by Anne Mather
‘They’re not cross with you.’ It was Reed who answered her, crossing the floor between them, and squatting on his haunches in front of her so their eyes were on a level. ‘It’s just that your mother and your grandmother are embarrassed because I’m here. But don’t worry.’ He straightened and looked down at her. ‘I’m going.’
‘You are?’
Alexa still looked weepy, and Helen, who had watched their exchange through burning eyes, felt the rush of tears behind them.
‘You—you don’t have to go,’ she burst out tremulously, but the face Reed turned in her direction was cold and accusing.
‘Oh, I think I do,’ he told her harshly, picking up his shirt and jacket, and walking towards the door. ‘Goodbye, Alexa,’ he added, with a bitter-sweet smile for the child, and, nodding in Mrs Caldwell’s direction, he left the apartment.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
IT WAS AFTER ten o’clock when the buzzer sounded again.
Somehow, Helen didn’t quite know how, she had prepared Alexa’s evening meal, sat with her while she ate it, and got her to bed. The little girl usually went at nine o’clock on a Friday, after the silly situation comedy she always found so amusing. But tonight Alexa had offered no objections when her mother put her in the bath at eight o’clock, instead of eight-thirty, and she had given Helen an extra-long hug, as if sensing that, whatever her mother said, something was seriously wrong.
Mrs Caldwell had left shortly after Reed. She and her daughter had had a short but succinct conversation, during which Helen had given her mother a brief résumé of what had happened, both on the island and after. And, although Helen guessed she would have liked to make a comment, her mother seemed to have known that this was no time to make judgements. Indeed, she had been more concerned about Helen’s state of mind, and she had phoned later in the evening to assure herself that all was well.
From Helen’s point of view, everything that had happened since her mother’s and Alexa’s arrival had been a disaster. She should have told him, she kept telling herself over and over again. As soon as he had said he loved her, she should have told him about Alexa. Not allowed him to find out from the innocent lips of the child.
Of course, she conceded painfully, there was a school of thought that pointed to the fact that she ought to have informed him sooner. If not ten years sooner, then certainly several weeks. But how could she have come out with something like that? And what if he hadn’t believed her?
No, she consoled herself firmly, there was no way she could have told him before today. It had been too long. Too many things had happened. And, aside from anything else, she had Alexa’s feelings to consider. She couldn’t treat her daughter like some inanimate object.
All the same, remembering how Reed had reacted to the little girl she felt a stabbing regret. If only things had been different, she thought. Ironically, if Reed hadn’t been Alexa’s father, he would be here with her now. But, for all her agony, she wasn’t sorry for the relationship. It was because she was Reed’s child that Alexa was so precious.
It was late when the buzzer sounded. Fourteen minutes past ten, and too late for any casual caller. Of course it could be a wrong number, she thought without conviction, getting to her feet. But if it was Reed, she had no choice but to let him in.
Thankfully she was still dressed, she thought, looking down at her cotton vest and well-worn jeans. Not the kind of outfit she would have chosen to wear, if she had even suspected he might come back. But at least she looked respectable, if a little puffy-cheeked. But what could she expect, when she had spent the last hour and a half, since Alexa went to bed, weeping?
She hurried into the hall, before he could sound the buzzer again. The noise was penetrating, as she knew from experience, and the last thing she wanted to do was wake Alexa now.
‘Hello?’ she said, picking up the receiver, and this time she had to wait for a response.
‘It’s me,’ he said, after a daunting interlude. ‘Are you going to let me in? Or do I bluff one of your neighbours, as I did this afternoon?’
Helen didn’t answer. She just pressed the button that released the door downstairs. Then she disconnected the chain from the door and lifted the latch, leaving it ajar, before going back into the living-room.
She had had the television on, not really watching it, but hoping that, if Alexa did wake, she would hear it and not her mother crying. But now she turned it off, pushing her hands into the front pockets of her jeans as she straightened.
She heard him come into the hall of the apartment, and close the door. There was the infinitesimal pause while he crossed the hall to the living-room door. Then he was standing in the open doorway, wearing his shirt and the leather jacket now, and carrying her sweater in his hand.
She didn’t know how she had expected him to act. After the way he had looked at her that afternoon, she had been prepared for anger, passion, bitterness and resentment, or any per mutation in between. She wasn’t afraid of him. She knew enough about him now not to nurture useless emotions of that kind. But the very fact that he had come back said something, and after the way he had left her she had to be on her guard.
He leaned against the frame of the door for a moment, and, although her intention had not been to plead with him, she couldn’t help the desperation in her face. She was at the end of her tether. He held all the cards now, both literally and metaphorically, and no one could deny his right to see Alexa, as seldom or as often as he wished.
Her instinct was to stare at him, but she forced herself not to do so. Apart from a single, searching glance, she kept her gaze riveted to the floor at her feet. She didn’t know what he was thinking. He was far more expert than she was at keeping his feelings hidden. But at least the frozen look had left his face, and his eyes weren’t accusing her any more.
‘Aren’t you going to ask why I’ve come?’ he suggested at last, his voice low and perfectly controlled. If he did have something to say, he wasn’t going to hurry into it, and Helen’s nerves tightened as she tried to match his mood.
‘Why—why have you come?’ she enquired obediently, permitting herself another glance in his direction. She thought she could be casual about it, but the sight of him standing there, so remote and unapproachable, tore her to pieces. Oh, God, she thought despairingly, she needed him so much.
‘I wanted to return the sweater,’ Reed said, tossing the woollen garment on to a chair. ‘Thanks for allowing me to borrow it.’
Helen could have said she hadn’t had much choice—but that brought back too many painful memories, so she merely shrugged. ‘You—you’re welcome,’ she replied, wishing she didn’t stammer all the time. But with his cool grey gaze upon her, she found it difficult to be calm.
‘Am I?’ Reed chose to take her words literally. ‘I have to say that you surprise me. I get the impression I’m not welcome here at all.’
‘That’s not true!’ The words burst from her, despite her futile attempt to appear detached. ‘That’s—not—true,’ she said again, framing her words carefully this time. ‘No one—no one asked you to leave.’
‘Like hell!’ She tensed, as he straightened away from the door. ‘What was I supposed to do? Accept the fact that you’d been lying to me all these weeks with equanimity?’
‘I—’ Helen’s throat felt constricted. ‘I haven’t been lying to you.’
‘No.’ Reed’s mouth compressed. ‘Literally, I suppose, you haven’t. I never asked the right questions, so you never gave the right answers.’
‘It wasn’t like that—’
‘What was it like, then?’ Reed stared at her bleakly, and for the first time she glimpsed a little of his true feelings. ‘Helen, this is my daughter we’re talking about, for God’s sake! Didn’t I deserve to know? Were you ever going to tell me?’
Helen trembled. ‘Yes—’
‘When?’ He ran a hand that shook a little across his jaw, and she noticed he had shaved during his absence. Not very expertly however. There
were nicks and scratches all over his face. It made him seem so much more vulnerable, and she wanted to ease his pain.
‘I—was going to tell you today,’ she said steadily. And when he would have interrupted her she went on, ‘I was. It’s the truth. But you have to see it from my side. It may be hard to believe, but—I was afraid.’
‘Afraid?’ Reed stared at her disbelievingly. ‘What did you have to be afraid of?’
‘You,’ said Helen simply, standing her ground. ‘I—I thought you might—take her away from me. You still might. I’m sure you can.’
Reed gaped at her. There was no other way to describe his expression. And then, dragging his scattered wits together with an effort, he shook his head. ‘When,’ he said, ‘when have I ever done anything to make you think I’d do a thing like that? God,’ he closed his eyes, ‘and I thought what we had was real.’
Helen’s jaw quivered. ‘It was real. It is real,’ she whispered, twisting her hands together. ‘Oh, God! how can you doubt it? When you walked out of here this afternoon, I wanted to die!’
Reed opened his eyes. ‘You wanted to die,’ he said harshly. ‘And I wanted to kill you. I thought I’d never forgive you. But—as you see—I just couldn’t keep away.’
Helen blinked. ‘You mean—you didn’t just come back because of—Alexa?’
‘Hell!’ Reed left the door, and in two strides he had reached her, his hands gripping her arms above the elbow, jerking her up on her toes. ‘That’s some opinion you’ve got of me,’ he snarled. ‘Isn’t it? If all I’d wanted to do was assert my right to see Alexa, I’d have had my lawyer draw up the papers. That’s what I pay him for. And he leaves making a fool of myself to me!’
‘Oh—’ Helen couldn’t go on. The scalding tears that had been threatening ever since he came through the door wouldn’t let her. They ran down her cheeks and dripped on to her vest, leaving dark smudges on the fabric.
‘Don’t cry!’ Reed’s anguished response to her distress only made the tears run even faster, and with a muffled groan he gathered her into his arms. ‘Don’t cry,’ he said again, cradling her close, and burying his face in her hair. ‘Dear God, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just get so mad, when you won’t see the truth. The only reason I came back is you! To find out if there’s any possibility of us having a future together.’
Helen sniffed helplessly, aware of the damp patch on Reed’s shirt beneath her cheek. But she couldn’t believe this was really happening. That, after all her fears, their love might stand a chance.
Sensing she was making an effort to control her tears, Reed drew back a little from her, and rested his forehead against hers. ‘You know,’ he said, capturing one salty droplet on his tongue and savouring the intimacy, ‘I haven’t known a moment’s peace since you left the island. If you do decide to marry me, it will be quite a novelty to sleep nights again. Or maybe not,’ he teased engagingly. ‘But I’d sure as hell enjoy finding out.’
Helen lifted misty eyes to his face. ‘You’re—you’re asking me to marry you?’
‘Mmm.’ Reed scowled suddenly. ‘You’re not going to cry again, are you?’
Helen gave him a watery smile. ‘Just a little, perhaps.’
‘Why?’ Reed tried to sound careless of her answer, but there was an element of anxiety in his words. ‘You’re not going to turn me down?’
Helen sniffed, and then shook her head. ‘No.’
‘No, what?’ Reed had to be precise. ‘No—you won’t marry me, or no, you’re not turning me down?’
Helen would have liked to tease him a little now, but the tension in his expression disarmed her completely. ‘No,’ she said tremulously, cupping his face in her hands. ‘No, I’m not turning you down. I love you.’ She took a trembling breath. ‘So very, very much.’
He pulled her closer then, his mouth finding hers with undisguised relief. The agony of the last few hours was fragmented by his touch, and with the barriers between them tumbling a sweet sense of abandon entered his kiss.
But Helen was ever vigilant of Alexa, in the next room, able to wake at any time and come and see what was going on. And, although she hoped their daughter was going to get used to seeing her mother and father together, the idea of her finding them, perhaps half naked on the couch, was enough to make her protest when Reed’s hand slid beneath the hem of her vest.
‘OK, OK, I know,’ he whispered huskily, closing his eyes to subdue the urgent clamour of his senses. ‘We can’t do anything here, because Alexa’s just next door. I appreciate that. But just give me a minute to absorb it. The spirit’s willing, but the flesh is weak.’
Helen’s lips parted. ‘Yes,’ she said ruefully. ‘I can feel that.’ She pressed herself closer for a moment, just to enjoy the sense of satisfaction it gave her. Then, when he gave her a wounded look, she took pity on him, bestowing a brief but sympathetic kiss on his mouth, before pulling away.
‘I’ll make some coffee, hmm?’ she suggested, hovering in the doorway to the tiny kitchen, and after a brief pause Reed nodded.
‘Yes. Let’s have some coffee,’ he said, throwing his jacket over the back of a chair, and flinging himself down on to the sofa. ‘Make mine black,’ he added, looking up at her through his lashes. ‘And preferably decaffeinated, if you’ve got it. I don’t need any more stimulus in my system.’
When she came back he was stretched out on the sofa, his eyes closed. She thought for a moment that he was asleep, but when she set his mug of coffee on the low table near by he opened his eyes.
‘Sit here,’ he said, shifting across the cushions so that she could sit beside him. And, when she did so, he reached up and put his hand behind her head, and kissed her, very thoroughly. ‘Just to reassure myself that you’re real,’ he said, letting go of her reluctantly, and flopping back against the cushions. ‘Do you have any idea how much I want you—right at this moment?’ He picked up her hand, and took each of her fingers in turn into his mouth. Then he bit her little finger hard, and smiled when she gasped in protest. ‘It serves you right,’ he said unfeelingly. ‘You put me through hell!’
‘I put you through hell!’ echoed Helen, indignantly, but there was a tender curve to her mouth. ‘It wasn’t all my fault, you know,’ she added. ‘You let me leave the island without ever telling me how you felt.’
‘I thought I made a pretty fair job of it when I found you down at the rocks,’ declared Reed drily, but Helen shook her head.
‘You never said you cared for me. I—I just thought it was a—a sexual thing.’
‘Well, it’s that, too,’ admitted Reed ruefully. ‘But so much more besides. You should ask Vee. I think I’ve left her in no doubt as to my feelings.’
‘Vee—I mean, Victoria?’ Helen frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well—I have to admit I got pretty drunk, after you and Jon had left for the airport. Stinking drunk, as it happens. I told Vee she was to blame for you leaving, and then I tore down some of those damned paintings of hers, and threw them into the Sound.’
‘You didn’t!’ Helen was horrified.
‘Oh, I did.’ Reed regarded her unashamedly. ‘In fact if she hadn’t been so worried about Styles going off to New York without her, I think she’d have called the police, and had me arrested.’
‘Could she do that?’
‘Well, she could have tried,’ said Reed wryly. ‘But, instead of that, she told me I was a fool, and a philistine, or words to that effect, and took herself off to New York on the next available flight.’
Helen gasped. ‘Has she come back?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Reed grimaced. ‘A couple of days later. With Styles. But—it seems possible that he may decide to move to the States permanently and Vee’s already wondering where she should buy a house.’
Helen stared at him. ‘She’s actually considering leaving Palmer’s Sound?’
‘Mmm.’ Reed shrugged. ‘She’s no fool, you know. She could already see the writing on the wall.’
Helen moistened h
er lips. ‘Because of me?’
‘Because of you.’
‘But—how—?’
‘Look, I got the biggest shock of my life when Jon said he was taking you back to London. She knew that. I guess she knew it was only a matter of time before I came after you.’
Helen bent her head. ‘And—what did Jon say?’
‘When? Today? Or then?’
Helen lifted her shoulders. ‘Then, I suppose.’
Reed sighed. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘I guess this is as safe a way to spend the night as any.’ His features grew a little harder. ‘He let me think you were as eager to leave as he was.’
‘Well, I was.’ Helen had to be honest, however painful it might be. But, conscious of his puzzled expression, she hurried on, ‘I thought you’d be glad we were leaving. And—after what had happened, I—wanted to get away.’
‘Why?’ Reed slid his fingers up into her hair, and wound a handful of its silky radiance round them. ‘Surely you knew what I would think, when you left with Jon.’
‘Well, yes. That’s true.’ Helen nodded. ‘But—I have some pride, you know. Or I did,’ she added ruefully. ‘And I thought you—just—wanted me.’
Reed’s eyes darkened. ‘I do.’
‘In a sexual way, I mean.’
‘So do I.’
But he was teasing her, and Helen gripped his thigh and squeezed hard. ‘Anyway,’ she went on, letting him prise her fingers free and retain his hold on them, ‘I needed to put some space between us. I knew, if I stayed, it was only a matter of time before—before—’
‘Go on,’ he prompted huskily.
‘You know what I’m trying to say. As I said before, I knew you were attracted to me—’
‘—and you were afraid I might try and make love to you?’
‘No. I was afraid I might let you,’ admitted Helen honestly. ‘And—and I had Alexa to consider. I could see no way of ever telling you that.’
‘Ah.’ Reed nodded now levering himself up on one elbow, and reaching for his coffee. He took a mouthful, savoured it, and then shook his head. ‘My daughter! God, I still find it hard to believe.’