A lump blocked her throat. They had made love at the Pools, but his heart wasn't hers. The passion they had shared had been nothing more than the insistent pulsation of blood, the magic of the rainbow, and the physical need between two people.
Peter obviously wanted to forget it, was regretting their lovemaking as a tactical error in his quest for Alex.
She cringed with shame to think she'd mistaken it for so much more. If she'd stuck to what she'd known, that to fall in love was to be unsafe, she wouldn't be feeling now the pain she was enduring.
When she made love to Peter, she had broken her cardinal rule. To undo the damage, she had to return to her normal life, had to get back to Alex and feel safe once more. If she could hold her baby in her arms, she might be able to collect her bearings, might not be blinded by passion and the heat of desire.
Acting swiftly, so as not to change her mind, Jann scrambled down the stairs into the chart room and turned the key in the ignition.
The sudden growl of the engine shattered the peace of the tropical night like the revving of a motor cycle might do at a symphony. Hurrying back up the steps, Jann hauled the anchor from the water and steered the boat toward open sea.
She couldn't see Peter, but she heard the thump of his feet when he rolled off the settee and pounded up the companionway.
Her heart was pounding, too, by the time he appeared, pulling on his trousers, but carrying his shirt. In the moonlight, his tanned chest glowed like warm sand.
Swift and unexpected, desire arrowed through her. Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she willed it away.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He swept sleep-tousled hair back from his eyes.
"Going home," she replied, determined not to cry. But when she stared into his eyes, she was unable to keep tears from spilling.
"I need to see Alex," she added, brushing the moisture away. Not the whole truth, but close enough.
"You're running away." His eyes were bleak and angry. Shrugging into his shirt, he stepped toward her, the tangy scent of his aftershave making her long to touch him.
"Why not?" she flung back. "You did." Clenching her lips, she tightened her grip on the wheel.
His jaw tightened, and he stumbled, as if from the force of the truth she spoke. "Maybe you're right. Maybe it's time we faced what we're feeling."
"No!" she cried, her stomach knotting at the idea.
"You're afraid," he accused.
"Yes!" she admitted then cried out, "No!" She shut her eyes, not knowing how she felt, knowing only that she wanted him with an intensity that burned, also knowing that if she had him, her pain would only worsen. She could scarcely bear the silence that met her words.
"You can't steer with your eyes shut," he said at last, seeming to strive for lightness, but nowhere in his voice could she detect laughter.
He touched her shoulder, and her soul was touched too, his warmth and strength irresistible, his appeal as strong as before. She jerked away, opened her eyes, and with a deep breath turned to face him.
"Where did you go?" she demanded.
"To shore," he replied. "I needed to be alone."
Her heart was breaking and he needed solitude!
He put his hand on the wheel. "I'll take over here," he said. "Make us some coffee and then we'll talk."
Her legs seemed incapable of movement.
He glanced out at the water then slowly turned his gaze back to her. "If you really want to go home, we will, but first we need to talk."
She no longer had a home. Home was where Peter was, and she couldn't have that.
For he hadn't said he loved her.
He hadn't said anything at all.
Except that she was more beautiful than the stars.
Easy to say.
Sucking in a breath, she forced her feet toward the companionway. Once down in the galley, she grimly poured coffee into two cups and set the cups on a tray. The coffee was too thick and too black, but it was the best she could do.
On leaden feet, she trudged back up the stairs, longing, instead, to bury herself in her bunk and pull the covers over her head. But even there, no doubt, she'd be besieged by images of Peter and the joy she had felt when they made love.
Steeling herself, she stepped out into the cockpit and handed Peter his cup. Lahaina was already receding into the distance, the lights of the harbor glowing like fireflies beyond their stern.
"What time is it?" Peter asked, gulping down a mouthful of the hot liquid.
"Almost midnight," she replied, peering at her watch.
"We should make Honolulu by eight o'clock," he said tonelessly.
Eight long hours and it would be over. She bit her lip. Never over, no matter how many hours it was.
"What's the weather forecast?" he asked, glancing up at the sky.
"I didn't check it."
"You didn't check it?" he demanded.
"No, I... I just decided to leave."
Disbelief filled his eyes.
"I'll check it now." Ducking through the hatch, she moved down to the chart room and went straight for the marine radio.
It wasn't on.
Cold water dashing over her couldn't have shocked her more. She had turned the radio off this morning before they left the boat, but she hadn't turned it back on again, hadn't listened at the scheduled air time for possible messages, or phoned Ruby today, either.
What if Ruby and John had been trying to contact her? Had needed her?
She swallowed hard, tried to convince herself there was little likelihood of either of those things happening.
Flicking the radio switch to the 'On' position, Jann pushed the weather channel button down. The reassuring voice of the announcer proclaimed a twenty knot wind in the channel.
Relieved, she increased the volume and turned the knob to the marine band. Static, interspersed with messages to mariners, crackled from the receiver. She listened for a moment then turned up the volume loud enough to be heard on deck.
"Well?" Peter asked, his gaze flickering towards her as she emerged through the hatch.
"The trades are blowing in the channel, but they're nothing to worry about."
"Never underestimate the weather," he said, making an infinitesimal adjustment of the wheel to starboard.
"I—"
"Heart's Desire. Heart's Desire. This is Windward. Are you there? Come in, come in." The message squealing from the receiver faded in and out as though the volume knob was being spun by an over-excited two-year-old.
Alarm slid like ice into Jann's chest. "Alex," she whispered, her body frozen numb.
"You don't know that," Peter countered, his hands flying as he set up the self-steering. "Answer them!" he urged.
She scrambled down the steps. Peter slipped out from behind the wheel and followed swiftly after her. She came to a halt in front of the radio, immobilized, terrified.
"Answer it," he repeated, more gently this time.
Fear filled her heart.
"It'll be all right." His strong reassuring gaze held hers.
Clenching her jaw, Jann picked up the mike. "This is Heart's Desire," she said. "Heart's Desire here. Over."
"Dammit, girl, is that you? We've been trying to reach you all day. Over."
All day? John and Ruby had been trying to reach her while she had been lost in lovemaking?
"Jann here, Capt'n," she identified. "What's the problem?" She could only pray that whatever it was, it had nothing to do with Alex. "Over."
She caught her breath while she waited for Capt'n's response, wishing Peter would hold her.
"It's Alex." John said, his voice sounding older and shakier than she remembered.
Her shoulders stiffened. Peter moved closer and put his arm around her waist.
"He's in... pital. Over." The radio screeched as static took over all other sound.
"He's where? Over."
"In hospital. Dammit girl. Ain't you listening? Over."
Her hands
began to tremble, her hold on the mike loosening. Peter snatched the instrument from her.
"Peter Strickland here. What's the matter with Alexander? Over."
"Gastroenteritis." The medical term wavered with the vagaries of the machine in front of them. "The poor little mite's wasting away to nothing." Now it was John's voice that quavered, not the machine into which he spoke.
Jann sat down hard onto a chair, a roaring filling her ears. Peter's lips were moving but she could hear no sound. After what seemed an eternity, he signed off, and placed the mike on the table.
He looked at her, his eyes soft with concern. The caring in his face somehow gave her some strength and the roaring in her ears dulled to a buzz.
"We'll head back to Maui and fly to Oahu," Peter said crisply.
"At this hour?" Jann cried. "There'll be no planes until morning."
"There'll be a plane." His eyes grew hard with determination. "I'll hire one."
She couldn't speak through a throat that felt like grating sandpaper. She could only nod, grateful that Peter was there making the decisions.
"We'll be with Alexander soon," he added, gently touching her arm.
"It doesn't sound good," she whispered. "Vomiting. Diarrhea. Babies can die when they get dehydrated." She stared hard into Peter's eyes. "He's so little."
"They've got him hooked up to an IV. That'll control the dehydration."
"I never should have left him."
Peter came closer still, and reaching out his hand, gently stroked her hair. His touch soothed.
If only the cabin hadn't turned to ice. If only she weren't so cold.
Peter ceased his caress and held out his hand for her to hold. For a long moment, she simply stared at it, her tears frozen in her eyes. Then she looked into his eyes and found them darker than midnight. His unsmiling lips were pinched white around the edges. But his hand, when she took it, was as hot as an electric blanket.
"Alex will be all right," he said huskily, pulling her to her feet and drawing her into his arms.
His touch warmed her on the surface, but inside, she still froze. From between open lips, her breath escaped shallowly. Peter's shirt lay comfortingly soft against her cheek.
"Alex's illness must have been coming on when we left," she said haltingly, her heart contracting with self-loathing. "He was fussing, was hot." She took a deep breath. "Ruby said it was teething."
She pushed Peter away, stared bleakly into his eyes. "I never should have left him," she repeated dully.
Chapter 14
The face staring back at her from the door's much-polished glass couldn't possibly be hers. She looked like a madwoman. Her strawberry blonde curls swirled around her head in a fashion impenetrable by any comb, and her eyes were blue-black saucers much too large for her face.
Peter yanked open the door to the children's ward and Jann sidled past, trying not to touch him, for if she did, the wall she'd so painstakingly built around herself would crack and she'd fly into his arms and beg to stay there forever.
Peter didn't need that. He looked no better than she. His skin was as pale as marble against his rumpled black hair and his mouth was set in a grim line. He'd said little when she'd claimed responsibility for Alex's condition, perhaps knowing there was nothing he could say to make her feel better, to lift the burden of blame from her shoulders.
Jerking her gaze from Peter, she stared down the long corridor. She had been in a frenzy to get here, desperate to see Alex with her own eyes, needing to hold him. But now they had arrived, she could scarcely bear to go on, hating that she couldn't alleviate her baby's suffering, terrified she would doom him with her presence.
Thrusting her shoulders straight, she forced one foot in front of the other, the only way she could make it any closer to Alex. She was excruciatingly aware of Peter at her side, not needing to touch him or see him to know that he was there. Needle-thin cords seemed to stretch between them, connecting them, binding them, one to the other.
The lights on the ceiling were unbearably bright, the floor, with its squares within squares, dizzying. Opening her eyes wide, she bit hard on her lip, but the pattern on the linoleum continued to swirl, and along with it, her mind.
Then Peter caught her hand and the dizziness disappeared, leaving only the terrified pounding of her heart. Everything frightened her lately. It didn't used to be so. Not before Alex. Not before Peter.
Children's Intensive Care.
The words might have been written in neon the way they stood out. Jann's pounding heart slowed. Or maybe it was her breathing that slowed, for she couldn't find enough air.
Peter gave her hand a squeeze then put his arm around her waist. She sank against him, needing him too much to resist him, needing the strength only he could give her. Pushing open the door to the ward, he guided her through in front of him.
Room 326. She couldn't see the number. Was it down another corridor? No. The even numbers were on the right like house numbers on a street. Laughter bubbled up, threatening to escape. She clamped her lips shut, pushing the hysteria away.
Alex needed her.
This was not her parents' room.
Nor Claire's.
Alex was not about to die!
Room 326. At last.
She took a deep breath, but before she could open the door, Peter pulled her into his arms. His heart beat savagely against her ear, but his arms were rock solid.
Like the man himself.
For a single, blissful instant Jann felt completely safe.
He tilted her face upward, and though he made no move to kiss her, power rocketed through her, lending her courage. When they had made love, it had been magic, today his touch held strength. Looking deep into his eyes, she found the courage to go on.
She opened the door. There were too many patients, too many visitors. The space was bursting with noise and confusion.
Except for Alex, who just lay there, his body too tiny for such a big bed, his gurgles and cries stilled. Covered in perspiration, he seemed to have shrunk during the three days she'd been gone. His face was gaunt and his precious baby fat had all but disappeared, leaving only loose skin wrinkling around skinny legs.
Except for his diaper, her baby was naked. His quilt lay on top of him. The one she had made. Under a panoply of stars, the porpoise still danced on the end of its tail.
Incongruous somehow, with Alex so sick.
Tears stung Jann's eyes. She'd made him that quilt after Claire died, as a promise to Claire's child that she'd always do her best.
Somehow she had failed.
Ruby rose stiffly from the chair beside Alex's bed. "Thank goodness you're here," she whispered as Jann hurried forward. The old woman gave her a hug. "I'm so sorry, Jann. I was sure Alex was simply teething."
Jann wrenched her gaze from her child and turned to her friend, heartsick at the sight of tears in the older woman's eyes.
"It's not your fault, Ruby," she said. "It's mine."
She dragged a chair next to Alex's bed and wearily sat down. Her baby lay so still. Only his eyelids fluttered as he slept and his chest rose then fell with the release of shallow breaths.
His intravenous stood next to his bed, so big, so adult a machine for such a little guy. When Jann lifted Alex's hand, she found his fingers as waxy and lifeless as a doll's. She massaged them gently, willing them to warm and turn their familiar pink.
Peter wedged himself in on the other side of the bed, his brows drawn together and his lips a grim slash.
"What's he doing in a room like this?" he demanded.
"I don't know," Jann said helplessly, then glanced toward Ruby.
"It was all your medical insurance would cover," Ruby explained softly.
Peter's face grew more thunderous.
Even that small insurance had been more than she could afford. The pulse at Jann's temple pounded in unison with the bleep of the monitor at the head of Alex's bed.
A nurse entered the room carrying a tray laden with
pills. Peter called her over with a jerk of his arm.
"I want this child in a private room," he said, "with a private nurse."
He was giving orders again, Jann thought dazedly, but she welcomed it this time as she had the night before. She could only pray his efforts would make a difference.
Back on Maui, she had phoned the hospital while Peter arranged for the plane. Alex's doctor hadn't been able to tell her what had caused the baby's gastroenteritis, but had indicated it could have been any number of things. A bacteria. A virus. A tropical germ. His environment.
By the time she and Peter had arrived in Honolulu, the culprit had been found. The supply of water on her boat was to blame, water stored in an aging holding tank, pumped up through old pipes and dribbled out through leaking faucets. She'd put off the repairs many times, thinking she couldn't afford them, but it looked as though now they might cost her everything she held dear.
Over the telephone, the doctor had sounded reassuring, but when they saw that same doctor at the front desk on the way in, his eyes had held worry. Jann knew the dangers of dehydration in a child as young as Alex, but was trying hard to cling to the doctor's initial certainty he would get better, to trust in that opinion. But to do that she had to eliminate the memory of her parents' death and of Claire's death, too.
Fear as sharp-edged as a diamond, lodged in her throat. She tried to swallow, but couldn't. Peter cast a swift glance in her direction, then took hold of Alex's other hand, caressing the baby's skin with a slow sweep of his thumb.
She had witnessed Peter's gentleness before, when he held Alex or changed his diapers, when he'd made the baby giggle in a rousing game of peek-a-boo, but she hadn't allowed herself to value that gentleness, hadn't dared to even acknowledge it. Now it loomed before her, as damning as her guilt.
Alex pulled his legs to his chest and emitted a shallow mew. His eyes opened for an instant, then fluttered shut once more. Peter stroked Alex's tummy in a circular motion, seeming to know instinctively where it hurt and how to fix it. Fixing what she had broken. What she was responsible for.
Pressing shaking fingers against her brow, Jann prayed the pressure would take away the pain, feeling idiotically hopeful that because she was suffering, Alex's suffering might disappear.
A Woman's Heart Page 15