Ambrosia

by Rosanne Kohake

  Mandy shied away from her touch, her wide blue eyes distrustful.

  “Would you like Aunt Carolyn to buy you a pretty new bonnet, precious?” she cooed. “Of course you would.”

  Mandy’s arm went around Drayton’s neck and she moved further away. Drayton came to his feet, holding her close, his palm pressing gently to her back in a gesture of fatherly comfort. “Thank you for coming today, Carolyn,’’ he mouthed coolly, his tone one of dismissal. “But you knew I’d come, Drayton,” she answered, laying her hand on his sleeve. “You know how deeply I care.” She smiled at him, then turned her attention back to Mandy, who was peeking at her warily even as she held tightly to her father. ‘’Poor baby!’’ Carolyn crooned sympathetically, leaning closer. “You’ll miss your Aunt Lily, won’t you? But maybe your papa will bring you to

  town to visit me...’’

  Unable to hold back her tears, Ambrosia turned and hurried up the stairs.

  In the hallway below, Carolyn smiled triumphantly, having finally gotten what she wanted. She was alone now with Drayton. She turned to him, her smile fading a bit when Mandy’s quick fingers tugged curiously at her hat. “No, no, darling,” Carolyn scolded sweetly, trying to smooth the strands of hair that had fallen free. “You mustn’t touch Aunt Carolyn’s hat.”

  “ ‘At,” Mandy repeated, reaching again for the hat.

  Carolyn took a swift step backward and her smile was false. “No, Mandy, dear.”

  “Shall I see you to your carriage?” Drayton offered. Carolyn seemed surprised. “I’m in no hurry to go, Drayton.”

  “All the same, Carolyn, I think it would be appropriate for you to leave.”

  Her face reflected her deep disappointment. “I-I was hoping that you would join me for the ride back into town,’’ she said softly. ‘’We have so many things to talk about. I-I only met your aunt once, Drayton, but-”

  “Thank you for the offer, but I’ve decided to stay here tonight.” He surprised himself when he spoke the words, since he had not considered staying at Elmwood until the moment she offered him transportation to town. Suddenly he realized that he needed the time alone here, to think, to sort out his feelings, to come to terms with the loss. There was so much here he had turned his back on, so many things he had run away from.... And yesterday, when he had arrived, Mandy hadn’t even known who he was.

  Carolyn’s mouth tightened at the thought of his spending the night here with his wife. He was particularly vulnerable now, after losing his aunt, and he had been quite attentive to Ambrosia today. Worse, his attachment to the child was painfully obvious. If only he would allow her to give him a child!

  “I-I’ll be waiting for you in town,” she whispered, pressing a brief kiss to his cheek, scowling as she dodged Mandy’s inquisitive fingers. “You know where you can reach me.”

  “I know.”

  She held on to her smile as she turned away and entered her carriage, blowing Drayton a kiss as her coachman slowly pulled away.

  Ambrosia cried herself to sleep that afternoon and did not waken until nightfall, when Bessie knocked at her door with a tray of food. “Thank you, but I’m not hungry,’’ Ambrosia told her quietly, not even looking at the food.

  “But you must try to eat something,” Bessie told her firmly. ‘’Master Drayton made me promise I’d see to it.”

  Ambrosia walked to the pair of French doors and opened them, allowing the night air to flow into the room. She said nothing for a long moment, simply stared distantly at the star-filled sky. ‘’Did-did Mrs. Craig stay to dinner?’’

  “Oh, no, miss. She left this afternoon, shortly after the others. “

  Ambrosia whirled, her eyes searching Bessie’s face. “And did Drayton-did he leave with her?”

  Bessie shook her head. “Oh, no, miss. But he’s already eaten, I’m afraid. And retired to his room, just after Mandy went to bed. But he made me promise I’d see to your needs from now on, now that Miss Lily is-’’ Her voice broke off and she looked at the floor.

  Without another word, Ambrosia ate some of the food Bessie had brought her, though she did not feel like eating at all. When she had forced down all she could, Bessie drew her bath and helped her into a nightgown before she left her alone. Ambrosia paced the room slowly, pausing now and again to gaze down at the garden, at the shadows that played across the walks in the silver moonlight. She inhaled deeply, savoring the fragrances of roses and lilies that filled the moist, cool air of night. She thought of the garden at Heritage, so long ago, of the roses she’d loved as a child. She thought of the tiny violet Ledger had given her in the garden at Barhamville Academy. And now this garden, Lily’s garden. But Lily was gone now, as Heritage was gone, as Ledger was gone. None of them would ever be a part of her life again.

  Ambrosia closed her eyes and swallowed hard against her tears. Emotions lashed forth like a tidal wave... grief, regret, helplessness, anger, they all tore at her. And today, there had been Carolyn, intruding on her sorrow, weedling her way into part of Drayton’s life that ought to have been private, trying so hard to win Mandy’s affections with the promise of a pretty new bonnet. Ambrosia wanted to scream aloud at the jealousy, the anger that festered inside her. Yet a part of her anger was not directed at Carolyn, but at herself. She couldn’t forget that Drayton had tried to be a husband to her once, that he had swallowed his pride to offer her tenderness, and understanding while she had only sought to hurt him. She could not despise him for seeking comfort elsewhere. She had left him little choice. Why should he turn his back on Carolyn, who offered him all the things his wife had denied him?

  Ambrosia bit her lip hard to try to stop the tears that were rolling down her cheeks. She loved him. Oh, God, how she loved him and needed him! But it was all too late. There was nothing left of what he had once felt for her, nothing but pain and bitterness. She brushed her tears away with the back of her hand, remembering that yesterday he had held her, had clung to her in desperation, just as she had held to him. A shared grief had forced them to turn to one another then, to reach out in spite of the past....

  She drew a deep breath and stared at the moon, full and bright in the star-studded sky. How she longed to run away from everything, to be free of her guilt, of her regret, of her past. But there was nowhere to run; Drayton had told her that so long ago, on that first night in Charleston. She lifted her hand and ran her fingers lightly over her lips, remembering that night so very different from this one, remembering the cold and the rain, the terrible fight with Melissa, the look on Ledger’s face…She had run away from everything that night, and somehow, Drayton had known. She closed her eyes and sighed, remembering her fear and confusion, remembering the taste of brandy warm in her mouth, giving her the courage to offer herself to him…She straightened and her eyes opened, staring with sudden realization at the garden swathed in moonlight below. He had kept his distance that night, even acted cold and indifferent until she made the first move. Then, only then, had he admitted to his own desire.

  Ambrosia turned slowly away from the garden and went to stand before the glass, considering her own reflection. The flowing gauze gown she wore did little to conceal her womanly body, the loose neckline slipping over one shoulder, the darkened tips of her breasts visible beneath the thin fabric, the curves of her waist and slender legs outlined as the gown fell to the floor. Her black hair had been hastily pinned atop her head, but here and there a coil fell about her face, at her temples, at her neck. She met her eyes, dark, green-gray eyes heavy with black lashes. Somber eyes, cat’s eyes. She was not as pretty as Carolyn or Melissa, she thought, and then she frowned, recalling that Matt Desmond had called her beautiful, that Drayton had once called her that as well. You’re everything a man could desire, he had said. If only that were true.

  She drew a deep breath, knowing that she must go to him now, before he left here, that she must tell him she was sorry, that she loved him so very muc
h. Without giving herself a moment to reconsider, she turned away from the glass and left her room. A moment later she stood at the door to his room, her breath coming hard, her hands trembling. She hesitated for what seemed an eternity, wondering if he was asleep, wondering if he was dressed, wondering if she ought to knock. But if she did knock, and he told her to go away...She bit her lip and entered the room without knocking, without making a sound. She closed the door behind herself and leaned her back against it, her eyes searching the room. A lamp burned low on a table near the bed, but that bed was empty. It had not been slept in. She stifled the cry that rose in her throat when she saw him. He stood on the opposite side of the room, clad only in his trousers, gazing blankly out on the same garden she had stared at moments before. Lily’s garden. He turned to face her, draining his glass and setting it aside as he came forward into the light. His eyes lingered on her face for a time, then drifted with slow deliberation over her thin gauze gown. Ambrosia saw a flicker of something warm in his eyes, but then it was gone, and he turned away.

  Ambrosia stared at his back for a long moment, at his shoulders, broader than she remembered, at the muscles defined by his bronzed skin, at the scars…she had almost forgotten about the scars. She opened her mouth to say something, anything to break the silence. There was so much she had to tell him! But she did not know where to begin. What if he refused to listen? What if he laughed at her and called her a fool? What if he told her he intended to take Mandy with him into town?

  “Drayton?” It was the only word she could force herself to say. He acted as if he hadn’t heard her.

  She took a step toward him, then another, then another, stopping only when she stood before him. She was trembling now, feeling weak and foolish and afraid. “Drayton?”

  “What do you want?” His voice was cold, and he turned away from her again to pour himself another drink.

  She watched him, blinking back her tears, unable to speak as he drained his glass and impatiently met her eyes.

  “I-I need you, Drayton,” she whispered finally, feeling a single defiant tear slip over her cheek. For a heart-wrenching moment she thought he would laugh at her. His eyes never left her face as he set his glass on the table and came toward her. His hand lifted, his thumb touching the dampness at her cheek, lingering at the softness of her skin, at the silken coils of hair that had fallen about her face. “I need you,” she whispered again, her voice desperate, pleading.

  She felt his arms go about her, felt the warmth of is hard chest against her cheek, felt his heart thudding strong and sure against her palms. “I need you, I need you,” she whispered again and again as her lips pressed to his shoulder, his throat, to the mouth that lowered to find her own. His fingers touched to her cheeks again, his lips lingering to taste fully what she offered him, his tongue seeking, finding, seeking more. She moaned softly into his mouth and slipped her arms about his neck, tasting the strong, expensive whiskey on his tongue, her eyes closing in a sudden wave of weakness, of desire. She was aware of every inch of him, aware of the long, lean fingers, the slightly calloused fingertips that moved gently, so gently over her face, the muscles of his chest and torso, hard, tensing, the feel of his mouth...She drew him closer and raised herself on tiptoe to meet his kiss, to feel the intimate molding of her flesh to his, to feel the evidence of his desire. His lips moved to graze her bared shoulder, to seek the swell of her breasts, to play at the darkened crests through the thin gauze of her nightgown. It was she who slipped the gown from her shoulders, wanting to feel his mouth on her bare skin, wanting to feel his body hard against hers. She grasped his hair and pulled him close again, whimpering as he took the lead, arousing her, wanting her, taking her. He lifted her easily and carried her to the bed, stripping off his trousers before taking a place beside her, his hands touching, exploring, his mouth tasting, questioning. With a cry of longing, she rolled to her back and pulled him with her, arching against him until they were forged into a single entity. He thrust insistently within her and she clung to him, moving with him and against him, straining, gasping, exploding with the sudden ecstasy of total surrender even as she felt his release deep within her, even as she heard him cry out her name. He buried his face in her hair and held her close against himself, tightly, tightly, as a man clings to life itself.

  Not a single word was spoken after their lovemaking, though neither Drayton nor Ambrosia slept for a long time after it was over. They remained in each other’s arms even as they slept, clinging to one another, unwilling, unable to let go.

  Drayton woke long before the first rays of the sun peeked over the horizon. He stared down at Ambrosia’s face, his eyes lingering on her dark, dramatic features, on the soft fullness of her mouth, the satiny skin of her cheeks. Strength was written in that face even now in the squared line of her jaw, the brief, definite arch of her dark brows. Strength and softness, the courage of a woman and the gentleness of a child, the wall of defiance and the vulnerability that lay beyond. The paradoxes had drawn him to her from the first, and they drew him to her just as firmly, just as inevitably now. His fingers moved to touch the flawless skin of her shoulder but abruptly pulled away again, as if they had been burned at the touch. It had been over between them. Past, dead. And then he had taken her into his arms. And somehow he had forgotten the past, forgotten everything but wanting her, loving her, needing her as he had needed her before.

  He eased himself from the tangle of her arms and settled her head gently against the pillow, knowing now that he would always love her, that it would never really be over between them. He thought briefly of the gun she had leveled at his chest that night at Heritage, and a sad smile curved his mouth. Had he been a lone Yankee that night, she might well have used that gun. Perhaps things would have been better if she had. A clean, quick end in place of this slow erosion from within his soul. He let out an unsteady breath as he closed his eyes. It would not be easy to put away his feelings again, to leave her behind as he had left her for the past year. But too much lay unresolved between them for him to do anything else. The pain in him could never be healed by physical love alone. And that was all last night had been for her, a mindless respite from her grief. This morning when she woke, she would probably despise herself for admitting that she had wanted him and hate him just as she had before. And he was not strong enough to face that. That was why he had built another life for himself and taken on so many responsibilities away from here, away from her. He would go back to that life now, he would remember that there was no real place for him in Ambrosia’s life, especially now that Lily was gone. He would think of his other responsibilities, of Tom Landon, of his obligations to the bank, to Ken Galbraith...

  Being very careful not to disturb Ambrosia, Drayton slipped from the bed and dressed. Without making a sound, without even looking back, he left her.

  Chapter 50

  The sky was ablaze with golden sunlight when Ambrosia woke from her sleep. She sighed contentedly and blinked her eyes open, staring at the strange ceiling, slowly remembering. A smile began in her eyes and spread to curve her mouth slightly, expectantly, as she turned her head. Her smile disappeared. He was gone.

  She sat up abruptly, clutching the bed linens to her naked breasts, trying to convince herself that he had only gone downstairs to an early breakfast. But her heart knew better. He had gone back to the city. He had left her behind.

  Her fingers touched the pillow where he had slept beside her just a few hours before. She closed her eyes tightly. She felt so empty as she remembered the way she had clung to him after making love, as she remembered the silence, a silence of withdrawal in spite of their physical closeness. And now he was gone.

  She let out a ragged sigh as she lay back and stared again at the ceiling, knowing now what he had felt when she left him in Charleston without a word. She bit her lip and tried hard not to cry. Crying would serve no useful purpose, and she could not allow herself the luxury of self-pity. She dre
w a calming breath and forced herself to sit up again, to stare at the brightness of the August morning, to think of today, just today. She must think of Mandy, of Bessie and Emily and Sheba and Debbs and even Jake, all of whom would depend on her now that Lily was gone. She must think of Mr. Gavin and Mrs. Cox who would have no one to visit them now, no one to listen to them if she was not here. Somehow she must go on, if only for them.

  The remainder of August passed by slowly, quietly, a test of Ambrosia’s strength and will. She counted the days, twenty-six of them, since she had seen her husband, since she had lain in his arms. The memory comforted her even as it brought her anguish; it gave her hope even as it filled her with despair. There were so many things she had meant to say to him, so many words that ought to have filled the silence. But instead there had been no words. And she wondered if she would ever stop counting the days.

  Ambrosia had insisted on driving herself to Mr. Gavin’s house to go visiting that afternoon. She had taken him a basket of breads and fruits and listened for over an hour as he complained about his aches and pains, then made dire predictions about the coming winter. Winter, Ambrosia thought, allowing her mind to wander a bit. Even with Lily winter had been long and cold and lonely. She thought of the holidays, of Thanksgiving and Christmas, and wondered if Drayton would be coming home for them, or if he would merely send her money and expect her to see to them alone. Alone. The word rang in her mind as she forced a smile and left Mr. Gavin, promising to come again soon. She was almost in tears as she slapped the reins on the mare’s back and urged the animal to a reckless pace.

  Dear God, what was she to do? She simply couldn’t forget, nor could she live with the memory. Perhaps if Drayton had left her forever, if he had turned his back on her to marry Carolyn, perhaps there would have been an end to her feelings, a reconciliation with the future. But instead she was left with just enough hope to eat away at her heart, to affect every part of the life she was trying so hard to build without him. He might be coming home to visit Mandy. Or perhaps he would not come home at all. Perhaps he would send a terse note, demanding that she bring Mandy to the city so that he could “show her off” to his friends there. Or perhaps he had forgotten all about Mandy and did not think about her at all.