by Penny Jordan
No; the fault, the blame, lay not with Jessica but with Lewis.
He had no desire to come between her and their daughter, he had said. When had he changed his mind, or had he simply lied to her all along? And she, gullible fool that she was—that she had always been—had believed him.
Where were they…what had he said to Jessica? If he had said anything to hurt her…to make her afraid…if he had tried to persuade her to follow his own example and deny herself the joy of ever having a child…
She was, she discovered, almost wringing her hands as her mind fed on her fears, acting like a forcing house on them so that there was no room for anything else.
The phone rang. She snatched up the receiver, her hand trembling, but it was only Ian, telephoning to confirm that he had made arrangements for Jessica to have the necessary tests during her half-term break.
‘She might not even have inherited the rogue gene,’ he reminded Lacey gently. ‘But of course it is best to be sure.’
She had of course had to explain the whole situation to him. Previously he had known nothing of her past, other than the fact that she was divorced. She had always had a horror of revealing the truth to others, of encouraging their pity.
‘I was wondering if you were free this evening,’ Ian continued uncertainly. ‘There’s a new restaurant, just opened—’
‘I’m sorry, Ian, but I’m expecting a call from Jessica this evening,’ Lacey interrupted him.
‘Well, perhaps another time, then.’
As she replaced the receiver, Lacey told herself guiltily that she was being unfair to him and perhaps to herself. He was a kind, gentle man; the type of man many, many women would have been delighted to have as a potential husband; so why was she so unable to feel anything for him other than friendship and liking?
Sexually he did nothing for her at all. No one did.
No one. Again she felt that knife-like pain slice through her. She was lying to herself and she knew it. She had only had to see Lewis to reactivate all her old physical awareness of him…her physical longing for him.
It had shocked her how strong that longing had been, how sharp-edged and bitingly, searingly keen. Stronger than logic or reality; stronger than reason and self-respect.
As she waited for Jessica to ring, she promised herself that when she did she would say nothing about Lewis…that she would not react with jealousy and bitterness, with accusations. She must try to see things from Jessica’s point of view, to remind herself that Lewis was Jessica’s father and that the discovery…
What was she so afraid of, after all? That their shared medical history would give them a bond from which she was excluded? That Jessica would turn away from her and to her father, sharing with him her inevitable fears and doubts about the future?
At eight o’clock the phone rang again and this time it was Jessica.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t ring earlier, Ma.’
Was her voice different…guarded almost…or was Lacey looking for problems which did not exist? Was she being over-sensitive, Lacey wondered as she tried to sound as normal and natural as possible.
‘I’ve been out…’ Jessica’s voice faded a little as though she had turned away from the phone. ‘I…I’ve been with Lewis…my father.’
Lacey realised she had been holding her breath, dreading Jessica’s not telling her, or even worse lying to her. Now she felt both relief and guilt. How could she have so little faith in her own daughter? Why was she behaving so suspiciously…so…so jealously?
Her attitude wasn’t only demeaning to herself, it was demeaning to Jessica as well. And to Lewis…didn’t it equally demean him?
‘Yes; yes. Mike said you’d gone out with your father.’ She tried to sound breezy, unconcerned, and knew she was failing when her voice sharpened as she couldn’t stop herself from adding, ‘I must say I was surprised that he’d been in touch with you, especially when we’d both agreed that it would be better if I was the one to tell you.’
There was a small pause and then Jessica said quietly, ‘He didn’t get in touch with me, Ma. I got in touch with him. I phoned Ian’s secretary during the week and got his home address from her, and then I rang him. I’m sorry; I know how you must feel. I wanted to tell you…to discuss it with you, but…’
But she had been afraid of how she would react, Lacey recognised bleakly.
It was time to control her own emotions, to make good the damage they had already done before it became irreparable. It was time for her to show not only generosity but wisdom and far-sightedness as well.
Lacey took a deep breath and said as quietly as she could, ‘He is your father, Jess. I do understand how much…how curious you must have been about him. In your shoes I’m sure I’d have done the same thing, and you do…’ she stumbled a little and then managed to continue ‘…and you do potentially share a bond. Well, I can understand that you might rather have talked to…to your father about things…than to me. After all, he has a personal knowledge of the situation that I—’
‘Ma, please don’t make me feel even worse than I do already,’ Jessica pleaded, her voice half choked by tears. ‘It wasn’t that; and as for any bond that might exist between us…You are my mother; Lewis…I can’t call him “Dad”—I can’t even really think of him in that context…not yet. I don’t know why I felt such a deep-rooted need to contact him, or what I was looking for…’ She stumbled, and Lacey’s heart ached for her, for them both. Please don’t let him hurt her, she pleaded silently.
Please don’t let him allow her to believe he cares about her and then reject her.
‘He’s a very lonely man, Ma,’ Jessica told her chokily. ‘The woman he left you for…I don’t think they can have stayed together long. He never mentioned her…never talked about her, but he never stopped talking about you…about—’
She had to intervene.
‘Jess, it’s all right,’ she interrupted. ‘I do understand. He’s your father and I’ve never wanted you to hate him. He is, after all, a part of you, but you mustn’t…There’s no need for you to try and justify his actions to me. Our relationship, his and mine…it was over a long time ago. Your relationship with him is just beginning.’
They talked for another half-hour or so, and when she had replaced the receiver Lacey was conscious of a great burden of sadness which at the same time was edged with the knowledge that she had done the right thing in removing from Jessica any guilt she might have felt at contacting her father. The strain, the tension, had gone from her daughter’s voice once she’d realised that Lacey was not going to protest at what she had done.
Perhaps this was one of the greatest gifts she could give her daughter, she acknowledged wearily later over her solitary supper—the freedom to openly explore and begin her own relationship with her father without the taint of any bitterness of opposition from her mother. Yes, she had done the right thing…but at what personal cost!
Tiredly she pushed her uneaten supper away from her. She felt both exhausted and restless at the same time, shaky with nervous tension, and very much alone. She looked at the phone, half wishing it were not too late to ring Ian and tell him that she had changed her mind.
Perhaps, after all, it was time for her to cut herself free of the past, to stop indulging in foolish daydreams of something that could never be, and accept instead the realities of what life could offer her. There was no point in wishing what was done undone, in wanting to turn back the clock to a time before Lewis had re-entered their lives…or rather Jessica’s life, she corrected herself miserably. She ought to feel joy for Jessica instead of concentrating on her own pain. She had heard her daughter’s voice, her happiness at discovering her father, and she could not, must not spoil that happiness. She must not let her own feelings create a barrier between them…a schism of misunderstanding and jealousy.
Ten o’clock. Perhaps if she had an early night…The weather forecast was good. She could spend tomorrow in the garden, working. The wooden seat needed a
coat of preservative, there was weeding to be done, plants to be thinned out. Plenty of work to occupy her hands. But nothing to occupy her mind. Nothing to stop her thinking about Jessica…about Lewis. Nothing to stop her from remembering how threatened…how alone…how shut out she had felt when Mike had told her that Jessica had gone out with her father. She had experienced jealousy before; the deep, agonising jealousy of knowing that her husband, her lover preferred another woman, but never had she expected to feel jealous of her own daughter…to wish passionately that…
That what? That Lewis had wanted to spend the day with her! Her eyes filled with bitter shadows as she washed up, and then Lacey made her way upstairs.
CHAPTER SIX
FOR once the weather forecast was accurate. Lacey looked up at the cloudless blue sky and then grimaced as she glanced down at her stain-splashed arms and legs.
The stuff she had bought to re-stain the wooden seat was thin and runny. She felt as though more of it had gone on her than on the bench.
Luckily she was wearing on old pair of shorts and an equally old T-shirt.
While she waited for the first coat to dry, she went into the kitchen and made herself a cup of coffee. The house felt unnaturally quiet. She put down her coffee-mug, her eyes shadowing as she recalled the years when Jessica had been growing up and the house had been filled with her chatter, her tears and her laughter.
She had told herself long before Jessica had left home for university that she was never going to allow herself to become a clinging mother, that she must accept that one day Jessica would grow up and away from her, and she had thought that she had come to terms with this.
Now, though, the tears burning the back of her eyes told a different story.
It’s only self-pity, she castigated herself mentally.You’re just feeling a bit down because…
Because she resented the way Lewis was establishing himself in Jessica’s life.
She tried to put herself in his shoes…to imagine how she would feel if she were suddenly to discover that she had an adult child. She moved restlessly round her kitchen. She didn’t want to feel sympathy for her ex-husband, to feel compassion for him and recognition of the very real shock it must have given him to realise that Jessica was his child.
Her life was complicated enough already without taking on that kind of burden.
Where was Lewis today? Was he with Jessica?
It was several seconds before she realised how damning it was that she had thought firstly of Lewis and only secondly of Jessica. She drank her coffee. She ought to be outside working, not standing here in front of a window, allowing herself to give in to what was becoming an almost compulsive desire to allow Lewis into her thoughts…her mind…her heart. She gave a convulsive shudder. If she was honest with herself, hadn’t he always been there, no matter how hard she had tried to reject the way her emotions clung to the memory of him?
Those nights in which she dreamed of him. She was starting to tremble, to feel the aching, weak loneliness and misery that remembering how her life with him had once been always brought her.
She was a fool, she told herself bitterly. She was clinging to memories that had no basis in reality, to a love which had never really existed…at least not on Lewis’s part.
Tears blurred her vision. She blinked them away. The garden seat would be ready for its second coat of stain by now.
She was just about to go out when someone rang the front doorbell.
Jessica. Perhaps it was Jessica, she thought excitedly, and then acknowledged that her daughter was hardly likely to ring the bell when she had her own key. Grimacing a little at her untidy, stain-splashed state, she opened the door into the hall and hurried to the front door.
As she opened it the sunlight dazzled her, so that for a moment all she could see was the silhouette of a man, his features obscured and shadowed; and then he spoke, stepping towards her and into the house as he said quietly, ‘I hope I haven’t chosen an inconvenient time to call round but—’
Lewis. It was Lewis. What on earth was he doing here? And then, abruptly, she thought she knew, and her initial shock gave way to sick anger as she interrupted him, choking back bitterly, ‘But you just couldn’t wait to come and crow—is that it? Well, you’re too late. I’ve already spoken to Jessica. Why are you doing this, Lewis? You didn’t want her…you didn’t want any children. You said so yourself when you told me you’d chosen to ensure that you never had any…Biologically Jessica may be your child, but emotionally, morally, she’s mine and if you think I’m going to stand by and let you hurt her—’
‘Hurt her?’
She could hear the anger in his voice. It silenced her, shocking through her own anguish, making her pause and look at him. He looked haunted, drawn, ill almost, and as he moved she remembered the operation he had recently undergone, and even while she derided herself for it she couldn’t stop the surge of weakening concern for him that overrode the shock of seeing him and the anger burning inside her.
‘Hurt her,’ he repeated less harshly. ‘Is that really what you think I’d do?’
For some reason her eyes were stinging with tears. ‘Why not?’ she asked bitterly. ‘After all, you didn’t seem to mind hurting me.’
She went white and then red. What on earth had possessed her to make that kind of self-betraying statement? She held her breath, waiting for him to pounce on it, to deride her for it and taunt her with all that it had revealed, but instead he seemed to tense as though he had suffered a body-blow, his voice low and raw with emotion as he defended himself.
‘I had no option. I—’
‘You were in love with someone else. Yes…I know.’ She felt sick inside. Discussing the past was the very last thing she wanted to do. It had been idiotic of her to make that comment in the first place. Desperate to change the subject, while she still had at least some control of her emotions, she turned away from him and demanded gruffly, ‘Why did you go to see Jessica, Lewis? When you came here to see me you told me that your only concern was that she be informed of…of her medical history.’
He was silent for so long that she was forced to turn round and look at him.
He was watching her with a grave expression on his face. His eyes, so familiar, so achingly and accurately recorded by her memory, were dark with compassion and pity.
Anger stirred inside her, mingling with her pain and the burden of the knowledge she didn’t want to have. She knew already what had really happened, and no matter how desperately she tried to push the knowledge away from her, she couldn’t.
It was her pride that made her lift her head and grit her teeth to say shakily, ‘All right, so Jessica was the one to make contact with you. What do you expect? Of course she’s curious about you. Of course she wants to know—’ Her voice broke and she had to stop. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bear him to see her weakness, but she had to go on, to prove to him that she didn’t in any way see Jessica’s behaviour as any kind of betrayal of her…of their love. She had to make him see that she was mature enough to accept, to understand.
Frantically she scoured her mind for something to cling on to, for something to rescue her, and then miraculously she found it and threw it at him, saying, ‘You, of all people, should know that. After all, you wanted to find your father…to know more about him. You can’t blame Jessica.’
‘I don’t blame her, Lacey. Not for anything. No, I don’t blame her.’
The way he emphasised the last word…The deep sadness in his voice checked her.
‘What are you trying to say?’ she demanded. ‘That you blame me…that I should never have had her? Well, it does take two, you know—just in case you’ve let that small fact slip your mind—!’
‘Lacey, please, I haven’t come here to quarrel with you,’ he interrupted her tiredly. ‘Look, could we go and sit down, and discuss this whole thing more rationally?’
‘Like we did when you told me you wanted a divorce?’ Lacey demanded recklessly. ‘You’
re very good at being rational, aren’t you, Lewis? Very good at locking everything away in neat little boxes, tidied up out of sight, when you no longer want them. As far as I can see there’s nothing for us to discuss. When you came here to tell me…to ask me if Jessica was your child, you said that you had no intention of trying to come between us; of trying to claim her as your daughter.’
‘What was I supposed to do, Lacey? She contacted me. Should I have rejected her?’
His voice was quiet and low, carrying a heavy undercurrent of pain.
It was that pain that silenced her. She wasn’t a girl any more, rushing heedlessly into an emotional confrontation. She was a woman with the maturity to see that no problem was ever clear-cut and divided neatly into right and wrong.
She felt tears sting her eyes as the anger drained out of her, leaving her feeling weak and vulnerable.
‘I didn’t realise that Jessica had already been in touch with you. I came round to—’ Lewis started to say.
‘To tell me what happened. To crow over me—’ She didn’t try to keep either the pain or the distaste out of her voice.
‘That’s unfair and untrue,’ Lewis interrupted her immediately. ‘When have I ever—?’
‘Hurt me?’ Lacey gave a shaky smile. ‘Do I really need to answer that one?’
‘Lacey, please. I just wanted to talk to you…to see if we couldn’t find a way of—’
‘Of what? Sharing Jessica? She’s a bit too old for that now, Lewis. I can’t stop her from seeing you…and even if I could…’ She turned to look at him. ‘Don’t you think I don’t know how she must be feeling? What it must mean to her? How potentially damaging it could be to her even now if either of us…either of us tried to make her feel guilt over what she’s doing? I grew up as an orphan, remember. I do know how it feels.
‘I don’t need you to explain to me Jessica’s motivation for seeking you out. I’ve known her all her life, remember. But what I do need to know is why you’re encouraging her.’