Once in a Lifetime by Gwynne Forster Page A

head and gave the laughing little girl the ride of her life as he strode swiftly to the room she shared with her mother.
    Russ’s astonished “Well, I’ll be…” followed in his wake.
    “Mind if I duck out here?” Telford asked Alexis, pointing to the door of the anteroom that was designed as a sitting room, but which was now Tara’s room.
    “Of course I don’t mind.” She didn’t look at him when she said it, evidence enough that she was as conscious of him as he was of her.
    Tara yanked on his hand. “Want to see my keyboard?”
    He wanted to give his self-control a break and get out of there, but she took his hand and he followed her into what seemed to be her room. She sat at the portable keyboard and played finger exercises. Then, she asked if he could play.
    “I used to.”
    She moved, and he sat down and played several nursery rhymes and some Beatles songs that she seemed to appreciate more. It was too cozy, too much like his youthful dreams and too dangerous.
    “Look, I…I have to be going. That light…”
    She reached over and hugged him then, her little arms tight around his neck, communicating a need to which, God help him, he responded with every fiber of his being. When she released him, her little face illuminated with smiles, he stared down at her, suddenly pensive, contemplating a truth he’d just learned: this little girl had plugged up a hole, obliterated an emptiness he’d had in him nearly all of his life. She went back to her finger exercises and was soon lost in the pleasure of them. He patted her shoulders and, humbled by the child’s healing love, walked with measured steps out of her room to where Alexis filled his vision, and he received his second shock: tears streamed down her face. And he’d thought her unflappable.
    He rushed to her. “What is it? What’s the matter? Alexis, why are you crying?”
    His hands went toward her shoulders but didn’t touch them. She wiped at her tears with the back of her hand and tried to speak, but the strength of whatever she felt overwhelmed her, and the tears became a deluge, cascading down her face.
    Her loss of composure cut to the quick, and he thought he’d go insane if he couldn’t comfort her. With a groan, he pulled her into the protection of his arms.
    “Tell me what hurts you, and if it can be fixed, I’ll fix it. I can’t stand seeing you like this.”
    She didn’t move from him, and he clasped her tighter, relishing her nearness and the womanly scent that perfumed his nostrils.
    “What is it?” he urged.
    “Tara. Her…her father never had time for her. Yet, as busy as I know you are, you sat there and played that keyboard for her, giving her what she’s missed so badly. I don’t know how to th—”
    “Don’t. Don’t thank me. Look, I…I’d better check out that floodlight.”
    He knew his limit, and he was inches from it. He opened the screen door and stepped out into the garden, still feeling her flesh in his hands, her softness against his chest. He leaned against the side of the house, took deep breaths and counted to ten as he inhaled and exhaled. In thirty-six years, he’d never been so strung out.
     
    Standing where he left her, Alexis, too, let the wall take her weight. Maybe he had herculean self-control, or maybe he didn’t want her as badly as she’d thought. Whatever the reason why he could hold her so tenderly and then walk away when her whole being screamed for his loving, she should be grateful. She rubbed her arms and knew that was a substitute for his warmth. It wasn’t right, and she would regret it, but she wanted him to kiss her so badly that she burned for it.
    He knocked on the screen door. “May I come in? I have to get a flashlight.”
    “I have one.” She handed it to him, keeping a good distance away.
    “Could you hold it while I check out this fuse box?”
    She stepped outside in the cool spring night and trained the beam on the light meter. After about ten minutes during which