The Magic Man:
By Helen Chapman
� ������� James drew blood when he hit me. It was a small matter of scampi versus steak. I wanted to serve him crawfish scampi with hot bread. He demanded steak, and he hit me, with a hard backhand to my face. I never saw the blow coming. He had never struck me before.
��������� The blow was hard enough to lay me out at his feet, and I could tell by the look on his face he was enjoying himself.� Intuition told me to stay down. 'I don't have a steak thawed out,' I told him, and I could feel my tears trickling down my cheeks. 'It's going to take at least thirty minutes, maybe more. Do you want to wait?'
��������� 'No, I don't want to wait!' He almost screamed his reply, and then he kicked me, hard. It hurt worse than anything I had ever experienced. 'Fix me a gawd-damned steak now!'
��������� I got up off the floor and shuffled out to the kitchen. As much as I needed to curl up and sob, crying was out of the question.� It would only increase his anger. I knew then that I hated my husband. I knew then I had made the worst decision in my life, agreeing to marry him.
��������� I guess these things happen. I had been a teenager, going on twenty. I came from a big clan, lots of aunts, all of them interfering. They kept on asking me: when, when, when. They began to ask me what was wrong with me. Why hadn't I found a nice boy. It worked on my nerves. I was working in a government office, and I had a safe, steady job. But it was dull. I tried to pretend I was unfazed by my aunts, but I could feel my hormones working. I wanted to be a regular woman, with a man, a nice little home, maybe a couple of kids. James worked in the same office, he seemed suitable. Nothing very exciting, but he fitted the picture. I guess he had aunts as well, because he proposed, and we had a nice church wedding. Nothing expensive, but the aunts all approved.
��������� Then I found that James wanted to be a regular guy. He liked his beer, and whiskey when he had a buck or two spare. He liked his marital rights, but he figured they came as part of the package. We found a house, and I soon realized that I was pregnant. First a girl - James was a bit disappointed. So we tried again, and I had a boy. That pleased him. But he never gave me pleasure. Marital rights meant sex in a hurry, as quick as he could, and then he rolled over to snore.
��������� We fought from time to time - I admit that I can fire up when I'm riled. I'm a girl from a big family: we breed brave and hard-working and hard fighting. But James only yelled at me when he was angry. Well, he only yelled at me to start. But then he began to drink too much, and it pushed him downhill. He quit his nice, safe job with the government, and began sliding. He was down to stacking shelves in a supermarket by the time the kids were out of school.
��������� One day I sat down in front of my computer and realized that I had been married for nearly thirty years, that I was going on fifty, and that life had dealt me a bad hand. I was busy enough, because I had worked through a hard life to better myself.. I had done it all: boot factory worker stitching footwear, night clerk in a store, telesales. College graduate. The boot factory was a lousy job, and it messed up my wrists. The doctors called it carpal tunnel syndrome. But a court awarded me compensation, and the compensation paid for me to go to college as an adult student. I came out with flying colors, and went to work for the local Legal Aid office. The pay would have been better in a private practice. But I was able to spend time at home - James was by now going to pieces - and it paid our bills.
��������� My reflection stared at me from my screen, and scowled at me. A bit heavy here and there, with hair sliced off in a buzz cut, because James liked to yank a handful when he could. My buzz cut saved me having my hair done. It also protected me. I felt like weeping. Once I had been a girl with hope, a nice figure, maybe a bit pearshaped - but then nobody can be perfect - green eyes, and pretty auburn hair shading to red. Now? Pretty much over the hill, and nobody had ever loved me.
��������� You can read about love, in magazines and books. You can watch love on big and little screens. But I wanted love for myself. I am a woman, and love is part of a woman�s� birthright. I wanted passion. I wanted a man to come and sweep off my feet. I wanted to spend my nights cradled in the arms of a lover. I wanted to have a man kiss me to sleep at night, to wake me with more kisses every morning. I wanted to have a man to love me through the day. I was not asking for fame, or fortune. I just wanted to be loved. I just wanted to be happy. A smile across my breakfast table. A hand in my hand walking through a store. Someone to make me laugh, and perhaps sometimes cry as well, so he could dry my tears.
��������� I fixed James his steak, with a potato out of the microwave, and a can of beer on the side, and placed it next to his chair in front of our livingroom television. I told him I had work to do, and left him there - I knew he would not bother me again that evening, and we had been sleeping in separate rooms for more than three years.
��������� However, work was really the furthest thing from my mind. What I really wanted to do was to go online, out onto the Internet,� and to bitch to the ladies at an almost exclusively female forum I visited regularly. The women there liked bitching together - I guess unhappy, frustrated women always do, though of course none of us quite thought of it that way. We liked to think of ourselves easing ourselves out of own problems by helping others solve theirs. Someone out there is always in a worse state than you are.
��������� So I went online. I wanted to know what had happened to my latest bitch: I had sent an email early that day supporting the elderly. One of our forum members had been arguing against penalising caregivers for abusing their adult charges. She held that the old brought abuse on themselves by being crabby and cantankerous. I thought that was pretty much like telling airline crash victims that they were to blame for flying. I thought she was going several steps too far. I wanted her to back off. I wanted to roast her.
��������� I quoted a case I had worked on. An elderly woman remarried, but her daughter took against her new step-father. She talked her mother, not the brightest sheep in the flock, into signing a power of attorney, and then sold mother�s house from under her, leaving her homeless. She also used her power of attorney to have her new step-father arrested for spousal abuse, even though there was no cause - she could legally do this with a power of attorney - and then sold off step-daddy�s classic 1953 Chevy.
��������� Well, would you believe it, but my fellow forum member suggested mother had gotten just what she deserved. She argued that mother should never have remarried, and robbed her daughter of her inheritance. So much for love between children and parents.
��������� I felt really angry, I just could not believe a woman could be so harsh. I walloped my fellow forum member, good and hard. Maybe it did not do me a great deal of good. But it sure made me feel better. Maybe I was walloping James by proxy.
��������� Then, would you believe it, an Englishman chipped in. He did not say much. But he told me he was two hundred percent on my side. Surprised? I was astounded. My first reaction took me straight to the door. I was really scared James might march in unexpectedly. James was jealous at all times, and paranoid around other men. He considered me his private slave. Totally private.
��������� Then I edged back to my screen. The Englishman did not say much, but he sounded really nice.� He told me that he was a lawyer as well, but retired, and his letter was a proper letter as well: �Dear Cassie�, and signed off �Sincerely,� Nathaniel�. Not one of these �Hi, chick, want to have some fun, fun, fun?�.
��������� He sounded a charmer. For a moment my imagination carried me away. I could see him, in my mind. Mr. Nathaniel, the Englishman. Maybe on a white charger. Maybe in armor. I realised I was letting myself be carried away. Was it my fault I wrote back? I told him I cared deeply about the elderly, I used the language of a lawyer to another lawyer. But perhaps, just perhaps, I allowed a subtext to creep in. Just the merest hint of myself as a woman, lost and unhappy. I guess it was my fault. I was looking for a shoulder to cry on. Shoulders come both handy and harmless when they are on the other side of the Atlantic.
��������� We wrote to each other again over the next few days. We traded pictures. I liked the look of my Englishman. I hoped he liked the look of me. I learned that he had spent his working life with a big corporation, helping set up big international deals. I learned that he had been married. I told him something of my troubles, and he told me his wife had walked out on him. �I�m comfortably off, but I don�t want to live in a palace�, he told me. I understood that. �She met a big wheel, one of these men with millions. I found myself in an auction, and I couldn�t match his bidding.� I understood that as well - we were both holding bad hands, and we seemed to have a good deal in common.
��������� I found it increasingly hard to sleep at night. James� snored as soon as he fell asleep; it was the beer in him. I found myself� catnapping. This man on a white horse rode in on me, and smiled down on me, and lifted me up to sit on his saddle before him. We rode through a wood, into a meadow, and he dismounted to pick flowers for me, weaving them into a garland for my hair. Strangely, my brush cut had grown out, and I was red-gold down to my shoulders. I was wearing a linen shift of some kind, and I had the shape of my youth, before my pregnancies. I knew I looked good, and I knew that the man liked me. I knew that I was dreaming foolish dreams. But what refuge can a woman take, if not to hide in her dreaming?
��������� It is hard to be closing on fifty, and never have known the joys of one�s body. Yes, I was a married woman, I knew what it was to know a man, I knew what it was to carry a pregnancy to full term and give birth. But passion had wholly passed me by. No man had� made me yearn with need.� I had experienced the sexual act lots of times with James.� But no one had ever really made love to me. But now? Now I wanted a man to come out of my dreams, and sweep me away.
��������� I came back to the real world when I showered a couple of days later. I had this big scab on my cheekbone, and my cheek was still bulging. I could have doubled for a chipmunk. My ribs carried big blue bruises as well, and they ached like all get out. James had really given me a hiding.
��������� I looked at myself, and suddenly I panicked. I had been sitting at my computer at home for a couple of days, preparing some cases. But now I was due for a client meeting at ten: some woman whose husband had stopped paying her child support. Yet I knew the meeting was wholly out of the question. I could hide my ribs: bruises don�t show through business suits. I could not hope to hide my face. I called the office, and rolled my meeting over.
��������� James was off that day, so staying at home was not an option.� I needed to get away from him.� I got dressed, got together the papers I had worked on the night before, and started breakfast.� James slumped out into the kitchen, scratching his belly and yawning widely just as the toast popped.� He flopped down in his chair and grunted something that sounded like �coffee�..� I poured him a cup, put his bacon, eggs and toast on his plate and set everything in front of him.� Then I grabbed my briefcase and headed for the door.�
��������� My mistake was walking too close to his chair.� He reached out and caught my arm in a cruel twist, then rose to loom over me.� �You stupid bitch!� You forgot to put sugar in my coffee again.� And you made that gawd-damned decaf.� You know I don�t drink decaf!�� With his free hand, he threw the scalding hot coffee on me.�
��������� Thank God his aim was off.� He only managed to get the front of my suit, rather than my face.� I managed to wrench my arm free and broke for the door at a run.
�������� I did not stop running until I was clear out to my car. Then I wept. I was alone and I was terrified. I had to talk to someone.
��������� I drove to my office in a kind of daze. Where else could I go? My mind was full of anger; I wanted vengeance. I wanted a divorce. But I looked at myself, and I held back. I was closing on fifty, and where could I go? I knew plenty of divorced women. Many of them evolved into lonely, crabby souls, pacing their way towards their graves, and blaming the world for their problems. I could go the same way, no problem. But I knew I would hate it. I wanted love, not despair. I shot past Renee, my secretary, and made for my screen. I wanted to cry on a shoulder. But Renee�s was the wrong kind of shoulder. I wanted a man.� A real man: not some coward who took his insecurities out on someone weaker than he.
��������� I wrote to Nathaniel. I can�t remember my exact words, I guess they were pretty jumbled. I told him my husband had beaten up on me; I said I was desperate. �I don�t want to be told what to do.� I remember saying. �I don�t think I can cope with advice right now. I just need a friend. Hold my hand for me, Nathaniel, just for a moment. I�m a dumpy middle-aged woman in an office, and my life has taken the wrong turning. Hold my hand for me, just for a moment, and then I will go back to real life, come what may.�
��������� Nathaniel came back to me ten minutes later. �Chin up, and stand by. Surprise is on its way.�
��������� I was not sure what that meant at all. Was this man laughing at me? I began to cry. I had opened my heart to a stranger, and I felt I was being mocked. Renee came in, but I waved her out again. I guessed I had made a real fool of myself.
������� I guess I must have then sunk into some kind of reverie, because I suddenly realise that couple of hours had passed.� I felt miserable; I just wanted to weep. I didn�t even know where I would go when I left work.� I opened up my email program again, just to check, and I shivered. Nathaniel had sent me a new email, and it split my� heart from top to bottom.
��������� �Call Delta Airlines. You�ll find they are holding an economy class round trip seat for you to Heathrow. The plane leaves this evening. I hope you have an up-to-date passport. Look for the roses when you land.�
��������� I looked at my screen, and blinked. I took a couple of turns around my office, and looked at my screen again, and blinked again. I knew then that I had taken leave of my senses, because the email was still there. I walked to my office door, and Renee stared at me. I must have looked very strange. I pointed at my screen, and I think I was making sort of garbled sounds. I just could not formulate words.
��������� Renee looked, and then did a double take, and then she put her arms around me. �He�s magic, isn�t he?�
��������� That was the moment I knew the email was real.
��������� �What do I do?� I was in a panic.
��������� Renee had stepped back to look at me. I could see she was inspecting the bruise on my cheek. I unbuttoned my blouse, to show her where James had kicked me, and she gasped. �Wait right there,� she snapped.
��������� She was back a moment later with the office Polaroid. She photographed my bruises, and then stared at me hard.. �First off, you file for a divorce. I�ll do all the paperwork, I know your life like my own. Then you sign on the dotted line, and I�ll get our process server to go to your house and stick it on James. That way you can run off and make it legal. Then you catch a plane to London tonight.�
��������� �But what will I wear?� My panic escalated. �What if he doesn�t like me when we meet? What if I hate him?�
��������� �Take your passport. Take some money. Take a chance.� Renee knew a good thing at sight.
��������� �I scrambled for excuses. �Maybe there won�t be a ticket.�
��������� �Renee was already starting to fill out a divorce complaint. �I�ll drive you to the airport.�
��������� �I knew then my path was set. My job could go hang. James could go hang. A magic man was offering me an escape route, perhaps even a whole new future. I knew I was building a castle in the air, but there comes a time in every woman�s life when she has to decide whether to stay, and live with abuse for the rest of her life, or take a chance. I wanted to take a chance. I was a qualified paralegal, and a good paralegal at that. I could always fly back home if England fell flat on me, and find a job in a law office again. I could always build myself a new life, and perhaps treasure good memories of a moment of madness.
��������� I called Janie, my daughter, and asked her to collect my dog and my cat from the house. I didn�t want James beating up on them in revenge. I told Janie I was running away for a while. She knew how James treated me. Then I looked at my watch. Time was passing fast, and the airport was more than an hour�s drive away. I had one change of clothing I always kept in the office, a nice summer dress in a pretty flowered print that I kept for hot days. I could wear that. I guessed England would have toiletries, and more dresses. I guessed I might need a nightdress. I guessed I could buy them all. For a moment, just an errant moment, I wondered whether I would need a nightdress. But I pushed the thought from my mind.
��������� I found the ticket without any bother. The Delta girl said it had been paid for in England. She stared at me very hard, and she seemed impressed. I think she was trying to figure why someone would rush me a ticket to travel five thousand miles at the drop of a hat. I smiled at her proudly.
��������� I drank coffee with Renee while we waited for the flight to be called. I think she was a little jealous.
��������� �See if you can find me a magic man as well�, she murmured. I smiled at her. I was on my way to meet my very own magic man, and I was not about to share.
��������� My flight to London seemed to take forever. I toyed with my airline meal, and tried to sleep. But I was a total jumble of emotions. I had printed off Nathaniel�s picture from my computer, and I kept on looking at it. He looked like a nice man, the kind of man I would like to be with. He had my picture, and he had sent me a ticket. But pictures can be a long, long way from reality. What would I do if he looked at me, and realised that I was not the woman he expected? What would I do if I looked at him, and realised that my castle in the air was nothing but a cloud?
��������� A stewardess woke me for breakfast and I sipped at a cup of coffee, but I could not touch the rest of the Delta breakfast. My mind went round and round, and I began to have a dreadful feeling that I was not only doing something mad, but heading for some kind of disaster into the bargain.
��������� The plane touched down at Heathrow, and I gathered what courage I could. I was jetlagged, and I felt as though I was heading for a headache. I was crumpled, from trying to make myself comfortable for six hours in an airline seat. I was almost rigid with fear.
��������� I checked through Immigration control, and the green channel for passengers with nothing to declare, and then I understood about the flowers in Nathaniel�s second email. I could see a huge bouquet of yellow roses, standing waiting on the passenger concourse. There must have been five or six dozen. I could see a man was holding them, but the roses blocked the upper half of his body and his face.
��������� It was then that I began to weep. I could not help myself. My tears were rolling down my cheeks. I don�t know whether they were tears of anxiety, or a nervous reaction of some kind. I think they were tears of happiness, and joy.
��������� I heard a man�s voice, very English. �Take these, Cassie. They are for you.�
��������� I looked up, and there was the nicest man I had ever seen in my life. I can�t say that he looked like a film star. But he did look gentle and kind. I was still weeping - I could not help myself. I dabbed my face with my hankie, I knew that I must look awful. I could picture my eyes all red and swollen. I probably had jetlag written all over me as well. I took the roses and buried my face in them. I think I was hiding.
��������� Then I felt a hand cup under my chin. �I have a car in the carpark.� Nathaniel was already guiding me towards a wide double door. I saw a group of women turn to stare at me. I think they were jealous. �I asked Mrs. Bates, my housekeeper, to get a room ready for you, and have fresh coffee waiting - we�ll be home in about twenty minutes.�
��������� �Home.� The word had a magic ring to it.
��������� �I hope you don�t disapprove of sharing a house with a single man. I can ask Mrs. Bates to stay a couple of nights if you do, and we�ll find you an hotel.�
��������� I was too tired to know what to think. But my mind kept on returning to that one word �home�. I realised that I had never had a home, not in the truest sense of the word. Home, when Nathaniel said the word, sounded safe, and comfortable, and welcoming.
��������� Mrs. Bates was waiting at the door as we drove up a gravelled drive to stop in front of the cutest house I had ever seen in my life. It was old, and solid, and looked very comfortable indeed, and Mrs. Bates was plump, and motherly, and immediately fussed around me like a mother hen welcoming a lost chick. She did not seem at all concerned that I had no bag or case, but ushered us both into Nathaniel�s dining room, a large sunny room with a big old mahogany table - of the kind I had only seen in big antebellum homes back home in the States. Two places were set for us, and I more or less collapsed into a chair. A couple of big oil paintings of a man and a woman, dressed like a wealthy couple from maybe a couple of hundred years ago, looked down at me from a wall covered in a pale pink flocked paper. They were staring at me - I could tell that - but they did not stare with disapproval, and I could have sworn the woman was smiling approvingly.
��������� Nathaniel followed my eyes and chuckled. �My great-great-grandfather and grandmother. They built this house. Do you think they like you?�
��������� I swear to heaven I blushed. I don�t think I had blushed since I was maybe sixteen, and I felt thoroughly confused. I looked down at the table, and the cutlery was English sterling silver, whilst the china looked like Spode.
��������� Nathaniel chuckled again. �Mrs. Bates has laid out my very best. I think she�s been thinking for some time that I needed company.�
��������� I blushed again. I just couldn�t help it. Fortunately Mrs. Bates bustled in just at that moment with a tray. She brought fresh coffee in a big silver pot, with milk and sugar in a matching jug and basin, and little wicker basket covered with a starched linen napkin. She lifted the napkin with a flourish, and I could see a clutch of speckled brown eggs, and I noticed a little china eggcup by my plate. Next came a silver toastrack with fresh toast.
��������� Nathaniel waited for her to leave the room, and beamed. �Do try and eat an egg�, he said. �She will be hurt if you don�t.�
��������� I picked at an egg, although I had totally lost my appetite, and sipped at a cup of coffee. Nathaniel made me tell him what had happened, and why I had emailed him. He looked very stern when I told him about James throwing scalding coffee at me, and brushed at his eye when I told him about Renee hugging me. I guess an eyelash went astray. But he said nothing, watching me as he ate an egg and a couple of slices of toast. Then he got to his feet.
��������� �Mrs. Bates will show you to your room.� He smiled slightly. �She�ll think it more proper. I think she has found you a nightdress.�
��������� I think I must have looked a little taken aback. I think Nathaniel thought I was surprised.
��������� �I think she bought you a toothbrush as well.�
��������� I was dog tired. I realised that as I followed Mrs. Bates up a flight of stairs. She was telling me something, welcoming me to the house, hoping I would be comfortable. Her words all melted into a kind of song.
��������� Then she pushed open a door, and took my hand. �You poor dear, you look done in.� She led me into the room. �Do you want me to help you undress?�
��������� I shook my head. I was in a large bedroom, with a big double bed covered with a hand-made quilt, and windows looking out over a garden. It must have been at the back of the house. Mrs. Bates deftly turned back the quilt and held out a nightdress that would have done credit to Old Mother Hubbard, then busied herself closing the curtains.
��������� �Have a good sleep�, she smiled. �Mr. Nathaniel needs some company.�
��������� I just fell into bed. I must have slept for quite a while, because my watch said it was mid-afternoon. But I realised that it must be early evening, because I was now six hours ahead of myself in Britain. I stretched, and yawned, and sat up in bed. I felt quite comfortable in the nightdress. It was strange. I did not have to worry about a thing. I knew that James was not out there, waiting to beat up on me. I knew that I had no problems. Well, I knew that I would have to wear my flower print dress again, until I bought myself something new. But that was not a real problem. I listened, but I could hear nothing. I was lost and alone in a comforting little world of my own. I knew, in a minute, that I would get dressed, and step out of the bedroom, and go on a tour of exploration. But I knew the tour would be a good one.
��������� It was then that I realised I was alone in a house with a stranger. I turned the thought in my mind, and I did not know how to take it. Nathaniel was definitely the nicest man I had ever seen in my life. He looked gentle, and kind, and I knew that I was warming to him. But was he warming to me? I slid out of bed, and found an en suite bathroom, complete with a range of toiletries ready and waiting, and I showered in� a dream of hope. I had a feeling I was stepping into a new world. I found a hair dryer, and then brushed and brushed at my buzz cut. But then, for the first time in many, many months I felt a little ashamed. I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, and I found myself inspecting a dumpy creature with crowsfeet, and a haircut that might have done credit to a US Marine. I swallowed hard. I should have been glamorous, and slinky, and beautiful. I was a buzz cut paralegal from America.
��������� Life can be a hard row to hoe. I dressed, and decided to make the best of a bad hand. Perhaps Nathaniel liked buzz cuts. Men can be strange.
��������� I went down stairs slowly, looking around like a little girl let loose in a toyshop. Nathaniel�s house seemed to be packed with antiques, paintings and ornaments and old furniture. Would he think me an ornament as well? My buzz cut argued against that. Was I a piece of old furniture? Well, that might be closer to the mark.
��������� The ground floor of the house was empty. I looked into the diningroom. No Nathaniel. I opened another door, and found myself in a drawingroom. No Nathaniel. I found a kitchen. No Mrs. Bates. Then I realised that the drawingroom had french doors, leading out into the garden, and that they were open. I tiptoed across the room, and I saw a big fluffy tortoiseshell Persian cat lying just beyond the french doors in a shadow. She was a beautiful cat, and she blinked up at me. I felt somehow that I had arrived.
��������� �You�re awake.� It was Nathaniel�s voice. He had beenwas seated in a high-backed cane chair, out in the evening sun, with a book in his hand, and a straw hat perched on top of his head, but he got to his feet as I stepped out of the house.
��������� Somehow I felt I should have curtsied. Somehow I knew that I should curtsey. I can�t say that it did it very well. But I tried.
��������� Nathaniel smiled at me. �Come and sit with me.� He was holding out his hands, and I took them. I could see a second chair beyond his, but I was looking up at him, and I could only see his eyes. He had big brown eyes, and they were warmth, and they were welcoming. I stood there, looking up at him, and he bent to kiss me. I will remember that moment for as long as I live. He bent towards me, and it all seemed to be happening in slow motion. I felt his lips touch mine, and I suppose a choir of angels was singing somewhere, but I ignored them. I felt the warmth of his breath mingle with my breath, and I knew that we were becoming one person. Then he pulled back a little, and he was looking at me very intently, as though searching down into the depths of my soul.
��������� �Mrs. Bates planned a cold supper, because she was not sure what time you would wake.�
��������� I stared up at him. I don�t think supper was uppermost in my mind at that moment. He must have sensed it, because his eyes gleamed for a moment, as though with a secret fire that vanished almost as quickly as it appeared. He hesitated, as though searching for words.
��������� �Will you come inside with me?� He seemed a little uncertain as he spoke, as though his words meant much, much more.
��������� I felt tears rise again in my eyes. I knew that his words meant much more, and that he wanted me to commit myself to him. I knew that I wanted to be a woman to him, and I wanted it more than anything I had ever wanted before. But I was also fearful. James was the only man I had ever known in my life, and James had never been a real man, only a bully. I wanted to come to this man holding me, as though I had never known a man before, but I knew that I was being foolish. A woman going on fifty, who has been married for the best past of thirty years with two children, cannot be virginal. Yet I wanted it so badly. I wanted to be able to start from new, as though nothing had gone before. I wanted to come to him, as though my only knowledge of love was still confined to what I might have read in books and magazines.
��������� The word caught at my mind, and I knew that I was falling in love for the first time in my life. I knew that I was in love. I knew that I loved Nathaniel, and I knew that my love for Nathaniel had wiped my slate clean. I looked up at him, and I knew that my face was very serious, because I could see that he wanted me in the same way that I wanted him, and I wanted to show him that I understood. I spoke just one word: �yes�.
��������� He led me back through the house to the stairs, and he was holding my hand tightly, as though I might change my mind at some moment, and he might lose me. He stopped, and looked down at me for a moment, and I nodded. I did not have to speak, because I knew that we understood each other. He kissed me again, gently again, and I felt my blood begin to rise in a way that I had never felt before.
��������� We climbed the stairs hand-in-hand, and he pushed at a door, and I realised that it was a door to a room next to the one in which I had slept. Nathaniel stepped to one side to let me enter, and I was in a big room filled with light from the setting sun, with a big bed ahead of me. I could feel myself trembling, and then I felt his hands on my shoulders, and I turned to him, and he kissed me, and this time he kissed me exploringly, as though measuring the extent of my response to him, and I could feel my body straining towards him, and suddenly I was young again, and I knew this was going to be a first time, and I put my arms around his neck, and I kissed him with all my strength and all my desire.
��������� Then we parted, standing a little way from each other, and I was sinking into his eyes. I felt his hands unbutton my flowered print at the neck, and I shucked my dress off over my shoulders. Nathaniel smiled at me, and I unbuttoned his shirt, button by button, and he stood in front of me, and he was slim, with only a hint of spare flesh at his waistline, and I was freeing myself from my bra.
��������� We lay together then, and the heavens opened for me. Nathaniel made love to me, and his loving was kind, and gentle, and exciting, and passionate. He played on my body as though I was some kind of musical instrument, and I discovered feelings that I had never felt before, and small waves of excitement ran through me, and built within me, and I found myself being swept up in a crescendo of burning fire that seared my body and soul. I was panting from my completion, but Nathaniel kept playing me, and I felt my desire starting to burn within me again, and then again, and it was as though I was being drawn out of myself, and as though this man was taking me for himself, and I knew that I would belong to him wholly and forever.
��������� Then he was cradling me in his arms, and he smiled at me. Our faces were very close, and I could see myself reflected in his pupils.
��������� He spoke to me gently.� �I love you, Cassie.�
��������� Now I knew that the angels were singing. I smiled at him, and I could feel my tears flowing again.� I was a mature woman nearing fifty, and I was a teenage girl again. I was lying in the arms of my lover, and I had never known a man before - never in the way that Nathaniel had loved me.
��������� �Will you stay with me?�
��������� I nodded dumbly. I was too full to speak.
��������� He kissed me again, and then he sat up in bed, and smiled down at me. �We better eat.�
��������� I thought of Mrs. Bates. I didn�t want her to think of me as forward, as some kind of American manhunter. But Nathaniel shook his head.
��������� �She went home some time ago.� I could see that he was laughing. He looked like a young man who has just made love for the first time in his life. �She smiled at me in a very knowing way as she left. I think she was hoping this would happen.�
��������� We ate cold salmon in pastry, with a cucumber salad dressed with sour cream as a side dish, and Nathaniel filled my glass with white wine. I looked at the label on the bottle, and it was a Chablis. A real Chablis from France, and the glass was cut in crystal.
��������� He spoke as though answering a silent question. �I drive to France to shop about once a month. I�ve been thinking of buying a house there. Do you think you could learn to speak French?�
��������� I knew I could learn anything in the whole world that Nathaniel might want of me.
��������� �We could get married there, after your divorce comes through. Weddings are much more romantic in France. I have a village in mind, some English friends of mine have a house down there that they are thinking of selling.� Nathaniel reached out to close his hand on mine. �I�ve stayed there a number of times. We could invite the mayor, and all the local dignitaries and neighbours, and have the village band play for us. That would put you on their map in a big way: they�d love a good wedding.�
��������� I was crying again. I felt such a fool. I seemed to have been doing little else since my arrival in England. It was as though all the bottled, pent-up emotions of thirty years were fighting to get out. I nodded my head dumbly, and looked up, and I knew my eyes were sparkling through my tears.
��������� I spent a whole two weeks with Nathaniel. He drove me to London, and showed me Buckingham Palace, and St. James� Palace, and any number of fine and impressive buildings. We walked hand-in-hand through Hyde Park, and scattered breadcumbs for the ducks on the Serpentine lake, and stood watching grown men floating toy boats on the Round Pond in Kensington Gardens. I covered my head with a silk scarf that he bought me to wander through Westminster Abbey, because that seemed only proper, and climbed endless narrow stairs to reach the Whispering Gallery high up in the dome of St. Paul�s Cathedral, where you can whisper to your Maker of your commitment, and your words will travel the whole way around the dome to seal your promise.
��������� We explored the National Gallery, and the Tate Gallery, and the Victoria & Albert Museum, where I wryly noted a good deal of antique furniture. We lunched in smart little restaurants, and Nathaniel took me shopping. I must say that I was shocked at some of the prices, because London was certainly a deal more expensive than even the smartest stores back home. But he waved my fears away, and I bought myself a couple of nice summer dresses, styled so that they offset some of my waistline, plus some practical sandals, because we were so much on our feet, and a really nice silk dress for our evenings.
��������� The walking was tiring, but it was surely good for me, because I began to lose weight. I began to hope that one day I might be a little less dumpy, and the English climate seemed to be good for my hair, because that� began to grow nicely.
��������� Nathaniel took me to Windsor, to look at the Castle, and we stayed to take in a comedy at the Theatre Royal. I wore my new silk dress, and I felt really pleased with myself, and I had the feeling that I was never going to be a sad little brush-cut paralegal again.
��������� We also drove to France on a shopping trip. It was a long ride to the British coast, but freeway the whole way, and the sky was clear blue. Then we spent an hour and a half on a big comfortable ferry, and sat on deck, and I could feel the sun burning me. But I knew I would look good with a bit of a tan. We shopped at a big store, just like the superstores back home, except that everything was labelled in French, and all the people were speaking in French, and Nathaniel toured me around a big section with fresh cheeses, and another section with enough bottles of wine to float a battleship. We filled two big buggies, and I am sure it cost Nathaniel a small fortune, because the clerk asked him for his passport. Nathaniel had left it in his car, and I had to guard the trolleys whilst he fetched it, and I felt so lost, all on my own, but the people lined up behind me smiled at me, and I felt they understood.
��������� But then it was time for me to fly back to the USA. I must have cried buckets when I thought Nathaniel was not looking, but I knew that he noticed. I tried helping Mrs. Bates in the kitchen, to keep myself occupied, but I don�t think I was much use.
��������� �Nathaniel did not tell me he was coming with me until the day before I was due to leave.Nathaniel told me he was coming with me the day before I was due to leave.
��������� ��I�ve booked myself on the same flight.� He told me as we ewere eating what I thought would be our last dinner together, at least for the time being. Mrs. Bates had marinaded some chicken fillets for us in spices and fresh ginger, served with little new potatoes, and a strange French vegetable called salsify, like a white carrot, but with a very delicate flavor.
��������� �� I very nearly choked on my mouthful of chicken. I was spluttering and gasping, and laughing and crying, all at the same time, and I swear I must have turned as red as a beetroot.
��������� �I thought you might need some moral support. I�ve booked a room for the two of us for a week at Hanson House, just out of town. They claim to be quite classy.�
��������� I could only stare, speechless. The Hanson was quite the smartest place to stay, and very handy for the County Courthouse. I knew my divorce could be finalized in a couple of days, but it would come in handy to have some extra time. I would be able to show Nathaniel some of my home sights. I nodded dumbly. It was all I could do.
��������� Flying back to the States was much less tiring than travelling to England. We talked a great deal, and told each other our life stories - I guess we covered a lot of ground a second time over, but it is real nice to be able to pour out problems accumulated over thirty years. I guess it kind of exorcises them. I think, by the way Nathaniel held my hand, and squeezed it at times when he as talking of his own hard moments, that he felt pretty much the same way.
��������� I had emailed Renee to expect our arrival, and she was waiting for us. I could see her stare at Nathaniel as we cleared through all the airport controls, and I smiled at her proudly. Renee was divorced, and looking for a nice man. I could see that she really envied me mine. I knew that she was not going to have him.
��������� She treated us to an early dinner, and Nathaniel was charming to her. I could see that she was very flattered. She lured me into the ladies� room half way through the meal, and she looked at me straight as she closed the door behind her.
��������� �You�ve got yourself one heck of a man there, Cassie.�
��������� I beamed. I knew it. �He�s come to hold my hand at the courthouse,� I told her.
��������� �And then you�re going back with him?�
��������� I nodded. I didn�t mention Nathaniel�s plan to buy a house in France from his friends, nor a word about a village wedding, with a band playing. Sometimes counting chickens before they hatch can give hostages to fortune.
��������� I loved Nathaniel that night. Some might think I was forward, but I was welcoming him to my country. I already knew how to please him, after staying with him for two weeks. It was my gift.
��������� I don�t think we slept much, but I called Renee in the morning. She had already fixed a day for my final hearing.� I was pretty jumpy, but I took Nathaniel on a tour to keep my mind occupied.
��������� Then the day came. I dressed myself carefully, in a black suit I always kept for court appearances that Renee had rescued one day from my wardrobe - she had a key to my house, and James had been out drinking during most of my absence. I knew that Judge Benson would be hearing my case, and I knew him to be a fair man. But I also knew that he held strict moral views, particularly about married women taking up with men. I was terrified that James might have heard somewhere that I had gone off to stay with a man in England, and cited me for it. I knew that could count against me.
��������� Nathaniel waited outside the courthouse with Renee in her car. There was no way anyone would connect him with me - unless someone had told some tales. I was tense, and all tightened up inside. People like to gossip, and they will always say the worst possible things about you that they can. The court officer called my name, and I stepped up in front of Judge Benson feeling like a naughty schoolgirl who had been caught making eyes at a boy in class.
��������� �Mrs. McCord?� Judge Benson looked at me over the rim of his glasses. I could see my file in front of him, and I saw the photos that Renee had submitted as exhibits spread out in front of him. I kind of gulped my acknowledgement.
��������� �Your husband seems to have treated you very badly.�
��������� I stared at the judge.
��������� �Do you wish me to refer the matter to the District Attorney?�
��������� I knew at that moment that I had won. Judge Benson obviously felt James deserved a few days and more in a cell for what he had done to me.
��������� I shook my head. I had won, and I just wanted to get away, out of the Courthouse and into the new life now waiting for me. The rest of the hearing was just a matter of formalities. James tried to block my Petition, then demanded alimony, but Judge Benson would have none of it. In fact I thought at one point that he might order the bailiff to take James away.
��������� Nathaniel got out of Renee�s car as I came out on to the Courthouse steps, and I melted into his arms. Then I heard a nasty snarling sound, and it was a sound that I knew very well. James was standing just behind me, staring at my Englishman.
��������� �Who�re you, boy?�
��������� Nathaniel ignored him, but James was raring for a fight. He took a swing at my Englishman, and I gasped. James had been a bit of an amateur boxer in his better, younger days, during his time in the military, and he was still a dirty fighter.
��������� I need not have worried. Nathaniel swayed slightly to one side, avoiding his lunge, and then caught him on the jaw with a right hook that sent him spinning to the ground. All of a sudden there was uproar. A couple of deputies had been standing on the courthouse steps, and they were out in a flash, guns at the ready. I was scared out of my wits. But they were not one bit interested in my Englishman. One had� James on the ground, and was fastening handcuffs on him. The other put his gun away, and held out a big meaty paw to the man at my side.
��������� �Friend, you packed a really good� wallop� there.�
��������� Nathaniel looked a little abashed. �It was a gut reaction.�
��������� The deputy beamed. �We was watching you. That man came out of the courthouse, and we could see he planned violence against this lady here. But you moved a sight faster than we could.� He turned to watch his companion lead James to the deputies� car, and then turned back to look at me. �We�ll take him down to the lock-up while you decide whether you want to press charges, ma�am. Or you, sir.�
��������� I shook my head, as did Nathaniel. I was holding Nathaniel�s hand tightly, and I swear to heaven that I was crying again. But this time I was crying tears of relief. Nathaniel had freed me from thirty years of hell, and I just wanted to be with him for the rest of my days.