Chances & Choices

by Helen Karol

  "You didn't tell me you were working with him. You went out with him. You encouraged me to believe there was still something between you. And you let me storm off last night under the misconception that an attempted sexual assault was a lover's tryst. Your sins are adding up, lady."

  Claire's only reply was an unladylike gesture. She stuck out her tongue. Her ploy worked and he laughed. Then, growing serious, he drew her close.

  "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

  "No. Julian, please don't feel you have to defend my virtue." Looking up at him with an earnest expression she continued. "I defended myself quite ably. He didn't get very far, he was the one who got hurt, not me."

  "Good for you!"

  His tone was full of savage satisfaction, which alarmed Claire. She pulled away from him.

  "You will drop it, won't you? I do have to work with him."

  The look that crossed his face left her in no doubt as to what he thought of that particular fact, but he shrugged and said resignedly.

  "Alright, if that's the way you want it." But then he grinned. "You women, you know just how to spoil a man's fun."

  "Oh really," picking up their mugs with the intention of refilling them, she tossed over her shoulder, "and here I thought we provided most of it." And then she agilely dodged the playful swat he aimed at her provocatively, swaying behind.

  Watching as he righted his chair, which had fallen over when he sprang up in anger, she basked in the return of his good-humour, which she had not had the pleasure of experiencing in well over two weeks. Encouraged, she broached the subject of his work.

  "You're having trouble with your new line, aren't you?"

  He accepted the second cup of coffee, and answered her as she sat across from him, a slight frown on his face. "Yes, but the designs are finished. They have to be. If I don't release within the next few weeks, I'll have to wait for the spring showings in November and that means more changes and more cost."

  Claire knew his trip had included a meeting with his backers. He was rich, but not rich enough to finance a new venture on his own. They must have insisted he go ahead with what he had. But Claire could sense he wasn't happy with the situation.

  "You're not pleased with them, are you?"

  He ran a hand through his hair. "No. I don't know what it is. Granted, I don't have much personal contact with women in their teens and early twenties, but I know fabrics and most of the models I use are in that age group." He shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just losing my touch."

  Concerned, she reached across the table and took his hand in hers, turning it palm upwards, tracing his long sensitive fingers. Artist’s hands, hands which could bring her such pleasure.

  "No, Julian. You're an artist. You are," she insisted at his sceptical smile. She looked into his eyes, losing herself in their haunting depths. "I always knew your eyes were special. They're the eyes of the artist...and the lover." She brought his hand to her lips and kissed the palm, whispering. "Love me, Julian."

  He drew his hand away. "I can't give you what you want, Claire, not yet."

  Not yet, so she had reason to hope for the future. Until then, some of his love was better than none of it. She placed her hands palms downward on the table and met his gaze.

  "I won't pretend I don't want all your love. But right now, I'm prepared to accept whatever you have to give. I won't let you withdraw from me again, Julian. That, I can't accept."

  He stood and drew her to her feet. Leading her into the bedroom, he made love to her. He was tender and gentle, bringing her satisfaction. But for the first time, Claire found his lovemaking bittersweet.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The next few days were infused with the same bittersweet quality. Julian still worked late, the impending release of his new line requiring it, but when he came home he did not withdraw to his workroom like before, spending the time with Claire instead. On the Thursday he came home early with tickets to the theatre, delighting Claire with the impromptu treat. They went for a late supper afterwards, discussing the play in a manner very close to their easy familiarity of the past.

  It was not quite the same. They would never be able to return to that uncomplicated relationship; too much had passed between them, and Claire had no desire to do so, not when she knew they could have so much more. But she made no demands, spoken or otherwise, understanding that their present balance was fragile and could be easily destroyed. As they drove home later, she felt almost content.

  Leaving work the next day, she was surprised to see Andrea's figure bearing down on her. "Oh good, this is the right building. I'm so glad."

  Laughing, Claire said. "I take it from that remark that this meeting is no accident."

  "Well, not exactly. I was downtown and when I noticed the time, I thought I might come and meet you. How are things?"

  She placed an emphasis on the last words and arched her eyebrows, making Claire laugh again. Andrea attempting to be subtle was an unusual occurrence.

  "Oh, not too bad. Better."

  "Good. But let's not stand around here, I'm dying for a cup of coffee."

  Other than her first inquiry, Andrea pressed Claire no further on the subject, for which Claire was grateful. Spilling confessions at the drop of a hat was not a trait in her character. Last Saturday's confidences had been induced by the conversation she had overheard and a build-up of tension. Now that the situation seemed less desperate, she preferred not to discuss it. Thankfully, Andrea was perceptive enough to realise this and their conversation remained on a general level.

  During a lull in their discussions, Claire looked at her watch, amazed to discover that well over an hour had passed. Andrea noticed the gesture and asked.

  "Do you think you should call Julian?"

  Claire considered. "No, he's probably still working. The pressures really on now Cecile Johnson's having her showing on Sunday."

  She began to feel depressed at the thought of going home to the empty house. "Andrea, why don't you come home and have dinner with me?"

  "Why, what a pleasant suggestion. Just let me call Stephen."

  "He won't mind?"

  Andrea laughed as if the idea were ludicrous. "No. We're not newly-weds, like you and Julian." And then she looked dismayed, realising it was not the most tactful thing to say.

  Andrea followed Claire in her car, the drive to the beach-house taking much longer than usual due to a massive pile-up on the freeway, resulting in a lengthy detour. When, at last, she pulled into the garage, the unexpected sight of Julian's car greeted her. Stepping out, she reached for her cell only to realise it had dropped under the passenger seat out of sight and earshot. Fishing it out, she was surprised to see that it was full of messages and missed calls from Julian. Before she had time to check them, Andrea spoke behind her.

  "Oh, Julian's home. Perhaps I should just leave you two alone."

  "Oh no. Come in. I can't let you drive home through that mess without a rest. Stay and have dinner. I'm sure Julian will be pleased to see you."

  Claire was wrong. Julian was far from pleased. He was standing at the entrance as they turned, a thunderous expression on his face. Stunned, Claire just stood and looked at him. First the calls and messages, and now this. What was wrong? Why was he so angry? Turning curtly on his heel, he strode back into the house.

  "I think I should leave, Claire."

  Claire turned to her, eyes wide. "Are you kidding! Don't leave me alone with him."

  This was only the second time she had seen him in the grip of rage, and he looked even more furious than he had on Monday evening. Now his anger appeared to be directed at her, she was unsure how to deal with it. Taking a deep breath, she entered the house, Andrea following.

  He was standing in the kitchen, hands pressed onto the breakfast bar with no sign of his fury receding. From the living room, Claire could hear the muted sounds of the radio.

  "I invited Andrea back for dinner. I thought you wouldn't be home."

  She w
as just about to mention the missed calls and explain why she hadn’t answered, when he turned on her. Moving so quickly she blinked, he gripped her upper arms, shaking her.

  "Where the hell have you been! Why didn’t you answer my calls!"

  Not giving her a chance to answer, he launched into a tirade that turned Claire white. Andrea watched in amazement. Resisting the urge to go to Claire's defence, she walked into the living room; she knew better than to interfere between husband and wife.

  Julian's reaction to Claire's late return seemed inexplicable, especially when he had every reason to believe Claire would assume he would be later than she. But she could hear from the kitchen that he was refusing to accept any of her explanations; in fact, he was hardly allowing her to speak at all. Just then, the music from the radio was interrupted by the announcer’s voice bringing a traffic news update, and suddenly Andrea understood.

  In the kitchen, Claire was close to tears. What had she done? If only he would stop yelling at her and give her a chance to explain. It never crossed her mind to be angry herself at his harsh treatment; it hurt too much just to have him angry with her. At last he let her go and she rushed down the hallway towards the bedroom, fully intending to indulge in a bout of tears. But Andrea's voice speaking to Julian stopped her at the bedroom door.

  "Congratulations. You've achieved your objective - for now. But you won't scare her off that easily. She loves you too much.”

  Julian's reply was curt. "I have every right to be angry; she should have checked her cell and answered my calls."

  "Yes, she should have, but that's not the point, is it?"

  Julian pushed open the glass door and stepped out onto the deck. Unperturbed, Andrea followed. Heart pounding, Claire walked slowly up the hallway. What was Andrea implying? She looked out through the glass, unnoticed by either of the two people on the deck.

  Andrea was standing in the middle with her back to the opened door. Julian stood at the railing, his back to Andrea. His shoulders were strained and his hands gripped the top of the railing. Neither spoke for what seemed like a long time to Claire, but which was actually only a few minutes. At last, Andrea's voice broke the silence.

  "I always knew Susanna's death affected you a great deal, but until now I didn't realise how much. You hid it well."

  Claire was confused, what did this have to do with Julian raging at her. She heard his emotionless tones.

  "You don't know what you're talking about, Andrea."

  "Yes I do, and so do you."

  Claire wished she knew. What was going on? She saw Andrea walk over and stand beside him, and then resume speaking.

  "I disapproved of her marrying you. I thought the age difference was too great and that you were too young. After a while, I realised I was wrong. You were very happy together." She placed her hand on his arm. "Julian, her death brought you a lot of pain, but life with her brought you joy. Remember the joy, not the pain."

  Claire held her breath, perception dawning. She strained to hear Julian's reply, which was barely audible, his hands clenching the railing turning his knuckles white.

  "I loved her too much."

  Andrea's reply was as adamant as Claire's thoughts,

  "No! You can never love anyone too much, and you can't regulate love, either."

  Tossing away from the railing, he walked quickly down the steps to the beach. "I'm not prepared to discuss it!"

  Andrea called after him. "Alright, but I just want you to think about this. If Claire had been killed in that pile-up, would it have hurt less, because you denied the depth of your feelings to yourself and her...?” He had stopped when Andrea first began to talk, but halfway through he started walking again, his hands thrust in his pockets. Raising her voice, Andrea continued, "... or would it have hurt more because of how much you would have missed, by not enjoying that love while you still could?"

  He turned then, and even from this distance, Claire could see the shock written on his face. It quickly faded replaced by an obstinate set to his jaw.

  "Stay out of it!"

  And with that he walked to the water's edge. Claire moved away from the door, sitting down at the nook, a feeling of hopelessness overtaking her. She could assure him of his own talent and of her faithfulness, but how could she reassure him over this. Entering, Andrea noticed her and her expression.

  "Claire, it's not that hopeless."

  "Isn't it! I can't give him guarantees that I'm not going to die!"

  Andrea sighed. "You won't have to. He'll come round. Just be patient."

  Patient, how much more patient was she going to have to be? How much longer could she stand this? Andrea squeezed her shoulder in comfort.

  "Things look worse now than they really are. You're upset, not surprisingly. I told you his temper was bad, but I'd forgotten just how awful it could be."

  She sat down across from Claire. "This might seem ridiculous to you, but I think you should take his anger as encouragement."

  Claire stared at her, Andrea explained. "After you left on Saturday, I thought about what you'd said and I realised I hadn't seen him react intensely over anything for years. I knew how intense he could be and that's not something that changes with time. People are intense by nature, and you don't change your nature. Well, I began to think that maybe you were right, that he didn't love you as much as he had Susanna, and that part of him still belonged to her. But now...Claire, she was the only person who could make him that angry, and if he can lose his temper like that with you, then his feelings for you must be just as intense."

  Claire thought about it; maybe Andrea was right. He'd been furious with Richard, but that was because he had tried to hurt her. And what about the way he had started to make love to her when he came back from San Francisco.

  "Alright, so maybe his feelings for me are as intense, but it's not his anger I'm interested in, it's his love and he's determined to deny me that."

  "He won't for much longer. You'll see Claire, I'm right, he'll come round." After another squeeze to her shoulder, Andrea left.

  Claire sat at the table for a long time, her mind blank. Finally, she realised her stomach was growling. Although she felt sure food would choke her, she rose to prepare dinner; she had to keep her strength up.

  When she went to call him, it appeared as if Julian had not moved from his original position, but she knew he must have, as the tide came in. His hands were still in his pockets and his head was bent.

  His thoughts were resentful, directed at the waves which washed in forcing him relentlessly closer to the house, and to Claire. Hearing her voice, he lifted his head, breaking his concentration, causing him to fail to dodge the next wave, which washed over him soaking his shoes and pant legs. Standing in the way of the tide seemed no better an alternative.

  Cursing under his breath, he went into the house. Claire looked down at his feet.

  "You'd better change."

  He didn't speak to her, but did as she suggested. Their meal was a silent one, and afterwards he made for his workroom. Her voice followed him down the hall attempting a peace offering.

  "I'm sorry, I should have kept a better eye on my cell."

  "Just make sure you do in future."

  She tried to continue the conversation. "Julian, I..."

  Ignoring her, he slammed the door of his workroom behind him. Claire went into their bedroom and indulged in her postponed bout of tears.

  Julian didn't come to bed until very late, and he spent the next day at his studio. On Sunday morning, when he went to his workroom after breakfast, she almost screamed. She might as well not be married to him at all. Determined not to let it get to her, she changed into her bikini and prepared to enjoy the beautiful weather.

  At lunchtime, she knocked on his door and after his grudging, “Come in" opened it.

  "Do you want some lunch?"

  Looking around the room, she saw no signs that could tell her what he was working on. He was seated at the worktable, and she found hers
elf speculating as to whether he had his feet up on it before she knocked. He answered her question.

  "No."

  "I could bring you a sandwich and some coffee."

  It seemed as if he would refuse, but then he replied, somewhat ungraciously, in the affirmative. When she brought it in he was still hunched over the table, doing nothing in particular. She placed the sandwich and the mug beside him. His only acknowledgement was a grunt, which might have been a thank-you.

  Sending him a glare that, by all rights, should have bored a hole in the back of his head, she flounced from the room. Honestly, who would have thought easy-going Julian could be such a grouch! She didn't know his eyes followed her, nor was she aware of the enticing sight her indignantly swaying, bikini-clad hips afforded the grouch in question.

  It was over an hour later when Andrea telephoned. "Andrea! Thank God for the sound of a human voice," she quipped over the phone.

  "I see. Julian is being obstinate, is he?"

  "That's an understatement!"

  Claire filled her in on the past day and a half.

  "You mean he's in there now. What is he doing?"

  "Well, I can't say for certain, but I suspect he may be designing paper aeroplanes."

  Andrea's laughter trilled over the wires. "Oh , Claire, at least you still have your sense of humour."

  Yes, she thought and what will I do when that deserts me. Andrea's laughter stopped and she inquired.

  "I called to find out if you were going to the showing this afternoon."

  "I forgot all about it. Julian must have forgotten as well. What time does it start, four?"

  "Yes, I can expect to see you both there then?"

  "Uh-huh. I'd better go now, we should be getting ready soon if we're going to make it in time."

  Not bothering to knock, she burst into the workroom, catching him with his feet up this time.

  "What do you want!"