The Promise Read Free Page A

way under Michael's firm prodding, and it rolled back to show a damp indentation in the sand. Quickly, she took off the bright blue beads, held them for a moment, her eyes closed, and dropped them into the sand beneath the rock. “Okay, put it back.”
    “On top of the beads?”
    She nodded, her eyes never leaving the sparkle of blue glass. “These beads will be our bond, a physical bond, buried fast for as long as this rock, and this beach, and these trees stand here. All right?”
    “All right” He smiled softly. “We're being very romantic.”
    “Why not? If you're lucky enough to have love, celebrate it! Give it a home!”
    “You're right. You're absolutely right. Okay, here's its home.”
    “Now let's make a promise. I promise never to forget what is here, or to forget what they stand for. Now you.” She touched his hand, and he smiled down at her again. He had never loved her more.
    “And I promise … I promise never to say good-bye to you …” And then, for no reason in particular, they laughed. Because it felt good to be young, to be romantic, even to be corny. The whole day had felt good. “Shall we go back now?” She nodded assent, and hand in hand they wandered back to where they had left the bikes. And two hours later, they were back at Nancy's tiny apartment on Spark Street, near the campus. Mike looked around as he let himself fall sleepily onto the couch and realized once again how much he enjoyed her apartment, how much like home it was to him. The only real home he had ever known. His mother's mammoth apartment had never really felt like home, but this place did. It had all Nancy's wonderful warm touches in it. The paintings she had done over the years, the warm earth colors she had chosen for the place, a soft brown velvet couch, and a fur rug she had bought from a friend. There were always flowers everywhere, and the plants she took such good care of. The spotless little white marble table where they ate, and the brass bed which creaked with pleasure when they made love.
    “Do you know how much I love this place, Nancy?”
    “Yeah, I know.” She looked around nostalgically. “Me, too. What are we going to do when we get married?”
    “Take all these beautiful things of yours to New York and find a cozy little home for them there.” And then something caught his eye. “What's that? Something new?” He was looking at her easel, which held a painting still in its early stages but already with a haunting quality to it. It was a landscape of trees and fields, but as he walked toward it, he saw a small boy, hiding in a tree, dangling his legs. “Will he still show once you put the leaves on the tree?”
    “Probably. But we'll know he's there in any case. Do you like it?” Her eyes shone as she watched his approval. He had always understood her work perfectly.
    “I love it.”
    “Then it'll be your wedding present—when it's finished.”
    “You've got a deal. And speaking of wedding presents—” He looked at his watch. It was already five o'clock, and he wanted to be at the airport by six. “I should get going.”
    “Do you really have to go tonight?”
    “Yes. I'll important I'll come back in a few hours. I should be at Marion's place by seven thirty or eight, depending on the traffic in New York. I can catch the last shuttle back, at eleven, and be home by midnight Okay, little worrywart?”
    “Okay.” But she was hesitant She was bothered by his going. She didn't want him to, and yet she didn't know why. “I hope it goes all right.”
    “I know it will” But they both knew that Marion did only what she wanted to do, listened only to what she wanted to hear, and understood only what suited her. Somehow he knew they'd win her over though.
    They had to. He had to have Nancy. No matter what. He took her in his arms one last time before slipping a tie around the collar of the sport shirt he was wearing and grabbing a lightweight jacket on the back of a chair. He had left it