Page 2 of Dangerous Lover

No cars passed—the weather was too severe for that. There was nobody on the streets. Under his feet, the icy buildup crackled.

He was almost there. The houses were big here, in this wealthy part of town. Large, well-built, with green sloping lawns that were now covered in ice and snow.

He usually made his way through the back streets, invisible as always. Someone like him in this place of rich and powerful people would be immediately stopped by the police, so he always took the back streets on a normal day. But today the streets were deserted and he walked on the broad sidewalks.

It usually took him half an hour to walk to Greenbriar, but today the ice-slick sidewalks and hard wind dragged at him. An hour after leaving the shelter, he was still walking. He was strong, but hunger and cold started to wear him down. His feet, in their cracked shoes, were numb.

Music sounded, so lightly at first that he wondered whether he was hallucinating from cold and hunger. Notes floated in the air, as if borne by the snow.

He rounded a corner and there it was—Greenbriar. Caroline’s home. His heart pounded as it loomed out of the sleetymist. It always pounded when he came here, just as it pounded whenever she was near.

He usually came in through the back entrance, when her parents were at work and Caroline and her brother in school. The maid left at noon and from noon to one the house was his as he explored. He could move in and out like a ghost. The back door lock was flimsy and he’d been picking locks since he was five.

He’d wander from room to room, soaking up the rich, scented atmosphere of Caroline’s home.

The shelter rarely had hot water, but still he took care to wash as well as he could whenever he headed out to Greenbriar. The stench of the shelter had no place in Caroline’s home.

Greenbriar was so far beyond what he could ever hope to have that there was no jealousy, no envy in him as he touched the backs of the thousands of books in the library, walked into sweet-smelling closets full of new clothes, opened the huge refrigerator to see fresh fruits and vegetables. Caroline’s family was rich in a way he couldn’t comprehend, as if they belonged to a different species living on another planet.

To him, it was simply Caroline’s world. And living in it for an hour a day was like touching the sky.

Today nobody could see him approach in the storm. He walked right up the driveway, feeling the gravel through the thin soles of his shoes. The snow intensified, the wind whipping painful icy particles through the air. Ben knew how to move quietly, stealthily when he had to. But it wasn’t necessary now. There was no one to see him or hear him as he crunched his way to the window.

The music was louder now, the source a yellow glow. It wasn’tuntil he had reached the end of the driveway that Ben realized that the yellow glow was the big 12-pane window of the living room and the music was someone playing the piano.

He knew that living room well, as he knew all the rooms of the big mansion. He’d wandered them all, for hours. He knew that the huge living room always smelled faintly of wood smoke from the big fireplace. He knew that the couches were deep and comfortable and the rugs soft and thick.

He walked straight up to the window. The snow was already filling in the tracks his shoes made. No one could see him, no one could hear him.

He was tall, and could see over the window sill if he stood on tiptoe. Light had drained from the sky and he knew no one in the room could see him outside.

The living room was like something out of a painting. Hundreds of candles flickered everywhere—on the mantelpiece, on all the tables. The coffee table held the remains of a feast—half a ham on a carving board, a huge loaf of bread, a big platter of cheeses, several cakes and two pies. A tea pot, cups, glasses, an open bottle of wine, a bottle of whiskey.

Water pooled in his mouth. He hadn’t eaten for two days. His empty stomach ached. He could almost smell the food in the room through the window pane.

Then food completely disappeared from his mind.

A lovely voice rang out, clear and pure, singing a Christmas carol he’d heard in a shopping mall once while he helped his dad panhandle. Something about a shepherd boy.

It was Caroline’s voice. He’d recognize it anywhere.

A frozen gust of wind buffeted the garden, raking his face withsleet. He didn’t even feel it as he edged his head further up over the window sill.

There she was! As always, his breath caught when he saw her.

She was so beautiful, it sometimes hurt him to look at her. When she visited him in the shelter he’d refuse to look at her for the first few minutes. It was like looking into the sun.

He watched her hungrily, committing each second to memory. He remembered every word she’d ever spoken to him, he’d read and reread every book she’d ever brought him, he remembered every item of clothing he’d ever seen her in.

She was at the piano, playing. He’d never seen anyone actually play the piano and it seemed like magic to him. Her fingers moved gracefully over the black and white keys and music poured out like water in a stream. His head filled with the wonder of it.

She was in profile. Her eyes were closed as she played, a slight smile on her face, as if she and the music shared a secret understanding. She was singing another song even he recognized. Silent Night. Her voice rose, pure and light.

The piano was tall and black, with two lit candles held in shiny brass holders on either side.

Though the entire room was filled with candles, Caroline glowed more brightly than any of them. She was lit with light, her pale skin gleaming in the glowing candlelight as she sang and played.

The song came to an end and her hands dropped to her lap. She looked up, smiling, at the applause, then started another carol, her voice rising pure and high.

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