It Stings So Sweet (19 page)

“Because you’re
it
for
me, Clara. I want you. And I get what I want.”

“You
have
me, Leo. But if you’re trying to show
the world that I belong to you, marrying me isn’t the way to do it. People know that you’re sleeping
with me. They admire you for parading me around like the fallen woman I am. But if you marry me,
that’ll change.”

“How the devil do you think things will change?”

All my life, I’ve clawed
to get what I wanted. Now all I want is him so why am I so determined to let go of him? I suppose
it’s because I love him too much not to tell him the truth. “For starters, if we get married, the
scandal sheets will call you Mr. Cartwright, and that’s just when they’re being nice.”

“Clara,
the first time a scandal sheet calls me Mr. Cartwright, I’ll fuck you so hard that you consider
changing your stage name. But it isn’t going to change the way I feel. I want to marry you. Only you.
I don’t want to marry you to convince the world that you belong to me. I want to marry you so that
the world knows that I
love
you.”

Temptation. It’s like the spun candy at the carnival I couldn’t
ever afford as a kid. The only way I could get it was to steal it from someone else. And the
harder I fall for him, the more determined I am not to steal anything from Leo, especially not his future.
Every reason I give him, he’s only going to argue down, and there are some arguments I can’t
bear to have. So I say, “I love you, too, Leo. I really do
love
you. Which is why I have to do the
decent thing and say no.”

Standing behind the boxy camera
on the tripod, I film Leo as he works on the plane. I have my crew adjust the lighting while Leo
patiently explains the controls. We don’t know how we’re going to use the footage yet, but we both
think it’ll be valuable to have. I’d like to film him for hours, until he forgot anyone was there,
and maybe I’d catch a glimpse of what makes him the man he is.

I
love
to film him. The way
he moves, with such sureness. The way he uses his tools to adjust and inspect and m
aster the machine.
More important, it gives me a chance to stare at him from behind the camera, where I keep myself
safe from my fears and his resentments.

It’s a monstrous thing, this plane with its Morgan
Industries emblem on the side. I don’t want him to go up in it. It doesn’t look as if it could possibly
protect him. In the shadow of the engine, Leo is meticulous, wiping the grease from his hands on
a rag that he tucks in his front pocket. Wrapping up for the day, he waves off my crew and then we’re
alone.

I sneak up behind him and wrap my arms around his waist.

“You’re going to get dirty,”
Leo says, rattling around as he puts his tools back into their box.

“I don’t mind if you don’t,”
I say, letting my hands drift over his hips. “Unless, of course, you’re still angry with me.”

“You’d know if I was angry,” he says, though his tone is clipped.

Maybe he’s not angry.
Maybe he’s hurt. Or maybe he’s focusing all his thoughts on how he’s going to get this plane in the
air and keep it there. And maybe I should let him do just that. Instead, I press myself against his
back.

Growling low in his throat, he says, “Clara, if you keep doing that, I’m going to take
you to the other end of the hangar, spread you over the hood of my car, and rip that pretty summer
dress off you.”

“Oh, no. Please.
Anything
but that,” I say, backing away in mock horror.

“And here I thought you were such a good actress . . .”

We laugh but the laughter between
us is strained since I turned down his proposal. He’s slipping away from me. I knew it would happen
eventually, I just don’t want it to happen so soon. “C’mon, Ace, let me take your mind off any jitters
you may have about tomorrow.”

“You’re the only thing that’s giving me the jitters, Clara.”

I sigh. “I just don’t know what you want.”

“
Baloney
. You know exactly what I want. I want
you to marry me.”

Something darkly antagonistic in me forces me to shout. “You don’t even know
me!”

Turning to face me, Leo says, “I’m the only one in the world who
does
know you.”

“You think marriage is going to be so perfect, Leo? You lost your parents when you were too young to
know better, but mine are both still alive and I can tell you, marriage isn’t perfect. Not perfect
at all.”

“I never said it would be perfect.”

“Then how do you think it’ll be? Me in an
apron, cooking meals in your kitchen, tending a garden out back?”

In spite of my belligerence,
Leo’s tone is patient. “Clara, if I want a cook or a gardener, I’ll hire one. Not that I object
to the sight of you in an apron, but I know you’ll spend your time in a studio or behind a camera. I
do
know you. I know exactly who and what you are.”

“Well, maybe I don’t. Maybe I don’t know
myself at all. Maybe I’m still figuring it all out. I’m still trying to figure out how to be in love
with someone. How can you be so sure when I’m not?”

“I’m used to making snap decisions.”

I believe him. “It’s so fast. It’s too soon. Why can’t you just settle for what we have?”

“I told you before—I’ve never settled for anything in my life.”

“Then don’t settle for me.”

Leo peers at me. “What do you mean by that?”

My throat is raw with the words as they scrape
their way out. “I’m not good enough for you.”

Leo throws a wrench down. “
Goddamn it
, Clara.
How can you love yourself so little when I love you so much?”

His question sends a tremor through
me and my voice comes from somewhere very far away—somewhere gray and quiet where the light comes
in only from a window high above. “Every morning, I wake up with a knife against my throat, Leo.
And I fight it. Every day of my life, I kick and punch and elbow my way past it. But sometimes I get
tired. Some days, I don’t think I’m going to be strong enough. Someday I’m going to
lose
.”

I spit the last words out like a poison and they leave me nearly retching in their wake.

I expect
to see that white-nosed fury again, that near-violent anger. Instead, Leo comes towards me, pulls
me into his arms, and strokes my hair. When he speaks, it’s a whisper. “On those days when you think
you’re not strong enough, I’ll fight for you.”

“You shouldn’t have to. It’s not fair.”

“I gave up on thinking life was fair a long time ago. I don’t want you to wake up every morning with
a knife to your throat, Clara. I want you to wake up in my arms. Safe. Loved. Cherished. I’m not going
to leave you.”

Everything inside me rebels against the idea of letting myself be duped. “You
don’t know that. You can’t know that.”

He lifts my chin so that I can’t look away. “Listen
to me, Clara. As long as you have me, you don’t have to fight anything alone ever again. I’m never going
to leave you. Not by choice. Do you hear me?”

Blinking back tears, I nod. Then Leo kisses me.
Soft and reassuring. Our lips meet in a soft sacred seal. The hunger, the poverty, the loneliness
of trying to handle my mother’s madness when my drunken father was nowhere to be found . . . all these
memories rush at me like conspirators ready to snuff out this precious moment Leo and I share.

It takes everything in me to beat them back.

To my astonishment, he has me considering
his proposal. Really considering it. “I’m not easy to live with, Leo. There’s not a director I’ve ever
worked with who didn’t leave with a few gray hairs. I like things the way I like things. I’m used
to getting my way. I’m a diva. We’d argue all the time.”

“We already argue all the time, Clara.
Sometimes it’s even fun.”

“It won’t always be fun.”

“Then it won’t always be fun. And
when it’s not, you can console yourself with the shiny ring I bought you.”

My breath screeches
to a halt. “Y-you bought a ring?”

He gives me his devil-may-care look. “It’s a real sparkler,
too . . .”

“You’re not teasing?”

“You like when I decide things for you. Well, I’ve decided
that we’re getting married.” With that, he reaches into the pocket of his jacket and produces
an engagement ring.

I cover my eyes too late. I’ve seen the glitter. The sparkles are still
dancing behind my eyelids. The greedy girl inside me sighs with avarice. “Oh! Dear god, Leo, is that
a diamond? It must be two carats!”

“More than that,” he huffs. “But you can’t have the ring
until you agree to marry me.”

The ring is as potent as any aphrodisiac. I want it. I’m tormented.
“You know how to sweeten a deal . . .”

“There’s my little gold digger. Maybe I should have
started out with the diamond rather than making pretty speeches about love.” His tone is slightly bitter,
but when he sees me struggle with my greed, it makes him laugh deep in his belly. “Are you going
to marry me?”

“I’ll think about it,” I say, tasting a sweet syrup on my tongue.

“Good
enough for today, Clara. You can say no all the way to the altar, but eventually you’re going to give
in. On the other hand, if you say yes now, you can show the ring off at the airfield tomorrow.”

My stomach knots at the realization that tomorrow is the day he’s going to climb into that plane.
Morgan Industries has arranged for a celebration for investors complete with canapés and champagne.
“I wouldn’t want to take away from your glory, Leo. After all, everyone will be there to watch
you make history.”

“One way or another,” he says.

A chill goes down my spine. “See, that’s
the kind of talk that makes me know I shouldn’t be there.”

“I want you there, Clara. At least
come give me a kiss. Every newspaper in the country will have a camera. Think of the scandal you
can cause.”

I feign outrage. “Do you think I need a war hero to get my picture taken?”

He chuckles. “If you do show up tomorrow, I’m going to kiss you right on the mouth. Hell, I might grope
you in front of the reporters with Teddy Morgan standing right there, and I hope he chokes on it.”

“You’ve won me, Ace. Can’t you be gracious in victory?”

“I’ve only won a dogfight or two,
Clara. Until you marry me, I’m still fighting the war.”

Three outfits land at my feet before I decide on the right one to wear to the airfield. You’d
think I’d be ru
nning late, but instead, I’m so nervous about Leo’s flight, I’m dressed and ready
hours too early. I tell the driver to circle the city while I try to calm myself. I don’t want Leo
to see me so nervous.

The driver is used to chauffeuring me around town. He knows all my usual
haunts. Maybe that’s why he pulls onto the street I’ve spent so many miserable hours. But today
as Leo bravely faces death, the least I can do is face
her
.

“Stop the car,” I say, thumping
once on the back of the seat.

Today the dust dancing in the sunlight from the high windows
of the sanitarium
does
look like a choir of tiny angels. “How are you feeling, Mama? Are you sleeping
better?”

She reaches for me, her fingernails like talons in my arm. “Look at your red painted
lips. Wipe that off. Don’t you know that you’re ruining yourself? No good man will ever have you.”

Perhaps it is folly that drives me to argue with a madwoman. Or perhaps it is something infinitely
more fragile than folly . . . it’s hope. “Actually, a good man
has
asked me to marry him . . .”

My mother jolts with surprise, the hard lines of a difficult life softening on her face. “Oh,
Clara. That’s wonderful.”

She can’t know what I’ve said, can she?

“Who is your beau, Clara?
Who is he?” I dare not be too optimistic, but she seems
happy
, and the talon grip on my arm turns
into a motherly stroke. It’s been such a long time since she’s touched me that way, as if I weren’t
an abomination . . .

I can’t remember the last time we’ve shared a moment of genuine connection,
and that lures me to reveal more. “He’s an . . . an engineer. He’s smart and brave and kind.”