Althea was hurt by his seeming rejection and resolved to make this a quick visit.
Harry’s lips stretched into a lopsided grin, and his voice grew stronger as he spoke. “And you. Still as beautiful as ever. And look, yellow roses, in the middle of winter. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I’m grateful to you, coming all the way from Manhattan to see me.”
“My pleasure.” She had to admit he looked very appealing lying there in the hospital camouflage that did very little to conceal the hard planes of his body. Whatever disease he was harboring had not affected his appeal. Throwing her coat across the back of a chair, Althea gingerly approached the edge of the bed. “You’re looking much better, Mr. Bensen.”
“I feel better, even if it has been a long couple of days.”
“I’ll just bet. Tell me, how long were you sick before you collapsed? You must have been ill on the plane. Didn’t you realize?”
“Oh, I knew what was happening, but I tried to fight it. I was on a shoot in northwest Brazil when I took sick, about thirty miles outside of Manaus. That’s a small town on the Amazon River. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get there?”
“What, no subway?” Althea asked, her eyes wide with mischief.
“It must not have been running,” Harry drawled. “Anyhow, there I was, in the middle of nowhere, boiling my water like a good boy, and I’d had all my shots, and I was careful what I ate…. I guess my resistance was low. I started getting headaches…then chills…. The initial attack wasn’t too bad, I thought I had malaria at first, but the doctors in Manaus assured me it was just a garden-variety virus. I had a bout with malaria years ago and once you’ve had malaria, you’re susceptible to its reoccurrence. I was prepared for it, too. Malaria, that is. I had my meds in my backpack and plenty of aspirin. Let’s just say the quinine wasn’t working as fast as it should. Turns out it wasn’t working because whatever I have, it’s not malaria, thank God.”
“But when you knew you were getting worse, don’t you think you should have left Brazil?”
“Hey, I was in the middle of some really interesting work. I’m trying to get a handle on the rainforest decimation in that area. It’s going to be a real scandal when the word gets out, let me tell you, and with a book coming out—well, it’s supposed to come out this spring—my photographs are going to be the centerpiece. It was way important to finish the job and I had so little left to do. Like I said, it’s not the easiest thing in the world to fly back and forth to South America. We won’t even talk about the cost of the plane fare. To be honest, though, I barely made it back to Manaus. From there, I was lucky enough to grab a boat up the Amazon to Macapa. I only left Manaus in the first place because my hands were shaking so much I could hardly hold my camera steady.”
“Harry, how unwise.”
“Yeah, I know. I spent a week in Macapa General Hospital, but when I got the chance to jump a military transport back to the States, I took it. I had just landed—flown twenty-two hours, nonstop—when I ran into you.”
“But you have your pictures,” Althea said with a sad shake of her head.
“I have my pictures,” Harry agreed, “that’s the important thing. You know I hate to say it, Allie, I know I’m the one who’s sick, but you’re looking a little off yourself. Is anything wrong? You never did tell me why you were back in the States.”
So much for spending two hours in front of her mirror, Althea thought. She affected innocence, but Harry wasn’t fooled.
“Come on, Allie, I won’t give away your secrets. You always had a certain look when you were upset. Watching you frown, I remembered.” The worry in her eyes was more than apparent, it lived in a tiny crease above her brow.
“I have no secrets.”
Suddenly overcome by an explosive cough, Harry didn’t challenge her. Frightened, Althea held a glass to his lips and he managed to take a few sips before collapsing back on his bed. “It’s okay… I’m okay. Thanks. They’re not sure, they took X-rays, I may have a touch of pneumonia.”
“A touch of pneumonia,” Althea gasped. “Next time, I’ll bring cough drops instead of flowers. Do you want me to call a nurse?”
“No, don’t, please, don’t. I’m medicated to the gills, and they’re so busy, as it is. Tell me about yourself, instead,” Harry insisted as he lay back and closed his eyes. “That will distract me.”
Althea hesitated, unsure what to do. Harry was white as a ghost from the coughing spell. Smoothing his sheets back into order, she gave in gracefully. Privately, she decided that if he had another coughing fit, she would not ask his permission to ring for a nurse.
“Sometimes,” she said with a shake of her head, “I think I should save the paparazzi some legwork and send out bulletins, the way my life is scrutinized by the tabloids.”
“I’ve noticed,” Harry said with a small smile, opening his eyes a crack.
“Oh, not you, too?” she wailed in mock horror.
“I can’t help it. Your face stares back at me from every magazine rack, across every cash register, in every supermarket in this country. Whenever I buy a quart of milk I get an update on your life.”
“You just can’t help reading those tabloids, hmm, even knowing that most of what they print isn’t true?”
“Not me!” Harry protested, but the smile on his lips belied his promise. “Don’t worry, I don’t believe half of it. Mostly, I just look at the pictures, I don’t buy them.”
“No one does.”
Harry’s sudden bark of laughter was a welcome surprise. “Yeah, well… Of course, it’s been a long time since I bought a quart of milk. So, let’s see, what’s it been, eight, ten years since we’ve laid eyes on each other? Or is it that I just read about you so much that I feel like I’ve seen you more often?”
“Who can say? I don’t keep track of those kinds of things.”
“Is that what I was, a kind of thing?” Harry spoke so casually, Althea missed the probing glint in his eyes.
“An hour or so with an old friend, shall we leave it at that?”
“That would be nice, Allie, Auld Lang Syne and all that, if I didn’t know that sentiment was not your strong point.”
Althea was taken aback. “Harry, how can you say something like that?” But she knew what he meant. They were not old friends, he was not the guy that got away, he was the one who had been shown the door. She started to rise, but Harry quickly reached for her hand.
“Please, don’t go. That was rude of me and I apologize. I swear not to say another nasty word.”
Althea hesitated, of two minds whether to stay. “All right, I’ll chalk it up to your fever—but only this once,” she warned.
“Scout’s honor, Allie, I’ll be nice. Come on, bring me up-to-date. Why the sad look?”
Althea
