Seasons of the Heart Read Free Page A

Unhappy in his professional life, he had allowed nothing else to touch him—not beauty, not joy, not love. One night, after six weeks of ruthlessly trying to forget her, he realized that if he continued to deny his desire, he would never become a whole human being.
    Closing his mind to further doubt, he picked up the phone and dialed her number, which he’d committed to memory so many weeks ago. But when he heard it ring, it suddenly occurred to him, what if she wouldn’t go out with him? What if she wasn’t even interested in him? He had been so caught up in his own feelings that he hadn’t even given a thought to hers. She was probably offended that he hadn’t had the guts to call her. The thought of her rejection made his palms sweat. Then he heard her voice saying, “Hello?”
    “Ann—how are you? This is Phillip,” he managed to say.
    “Phillip?” She sounded surprised.
    “I’m sorry I haven’t called sooner, but I’ve been out of town … busy on a case,” he lied awkwardly.
    Ann didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. All of a sudden she felt a surge of anger. She had an urge to scream, How dare you ignore me the way you have? But instead she swallowed the hurt and answered, “That sounds exciting.”
    The deception was almost too much for Phillip to sustain, as he held the receiver in his sweaty palm. “Oh, yes … very. Tell me, how have you been?”
    “Oh, wonderful, just wonderful, thank you. And you?”
    Lousy, plain lousy. But he said aloud, “Okay, I guess.”
    Ann suddenly sensed Phillip’s loneliness and she felt ashamed of all the ill-natured thoughts she had harbored about him. She even began excusing him for not calling.
    “What are you doing Saturday night?” he was asking.
    He’s asking me out! she realized, her pulse beating wildly. Taking a deep breath, she said, “Nothing. I wasn’t planning anything special, that is.”
    “Great. Would you care to have dinner with me?”
    “Oh, Phillip, that would be lovely.”
    “Do you like Chinese food?”
    She didn’t, but it didn’t matter. “Yes, I love it.”
    “Will seven be all right?”
    “Yes. And, Phillip, thanks so much for calling.”
    If I hadn’t been such a coward, I would have done it weeks ago, he thought. But he said only, “I’m sorry I haven’t had time sooner.”

Chapter Three
    T HE NEXT DAY ANN stood behind the hosiery counter at Magnin’s, scarcely aware of what she was doing. If she’d ever been happy that she only worked a half day Saturday, it was today. She was happy even though she was missing her weekly luncheon with Ruthie. Instead, she rushed home after work, washed her hair, and then sat before the mirror making dozens of tiny pincurls. She did her nails, plucked her brows, and changed into four different dresses before he arrived.
    Scrutinizing her reflection in the mirror, she sighed pensively. If only she knew his favorite color. In fact, if she only knew what he liked in general, she wouldn’t be so nervous. Tonight was so important. She just had to be perfect . Who should she pretend to be?
    The forty-nine-year-old Ann, sitting in her lonely living room, laughed bitterly. Oh, the naiveté of her generation. Why hadn’t it occurred to her to just be herself? But how could she have, when she’d had no idea in all the world who Ann Pollock was? Besides, to have “been herself would have been drab and dull.
    She remembered running downstairs the second the doorbell rang, grateful her father and stepmother were out. At least there would be no awkward introductions. When he stepped into the hallway, she saw again how handsome he was and was overcome with an unexpected rush of desire.
    Suddenly she had difficulty breathing evenly. She could scarcely meet his eyes for fear that he would see in them a reflection of her fantasies. She would just die if Phillip knew how she had longed for him to hold her.
    Praying for composure, she said softly, “How are you, Phillip?”
    “Fine, Ann. You look