by Jill Barnett
“I don’t want to regret not doing this.” Jud slid his hand behind her neck.
She didn’t know until the moment he touched her that she had been holding her breath. He slowly pulled her forward until their mouths touched. The taste of wine was in his mouth. His tongue licked her lips and the kiss turned deep and free and sexy; it went on for a long, long time before he pulled back.
It took her a moment to realize he’d stopped. She had forgotten how this man could control her physically. Amazing how some things didn’t change. There had always been a hint of desperation in Cale’s love for her, and maybe that had been why she couldn’t break it off all those years ago, why she couldn’t tell him that she loved his brother.
Jud was different—raw, dynamic, and confident. He didn’t look at her and sit there wanting her. He looked at her and took what he wanted from her.
“You look so serious,” she said. “What are you thinking about?”
“The poetry of us.”
“What?”
He smiled as if he were laughing at himself and shook his head. “I was thinking how much I want to do that again.”
“I never thought you were the kind of man to hesitate when you wanted something.” She spoke with authority, as if in her mind the decision were crystal clear. How very far from the truth.
“I don’t want to scare you off,” he said.
So it was up to her. He had done this before, so many years ago, pushed and pushed and then dumped the decision in her lap. For some reason she couldn’t explain, that appealed to her and forced her to admit that her attraction to this man had never changed. It felt as overwhelming as love did at seventeen, and she hadn’t felt that way in a long, long time. She knew he would have to leave now. The fire was just embers, the wine bottles empty. But she could taste him on her tongue. She wondered what kind of world, what kind of almighty power sends your life spinning in such circles. Without meeting his eyes, she inhaled deeply and said, “You should probably go.”
“Yes.” He paused, watching her. “I should.” But he didn’t make any move to get up, so she did. He hesitated for only an instant, then stood, his expression taut with regret.
A lifetime of what-might-have-beens flashed through her head as she walked to the front hallway. His shoes on the tiles sounded hollow as he followed her, the familiar loneliness of one set of footsteps. She hesitated for only a heartbeat, then turned away from the door and walked toward the stairs, stopping halfway up. She looked down at him. “The bedroom’s up here.”
30
Jud followed her as if there had been no years in between, no other lifetime, followed her like a man caught by a Siren and without a single thought or fear of what might lay ahead, because she was Laurel and with her everything was different. Nothing else mattered now and never had, not even trust between brothers.
By the time they reached the upstairs hallway, she looked scared, second-guessing herself, so he pulled her to him and kissed her to completeness, until her body was pliant against him, until there was no physical sign she mentally struggled with this, until her desire turned ripe and equaled his own. He walked her toward the front bedroom, through wide double doors, shrugging out of his sweater and shirt, barely breaking apart to do so, while she pulled clothing over her head, kicked it off with her feet, and stood at home in his arms without reticence.
If they be two, they are two so
As stiff twin compasses are two;
Thy soul, the fixed foot, makes no show
To move, but doth, th’ other do.
The bedroom was dark, all shadows and silhouettes, cocooned by bookcases and furniture, windows and walls limned with only the soft buttery light from a distant streetlamp. Bathed in that light, her skin lambent, she drew him down to the bed. Under his famished hands her body was his, softer, fuller, belly and thighs lush, different from years ago, better than his memories. Perhaps for all the years apart, or because of them, he loved her long and easily, slowing down countless moments to savor what was between them—something different from fire and passion, something even time couldn’t extinguish. And when it was over, when their sighs quieted and hearts slowed down, when their breathing was close to normal and life after ecstasy fell back into the ordinary, he closed his eyes, sultry sleep engulfing him.
But in that last instant of consciousness, when the world and its edges began to fade away, before conscious reality completely disappeared, he understood that together they were anything but ordinary.
Laurel was making breakfast the next morning when Jud came downstairs, his hair damp from a shower and he needed a shave. She flipped a breakfast crepe. “I have some disposable razors under the bathroom sink.”
“That’s okay. I’ll shave at home. I’m not going to the office. I have to fly to Denver this afternoon for an annual board meeting at one of our subsidiary companies. I won’t be back until Thursday.” He poured a mug of coffee and stood just a foot or so away, watching her while drinking it. “What smells so good?”
“Spinach soufflé crepes with honey bacon and cheese sauce.” She set out plates and a dish of sliced melon filled with raspberries.
“You didn’t have to do this for me.”
Laurel laughed. “I didn’t. I eat a huge breakfast most mornings. Breakfast is the most important meal. It fuels your heart.”
He leaned forward. “My heart got plenty of fuel last night. I have a full tank, sweetheart.”
She smiled up at him as if they had been doing this for thirty years. The most natural thing in the world was the kiss they fell into, the way her arms went around his neck, his hands warm and familiar on her back and bottom.
“Mother!”
They broke apart like guilty teens.
“Annalisa. What are you doing here?”
Her daughter stood in the doorway looking as if someone had hit her.
Laurel turned to Jud, not knowing what to say. He reached out and squeezed her hand, then looked at her daughter. “Good morning, Annalisa.”
“Jud. Mr. Banning.” Her voice was icy. “What are you doing here? It’s eight in the morning.”
“Jud spent the night last night.”
“No kidding.”
“Stop it, Annalisa.” Laurel was angry and embarrassed.
“I care about your mother. This isn’t something sleazy. Don’t make her feel like it is. I’ve known her for a long time.”
Annalisa looked from him to Laurel, then her face crumpled. She burst into tears and ran out the door.
Laurel felt completely nonplussed. “Well, that was interesting.”
“Shouldn’t you go after her?”
“Probably.” She didn’t move.
He hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. “You okay?”
“I don’t know. But I don’t regret last night.”
“Thank you.”
She smiled against his lips. “You’re welcome.”
“Do you want me to stay while you talk to her?”
“No. You go ahead.”
“I’ll call you later.” He kissed her.
Laurel followed him outside and down the stairs. Back at the alley, he paused before he got in his car, so she waved and waited until he had driven away. On the beach she spotted her daughter near the water, standing alone and staring out at sea. Laurel walked through the cool sand, sidestepping chalky cracked shells and dirty green kelp ropes left from the high tide. Her footsteps made a grainy sound in the deep sand, so she knew Annalisa heard her walk up, but she didn’t turn around. “Annalisa? I don’t understand. Why are you so upset? You’ve been trying to get me to date for years.”
“You didn’t tell me you knew him before.” Annalisa’s face was tight and emotional. “He was the one who was sending you the flowers, wasn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“You could have told me, Mother.”
“It’s a long story.”
“Mamie told me.”
“What exactly did s
he tell you?”
“That years ago he hurt you so badly you ran away to France.”
“That’s not true. But even if it were, would it matter now? He hasn’t hurt me now. Our past is complicated.”
“Are you in love with him? Were you in love with him?”
To Laurel last night had been wonderful. Standing there now with Annalisa was so uncomfortable. She had no idea how much she should say or how true her feelings were at that moment. She wasn’t ready to share them with anyone, not even Jud. It took her a while to answer. “He’s just come back into my life. I care about him. Is that what’s bothering you?”
“No.” She looked down at her feet. “Yes. Oh, I don’t know. Mamie said the Bannings destroyed us. She told me about the accident. She said I shouldn’t care about Matthew. That he would only hurt me.”
A single conversation from all those years ago came flooding back, almost real enough for Laurel to feel the pain all over again, her mother telling her how Cale and Jud’s father had killed hers. That she wasn’t safe. Her mother’s once-calming maternal voice suddenly high-pitched, transformed by anger and grief the fear and bitterness her mother carried in her damaged self like some hierophant.
She could see what Annalisa was feeling—scorched and terribly mixed up if she had any feelings for Matthew. At that moment she wanted to forever silence her mother. Laurel put her arm around Annalisa’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
Her daughter began to cry. “She’s right. Matthew already has hurt me.” Annalisa blurted out her whole story, then added, “And after all that, ‘I’m a patient man, Annalisa. I’ll wait. There’s no one else I want.’ He’s with that blonde at the restaurant. You saw him. Men are jerks.”
“Well, yes, they are sometimes. We women confuse them, which doesn’t take much in some cases.” Annalisa didn’t laugh. “The good news is you never went out with him.”
“I just wasted night after night dreaming about him, worked twice as hard trying to impress him. Can you believe I almost threw away my principles for him?”
“Which principles?”
“I told him I had a rule not to date anyone I worked with.”
“Principles are wonderful things to have.” She tucked Annalisa’s hair behind her ear. “But principles won’t keep you warm at night.”
“You think I’m wrong? Oh, of course you do. You’re sleeping with Jud Banning.”
There were times, like now, when being a mother wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Times when you could actually slap your child. Instead she took a long breath and chose her words carefully. “Love is difficult enough to find without putting restrictions on it. Work is part of life, and life is where we form our relationships. Falling in love at work might not be ideal, but people have been doing it for centuries.”
Annalisa didn’t respond. She just looked miserable.
“You wouldn’t be in the world, sweetheart, if I had lived by those rules.”
“True, but you and Daddy divorced because you worked together.”
“Is that what you think?”
“It’s true.”
“The truth is that I divorced your father because of his infidelity. I forgave him and forgave him. That didn’t stop him. He was having an affair when I had my heart surgery.”
“Daddy?”
She hadn’t told her daughter the truth behind the divorce to protect her from all the ugliness of it. Annalisa had been a teen then, angry anyway, heartbroken their family was falling apart. Now Laurel saw that the only person she was protecting was Beric. Without the truth, her daughter had drawn her own conclusions, wrong ones that had just affected her life in a bad way.
This was one of those times when the truth needed to come out. But she was afraid of the truth; that happened when you had too many secrets. There were some truths that should never be told. She couldn’t tell her biggest secret. Maybe she was the one who should have been slapped.
She took Annalisa’s hands and explained, “After the surgery, when I came home from the hospital, I decided I wasn’t going to take it anymore. I wasn’t going to live another day in a marriage that was so unhappy for me. I just couldn’t do it, not even for you.”
“I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have wanted you to stay for me. Dad makes me so angry. Did you know he cried and cried about how much he loved you? He talked about the strain of working together. He made it sound as if working together caused the divorce.”
“Your father is high-strung. He needs things to go his way.”
“But it was all his fault.”
“No. No. That’s not true. Divorce is seldom all one person’s fault.”
“What did you do?”
Laurel hugged her arms to her chest and stared out at the horizon. “Sometimes I wonder if I loved him enough.”
“You are the most loving person I know.” Now Annalisa was the one who wrapped her arms around Laurel. “I have never doubted that you loved me.”
“You’re pretty easy to love yourself. Matthew is right.”
“I don’t want to talk about him.”
“Why? The blonde?”
“Yes.”
“Annalisa.”
“What?”
“You told him you wouldn’t go out with him.”
“Yes.”
“Just once?”
She shook her head miserably. “About twenty times at least.”
“Then don’t you think it’s unreasonable for you to be angry because he dates someone else?”
“I’m not really mad at him, Mom. I’m mad at me.” She smiled thinly and linked her arm in Laurel’s. “I’ll be fine. I’m sorry I made such a mess of things a while ago. I was just . . . oh, I don’t know . . . surprised to see Jud there. Especially after what Mamie told me.”
“Yes, well, I’m going to have a long talk with her. She didn’t know what was between us then and she doesn’t know now. She cannot hear the name Banning without getting so upset she isn’t rational.”
“Don’t be mad at her.”
“I’m not,” she lied. She was truly angry at her mother for telling Annalisa things that should have come from her, things that weren’t colored with her mother’s vitriolic anger at the Banning family. They walked back to the house arm in arm, too many questions still unanswered. Laurel stopped to wash her feet off at the sand shower near the porch and heard the phone ringing, so she ran inside. It was Dr. Collins’s office calling about some appointment mix-up and they wanted her to come in tomorrow.
“I’m supposed to be flying to Chicago tomorrow,” Laurel said into the phone. “But the flight isn’t until four thirty. Yes. I can come in at ten.” She hung up and walked into the kitchen. The last time they had called her in it was because they had forgotten to draw blood.
The cold, congealed breakfast crepes lay on the counter. Annalisa poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down, picking at the fruit.
“You want some breakfast?”
“No. I need to drive to Laguna and pick up new specs for the project, then go home and pack. Are you going into the office?”
Laurel checked her watch. “In about an hour.” Her daughter looked as if she carried the sins of the world on her shoulders. “You okay?”
Annalisa finished off the melon, wiped her hands on her jeans, and gave Laurel a hug. “I’m fine, Mom. You can’t mourn what you never had.” She set down the coffee mug. “I’ll see you later.”
When the phone rang, it didn’t take caller ID for Kathryn to know it was Laurel.
“Mother, what did you do?” Her daughter’s voice over the phone was almost as angry as it had been the night they argued.
“She’s making the same mistake you did. Someone has to stop her.”
“You had no right to tell her anything about me. I’m her mother. I should tell her. You have no idea what happened between Jud and me. None.”
“I know he’s the reason you left me. He and that brother of his. You think I could ever forget that?
They used you before, but you’re willing to forget it so easily.”
“Believe me, I don’t forget anything.”
“I can’t save you from going down that road again, but I can stop her. She was already upset. That Matthew fellow has already hurt her. She needs to know what happened. She needs to understand what they did to us. I won’t stand by and watch her destroyed because you refuse to talk about the past.”
“I don’t have to talk about the past, Mother. You’ve never stopped living in it.”
Those bitter words just hung in the air and neither of them said anything.
“You’ve hurt Annalisa, Mother,” Laurel said in a quiet tone.
“Matthew Banning has hurt her.”
“I don’t know if I can forgive you for this.”
“You never have forgiven me, Laurel.”
“Then we’re a pair, aren’t we? I’ve seen firsthand how hard you work to keep your grief brutal and unforgivable.”
“I think we’ve hurt each other enough for one phone call.”
“Good-bye, Mother.” Laurel hung up and Kathryn stood there for the longest time, the phone in her hand, the words so hurtful and hateful they burned her up inside. She couldn’t cry anymore. She’d cried too many times over Laurel.
Laurel walked into her cardiologist’s private office at 10:05 on Tuesday. Karl Collins carried his good looks in the tousled, gangly way of a seventeen-year-old boy who never outgrew his awkwardness. His nut-brown hair, empathetic brown eyes, and strong hands were features his patients appreciated, along with assets like an acerbic wit and an ungodlike manner and willingness to joke in the face of sometimes frightening diagnoses. His reputation as a cardiologist was arguably the best. Dressed in a shirt and tie, pen in his pocket, with that familiar broad smile, he stood as soon as she walked in, but Laurel looked past him toward the tall shadow at the window “Cale? What are you doing here?”
“Hello, Laurel.”
“Have a seat.” Karl gestured at the chair in front of his desk. She knew then something was going on and sank down as if her legs had given out.