Holland Suggestions by John Dunning

stood and felt in my pocket for change. “Well, if you’re not going to use that phone, maybe I will.” She looked at me suspiciously, but I turned away from her and walked to the phone without explaining. For a minute I wondered about the time difference, then decided to take a chance. The Coughlins’ phone number was in my wallet; I had an operator place the call and was delighted when Judy answered.
    “I’m babysitting for them,” she said. “Where are you?”
    “Are you ready for this?—Colorado.”
    “Colorado?”
    “I’ll tell you all about it when I get home, okay? I just called to hear your voice. How’s it going?”
    “Fine. You got a call yesterday.”
    “At the Coughlins’?”
    “Some guy in New York. He wouldn’t leave his name; just said he’d get in touch with you later.”
    “How’d he know to call the Coughlins?”
    “I think he called your office first and Darlene told him he could reach me here.”
    “Did he say anything?”
    “Just asked where you were. I told him on a fishing trip.”
    “Well, did he say what he wanted?”
    “No; I asked for messages, but he said he’d catch you later.”
    There was a long silence. Finally Judy said, “Daddy?”
    “Yes?”
    “Is it okay?”
    “Sure, it’s fine. I just can’t figure out…well, it’s probably business. Al Harper can handle it.”
    We passed the usual words of love and hung up. For a long time I stood there, bothered by this New York development and wondering if I had made a mistake. There was no answer for that one, so I went back to the table to find that Amy had paid the check and left. But I found her sitting in her customary place on the passenger’s side of the car.
    “Say, why don’t we save all this goodbye crap for tomorrow?” she said. “I’m getting too tired to appreciate it.”
    We drove around for a while; Amy settled back with her head against the headrest. “God, the road can be a lonely thing,” she said after a time. “It’s funny how sometimes I love traveling alone and other times it drives me up a wall. Tonight’s one of those other times.”
    We found a place near the western edge of town. She dashed in to register us. When she returned, the two rooms had become one, and we were in as Mr. and Mrs.
    “It’s cheaper this way,” she said, tossing me the single key.
    Showers felt good for both of us. And afterward I learned that Amy did have an intense, passionate way of doing just about everything.

6
    W HAT THE HELL; IT seemed harmless enough. Two days on the road, a roll in the hay, and adieu, if that was to be it: a far cry from the stuffy conventions of my youth, but this was the new youth with its new set of values. Once Amy decided to play the game, she played with class and expertise, bringing to bed a restrained hunger and joy that I found flattering and exciting. Afterward I lay awake wondering how I could have thought of her as a child.
    But sex always changes things. It opens new doors and closes the old ones, loosens people up, crushes protective barriers, and creates assumptions on both parts. I had learned that with Sharon, and now I expected it with Amy. I was enjoying her, but I had reservations; still, I did not know the final price of all this. I slept soundly, and when I woke there was light behind the large Venetian blind that covered the motel window. Amy lay naked, face up and uncovered, on the bed beside me. Her eyes were closed, but they fluttered as I stirred. She looked at me alertly, as though she had been awake for some time.
    “I was just thinking,” I said.
    “Thinking what?”
    “What a crazy damn fool your husband is.”
    That compliment got me a backrub; light massage along my shoulder blades; soon, fingers along my thighs; ultimately, more sex, but different—easier and friendlier, until her fingernails gripped my neck in her final struggle. We showered together, and when I came out of the steamy bathroom she was drying her hair at the dresser