The Other Side of Midnight

He moved toward her and took her in his arms and started to kiss her. Catherine pulled away, her body rigid, her mind filled with a sudden, unexpected panic.

"No," she said.

"Cathy..."

"No!"

He nodded. "All right. I understand."

Her body was trembling. "Do you?" she asked.

"I know how badly I've behaved," Larry said softly. "If you'll give me a chance, I'd like to make it up to you, Cathy."

Good God, she thought. She pressed her lips together, willing herself not to cry and shook her head, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "It's too late," she whispered.

And she stood there watching him walk out the door.

Catherine heard from Larry again within the week. He sent flowers with a little note and, after that, miniature birds from the various countries to which he flew. He had obviously gone to a great deal of trouble, for there was an astonishing variety, one in porcelain, one in jade, one in teak, and she was touched that he had remembered.

When the phone rang one day and Catherine heard Larry's voice on the other end saying, "Hey, I found a wonderful Greek restaurant that serves the best Chinese food this side of Peking," she laughed and said, "I can't wait."

And that was when it really began again. Slowly, tentatively, hesitantly, but it was a beginning. Larry did not attempt to kiss her again, nor would she have let him, because Catherine knew that if she let go of her emotions, if she gave herself wholeheartedly to this man she loved, and he betrayed her again, it would destroy her. Finally and forever. And so she dined with him and laughed with him, but all the time the deep secret personal part of her lay back in reserve, carefully aloof, untouched and untouchable.

They were together almost every night. Some evenings Catherine cooked dinner at home, other nights Larry took her out. Once she mentioned the woman that he had said he was in love with, and he replied tersely, "It's over," and Catherine never brought it up again. She watched closely for signs that Larry was seeing other women, but there were none. He was totally attentive to her, never pressing, never demanding. It was as though he were doing a penance for the past.

And yet Catherine admitted to herself that it was something more than that. He really seemed interested in her as a woman. At night she would stand in front of the mirror, naked, and exam

ine her reflection and try to figure out why. Her face was not bad, the face of a once-pretty girl who had gone through pain, a sadness in the solemn gray eyes that stared back at her. Her skin was a little puffy and her chin was heavier than it should be, but there was really nothing wrong with the rest of her body that diet and massage could not take care of. She remembered the last time she had thought about this and had wound up with her wrists slashed. A shudder went through her. To hell with Larry, she thought defiantly. If he really wants me, he'll have to take me as I am.

They had been to a party and Larry had brought her home at four A.M. It had been a marvelous evening, and Catherine had worn a new dress and looked rather attractive and made people laugh and Larry had been proud of her. When they walked into the apartment, Catherine reached for the light switch and Larry put his hand over hers and said, "Wait. I can say this easier in the dark." His body was close to hers, not even touching her, yet she could feel the physical waves that pulled at her.

"I love you, Cathy," he said. "I've never really loved anyone else. I want another chance."

He switched on the light then to look at her. She was standing there, rigid and frightened, on the brink of panic. "I know you may not be ready yet, but we could start slowly." He grinned. That darling, boyish grin. "We could start out by holding hands."

He reached out and took her hand. And she pulled him to her and they were kissing and his lips were gentle and tender and careful, and hers were demanding and wild with all the pent-up longing that had been stored in her body these long, lonely months. And they were in bed together, making love and it was as though no time had passed, and they were on their honeymoon. But it was more than that. The passion was still there, fresh and wonderful, but with it an appreciation for what they had together, the knowledge that this time it would be all right, this time they would not hurt each other.

"How would you like to go away on a second honeymoon?" Larry was asking.

"Oh, yes, darling. Can we?"

"Sure, I have a vacation coming. We'll leave on Saturday. I know a wonderful little place we can go. It's called Ioannina."

NOELLE AND CATHERINE

Athens: 1946

20

The drive to Ioannina took nine hours. To Catherine, the scenery seemed almost Biblical, something out of another age. They drove along the Aegean Sea, past small whitewashed cottages with crosses on the roofs and endless fields of fruit trees, lemon and cherry and apple and orange. Every inch of the land was terraced and farmed and the windows and roofs of the farmhouses were painted with gay blue colors as though in defiance of the hard life being carved out of the rocky soil. Stands of tall, graceful cypress trees grew in wild profusion on the steep mountainsides.

"Look, Larry," Catherine exclaimed, "aren't they beautiful?"

"Not to the Greeks," Larry said.

Catherine looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"They consider them a bad omen. They use them to decorate cemeteries."