Chapter Six

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She found the hole in the floor the very next morning, when she was trying to find one of the cats. The hole was underneath her rag rug and was about the size of a dime—just big enough to see through.

She pushed the cat out of the way and pressed her face to the wooden floor. There it was—his apartment. She shifted a little to try to get a better view.

Someone pounded on her front door, and she shot up so fast the cat shrieked. She stared at the door.

" Nellie? " He knocked on the door again.

She swiped a strand of loose hair from her face, brushed off her dress, and walked to the front door. When she opened it, he was standing there all covered in flakes of fresh white snow. He looked like a human mountain.

" Have you been outside yet? "

She smiled. " No, but you have. "

He laughed that same deep wonderful laugh. " How could you tell? "

She stepped back. " You want some coffee? "

" Sure. " He stomped the snow from his shoes, then shook his head, sending snow from his shoulders like a dog. Then he came inside, pulling off a pair of great shaggy gloves that made his hands look like paws.

She poured him a mug of steaming coffee and turned to hand it to him.

He was looking at the Christmas tree. " It looks as good in daylight as it did last night. "

" It does. " She watched him take a long drink that should have burned his mouth, but it didn't seem to bother him. " What were you doing outside? "

" Shoveling the walk. "

" Is there that much snow? "

He nodded, took a drink, then stared at her for a moment. " The streets are starting to fill with sleighs. "

She had moved to the window and was peering out. It looked as if the world outside had been dipped in sugar.

He stood behind her. She could feel the heat from his body and smell the wet leather of his heavy coat.

" Are you doing anything today? "

" No. "

" I thought you might like to see the city. There's a sleigh just below the window. "

She pressed her cheek to the old windowpane. Sure enough. There was a sleigh and a team tied to the front post. " I'd love to. " She smiled up at him, and they both stood there for a second, neither saying anything. It was uncomfortably intense, so she looked away because it made her itchy for something more to pass between them. " Give me five minutes. "

" Sure. I'll be downstairs. " Then he left.

Eleanor raced across the room, pulled out a metal vacuum bottle, and filled it with hot coffee. She sealed it and then stuck it in a sock the way her grandfather always had. She grabbed it and tucked it inside a basket with some apples and a wedge of cheese, then she grabbed her coat, hat, and gloves and was down the stairs in a couple of minutes.

At the second-floor landing she slowed down so she didn't look like some silly old woman racing down the stairs. He met her inside the foyer and opened the door.

There was nothing like New York City when it was cloaked in a thick layer of fresh snow. He helped her into the sleigh and climbed in the other side. The seats were soft, and there were some wool blankets inside. She tucked one around her legs and feet, and straightened in the seat just as he snapped the reins.

The sleigh lurched forward, and they were off. The steel runners swished over the snow and the harnesses tingled. The horses trotted in a muffled clip-clop until he gave them the freedom to take off. A second later they were going so fast the sleigh bells hardly had time to jingle.

They passed other sleighs filled with people chattering and laughing like they were. Some people were singing Christmas carols and sleighing songs, and Conn began to sing.

She smiled and looked at him. He finished his song… if you could call it a song. Her cats sounded better. " It's a good thing you're a boxer and not a singer. "

" I'm not a boxer. I'm a retired boxer. " He grinned at her. For the next hour, he told her about his life as a boxer. They talked about everything while they drove all over the city.

The red and brown houses of Harlem were capped with snow. Manhattanville in its hollow looked as if it were peeking out from a thick, fluffy white blanket. Sleighs went up and down the wide boulevards, and the red shawls of work women flashed like cardinals in the snow.

Their noses turned red, and they sipped steaming coffee when the air turned colder. Sleighs dashed throughout the city, and at the intersections people shouted Merry Christmas! Miniature avalanches fell from roofs and awnings and onto the sidewalks below. People ducked and ran, but no one seemed to mind being doused with fresh snow.

He took her to lunch at an Irish tavern where the novelty of the day was to guess the weight of the owner's pig. Eleanor's guess was off by a hundred and fifty pounds. They sat by a toasty wood fire talking while they drank coffee mixed with rum. Lunch was spicy lean corned beef and cabbage. She loved it and ate as much as Conn did.

When they walked back outside, a mountain of snow had been formed along the curbs because the snow plows had been by. The ten-horse teams lumbered down the streets while the workers shoveled sand from carts behind the plows. One team turned the corner. The horses were frosted with a coating of frozen sweat and snow, and icicles hung from their harnesses like gems.

After the plows passed, the snow was piled in mountains along the roadside, where children bundled in mufflers threw snowballs at anyone wearing a large hat. A group of kids had made an ice slide in the banks of snow by the curb.

She and Conn watched them play for a few minutes. The boys would run halfway down the block, leap on the snowbank, and slide down it standing up, their arms out wide to help them keep their balance.

Before she could blink, Conn was running down the street and onto the snow. His height and weight made him slide even faster, and people stopped and watched, cheering him into a perfect landing. He turned, swept his hat off his head, and made a bow. She was laughing so hard when he joined her she could barely speak.

He made some stupid comment about a man's sport while they walked toward the sleigh.

" A man's sport? " She repeated, her hands planted on her hips.

He turned back just as she began to run down the sidewalk. She went over the bank and pressed her ankles together, and held onto her hat. She slid down the icy snowbank to a round of whistles and applause.

Conn was staring at her with an open mouth. She marched back toward him, her chin high and feeling more than smug.

" Where'd you learn to do that? "

" I was raised in New York, too. And if you'll remember, I've had more years of practice than you. " She hopped up into the sleigh, pulled the lap blanket over her, and said, " Well, are you going to stand there all day or are we going to go sleighing? "

He muttered something about bossy older women that made them both laugh.

Snow was in the air. It began to fall a few flakes at a time, slowly at first, then faster and heavier. A light wind near the river carried clouds of snow in whirling eddies. Sparks from the potbellied woodstoves flew from trolleys and tin chimneys, and disappeared as if they were gobbled by the falling snow.

The trees of Central Park were covered in snow, making it a fairyland right in their own city. The Egyptian obelisk poked up out of the snow like a giant icicle. All the statues were dusted white and keep off the grass signs leaned at cockeyed angles.

They parked the sleigh and walked down a covered path where children were having a snowball fight. She gathered up a handful and hit Conn, knocking off his hat like the kids from across town.

He spun around, completely surprised, then he slowly walked toward her, revenge on his face. She laughed and taunted him, and then turned and ran as fast as she could.

He tackled her in the snow and rolled with her down a hillside, tumbling like children and laughing. She tried to smear his face with snow but he pinned her to the cold wet ground. He grinned down at her. " Cry uncle? "

" Never. "

He rubbed snow in her face and watched her squirm and shout.

" That's not fair! You're bigger than I am. "

" I'm bigger than everyone. " He grinned down at her. He seemed like a giant against the gray sky, and she understood where he had gotten his name. There was snow in his hair and all over his face. She slipped a hand out from under his and swiped the snow off his eyebrows and chin.

He mimicked her motion and brushed the snow off her face with a tenderness that didn't fit his size. But when he was done, his hand cupped her cold cheek. His smile faded. His look turned intense. He stared down at her mouth.

An instant later he was kissing her. She was forty years old and until this very moment Eleanor had never been kissed with an open mouth.

The first thing she noticed after the shock passed was that their lips fit together perfectly. His mouth was warm and a little wet from the snow, and she felt heat rise from somewhere deep inside of her, a place and a shivery feeling she never knew existed. His tongue played along the line of her lips, then scandalously slipped inside.

Oh, but this was better than her dreams.

Her hands moved to his shoulders. His hands held her head.

He kissed her eyes and nose and cheeks, then moved to her ear. He whispered her name, then pressed his hips harder against her thighs.

" I want you Nellie… I want you. Can you feel how I want you? "

She moaned his name.

His mouth was at her ear again and he chanted her name in barely a whisper. It was the most erotic thing in the world.

His lips skimmed her neck and jaw and lips. He kissed her brow, and then he was whispering in her other ear, as chills went down her whole body. " Marry me, " he said.

She froze. " What? "

He pulled away and looked down at her. " I asked you to marry me. "

She flattened her hands against his shoulders and pushed hard. " Let me up. "

" Hey, what's wrong? "

" Let me up. " She bucked up against him, and he sat up, his knees still straddling her legs.

" Now. " Her voice sounded gritty and cold and distant. She turned her head away and closed her eyes. She was such a fool.

" Nellie? Stop. Please. " He tried to turn her back to face him.

She held up a hand to warn him away. She thought she might easily just crack in two. She squirmed out from under him, then stood and turned her back to him.

Her legs felt like wood. Still she trudged through the powdery snow and picked up her hat, whipping it in the air to shake out the snow.

He was standing stiffly when she turned around. She could see he did not understand. " I'm sorry, Conn. I'm sorry about this, about everything. "

" Don't you understand that I care about you? I want you in my life, and I want to make your life better. "

She just shook her head, unable to tell him how impossible this was. She was too old, just too, too old for him. People would laugh behind their backs and she loved him too much to expose him to any pain. He couldn't seem to see how useless the idea was.

When she had turned twenty-one and was a woman, he was thirteen and had hardly left his childhood. Yet she knew he wouldn't understand. She was the one who had to remain sane. She was the one who had to say no.

He walked toward her. " There must be something I can do. Something to make you admit you care. "

" I do care. "

" Then, why won't you marry me? "

" I can't. "

" Tell me what I can do. "

Her face felt twisted and tortured, and tears burned in her eyes. " You can't do anything. "

He held out his hand for her. The look in his eyes was almost pleading. He obviously couldn't see how impossible marriage would be for them.

" I'm forty. You're thirty-two. "

He jammed his hands in his pockets and stared at the ground. His voice was so very quiet. " That doesn't matter to me. "

" But it should. And it matters to me. " She began to walk backward toward the park path. Putting distance between them.

He looked up. " Please, Nellie. "

" I'm sorry, Conn. "

" I'll give you everything you need. "

" You can't give me what I need. No one can. "

He stood there looking as empty as she felt.

" Tell me what it is, and I'll try. "

" Eight years. I need eight less years. " Then she turned and ran away.

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