"A week from Saturday. José bought the tickets." In rather a trance, I let her leadme down to the street. "We change planes in Miami. Then over the sea. Over theAndes. Taxi!"
"Good-bye?"
"Whats the matter with you? Are you trying to ruin the day? Its a beautiful day:leave it alone!"
"Please. Are you sure? Tell me the truth. You might have been killed."
"No, idiot. This is serious. Look at me."
"Come on," she said, when she found me awaiting the postman. "Lets walk acouple of horses around the park." She was wearing a windbreaker and a pair of bluejeans and tennis shoes; she slapped her stomach, drawing attention to its flatness:"Dont think Im out to lose the heir. But theres a horse, my darling old MabelMinerva -- I cant go without saying good-bye to Mabel Minerva."
"Does he know youre married already?"
For all at once, like savage members of a jungle ambush, a band of Negro boysleapt out of the shrubbery along the path. Hooting, cursing, they launched rocks andthrashed at th藏书网e horses rumps with switches.
"But I wasnt. And thank you. For saving my life. Youre wonderful. Unique. I loveyou."
Mine, the black and white mare, rose on her hind legs, whinnied, teetered like atightrope artist, then blue-streaked down the path, bouncing my feet out of thestirrups and leaving me scarcely attached. Her hooves made the gravel stones spitsparks. The sky careened. Trees, a lake with little-boy sailboats, statues went bylicketysplit. Nursemaids rushed to rescue their charges from our awesome approach;men, bums and others, yelled: "Pull in the reins!" and "Whoa, boy, whoa!" and"Jump!" It was only later that I remembered these voices; at the time I was simplyconscious of Holly, the cowboy-sound of her racing behind me, never quite catchingup, and over and over calling encouragements. Onward: across the park and out intoFifth Avenue: stampeding against the noonday traffic, taxis, buses that screechinglyswerved. Past the Duke mansion, the Frick Museum, past the Pierre and the Plaza.
"But you cant. After all, what about. Well, what about. Well, you cant really runoff and leave everybody."
She laughed. "Hell marry me, all right. In church. And with his family there.
"Damn fool." She kissed me on the cheek. Then there were four of her, and Ifainted dead away.
That evening, photographs of Holly were frontpaged by the late edition of theJournal-American and by the early editions of both the Daily News and the DailyMirror. The publicity had nothing to do with runaway horses. It concerned quiteanother matter, as the headlines revealed: PLAYGIRL ARRESTED IN NARCOTICSSCANDAL (Journal-American), ARREST DOPE-SMUGGLING ACTRESS (Daily News),DRUG RING EXPOSED, GLAMOUR GIRL HELD (Daily Mirror).
"But its perfectly possible -- "
"I loved old Sally," she said, and sighed. "You know I havent been to see him in amonth? When I told him I was going away, he was an angel. Actually" -- she frowned-- "he seemed delighted that I was leaving the country. He said it was all for thebest. Because sooner or later there might be trouble. If they found out I was九*九*藏*书*网nt hisreal niece. That fat lawyer, OShaughnessy, OShaughnessy sent me five hundreddollars. In cash. A wedding present from Sally."
The trouble was, I couldnt see her; rather, I saw several Hollys, a trio of sweatyfaces so white with concern that I was both touched and embarrassed. "Honestly. Idont feel anything. Except ashamed."
"Fine."
The stables -- I believe they have been replaced by television studios -- were onWest Sixty-sixth street Holly selected for me an old sway-back black and whitemare: "Dont worry, shes safer than a cradle." Which, in my case, was a necessaryguarantee, for ten-cent pony rides at childhood carnivals were the limit of myequestrian experience. Holly helped hoist me into the saddle, then mounted her ownhorse, a silvery animal that took the lead as we jogged across the traffic of CentralPark West and entered a riding path dappled with leaves denuding breezes dancedabout.
"See?" she shouted. "Its great!" And suddenly it was. Suddenly, watching thetangled colors of Hollys hair flash in the red-yellow leaf99lib•net light, I loved her enough toforget myself, my self-pitying despairs, and be content that something she thoughthappy was going to happen. Very gently the horses began to trot, waves of windsplashed us, spanked our faces, we plunged in and out of sun and shadow pools, andjoy, a glad-to-be-alive exhilaration, jolted through me like a jigger of nitrogen. Thatwas one minute; the next introduced farce in grim disguise.
I wanted to be unkind. "You can expect a present from me, too. When, and if, thewedding happens."
"I will. Miss you. So will Joe Bell. And oh -- millions. Like Sally. Poor Mr. Tomato."
Over the Andes. As we rode in a cab across Central Park it seemed to me asthough I, too, were flying, desolately floating over snow-peaked and perilousterritory.
Thats why were waiting till we get to Rio."
"It isnt possible. Ive told you, that wasnt legal. It couldnt be." She rubbed hernose, and glanced at me sideways. "Mention that to a living soul, darling. Ill hangyou by your toes and dress you for a hog."
Holly put us in a taxi. "Darling. How d99lib.net o you feel?"
"Then I must be dead."
"But you havent any pulse," she said, feeling my wrist.
But Holly gained ground; moreover, a mounted policeman had joined the chase:flanking my runaway mare, one on either side, their horses performed a pincermovement that brought her to a steamy halt. It was then, at last, that I fell off herback. Fell off and picked myself up and stood there, not altogether certain where Iwas. A crowd gathered. The policeman huffed and wrote in a book: presently he wasmost sympathetic, grinned and said he would arrange for our horses to be returnedto their stable.
It happened to fall on the 30th of September, my birthday, a fact which had noeffect on events, except that, expecting some form of monetary remembrance frommy family, I was eager for the postmans morning visit. Indeed, I went downstairsand waited for him. If I had not been loitering in the vestibule, then Holly would nothave asked me to go horseback riding; and would not, consequently, have had theopportunity to save my life.
"I dont think anyone will miss me. I have no friends."