'But didn't your father leave when you were small?'
'Yes, but that doesn't mean I didn't want to see him or know what he was like, but she lied to me about him. She said that he'd disappeared, that no one knew where he was, that he didn't ever want to see us again. I mean, I suppose it's partially the truth, I don't suppose he left because he loved her and if he'd really cared about me, he would have tried to make contact. But the thing is that we could have found him, the lawyer wanted to do it for us.'
Geoff could understand why Petra was angry, but he could also imagine what her mother must have felt. 'Maybe she couldn't face seeing him again.'
Petra heaved a shaky sigh. 'I know. I can understand it, but part of me is so… angry. And then…' the tears were starting again, Geoff could sense their rising in the timbre of her voice, '… and then, although I cared for her… really cared for her… well, I'm just… relieved that she's gone.'
The last was said with a despairing wail, and Geoff took Petra's face between his hands. 'It's okay,' he murmured, 'it's okay.'
'I mean, underneath I'm happy that she's dead. All those years of taking care of her, of having to watch her and worry about her. Geoff, you don't know the times that I've found her wandering around the streets half-dressed or I've been called up by a shop where she'd tried to buy something without money or had the police ringing the door asking me to identify her because they'd found her huddled in an alley somewhere. She was crazy, Geoff, and I'm… I'm glad she's dead.'
He knew better than to say anything. He merely brushed away the tears from her upturned face with his thumbs, keeping her face between his hands, and she grasped his wrists, desperately, as if she were drowning and he were her lifeline.
'I hated her sometimes. When I was a kid, I wanted to believe that she wasn't my mother. I used to have this fantasy where there would be a knock on the door and I would open it and a beautiful woman would be standing there—my real mother, coming to find me after having been forced to put me up for adoption. I didn't think too much about why she'd put me up for adoption.' Petra sniffed and gave a small, shaky laugh. 'I just wanted her to be there and take me away into some dream life where I had a mother and a father who weren't crazy, where I could have birthday parties and friends overnight and help with my homework and… it was dumb, I know, but that's the way I was. And I felt guilty about it, because I wasn't being loyal. I wasn't loving my own mother enough.' She paused and then went on. 'And then I grew up and understood that even having two normal parents isn't the answer to everything. But it still hurts. It hurts like it did tonight at dinner. I almost hated you and your family, Geoff, because you're all so happy, because you and your brothers had all the important things without even trying or asking, because you're all so damned healthy and well-adjusted and normal.'
A glimmer of understanding came to Geoff. 'You're normal, too.'
'No, I'm not. I'm not like most people. How many normal people try to swim a thirty-two-mile lake?'
'People who have goals, who have a need to prove themselves.'
Between his hands, Petra's head moved vehemently from side to side. 'No, I'm not just one of those,' she said. 'You once told me that people who do these sorts of things are trying to be in control, and you were right. You see, I was afraid, terrified that if I didn't control something in my life, if I didn't focus on one thing to the exclusion of everything else, I'd go crazy. Like my mother. Her mind wandered, Geoff, she couldn't remember anything, she couldn't stick to anything. She'd start vacuuming the flat, forget about it and rearrange her recipes. Then she'd forget about that and iron a skirt. And then forget about that. I'd come home and find the flat in a mess because she'd started half a dozen things and given up and was watching television. When I'd ask her what she'd done, she'd be bewildered and upset because she couldn't remember. I… I didn't want to be like that.'
'Oh, Petra,' he said, his heart going out to her. 'You're not like that at all. You're one of the sanest people I know.'
She tugged on his wrists, pulling his hands down from her face so that they rested, empty and helpless, in the darkness. 'But you don't know what goes on in my head. I've been so afraid. I could never get close to anyone or confide in anyone or trust anyone. I've never understood before why I was like that, but I've come to realise that I'm afraid someone will get close enough to find out that I'm just like my mother. I've been terrified, Geoff, absolutely petrified that someone was going to discover that everything I do is just an act, that underneath I'm crazy, insane, a nut that should be committed to a looney bin.' She gave a harsh, bitter laugh. 'So you see why I came out here. I've been feeling very sorry for myself.'
It was all clicking in place, all the parts of Petra that hadn't made any sense to Geoff were now revealed and fitting together so he could understand who she was, a woman whose past existed so strongly in the present that, although she was now an adult, she couldn't forget the fears and angers of childhood and couldn't separate herself from the mother who had harmed her. And it had taken a death, a funeral, a revelation of a lawyer to bring all those hidden emotions up to the surface where, in a volcanic fashion, they had exploded within her, breaking her down, forcing her to cry. Geoff remembered that tense, rigid figure at the graveside with the tortured, dry eyes, and he knew how important it was that her grief and anger was expressed instead of held in where it would eat away at her, corrode her very soul. Thank God, he thought, that she's finally been able to cry.
She went on, 'I'm afraid I haven't been a very good guest.'
Gently. 'No one expected anything of you.'
'I meant to tell you—your parents are very nice and so are your brothers and their families.'
'I'm glad you like them.'
'And… I apologise for giving you such a hard time about bringing me here. I didn't want to come, I wanted to get back into the lake and swim until I dropped.'
'That's what Joe and I figured.'
She was silent for a moment and then said, 'So now there's only the lake left.'
But this was said in such a forlorn tone that Geoff said, 'But your life isn't going to end with that swim.'
'I know, but I can't think any further ahead. The swim is just looming ahead of me. I put up a brave front for your family, but I'm afraid of it. Afraid of how much it will hurt, of how cold it will be, of the way I might fail. I want to do it, but I'm afraid.'
'It's okay to be afraid.'
Petra smiled at him, and he could just make out the upturn of her mouth in the moonlight. 'You're very nice to me, Geoff. I can be afraid, I can feel sorry for myself, I can cry buckets on your shoulder.' The little laugh she gave was low, rueful and wondering. 'How come you're so nice to me?'
There are moments in life which arrive without warning, moments where a certain phrase, an assortment of words, can change everything. Geoff hadn't known this moment was going to come, he hadn't planned for it, he hadn't realised it would happen so soon. Words came and went and trembled on his lips. Words that could toss off the moment and alter it from an epiphany to nothing; or words that could make the earth shake and shatter.
He could say to Petra something like, 'Because I'm a sucker for tears' or 'Because you're so cute when you cry.' That would be easy enough, he was used to making light, flirtatious remarks that concealed what he was really feeling. Or he could be slightly more honest and tell her that he liked her, that she was nice herself, that he admired her. Even that would be easy, because he had in the past been more honest with Petra than any other woman he'd known. Or he could tell her the truth, and that wasn't easy at all. It meant baring his own soul, it meant leaving himself wide open to rejection, and it meant laying the burden of his love on top of all the other burdens she was carrying. He supposed a saint would have been able to hold himself back from temptation and sacrifice his own emotions for someone else's, but Geoff was no saint. He was a man whose desire for Petra was so great that holding it in took every ounce of control that he possessed. Just having her in
his arms was difficult enough. The fresh scent of her hair was close to driving him out of his mind.
'Sorry,' she said awkwardly, embarrassed at his silence and believing that she'd overstepped the bounds of friendship. 'That was a dumb thing to ask.'
'No,' he said, and the courage suddenly came to him, from where he would never know. 'It wasn't dumb at all. You see, I've… I love you.' And he finally succumbed to his overwhelming need to touch her, to have her, to take her. With those words, he pulled her up close to him, lowered his head and, on soft lips that had parted with shock and surprise, kissed her with a passion he'd never felt before.
If she hadn't been so tired, so shaky, or so vulnerable, Petra might have been able to stop Geoff and to stop herself, but with her every defence down and her sense of reality shrunken to this small, dark place under the sky, to Geoff's arms around her, to his mouth on hers, Petra knew nothing except the wanting of him. The outside world had disappeared for her; the house with its lit windows seemed to be a ship sailing past them in the night; all her tomorrows had vanished, leaving only this moment as the one that counted, as the one that would endure. So she returned his kiss with an equal passion, her hands touching his face, curling in the crisp hair at his temples, feeling the shape of his head under her palms. Then she was lost in his mouth, in tongues that met and stroked, in lips moving on hers, and she barely felt their slow descent to the ground or the softness of the grass beneath her back.
The baring of her breasts to the night air was a release; his mouth on her nipples the fulfilling of an overwhelming need. Their shedding of clothes was quick and frenzied, their hunger for one another so deep and so pervasive that nothing would satisfy it but skin against skin, heated and flushed and aroused. Geoff's mouth burned where it touched her, on her breasts, her stomach, her hip, the soft cleft between her legs. She parted before him, aching and desirous, her fingers clawing at his shoulders, wanting him there, in her, stroking the depths of her. But he didn't oblige her. He merely murmured, 'Babies,' and then satisfied her the next best way—with his tongue and silken fingers— When she had finally stopped shuddering, she found him lying astride her, kissing her neck, her eyes, her temples. 'Geoff,' she whispered, 'what about you? Will you let me…?'
'Anything,' he said, his voice rough, his breath coming short and fast, 'anything you want.'
And, grateful to that detested lover who had, at least, taught her something about technique, Petra did to Geoff what he had done for her. Taking him in her mouth and hand, she caressed him until he arched towards the sky and his fist clenched spasmodically in her hair. When he was done, she lay very still, her head resting on his abdomen, the hairs of his belly crisp against her cheek, her hand resting on his chest, feeling his breathing slowly ease to normal.
'Wow,' he finally said. 'Thank you.' And he tugged on her hair.
'Thank you.'
Geoff laughed. 'Aren't we polite.'
'Bed etiquette.'
'My goodness, Petra, you sound like you've been in thousands.'
Petra shook her head gently, its weight bouncing a bit on the muscles of his stomach. 'Just one.'
'Whose?'
'A friend of a friend. Remember you once asked me if I'd had an affair that went sour? Well, that was it.'
'What went wrong?'
Petra dug her fingers into the hair on his chest. 'A combination of things. I really didn't like him and just wanted to lose my virginity. I was curious and he was possessive. Stuff like that.'
Geoff's voice was pensive. 'It sounds ugly.'
'It was, particularly at the end.' Petra shuddered a bit when she remembered the angry words that were exchanged and the nasty cracks that had been spoken.
There was a short silence between them, and Petra felt a warm breeze flow over her naked body. It was odd how comfortable she was. The softness of the grass took away from the hardness of the ground, and Geoff had curled up slightly so that one of his hands was idly rubbing her back. The sounds of crickets provided a steady chorus in the background, and the fireflies were now out in force, signalling to one another in tiny bursts of light. Petra felt as if she could stay in this spot for the whole night, for the rest of her life, for eternity.
'Geoff?'
'Mmmmm.'
'About what you said before.'
He immediately stiffened; she could feel his abdominal muscles tighten under her head. 'Petra, I…'
She pulled herself upright and clasped her arms before her breasts. Geoff was still stretched out before her, his length as white as the marble of a statue under the moon's unblinking illumination. 'No one has ever…'
'Petra, promise me something.'
'What?'
Now, Geoff was sitting up, too. 'Forget I ever said it.'
'But how can I…?'
'I can't talk about it. I'm sorry.'
Suddenly, it seemed as if they were strangers. 'But, Geoff, it's important. I just… how can I forget it?'
'You'll have to. Try to understand.'
'But I…'
'Please.'
The word was not a plea but a cold command, and she instinctively obeyed it, feeling the tears once again pricking at the back of her eyes. She wanted to tell him a million things—about the conflicting impulses in her heart, about her desire to put off decisions until after the swim, about how she had never wanted another man the way she wanted him, but he wasn't going to let her speak. He was standing up now, pulling on his shirt and then tugging on his briefs and slacks. Petra wanted to put her arms around him and tell him that she understood how vulnerable he felt after making that confession to her. Geoff was a man with too much pride to enjoy the fact that he'd fallen in love with a woman who couldn't say that she loved him in return. She wanted to say it, she longed to say it, but she couldn't. Petra was too confused to know what she was feeling.
Slowly, she stood up and put on her dress. It was crumpled and full of grass, and one of the buttons had come off in her haste to get undressed. When she was finished trying to brush it off and straighten the skirt, Geoff handed her her bra and panties. She scrunched them up in her hand and then said in as casual a voice' as she could manage, 'I'd hate your parents to see us like this.'
'They'll be in bed.'
But she couldn't feel casual about what had passed between them. There was an ache in her throat as she followed him across the grass and through the trees to the back patio of the house. The hands that she had used so often to stroke a willing cat or soothe an upset child wanted to touch him somewhere, anywhere, and ease the set rigidity of his shoulders, the fists clenched in his pockets, the jaw working in the side of his cheek. But for all their earlier intimacy, she knew she could not. He didn't want comforting or caressing, he wanted her to forget what he had said. I love you. No one had ever said that to Petra, not even her mother.
How could she say that she loved him, when she wasn't even sure what it meant—she who had spent so much of her life in a loveless condition? She didn't know what love signified to Geoff or how it made him feel. She was totally ignorant of love as an emotion or an act. Perhaps what she and Geoff had done together on the grass wasn't 'making love' at all. Perhaps it was merely a mutual easing of frustration and desire. Doubts began to assail her as they stepped into the house and made their way up the stairs and towards her bedroom. It suddenly occurred to Petra that Geoff didn't want to talk about loving her, because it had only meant something at the moment of speaking. His 'love' for her might have been an onrush of pity. God knows she'd asked for it. Or perhaps, the 'love' he felt was something that came and went. She knew how many lovers he'd had, he'd told her that. It was quite possible, she thought, with a painful twist of her heart, that he always said those words to a woman that he wanted.
They stopped before her bedroom door, and Geoff was, politely, saying good night. Petra could tell that the only thing he wanted was to get away from her, but she couldn't help herself. She had spent a lifetime starving for love, and now that it was so cl
ose to her, she was still hungering, aching for it, needing it more than she'd ever needed anything in her life.
'Geoff?' she whispered and reached out for him, touching his arm with her outstretched fingers.
He had started to turn away, but now he stopped as if her touch had burned him. 'What?' he asked coldly.
'Did you… just tell me, did you mean it—that you loved me?'
He looked at her long and hard, his features sharp and chiselled under the angled hallway light. She saw lines in his face that hadn't been there before, cut deep between his mouth and nose, and she suddenly realised that her asking was like a probe digging at an open and hurting wound.
'Yes,' he said curtly. 'Goddamn it, yes.'
And, turning on his heel, he strode away, his limp awkward and accentuated by his fatigue, his shoulders bent as if he carried a burden almost too painful to bear.
CHAPTER NINE
The week before the swim was a hectic one. Joe had a thousand details to attend to, many of which required long-distance phone calls from Mercy to the firm that was renting them the boats, to the company that was supplying them with equipment, to those people who had agreed to be on the team that would accompany Petra across the lake. Sunny had to visit the hospital once to have her stitches removed from her thumb and one more time to have it checked by the surgeon. Petra had thrown herself back into swimming as if it were the only thing in the world that counted, and Geoff spent several frustrating afternoons trying to write some material for his article. He'd brought a small, portable word-processor with him, but not even its speedy editing software was any help with his writing. Sentences were begun and discarded, paragraphs eliminated with one stroke. All the fluency and skill that Geoff had previously brought to his assignments seemed to have evaporated into thin air.
He sat, one afternoon, in the shade of the porch, typing in lines, deleting them and, knowing that his efforts were hopeless, cursing under his breath. Down below him, out in the middle of the lake, Petra was swimming her umpteenth lap along with Joe who was pacing her in a rowboat and Sunny who had gone along to act as secretary. She was jotting down notes that Joe barked to her on a clipboard of paper. Geoff wondered briefly what was going on in Petra's mind as she swam out there and then discarded the thought with the same swift, sure strokes that he'd been discarding letters, words and sentences. He couldn't afford to think about Petra. Images and remembered sensations would come flooding into his head and he would wince from the pain they would cause. He already knew what it was like. He'd spent two days after they'd come back to the cottage from his parents' house agonising about Petra. He was worn out from it, exhausted by it, and sick to death of his own misery and self-pity.
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