Tomorrow, he’d be gone. Andie’s heart had clenched as though constricted in a vice. She’d pulled in a shaky breath, pulled back, and, grabbing her clothing from the chair, had retreated into the bathroom to dress.
Escaping Ryan had been self-preservation.
Now, the perfection of the day was topped with the bitter knowledge that their time together was draining away, like flowing sand in an hourglass.
“I’ve made breakfast, are you coming in?”
Andie stood and smoothed a hand over her shorts. “Bacon sandwiches?” She raised her eyebrows in an exaggerated arc.
“Toast?” Ryan took her hand. “You ate all the bacon yesterday, remember?”
“Toast will have to do.”
Seated at the table, with toast spread with marmalade and a large mug of coffee, Andie spoke. “Does Brianne know you’re leaving tomorrow?”
Ryan’s eye’s narrowed. “No. I told her I had to leave early, but she doesn’t know…”
“She doesn’t know what?” Brianne’s voice sounded from the doorway. She was dressed in rose-covered pajamas that were way too big for her. Her hair stood up at the front, but was flattened on one side. She rubbed her fists into her eyes, like a sleepy child. There was no censure in her tone, just curiosity.
“You’re up early.” Ryan stood and pulled another cup from the cupboard. “Toast?”
“Yeah, that’d be good.”
As Ryan slotted another couple of slices of bread into the toaster, Brianne wandered to the table, feet encased in fluffy socks.
“Well? What don’t I know?”
Ryan put a cup of coffee before her, and snatched the hot toast from the toaster.
“You could walk and talk at the same time you know,” Brianne snapped. “Come on, Ry, you know I’m grumpy in the mornings.”
Ryan shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, and perched on the edge of the chair. “I haven’t told you yet that I have to leave earlier than I thought. I have to fly to Bekostan tomorrow.” His gaze leveled on hers.
Brianne winced.
Andie drained her coffee. “I’ll leave you…” They didn’t need a stranger sitting in to what would be a private moment.
“You don’t need to, Andie,” Brianne said. “After all, there’s not much more to say, is there?” Her upper lip wobbled. “Work comes first.”
Ryan grasped his sister’s hand. He didn’t contradict her, and Andie’s heart flipped. Now was the time to tell Brianne how much he regretted not being there, not to sit silently.
She stared, feeling a frown between her eyes.
“I’m sorry.” Ryan passed a hand through his hair. “This interview is important.”
Pain flickered in Brianne’s eyes. Her throat moved. “No biggie, Ryan. At least we have today.”
Andie saw relief lighten Ryan’s features. His sister had just handed him a get-out-of-jail-free card. And, choosing to block the unspoken disappointment in her eyes, he’d accepted it.
Anger flared, and then faded to simmering disappointment. She shouldn’t interfere. After all, this was their history, nothing to do with her. “I’ll still be here—unless you’d prefer that I leave when Ryan goes.”
“I’d like you to stay,” Brianne said softly. “I’d like that a lot.”
*****
Ryan’s cell phone rang. He reached across the table and flipped it open.
Ben’s tone was urgent. “Are you watching this?”
Ryan pushed back the chair and strode to the television. “What channel?”
“Every channel. John managed to post a report via videophone last night, and Arnat’s giving a press conference.”
Ryan stabbed the power button, and grabbed the remote control. Adrenalin dried his mouth. Damn, he’d missed it. Last night, instead of drinking cocoa with bloody marshmallows—like a girl—he should have followed his instincts and been scouring the channels for breaking news.
A close up of Arnat’s face came onto the screen. He recognized Laila and some of the others from the party lined up behind a bank of microphones.
Ben’s voice sounded in his ear, “We’ve moved up your flight. Call in to the office this afternoon for a briefing.”
“Got it.” Ryan closed the phone and focused all his attention on the screen.
“What’s going on?” Andie asked.
He glanced over. “There’s been a coup. The military switched sides and Arnat’s giving a news conference.” Barely aware of the fact that Andie sank down on the sofa while Brianne walked out into the sunlight, he upped the volume and watched events unfold.
Thoughts whirred through Ryan’s mind like metronome clicks. As well as the interview with Arnat, they needed to find some human interest stories. Eyewitness accounts describing the coup as it had happened, and an analysis of the possible contenders for the next government. Arnat was pretty much a shoo-in for Prime Minister, and as Laila stood next to him, no doubt he saw a role for her in the new government, but there would be bound to be other parties spawned in the aftermath. In the new, democratic system that Arnat had advocated, the people would have to have their say.
On screen, Arnat spoke eloquently about the people’s struggle. The need for calm. He urged people not to resort to violence, and called for moderation.
The crowd chanted his name, but the threat of violence was palpable. There was always an element that reveled in chaos, used it to their own ends. The days following a coup were always dangerous ones.
As the news conference ended, his phone rang again.
“Who’s handling what interviews need to be done?” Ryan asked before Ben had a chance to speak. “We need an expert for analysis, on-the-ground interviews…”
“John’s doing his best, but bloody Mike is out of it. After handing in his notice, he announced that he would be taking the two weeks holiday owed. He’s lying on a beach somewhere. Tenerife, I think.”
Ryan cursed and gripped the phone tight. “Can’t he…”
Ben’s voice was tight with tension. “No. He can’t. I rang him last night, and asked. He told me to shove it. He’s burned out and starting a new job the moment his holiday with the wife is over. In soft news.” Ben’s tone revealed his feelings about current affairs programming. “We’re on our own.” His voice lowered. “I need you, Ryan.”
“I’ll draw up a list and bring it with me.” Ryan’s mind buzzed with all the complex threads that would need to be pulled together to ensure the coverage his station provided made them the must-watch source of unfolding events.
“Thanks, mate.” Ben’s voice was filled with relief. “See you later.”
The phone call over, Ryan turned to Andie. Her gaze was on the screen, where re-runs of fighting on the streets were playing. All traces of color had leached from her face, and her hands curled into fists.
“The footage is from earlier, the fighting has ceased now.” Ryan placed his hand on top of hers. “Over the next days, it’ll be dangerous—there’s always an element that tries to take advantage of unrest to further their own ends. It won’t last long.”
She stared at him. “When are you leaving?”
Pain clenched in Ryan’s chest. She’d heard his words; there was no point in trying to soften the blow. “This afternoon. Ben has changed my flight. You can come into London with me.”
Andie shook her head. “You’ll be busy. I’m not coming to the airport.” Her mouth thinned. “It’ll be hard enough without that.”
She was right. Even now, his thoughts were consumed by the task at hand and the extra work he needed to focus on to ensure that the overall coverage of events was handled correctly.
He stroked her hair.
She jerked away, body stiffening. “Don’t, Ryan.” Her voice broke. “I don’t want to feel like this, you need to be focused in order to stay safe, but I feel…” Her gaze dropped, and he had to strain to hear her whispered words. “When I think of you in the midst of that,” she gestured to the footage on the televis
ion. “I’m frightened.”
Always before, leaving, he’d felt annoyance that anyone should try to influence his decision by revealing their feelings, but now, seeing the fear in her eyes, his heart softened. “I’ll be careful, I promise. Nothing will happen. When it’s all over, I’ll be back.”
Andie shook her head. “I’ve been through this before, remember?” A sad smile hovered. “You’ll want to come back, want to be with me.” She turned her hand over to meet his, palm to palm. “Being a war correspondent is in your DNA, and after a while you’ll go back. You’ll have to go back.”
“Andie—”
“Yes.” Andie’s grip tightened. “We always knew this relationship had a time limit. I’ve accepted that, and you must too. I can’t be the woman waiting at home, watching the television every night, and panicking when I can’t reach you on the phone. It would destroy me.” The truth of her words shone from her eyes. “It’s over, Ryan. If you care, you won’t contact me again. We both need to go back to our lives.”
Her lips touched his in a soft caress. “Be safe.”
“Andie,” Ryan growled. “Be reasonable, let’s talk about this.”
“No.” She pulled away and stood up. “I’ll stay here with Brianne for a couple of days, and then return home. I care about you, Ryan, but I can’t put myself through this. I thought every challenge was conquerable, but I now know that this is one challenge I can’t rise to. Please don’t make it any harder.”
She touched his hair. Then half-walked half-ran to the French windows, out into the sunlight streaming across the back garden.
Every molecule of his body rioted to follow. To pull her into his arms and tell her how it wasn’t over. His leaden legs refused to co-operate. He had to go. Last night he’d been so distracted he’d missed the breaking news from Bekostan. The interview with Arnat had been his most important goal for so long, it couldn’t just be abandoned.
Months ago, when the news had come into the hotel that Arnat had agreed to an interview, Ryan had been absent, attending a press conference. Emily, aware that the opportunity might be a fleeting one, had stepped in instantly, and gone in his stead. If he’d been there, they may have gone together, but the possibility existed he would have gone alone. He would have been the reporter killed, while Emily would have been alive to return to her daughter.
The guilt had eaten away at him steadily since Emily’s death. Even the absolution Andie had so generously given, hadn’t banished the knowledge that her mother might not have died if he’d been in the hotel on that fateful hour.
He’d seen the caring in Andie’s eyes. Knew if he used all his powers of persuasion, he could convince her to reconsider, to wait for him rather than to walk away. It wouldn’t be fair. She’d already suffered enough.
His heart clenched. She was right. He had to let her go.
*****
How was it possible to feel so cold with the sun’s rays falling on her skin? Andie walked slowly down the garden, spotting Brianne’s studio in amongst the verdant undergrowth.
A bird sang overhead. The bright mass of color of the flowerbeds was the same as yesterday, and the sun shone from the sky. It was still a beautiful day, but a dark fog clouded her heart. Who was she kidding? There was no way on earth to shut off the terror that flowed like mercury through her veins. No way to not watch every single bulletin on Bekostan without her heart clenching in pain at the possibility that Ryan was in danger. She’d had to pretend she still had that ability. For his sake.
Better that he should feel anger, than be distracted by worry. He’d need all his wits about him. In time, he’d forget her. Get all caught up in his work. She’d seen the light of fervent interest that had lit in his eyes when the telephone call came. As though his life-force had been jolted with a surge of electricity, with a surge of passion.
He cared for her. His words and actions showed that, but walking away from his life’s work… She sighed as she reached the studio door, and rested a palm against its smooth wooden surface. Walking away from Bekostan would kill something inside him.
She slowly pushed the door open.
Brianne was painting. Angry slashes of scarlet bisected a dark blue canvas. She wielded a brush like a sword, all her focus on the painting before her.
“Hey,” Andie murmured.
Brianne hesitated mid-stroke, and then put the brush down on the table next to the painting. “He’s going, isn’t he?”
Andie nodded. “This afternoon.”
A most unladylike curse burst from Brianne’s lips. “I knew it. I just knew it was too good to last.” Her eyes filled with tears.
In rapid strides, Andie reached her side, and pulled Brianne into her arms.
“I’m so angry with him.” Brianne sobbed. “I hate the fact he’s putting himself into danger every single day.” She raised her tear stained face. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t...” She gulped in air. “I shouldn’t say this to you, you must be hurting too, but I can’t say it to him, I can’t stop him.”
Andie gripped Brianne’s hand. No one understood the pain coursing through Brianne as Andie did. At least neither of them would be alone in the days that followed. “I know. We’ll just have to be strong.”
And maintain an illusion of coping, as both their lives fell apart.
Chapter Fifteen
“That was a fantastic interview.” John Maguire, the cub correspondent who’d posted the segment breaking the news of the coup, sat across the table in the hotel’s conference room they’d used for the interview, admiration shining from his eyes. “Your questions were brilliant.”
“Experience, that’s all,” Ryan replied.
John had the drive and the talent to make an excellent journalist, and the grit and determination to consolidate his position as a valuable asset to the news station.
All that was lacking was experience. He needed guidance to achieve his full potential. As senior correspondent, Ryan could give him that.
The interview had been good. Ryan had carefully led Arnat through the turbulent past, the difficult road that lay ahead, and brought forth through careful questioning, the inner strength and ability of the other man. He knew that as a result of the interview, Arnat would garner the much needed support of the international community. He would be seen as a man that the world could feel confident in doing business with.
The mood in Bekostan was different, ebullient.
With the prospect of an election in the air, and the arrest and upcoming trials of the previous regime, the country was filled with excitement and hope for the future.
The conference room door swung open. Laila Jallaludin appeared in the doorway.
John stood. “I’ll talk to you later.” He walked from the room, smiling at Laila on the way out.
Ryan stood. “Laila, come in. Congratulations on your new job.” Laila Jallaludin had been put forward as a future Minister for Children, a role at which she would excel.
She walked forward and grasped Ryan’s hands. “I wanted to catch a few moments with you to thank you for all your work through the years.” She reached into her battered leather handbag, and pulled out a thick, white card. “As well as to personally deliver your invitation. Is Andie with you?”
Ryan’s heart clenched. “No, she’s back in England.”
Laila’s head tilted to the side. Her dark gaze held Ryan’s as she extended the handwritten card. “The ceremony is next week. We’ll be honoring her mother. She should be here for it.”
“I don’t know if she can come.”
“She said she would. I think that decision is hers, isn’t it?” Laila softened her words with a smile. “I’ll email her.”
The ceremony was to honor those supporters who had lost their lives along the path to freedom. A tribute to Emily. In all reality, he couldn’t deny her that. Couldn’t pressure her not to come.
“How is she, Ryan? I’ve thought of her often since we met.”
He couldn’t stop thinking of Andie. Day
after day, night after night. Ryan pushed back the lock of hair that fell into his eyes. “I haven’t heard from her since I left.”
Laila squeezed his hand. “I had love once, and it was stolen from me,” she murmured in a deep voice. “My husband was my world. When he died I had to make a new world, find something else to care for or I would have given up my chance of life.”
“Andie and I didn’t spend very long together.”
“How long do you need? Love can happen in an instant. Can be taken away in a split second. The pain of losing my husband is only soothed by the memory of our love.” She squeezed his hand again, then released it. “I hope to see you both at the ceremony.”
On Laila’s departure, Ryan sank onto the chair again.
There was no triumphant joy now the interview was in the bag. The desire to carry on documenting Bekostan’s rise was clouded with an all-encompassing dull ache whenever he thought of the woman he’d left behind.
He never should have let her walk away. The reality of life without her had cleared the fog in his mind, revealing one undeniable shining truth. He loved her. There was always the risk that their relationship wouldn’t work, but if he didn’t even try… He rubbed a hand over his chest, feeling the burn inside.
Life on the frontline had lost its appeal.
Ryan slipped his jacket from the back of the chair, walked from the hotel, and hailed a taxi. After giving the driver directions, he settled back in the worn velour back seat. Beyond the window, the streetlights illuminated people still walking on the streets, enjoying the new found freedom from curfew.
Tinny music wafted in the air, and the overweight driver muttered into his radio as he cut through the streets to the hotel.
Ryan dialed Ben’s number.
“The interview was perfect,” Ben’s familiar voice bled through the line. “We’re getting a load of tweets, and the switchboard has been lit up like a Christmas tree. Good work, Ryan.”
Ryan rubbed his chin. “I’ve been thinking.” The taxi drove through a puddle, spraying water onto his window. The little iridescent drops shimmered in reflected light. “I’m going to take Mike’s job.”
Challenging Andie Page 14