Part 16 (2/2)

”Hey.” Sarah finally broke away. ”Didn't you promise me food?”

He had. It was short work to throw a couple of steaks on the grill, make a quick salad and open a bottle of wine. They ate like wolverines and finished the meal with two slices of cheesecake.

Sarah patted her mouth with a napkin. ”I'm stuffed.”

They shared a grin. Conversation had flowed from one topic to the next without pause. It was nice to be so comfortable in each other's presence that neither was embarra.s.sed.

”Sarah, does it bother you that I'm not Jewish?” The question had been bothering him for some time.

For a long moment, she merely stared at him. ”No one's ever asked me that before. Usually it's the other way around.”

”Does it?”

She shook her head. ”No. I don't think it matters what faith you are as long as you try to follow it the best you can. I'm not the greatest Jew in the world, Alex. I don't observe all the rules. But my faith is important to me. It isn't just not eating pork, or going to synagogue, or never sitting on Santa's lap. And it's not just having a bubbe instead of a grandma, or saying 'Oy!', or understanding Woody Allen movies either. It's not something I'll ever give up, if that's what you mean.”

Awkwardness overtook him for a moment. ”I don't go to church.”

She smiled. ”That's okay by me.”

”My family does, but I don't.” He tried hard to say what he meant without sounding stupid, or worse, patronizing.

Now she was looking at him curiously. ”It's okay, Alex. Really.”

”I never dated anybody Jewish before.” He nearly choked on the weight of his foot in his mouth.

Now she was frowning. ”Maybe I should ask you if it bothers you.”

”No!” He was making a mess of things. The last thing he wanted to do was spoil the mood. ”No, Sarah, that's not what I meant at all.”

”Then what did you mean?”

”I just wanted to know if you cared that I wasn't because it could make a difference, couldn't it?” He paused. ”I mean ... if you wanted to marry someone who wasn't.”

She licked a bite of cheesecake from the tines of her fork and studied him carefully. ”I've always imagined I'd have a Jewish wedding. The wedding canopy, the bride circling the groom, the whole bit. And I never imagined having a Christmas tree in my house. I guess it is more important to me than I realized.”

Alex wanted more than anything to be the smooth sophisticate so many people a.s.sumed he was. As it was, he was lucky his voice came out sounding normal instead of all crunched together and wobbly, the way he felt even bringing up the subject. Sarah was looking at him curiously.

”I've never been to a Jewish wedding. Maybe I'll have to learn more about them.”

She smiled slowly, her face turning rosy. ”Maybe you will.”

He linked the fingers of one of his hands through hers across the table. ”What are we talking about, Sarah?”

She squeezed his hand. ”Hmm. I'm not sure. You tell me.”

She had to know what he was hinting about. She was on his wavelength, just like she was with everything else. Suddenly, Alex grew giddy from staring into her eyes, from the subject of their conversation, from the food and the heat in the room ... simply from being with Sarah. He had to kiss her again just because she looked so lovely with steak sauce at the corner of her mouth.

But when he opened his mouth to tell her he loved her enough to ask her to be his wife, something inside him froze. He loved her; there was no fear about that. But asking her to marry him was something altogether different. Was he ready for that? Was she? Did he want to risk getting shot down now, when for the first time ever he had fallen so completely, head over heels for someone?

”Maybe I'll have to add matzo ball soup to the menu,” he said instead of spilling his heart.

The instant the words left his mouth, he regretted them. He could tell by the look on Sarah's face she had expected him to say something else. But she smiled when he did, allowing the moment to pa.s.s without comment.

He could see her eyes following the lines of his face. She touched his cheek softly, then his lips. She smiled again, though somewhat sadly.

”You are so beautiful,” she murmured. ”Everything about you is wonderful.”

”You're beautiful, too.”

She shook her head. ”No. Not like you. Not like Rivka.”

Alex clenched his fingers around hers. He forced her eyes to meet his. ”You are beautiful to me. Don't ever let me hear you saying otherwise. You are pretty and smart and funny. You smell like heaven. You are the most wonderful woman I've ever known. Believe that.”

She smiled, and this time it was genuine. Tears sparkled in her blue-ice eyes. She pressed his hand against her cheek. ”I do.”

He was sorry again he had wimped out, but there was nothing he could do. He leaned across the table to kiss the woman he loved. The moment had pa.s.sed and his opportunity with it. He would have others. If only he could find the courage to make them.

CHAPTER 8.

Sarah snuggled further into the depths of her comforter. It was a glorious Sat.u.r.day morning. She had hopped out only long enough to raise the shade before burrowing back beneath the heavy bedspread. Now, the bright sun s.h.i.+ning through the window told her she had slept luxuriously late. Her flannel pajamas were soft and comfortable, her stomach wasn't rumbling, and she didn't have to go to the bathroom. She had no place to be and nothing to do. It was heaven.

Unfortunately, she had forgotten to turn off the ringer on the bedroom phone.

Just as Sarah was contemplating whether to go back to sleep or dive into the latest Stephen King novel she'd been saving as a special treat, the beastly thing rang. She could ignore it and allow the machine to pick up. After the fifth ring, she realized the brief power outages created by the blizzard had knocked the answering machine out of commission.

”h.e.l.lo?” The tone was one she used for telephone solicitors.

”Sarai!”

Rivka sounded slightly less hysterical than she had three days before, but only

slightly so. Sarah sighed. There went her peaceful Sat.u.r.day morning. ”What's wrong?”

”The opening!” Rivka moaned theatrically. ”I'm sick about it.”

Sarah switched into soothing mode. ”Riv, I thought you were okay. It's not for three weeks.”

”This d.a.m.n snow has the mail backed up! People aren't going to get their invitations in time to RSVP! My paintings are still in Pittsburgh and won't be s.h.i.+pped until next week! Then I have to hang them. The printer's been closed for three days, so my prints are behind schedule!”

Sarah snuggled down into the covers. ”Calm down. We have plenty of time. I heard a snow plow go by this morning, which means the streets are cleared.

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