A Solitary Heart

by Amanda Carpenter

  Sian’s head turned. When he stopped, she asked, “What happened?”

  He said quietly, “She died of cancer when she was twenty-five.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said just as quietly, as she turned around fully to look at him with deep compassion. “How terrible.”

  He smiled at her. “But somehow it wasn’t. Her grace and spirit wouldn’t allow it to be. She’s gone, and has been for quite some time, but I will never forget her. Because of what she taught me, I can say categorically that I will never marry without that depth and immensity of feeling. My wife will be so totally and completely in love with me that she will give her heart gladly into my safekeeping, and I will guard it and nurture it as the most precious possession on earth. I’ll have to, you see, for mine will be given to her. Completely, down to the last humble flaw, always and forever. That’s what real love is, Sian, not infatuation, not mere sexuality, not the heat of the moment. Anything else by comparison is a poor substitute.”

  She didn’t question the impulse that made her lay a light hand on the warmth of his forearm, nor stint the sincere generosity of her reply. That was how far in he had reached. By laying down the tools of hardness and aggression, by baring his soul and revealing his own vulnerable, unquenchable hope, he had managed to win this round without a fight, and he won so well that she didn’t even begrudge him the victory. “It sounds a fine, rare thing. I hope you find it.”

  He took her hand, raised it to his lips and kissed it. “Oh, I will, never fear,” he said, then added with a sultry purr, “The only trouble will be in convincing her that she wants it as badly as I do.”

  Sian smiled and drew away. “There’s the crunch,” she said drily. “Everybody’s looking for something different out of life. You have your dreams and I have mine, and who’s to say? Maybe we’ll both get what we want.”

  “But is Joshua really what you want, when it comes right down to it? Can his immature impression of who you are provide stability?” he asked, dissecting her with a shrewd level stare.

  She hesitated, tempted to confess the real truth of what lay between her and his younger brother, for she no longer felt such a burning desire for revenge now that he had neatly taken the sting out of everything he’d said to her before.

  The trouble with Matt was that he too was constantly shifting his tactics, with such subtle dexterity that she was forced to re-evaluate her position at every turn. The hunter in him was more dangerous than anything she had ever met, for he laid his snares with the seduction of gentleness, the insidious voice of logic and reason. If he was debilitating in head-on conflict, he was even more so in the oblique attack, for he hit his target with unfailing accuracy.

  In the end she decided that silence was by far the wisest course, so she just smiled and said gently, “That would be telling, wouldn’t it?”

  A sharp frown creased his forehead. He opened his mouth to say something, but their conversation was abruptly broken off as the soccer ball landed in his lap and Jane ran up to them. “Come on, you two lazy-bones, quit sitting around and join the game!”

  Matt rose with good grace, but Sian declined the rough-and-tumble sport, opting to go for a swim instead. Floating in the silken warm water was deliciously refreshing after the heat-baked sand. She closed her eyes, drifting, thinking about everything Matt had said. Thinking of hopes, dreams, and forgiveness.

  The rest of the day passed beautifully, with everyone settling into a quiet contentment. Voices gentled and bodies, well fed and bathed and kissed by the sun, reclined on picnic blankets. Even the raucous blare of radios from other distant camps couldn’t break the serene spell. As the sun dipped towards the horizon, many of the other bathers began to leave; they would miss the best part of the day, Sian felt, for the wide sky remained cloudless and there would be a lovely sunset.

  Her discussion with Matt had managed to clear the air as their earlier explosions had failed to do so. She was as relaxed as she had ever been, and had lost enough of her antipathy towards him to appreciate, as the others did, what good company he could be.

  He had dropped any outward sign of his former antagonism, even cracking a joke or two, to which she laughed and the others, after the first frozen moment of uncertainty, laughed as well.

  How clever he was. Sian studied him surreptitiously through her lashes. He could use his own charm with as much conscious effectiveness as she ever did, but she could not lay claim to the same impenetrability as he. A cold thrill shivered through her. Don’t soften, Sian, she whispered to herself. Harden your heart.

  Jane had turned somnolent and lay curled on her side, her head by Sian’s thigh, drowsing as the others talked. Sian’s fingers affectionately stroked the blonde hair away from her friend’s temple as she listened, occasionally interposing a quiet comment. Matt glanced their way often with a smile; she could see the male appreciation glinting in his eyes at the pretty picture they made.

  At length Jane stirred and shivered, for the wind had picked up and the heat was going out of the day. Sian had already donned her pink top and had taken care not to stay out too long in the sun, but Jane’s skin felt overwarm when she laid cool fingers along the other girl’s cheek.

  “You need your jacket,” she said softly, when Jane’s eyes opened. “Did you remember to bring it?”

  “Yes, but I left it in the back seat of Matt’s car,” murmured the other girl with a wide yawn.

  “Would you like for me to fetch it?” she asked.

  “Mmn, I need to wake up anyway.” Jane sat and ran her fingers through her hair. “Want to walk with me?”

  “Sure,” she agreed readily and rose to her feet. Steven had just coaxed Joshua into another swim. Matt sat watching the two dark heads arrow through the silver sparkling reflections on the very deep blue water, and turned enquiringly as she knelt beside him. “Could we borrow your car keys, please? Jane’s feeling a bit chilled and needs her jacket.”

  “Of course.” He twisted at the waist and reached for his faded denim shorts that lay folded nearby, digging into one pocket. Left unobserved, Sian let her gaze roam freely with admiration over his lithe, powerful body in the brief trunks. That dark brown of his tanned skin looked like furred velvet, encasing an artist’s composition of grace and strength. A searing vision of his male body, enmeshed and subjugated and arcing in spear-thrusting passion, imploded in her with such force that she gasped in silent distress.

  He was too quick. His attention fixed on her flushed face, the green eyes cloudy, the barely discernible tremor in the slim fingers that took the jingling keys he offered.

  Dear heaven, what had she done? She couldn’t look at him. His hand snaked over hers compulsively, and tightened until the keys dug into her palm. “Sian.”

  The husky voice was raw, urgent, an enquiry. Her terrified gaze lifted. His hazel eyes had ignited with such ferocity that he looked nearly blind. “Let me go,” she breathed, the plea carrying an intolerable weight of sweeping importance.

  “For now,” he said. His hard fingers opened until her trembling fist lay free in the large palm. She snatched away as he whispered, “Run away, little girl. For now.”

  The sexuality inherent in that reply, coming like a bolt from the blue, crackled high-voltage tension all over her body. She fled back to Jane and scooped up her miniskirt along the way, her composure in tatters. Her friend, fully alert now, gave her a very curious look but thankfully refrained from comment, and after five minutes of brisk walking Sian’s temperature returned to normal.

  They found the path through the forest easily enough, but, as the shallow stream offered a much more refreshing walk and a chance to rinse the sand from their feet, they decided to wade in it instead.

  About halfway back to the cars, they came upon a group of four children who were dancing about in the water, in quite an agitated state. As soon as the largest, a girl of about eleven years old, saw them, she cam
e splashing up and cried, “Oh, please, please help us! My brother’s climbed up the tree and he can’t get down again! I told him not to do it, but he wouldn’t listen to me! I’m afraid he’s going to fall!”

  The poor child was sobbing so hard she could barely talk, and Jane groaned; she had such a phobia for heights that even mention of them was enough to make her queasy. After her initial surprise, Sian said to the frightened girl with deliberate composure, “Calm down, darling. It’s all right. As long as he doesn’t lose his grip or his head, he’s not going to fall. Why don’t you show us where he is, and then we’ll see what we can do about getting him down, OK?”

  The girl nodded, then turned and ran back the way she’d come, throwing great splashes of water that soaked Sian’s legs as she followed. She didn’t need the girl’s upturned face and pointed finger, for, as soon as they approached the other children, her eyes were drawn up to the sound of high-pitched sobbing—up and up and up, to the very top of the great, twisted tree where the sun still shone on a bright patch of clothing.

  Sian’s breath whistled in horror and her heart thumped hard, for the boy’s T-shirt was caught at the back on a jagged branch that must have broken underneath his weight, at about the height of a three-storey building, right where the branches were thin and willowy-young. Jane clutched her arm in an icy grip, for as they watched a gust of breeze blew through the tree and he swayed sickeningly from side to side, shrieking in terror.

  “Oh, God, Sian, I—I think I’m going to be sick!”

  Sian’s initial shock faded in a wave of adrenalin. She rounded on her friend and snapped coldly, “Stop that! You’re frightening the other children.”

  She had never used that tone of voice with Jane before, not even in her worst temper, and the other girl stiffened, shocked out of her internal reaction. “Listen to me,” Sian said, her gaze hard and clear on the blonde’s face. “It’s obvious he can’t climb down by himself and, the way the poor brat’s got himself twisted, he’s going to fall if he doesn’t stop panicking.”

  “Call the fire department!” cried one of the children.

  “Even if you could find a phone, it wouldn’t do any good,” Sian said. Her own face was rigid with enforced calm. “They can’t get their equipment this far back into the woods. Someone’s got to bring him down. Where are your parents?”

  The first girl who had hailed them said, wiping her tear-stained face, “Back at the picnic site, that way.”

  She pointed in the direction Sian and Jane had been heading. Sian nodded and said grimly, “Go tell them what’s happened. Now.”

  She did not shout; she wouldn’t have anyway, not in their state, but all four bolted as if they were fleeing from the wrath of God, and, at the sight of his friends disappearing, the boy at the top of the tree sobbed even harder.

  “Hey!” Sian shouted, forcing a no-nonsense tone into her voice. “Why’s a big lad like you crying like that! You think that’s high? I used to climb twice as high as that when I was half your size! Now, quit your snivelling and keep a firm grip, and we’ll have you down before you know it!”

  Jane was a shaken mess beside her, but at least she wasn’t having hysterics. Sian said to her in a quiet undertone, “The branches are too thin where he’s stuck. Do you understand? Only someone small and light can climb that high. But it’s obvious you can’t do it, so there’s only me. I’m going to try to get his shirt unstuck, but I don’t think he can climb down on his own—he’s far too frightened, and I’m not strong enough to carry him. Janey, we need help.”

  Jane’s eyes clung to her as she talked, and she was thankful to see that some rationality had crept into the other girl’s huge eyes. “Oh, Sian, be careful, for God’s sake! If the branches are breaking under his weight—”

  “Don’t fall to pieces on me now!” snapped Sian. “Just get help—and hurry!”

  Jane stole one last look, shuddered and ran. Sian, too, turned to stare up at what had suddenly become an immeasurable, impossible distance and wished she could think of some other alternative. But there wasn’t any and she knew it, so, before she lost her nerve, she gritted her teeth and started to climb.

  The first half was easy; she could see how seductive the prank would be to the mind of a mischievous boy, and how foolishly he had let his self-confidence convince him that he could go higher than he should have. As soon as he sensed that help was on its way, he began to cry again in a mixture that she suspected was part renewed fear and part relief.

  “What’s your name?” she asked, selecting her next branch with cold logical care and taking another step up. Her wet bare feet were drying quickly and finding purchase on the rough bark, though she knew she would have bruises afterwards on the soft skin of her inner sole.

  There was a break in the outburst, then he said with a gulp, “Barry.”

  “Well, Barry, my name’s Sian. S-i-a-n. That’s Welsh for Jane, which is my friend’s name as well. My mother came from Wales—it’s a place, you know, not a big fish,” she told him conversationally, then paused. Sure enough, he had forgotten enough of his panic to produce a rather hollow chuckle, and she smiled wryly and continued, “I know a story about a Welshman who thought he could fly. Would you like to hear it?”

  “O-OK, sure.”

  And so she began, and, as she talked to keep him calm and her mind off the very real danger of what she was doing, she was already reaching up for another branch.

  Chapter Four

  Sian had a vivid memory of when she was a very small child, not quite two years old, in which her mother, still living then, was a large shadowy figure. Her parents were already separated at that time, and once when Devin had come to visit his daughter she had run to him with arms outstretched.

  He had swung her up into his strong arms, her big handsome father, and the world had reeled giddily about her as she chortled with delight. Then he had tossed her into the air and her bright uncontainable joy had immediately turned to fright as everything solid and secure had fallen away and she was left for one immeasurable instant suspended in mid-air.

  The moment had passed too quickly for her to even cry out. Gravity had claimed her tiny body, and she fell, and her father caught her close into a great hug, and everything settled again into how it should be. But Sian had never forgotten that pure terror as she began to tumble helplessly back to the ground.

  She had a mental flashback of it that broke her into a cold sweat as she rested, panting, for a few seconds and surveyed her position. Time had slowed and there was nothing but the present, and the quiet sound of leaves rustling. She had discovered another hazard in her climb, which was the slippery sun lotion that coated her body and made her confidence of grip very shaky. Her arms were beginning to ache from the tight clench she maintained, but no hint of her fear filtered into her calm, even voice as she talked to the boy and listened for his occasional high treble of a reply.

  She had reached the thinner branches and picked her way with extreme care, testing their strength before trusting her weight to them, and at each creak and sway her breath stopped in her throat and she froze before continuing to inch upwards.

  It could not have been more than five minutes before the quiet surrounding the two in the tree was broken by the noisy approach of people. Sian risked a glance down. She could see in the group hurrying from the picnic site the same reactions that she and Jane had had, the shock of hesitation as they took in the scene, and the various positions of fright. Oh, lord, she thought in resignation, not a fit and athletic man among the lot of them.

  A woman cried out in a high voice, and Barry started to sob again, quietly.

  “Is that your mom? Not to worry,” said Sian, tilting back her head. She was at a level with one dirty sneaker, and it seemed very small and vulnerable as it dangled in front of her eyes. “I bet she has a fit if you cross the street, doesn’t she?”

  “She’s gonna k
ill me!” the boy burst out. Sian had room inside her for one breathless chuckle.

  Preoccupied with soothing the child, trying to ignore the panic below her, Sian was unaware of another’s approach to the scene. The man sprinted full out, with powerful distance-eating strides as swift at the end of the half-mile as when he’d begun, a gold and tawny figure spearing through the shallow water which cascaded from the force of his urgent passage into sparkling diamonds.

  His intent expression did not change when he saw the trapped boy and Sian’s slim body underneath, taut with striving feline grace, seemingly suspended at the top of the tree by insubstantial green fronds and a prayer. But his hazel eyes undertook a sharp dilation, and his chest moved hard, where before the headlong dash had barely quickened his heartbeat.

  Then Sian heard the sound of another voice from the ground, deep and firm and commanding, and her knees went to water in an intense flood of relief as she recognised Matt taking charge of the threatening pandemonium. He had been amazingly fast; Jane had to have raced back to the camp as if all the hounds of hell were snapping at her heels.

  He must have summed up the situation at a glance, for, without any of the horrified hesitation that had frozen the others, he called quietly, “I’m coming up, Sian. Don’t try to free him until I’m underneath you.”

  “OK,” she said, and breathlessly waited as he climbed up the tree with athletic ease. She risked a peek over her shoulder. He had stopped when the branches started to groan protestingly under his greater weight, and his serious upturned face was about ten feet below her.

  Their eyes met: fatalistic, almond-shaped green and fierce hazel. Ten feet might as well have been an eternity. His expression was terrible and she closed her eyes to it. Sian heard the creak of another branch.

  “Don’t come any further.” Her tone was bloodless with terror. Another creaking, and Sian shuddered as if she’d been axed. “For God’s sake, Matthew!”

  “Never mind about me,” Matt said with ruthless calm. “Be very careful now. Can you hook your legs around the next branch and reach high enough to free him?”