and sprinted toward my car as I pulled into his driveway. He swept me into his arms and swung me off my feet, kissing me over and over again. Neither one of us said a word. We stood and looked at each other, sharing the wonder of thefirst blue sky of winter, and he led me by the hand into his small one-story house. I was washed clean of the past.
My first day as Lindseyâs girlfriend was about to begin. I was free. I was in love. I had a job that fascinated me and pushed me hard. Iâd never felt so alive, ever. Alive and in control for the first time.
Lindsey and I went to a deli for breakfast and sat just looking at each other in giggling amazement.
âShit!â he said suddenly. âIâm flying to Aspen tomorrow on a ski trip with Mick and Richard. Iâll get out of it. I wonât go.â
I reached over and touched his cheek. âHey, Iâm a big girl, you know! Iâm going to find an apartment just for me! Itâs an adventureâitâs been years since I had one of those!â
My mind went back to those wild summer days almost five years before, driving in from Tulsa with Lori, the wind in our hair, down Route 66. That was the last time I had a new beginning. And this tickling inner excitement felt exactly as it did that day. Lindsey and love had given me back the hope I had then. I had been eighteen and the world was waiting for me. Just as it was now. I wasnât at all afraid.
So we went shopping for Lindseyâs ski boots. I invaded the silent home Iâd left to pick up some of my clothes and I moved in with Lindsey, just for one crazy night together when all that longing, all that holding back, all that slow, easy slide into love, exploded into the passion that it had tried to deny.
We didnât sleep at all. Lindseyâs flight to Aspen was at 8 A.M. and at 7:00 he sat up in bed and pulled me close. He told me he loved me. It was a huge moment, that confession, but he didnât need to say it. Heâd shown me. Every surface of my body, heart, and mind had been touched by his tenderness, by the artistry in those long, long fingers that now wound themselves in my tousled hair.
âI love you, tooâ, I whispered, exhausted and deliriously happy. âAlways.â
Weâd arranged that Iâd stay in his house while he was away, so that I could go looking for my dream apartment. Something told me that Iâd find exactly what I was looking for. Fairy-tale happy endings were being written into this story on every page. There was just no point accepting second best or making do, ever again. So, when the first ten apartments Iâd looked atwerenât perfect, I continued the search, knowing that any day now another miracle would happen.
And it did. Just as I was driving to work down Hollywood Boulevard, a building caught my eye and I pulled over on the spur of the moment. There was a beautiful, shady courtyard surrounded by stuccoed, Spanish-style pueblo apartments. How many times had I driven past and never noticed it? A âNo Vacancyâ sign hung over the entrance but, despite that, I rang the managerâs buzzer.
âDo you have an apartment available, by any chance?â I asked.
She was taken aback. âHow did you know? The girl just moved out yesterdayâwe havenât even had a chance to sweep the floors! Would you like to see it? Itâs $200 a month, furnished, with utilities paid.â
A magnolia tree, heavy with pink blossom, scented the air as we climbed the stairs to a first-floor apartment, and I discovered my home at last. It reminded me of my grandmotherâs house, with heavy, old, darkwood furniture, but bathed in light from the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the courtyard and that magnificent magnolia tree. Within hours I collected the keys.
Lindsey had been calling me every single night and each time we talked for at least two hours. I couldnât wait to tell him that night about my