinct!"

We bickered back and forth, with me trying to explain he couldn't be paid unless he let me out to go for money, and all the while the meter was running. Finally he agreed. "But you'd better be back, chicky, in five minutes--or else!"

An English fox chased by a hundred hounds couldn't have run faster than I did. The elevator crawled upward, creaking all the way. Never did I step in that thing when I wasn't afraid it would stop between floors and I'd be trapped Finally, the door opened, and I raced down the hall to bang on the door, praying April or Yolanda would be there to let me in. Crazy Julian had my hand bag and my key!

"Take it easy!" bellowed Yolanda. "I'm comin' Who is it anyway?"

"Cathy! Let me in quick! I've got a taxi driver waiting with his meter running!"

"If you think you're going to put the bite on me, forget it!" she said, swinging open the door. She wore only nylon briefs, and her freshly shampooed head was wrapped with a red towel. "You look like something the sea coughed up," she said invitingly. I wasn't one to pay much attention to Yolanda. I shoved her aside, ran to where I hid my secret cache of emergency money-- then I went slack. The small key to my locked treasure chest was in the bag Julian had--if he hadn't thrown it away. "Please, Yolly, loan me fifteen and a buck for a tip."

Shrewdly she looked me over while she removed the towel and began to comb her long dark hair. "What yah got to trade for small favors like that?"

"I'll give you anything you want. Just give me the money."

"Okay--you just keep your promise to repay." Slowly she took a twenty from her fat billfold. "Give the driver a fiver; that will cool him down--and anything I want--right?" I agreed and raced off.

No sooner did the driver grab the twenty, than he was smiling, friendly as he tipped his cap. "See you around, chicky." I hoped he'd drop dead!