Secret Beyond the Door... Page #2

a vogue for your work among

people who know. You publish a magazine on

modern architecture that leads the field.

Yes, that's the factual Mark Lamphere, but there's

another Mark I wanted you to know.

Mm-mmm.

Mark, I want to be honest with you. Something

these past three days, something in you

threw me off my course.

- Celia...

I'm afraid I might closethedoortoa quiet, familiar

room where I'll besafe-

there's a warm fire burning on the hearth and...

- And R. D?

Yes.

Do you want to make a wish?

- Do you believe in it?

There's probably a dusty little man that rakes the

centavos out every morning

and blesses the credulous

fools that throw them in.

Well, to be on the safe side...

What did you wish?

Celia... I need you.

I need you more than...

One door closed and another opened wide

and I went through and never looked behind

because wind was there, and space and sun and

storms... everything was beyond that door.

That night I wrote to Bob.

Suddenly I'm afraid. I'm marrying a stranger,

a man I don't know at all.

I could leave. I could run away-

there's still time.

But what would people say?

No, I can't leave - it just isn't done.

But I'm afraid.

My dear friends. You are about

to enter upon a union

of which God himself be the author.

With this ring I thee wed

and I plight unto thee my troth.

Maybe I should've followed the dark voice in my

heart, maybe I should've run away.

It started on our honeymoon.

The Hacienda dos Encantos.

The famous fountain.

Legend says that if lovers drink from it they

will thereafter speak only from their hearts

and will keep no secrets from each other

so that their two hearts

will become truly one.

The doorways, the grillwork, the walls -

they instill romance. It's built into the place.

Do you know what I think?

- Don't think. Just feel.

I might have known - no woman can think!

Now wait!

Darling, no woman should try.

Thinking is the prerogative of men.

And because women are nearer to nature,

they don't think, they feel.

A man may take several hours of

hard thinking to come to the same

result to which a woman comes

by instinct in a split second.

There was a poet who said 'women are happy and

children and animals, but

we human beings, we are not'.

If that's spoken from your heart,

darn the fountain.

But it's true, my gentle dove!

As intelligence improves,

instinct withers away.

We become over-civilized, inhibited.

Inhibited is certainly a word for you.

Oh, thank you.

No - you stay away.

But seriously darling, I should've needed months

of research to find a place like this

that's really felicitous, inviting for love.

It is a happy place.

You know, I have a hobby:

I'm collecting rooms, felicitous rooms.

Felicitous rooms for felicitous people?

Right.

That's why I put out this magazine.

If I can't build houses according to my theories at

least I can talk about them.

My main thesis is that the way a place

is built determines what happens in it.

For instance, here's a church in

Austria where miracles happen.

The lame walk, the blind see...

and there's a room at Carter's Grove, near

Williamsburg, known as 'the refusal room'

because it jinxes love affairs.

A girl refused George Washington

there and later

Jefferson proposed and was

turned down cold in the same room.

Certain rooms cause violence, even murders.

Mark, my sweet lamb, you're

tetched in the head.

Yeah, maybe I am.

Come here, darling.

That fountain's done enough damage.

- Complaints. Do I talk too much?

Well, right now I'd settle for a little less talk.

Seora! Seora!

Seora come - your bath is ready.

Paquita's sense of timing needs adjustment -

I was just going to mix you a drink.

I'll bet.

Come up as soon as she leaves me.

I'll take a rain-check on that drink.

Today, two hundred strokes.

- You're plotting to make me late!

Seora, in marriage,

where one is wise, two are happy.

Awoman has patience. A man, none.

- Shush!

Seora, let him wait.

- Get out!

Two hundred strokes.

Oh, Mark!

Mark, where are you?

Mark, you sweet dope.

You can't get away from me.

Oh, darling, I love you so much.

We won't be separated long.

- What?

If I start now, I can make El Valle in five hours,

allowing for bad roads and night driving.

There's a midnight plane

from there to Mexico city.

What are you talking about?

The Stanton company,

the New York publishing company.

They've always wanted to buy my magazine.

Unfortunately their offer holds only

until the day after tomorrow.

You want to sell your magazine?

- Who said anything about want?

It's been losing money steadily.

- If it's just a question of money...

- I know you have money, my dear,

but it's... it's not why I married you.

Why give up something

you have your heart in?

Actually I'm glad that their offer is big enough to

force me to make a decision.

Shall we have a drink?

What made you decide so... suddenly?

I had a telegram from their

managing editor an hour ago.

I'll send a car back for you with a driver. You can

meet me in a few days at Levender Falls.

Not in New York?

- No.

The Lampheres have lived at

Levender Falls since 1698.

It's the other side of the river, little better

than an hour's drive from New York.

Well, our first 'so long'.

Mark... didn't you come upstairs just now?

No. To be honest I was too upset

when I got that telegram.

But... I saw the door handle move.

Mark! You're hurt.

- Nothing important.

Just the perfect ending

to the beautiful day.

Well... 'til Levender Falls.

His kiss was cold.

In an hour he was gone

and I was alone.

Seora.

I won't want anything more tonight.

Thank you, Paquita.

- Si, Seora.

Yes, Paquita?

- Seora, I am an old meddling woman,

but of pain I know much.

Paquita.

Better you know it now, Seora:

There was no telegram.

Here no telegram can come.

Thank you, Paquita, but you must be mistaken.

- Si, Seora.

Of course there was no telegram -

but when Paquita told me, the pain started.

Why had he gone? Why had he lied?

It was agony.

I tried not to think any more...

but my mind was on a treadmill.

Why had he lied? Why had he gone?

Why had he lied? Why had he gone?

Because I locked the door?

He said he hadn't come up, but he had.

I knew it was Mark who tried the door.

I knew it all the time.

Surely my childish prank couldn't have changed

his love for me, so why had he gone?

Why had he lied? Why had he gone?

Why had he lied?

I couldn't stand it any longer.

I had to try to sleep.

Maybe Paquita was wrong. Maybe the telegram

came by mail or was sent from the next town.

But Paquita wasn't wrong.

There was no telegram.

For some impossible reason

he'd lied to me.

I lay there for hours.

Or so it seemed to me.

I couldn't sleep.

Over and over and over and over,

the one thought:

Why doesn't he love me any more?

Finally I must have fallen

into a kind of half-sleep...

and I dreamed I heard the car coming back.

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