Chances & Choices

by Helen Karol

  He pulled her hands from around his neck, thrusting away from her into the house. Claire stared after him, unbelieving he could desert her, so quickly and so easily. With a cry, she threw herself down on the sand, tears battering her eyelids as vehemently as her fists battered the ground, her violence eventually giving way to wracking sobs.

  Inside the house, Julian replaced the receiver after assuring Mary-Jane he would tell Claire she had found her comb. Saved by the bell, he mocked inwardly. Nevertheless, it was true. Why then, did he feel this nagging doubt that something had eluded him, passed him by, because of his lack of courage?

  Ignoring the feeling, he shook his head, dislodging sand from his hair. It was all over him. What did he think he was doing down there, making out on the beach like a teenager with nowhere else to go? He headed for the shower to wash it off, hoping his recalcitrant emotions would be swept down the drain along with the grit.

  He was dressed only in fresh jeans, a towel around his neck as he dried his hair, when she came storming into the room, a blazing mutinous set to her expression. With a defiant angry gesture; she swept the phone from the bedside table, bringing the lamp with it.

  "Are you crazy!"

  She screamed at him. "I hate it! And right now I hate you as well!"

  The words he spoke were meant to pacify, but his own barely controlled emotions got the better of him, and they did not come out as he intended.

  "You should be glad we were interrupted. If we weren't you might have ended up with that baby you don't want."

  "Yeh! Well so what! Maybe that would have been a good thing, maybe then I would have someone to love and who isn't afraid to love me back!"

  Her words shocked him. It never occurred to him just how much he might be hurting her. He'd been too concerned with his own protection to think of her possible pain. Gathering her towards him, he whispered.

  "Claire, I love you."

  She pushed him away, too incensed to be pacified by pity. "What do you know about love! It takes courage to love! And you're running scared! Haunted, by memories you should have laid to rest years ago!"

  She was so close to the truth it made him defensive. He threw her down on the bed, attacking her with his own doubts.

  "What about you? You don't even have the courage to stand by your commitments."

  "What!"

  "Was Blake there this afternoon?"

  "Yes."

  Why should she feel guilty, she hadn't done anything. But she had. She had tried to use underhand methods to win her battle for his love and now she was suffering for it.

  "Were you at my office this evening?"

  What did he know? Not the truth, because when he lifted her up towards him, his eyes were accusing, the cold disdain in his voice tearing her apart.

  "Did it give you some kind of warped thrill to rendezvous with your lover in my studio?"

  Stunned by his accusation, the words left her mouth before she could stop them. "How did you know he was there?"

  Dying might have been preferable to the icy coldness that enveloped her at the contempt in his eyes. Her words mistakenly confirmed his suspicions and he dropped her as if she burned him.

  Claire didn't know what to do. His previous withdrawal was nothing compared to the wall around him now. She felt it between them solid and impenetrable. She registered he had finished dressing and was leaving the room. She ran after him, she couldn't let him go.

  "Julian, wait!"

  But she heard the outside door slam. She had lost him.

  It was the early hours of the morning before Claire fell asleep. Miserably, she cleaned up the shattered lamp in the bedroom. Wandering aimlessly around the house, she eventually gave up on the useless texts to him and crawled into bed worried sick, wondering if he'd been involved in an accident, lying awake listening for the slightest sound. Finally, although she fought it, sleep claimed her.

  She was at the breakfast bar, trying to force down some cereal, when he returned the next morning. Over the past weeks, she had come to hate that emotionless expression of his, but this morning it was a welcome relief to the contempt of the night before.

  He went straight to the bedroom, without a word to her, and a few moments later, she heard the sound of the shower. She pushed the cereal away, another spoonful would choke her.

  He was zipping up his pants by the time she finally entered the bedroom. Claire stopped at the door. The wall around him was high and dense, but it could not block out the desire she felt for him, nor make her love him any less. Lifting her chin at the sardonic look he threw her, she watched him pull on his shirt. He was her husband, she had every right to admire him if she felt like it.

  When he began knotting his tie, she wished she had the courage to walk over and perform the task for him, as she had on other occasions, but she knew she would not be able to bear his almost certain rejection. Tearing her eyes away, she went to brush her teeth.

  He was fully dressed when she came out and was standing in the middle of the room, his hands in his pockets. Claire's heart leapt, at least he'd waited for her.

  "Will you be home tonight?"

  "Yes, but probably not until late."

  He didn't look at her as he spoke and as he finished he began to leave.

  "Where did you stay last night?"

  His back was to her and he didn't turn around.

  "At your apartment."

  How ironic, she thought. It didn't seem fair he should feel forced out of his home - the home that had been his for so many years.

  "Perhaps, you would prefer it if I moved back there?"

  He turned then and fixed her with a piercing stare.

  "Is that what you would prefer?"

  Her answer was vehement, accompanied by an equally vehement shake of her head.

  "No!"

  Was it her imagination or did he appear relieved? His tone was terse.

  "Then don't."

  And with that he was gone. Claire lay back against the wall. If she had said yes, would he have agreed? Let her go without a fight? Probably, he wasn't really the fighting type.

  Or was he?

  The fashion business was very competitive, but somehow she had never thought of him as part of that competition, imagining success came to him as a matter of course. But no one had handed him his success on a platter. He had refused Susanna's backing when he first started out on his own. Competition is always good...more interesting, he had said.

  And what of Susanna, hadn't he fought for her life, attempting to take on an invincible enemy with the strength of his love? But he wasn't prepared to fight for her, for Claire. Maybe he just felt she wasn't worth the effort. The idea was so heart wrenchingly depressing that Claire shoved it back down to the dark place from where it had emerged.

  At work, the day progressed just like any normal Monday. No one treated her any differently. Halfway through the day she almost stood up and screamed at them. Didn't they know the world was falling apart? It wasn't, of course, only her world.

  She eyed Richard warily at first meeting him in the hallway; but neither of them alluded to the events of the evening before. Surprisingly, he seemed to bear her no animosity for the sordid little scene in Julian's studio. Claire's conscience couldn't allow her to blame him for the rift between her and Julian. The fault was as much hers, she should have been honest with him when he challenged her about Richard, instead of trying to play silly little games.

  However, as the day progressed she caught Richard looking at her every so often with a smug expression. By the end of the day, she was convinced he felt as if he had scored a victory over her. That was when she began to wonder. How had Julian known Richard was at the studio last night? Alone for most of the evening, her suspicions reached alarming proportions. When Julian came home around nine, she jumped on him before he even had a chance to close the door.

  "What lies has Richard Blake been telling you?"

  Eyebrows raised, he closed the door without answering her
question. He went into the kitchen and helped himself to a cup of coffee from the pot she had prepared earlier in the evening.

  "Would you like a cup?"

  Claire began to feel guilty. He looked tired. She should be offering him a cup, not the other way around. Not pressing him for an answer, she joined him in the kitchen.

  "Yes, but I'll get it. You go and sit down."

  He didn't go into the living room, as she had expected, but sat at the nook. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him loosen his tie and lean back in the chair, closing his eyes for a moment. Love for him engulfed her, filled with tenderness and compassion.

  If only she could find the words to reassure him. If he would just open up to her, tell her what was bothering him. The blow-up over Richard was a smokescreen, he couldn't really believe her guilty of adultery. There was so much more. If he would just tell her why he was afraid to love her and trust her as much as she did him, they could work it out together.

  She was no longer convinced it was because he still loved Susanna. It went deeper than that. Also, she knew everything wasn't going smoothly at work, but apart from the one time he had told her she was a distraction, he had never discussed it with her.

  Claire had always believed their relationship was an equal one, but in retrospect, she realised that Julian had been her rock, her confidant. He had never come to her with his troubles. In her naiveté, she had imagined it was because he had none, if she had thought about it at all. But that wasn't good enough anymore; she was a mature woman and his wife, he should be able to confide in her.

  Joining him, she sat in the chair across from him sideways, knees together with her hands clasped in front of her, head bent.

  Julian looked at her.

  What had happened to that familiar rapport they had always shared? As husband and wife they should be closer than ever. He sighed. She was right, he was running scared. He had allowed her to get too close and it scared the hell out of him.

  It hurt to see her so tense with him. Whether she believed it or not, he did love her and her misery was hard to bear. Wasn't that what he was trying to avoid; the pain he knew loving her too much could bring him? At least he could lessen some of her misery.

  "Claire, other than that day in your office, I've never spoken to Blake."

  She faced him then and he flinched at the accusation in her eyes.

  "Then if he hasn't filled you full of lies, how could you possibly believe I would be unfaithful to you?"

  His hands clasped his coffee mug and the brown liquid appeared to hold a fascination for him. Although he could not meet her eyes, his words gave her hope.

  "I don't. At least, not in body."

  "But in heart and mind?"

  Raising his coffee mug, he shrugged. "I'm not sure."

  Reaching across, she touched his arm.

  "Will you let me explain about Richard?"

  Taking his silence for agreement, she chose her words carefully. "You already know about New York and how we parted. I did miss him at first, but as I began to fall in love with you, I thought of him less and less. When I agreed to marry you, I can honestly say he never even crossed my mind. The wonder of loving you was far too great."

  A smile flitted across his features at this and Claire's hopes grew. She would be able to make him understand.

  “When I came back to find him working at the magazine, the sexual attraction between us was still strong. My love for you was new and vulnerable and he insisted I married you on the rebound. It frightened me. Our relationship has never been rooted in sex and..." Claire hesitated here, a bit embarrassed given Julian's physical rejections. Gathering her courage, she looked him straight in the eye. "...well, I didn't find you as desirable then as I do now."

  To her ever-lasting gratitude the look he gave her back was clear, with no trace of mockery.

  "The next few weeks were very hard for me trying to fight Richard's attraction, and I was beginning to realise you were holding back. I think I would have cracked up if it had gone on much longer."

  "That's why you didn't tell me he had joined the magazine because you were unsure of your feelings?"

  "Yes," she nodded, gratified by his easy understanding.

  "Why did you take him to Caroline's party?"

  "I told you the truth about that, because I was mad at you. Maybe it was juvenile, but I'm glad I did it. I think an evening in his company and then coming home to you, made me realise who I really loved. You told me love could grow slowly. You were right, but it doesn't stop growing. It grows in stages, each stage deeper and more intense than the last."

  Claire did not look at him, her experiences of deepening love engrossing her. She did not see the expression that crossed his features; if she had, she would have known she was not alone in her experiences.

  "I was growing more and more sexually attracted to you and I think the incident acted as a catalyst, pushing me into a deeper stage of loving you. When I came home it was all I could do to keep my hands off you."

  She sat up, the memory of that night fresh in her mind. "And while we're on the subject, I think you owe me an apology. That was a rotten thing to do."

  “I thought you enjoyed it."

  Claire blushed, "I did, but it was still rotten. You had no right to manipulate me. Once I realised what you were up to, I was furious."

  "I remember. Come on, Claire, I couldn’t turn a blind eye to your behaviour over Blake – would you really have been happy if I let it go?"

  Claire was too embarrassed to meet his eyes, but she had the grace to shake her head, remembering her disappointment at his seeming indifference in the elevator that afternoon. Another memory from her thoughts at that time made her realise, with a start, just how close to her fantasy his response turned out to be - even if it wasn’t her own name his passionate assault made her forget.

  “Okay, fine. I guess I was out of line,” she admitted grudgingly. But then added reprovingly, “I really liked that nightgown! It was vintage!”

  He laughed, clearly devoid of any remorse. “You shouldn’t have used it to challenge me, then. You know, honey, you do have a tendency towards tantrums. It can be entertaining and I do admit, I indulged it as your friend, but I won’t as your husband – you ought to keep that in mind for the future.” He leaned closer to her, his voice changing from teasing to a low seductive whisper. “Besides, you may have felt and acted indignant, but your body betrayed you – I could tell that my ‘strong arm tactics’ actually impressed you.”

  Claire flushed hotly as much from desire as embarrassment.

  He straightened and taking a deep breath, his voice became serious. “Look, Claire, I am not proud of it, but you need to know. I’m naturally jealous, unreasonably so – it’s something I’ve always struggled with - the last thing I need is any encouragement from you.”

  Claire dropped her head and said nothing. He tipped up her chin and she met his eyes. “No more games. Agreed?” She nodded and he sat back satisfied with her silent remorse.

  He took a sip of his coffee and then his voice dropped to a low, gentle tone. “I wasn’t manipulating you, Claire. I did it to prove to you that I’m as capable of arousing your passion as much as any other man.”

  The coffee in his mug appeared to hold a fascination for him once more.

  "If it's any consolation, it backfired. Not so much at the time, but the next day when it dawned on me that your response was due to more than my sexual prowess." There was a note of self-mockery in these last words, but his next words were spoken huskily. "It made me aware of the depth of your feelings."

  Claire drew in her breath. So that was what started him running. That and the kiss the next morning. Richard was just an excuse to withdraw. An excuse to himself more than to her.

  Sensing a slight tension in the air, she abandoned the subject. The admission was probably as far as he was prepared to go at present, and she had no desire to upset the gentle truce that was growing between them. However, she d
id want to settle the subject of Richard.

  "Julian, since then Richard has left me cold. I really feel nothing for him except perhaps repugnance. When he tried to force himself on me last night..."

  "What!"

  She jumped as his mug was slammed down. She didn't waste any time observing that now she had really seen him blazing mad, she was only grateful that the murder in his eyes was not directed at her. As he sprang up, his words supported the look.

  "I'll kill him!"

  Claire blanched. This was no figure of speech, at this precise moment, he really meant it. Thank goodness he had no idea where Richard lived. By the morning his fury should have abated. A lot sooner than that, if she had anything to do with it. Right now, he was still in the grip of it.

  Striding over to the kitchen phone, he searched through the contacts menu. When it didn't provide what he was looking for, he searched again. Successful this time, he punched in the code. Concerned, Claire stood up.

  "Who are you calling?"

  "Mary-Jane, she'll tell me his address. I didn't think there was much point in asking you. You never have been interested in revenge."

  "Julian, he could charge you with assault."

  "He won't be able to do anything ever again when I'm through with him."

  "Oh great, I've always wanted to be a jail-widow."

  Thankfully; he was receiving no answer. Hanging up the phone, he glared at it as if he wished it were human, so he could injure it. Then he began searching through the menu again. She watched as he made two more futile phone calls and then he leaned back against the counter, his hands resting on the edge, as he glowered at her.

  Placing her hands on her hips, she challenged him.

  "What are you going to do now? Beat it out of me?"

  "Don't tempt me! You've got it coming! You should have told me last night, as soon as I got home!"

  She ignored his last comment, answering his veiled threat. "Come on Julian. I don't care how angry you are, you know you wouldn't harm a hair on my head."

  "Your head is not the part of your anatomy I'm considering applying my hand to."

  He pushed away from the counter and advanced towards her. Claire didn't back off. His fury was gone and although he was attempting to look stern, she could see amusement quirking at his lips. Still speaking as he closed the space between them, he ticked each item off on his fingers.