What about skydiving? And hang-gliding? Didn't the fact that she'd tried them and more prove she wasn't afraid of anything?
Of course she wasn't a coward. Cowards shied away from life, hiding from it, cowering from risks, afraid to meet the challenges she ran to greet.
What of starting her own business? No coward ever braved the miles of bureaucratic red tape involved in licensing, figuring out taxes, insurance forms, employee benefits, and the myriad of other details necessary to get a business off the ground.
Having convinced herself she was not—had never been—a coward, she left the shop.
It wasn't running away. She was simply taking a trip. A long overdue vacation. Perfectly understandable.
Then why did it feel so much like running away?
* * * *
On a muttered curse, Daniel yanked up the phone and punched out Eve's number. He'd given her two days. It was time they talked. His lips curved when he heard her voice, but the smile died the moment he realized it was a recording, informing him that she was unavailable.
He considered leaving a message but hung up instead. What was he supposed to say? Don't send me away. I need you. I love you. I can't live without you.
Shaking his head, he paced the room. For the first time in his life, he didn't know what to do. He'd been so smug, so sure that he could convince her to forget her fears. The arrogance of it stunned him. How had he thought he could wipe away the fears of a lifetime?
He'd known Eve for a few short weeks. She'd lived with her nightmares for years. He knew she loved him. But it wasn't enough. The knowledge ripped into his heart. Angry wishes of what might have been, what could have been, filled his head, his heart.
Not that he was giving up.
He had plenty to keep him busy. Even when Congress was in recess, the demands didn't stop. If anything, they picked up. He didn't have time to brood over one exasperating, infuriating, irritating woman, even if she was the woman he loved heart, body, and soul.
But that was exactly what he was doing.
Reports to draft, letters to answer, campaigning for re-election, all should have filled the days. And they did. But they failed to fill the emptiness of the nights. Nothing, not even the bone-deep exhaustion he worked himself into, could erase the long hours between night and morning.
When he tried Eve's number the following day, he got the answering machine again. More annoyed than worried, he figured he'd try again. The pattern repeated itself until he accepted the fact that she was gone.
* * * *
Daniel didn't have time to brood. A meeting in Washington called by party leaders had him catching the red-eye to the nation's capital.
The kid gloves were off now. The top men and women in the party grilled him. Nothing was too trivial to escape their notice; nothing was too personal to politely sidestep.
Daniel thought he was prepared. Nothing, though, could have prepared him for this kind of prying into his private life. When Eve's name came up, he tensed. He managed to answer the questions, but, as he'd instructed witnesses during his stint as a trial lawyer, he didn't volunteer any information.
Apparently he passed the test for the senior member of the group nodded. "You'll do."
Back in his office, Daniel received a call from Sam saying he was in town for a seminar. Agreeing to meet his friend at his health club, Daniel hoped to learn some news about Eve.
* * * *
Daniel sliced with his racket, letting out a satisfied grunt as the ball slammed into the wall with a gratifying whump. He'd missed his weekly game because of his stay in Saratoga. He was glad to see he hadn't lost his touch.
Sam Hastings removed his protective goggles. "You trying to beat some kind of record or something? Or maybe you're just trying to forget a certain redhead."
Though Daniel was glad to see his friend, he could do without the inquisition.
"Nah. Just trying to beat you."
"You got some kind of backhand there." Sam ripped off his canary yellow sweatband and swiped at his forehead. "What do you say we call it quits for today?"
"Fine by me." Daniel slumped against the wall. "You didn't look too shabby out there yourself."
"Pull the other one," his friend said, grimacing as he slid to the floor. "But thanks for the kind words. Ever since I coached a girls' basketball game and got the stuffing knocked out of me, Carla's been after me to get in some exercise."
The mention of Sam's wife was just the opening Daniel had been hoping for. "How're Carla and Zach?"
"Fine." Sam gave him a shrewd look. "It's only a guess, but I'd say it was Eve you're interested in. Am I right?"
As always, the mention of Eve's name tore at Daniel's heart. Since he'd returned to Washington, he'd had to struggle every day, every hour, every minute to keep her from his thoughts and to focus on his job. He'd failed miserably. "And if you were?"
"I'd wish you luck."
Daniel couldn't doubt the sincerity in his friend's voice. He slid down beside Sam, propping his elbows on his knees.
"You in for the long haul, buddy?" Sam asked.
"Yeah." The word came without hesitation. "Yeah. I am."
"Congratulations. I never thought I'd see the day you took the plunge."
"I could say the same to you." The comment, which he'd intended to tease, came out sounding more like an accusation.
Daniel flushed. He wished his friend nothing but happiness, but he'd sounded like a selfish jerk, begrudging Sam what he, Daniel, had failed to find for himself.
Sam didn't appear annoyed. If anything, he looked amused. "Yeah. There's nothing like it. Once you get your feet wet, you'll understand. Carla, and now Zach, are my life. If I didn't have them, I don't know what I'd do."
Daniel stared at his friend. He'd never known Sam to wax poetic before. He wanted to smile but couldn't seem to make his lips obey.
The amusement from Sam's eyes faded. "If you love her, don't let her go."
"Do you think I wanted to?" Daniel demanded, the words ripped from him. "Do you think I wanted this? Any of this? A woman who has no need for me?"
"You don't believe that," Sam said quietly.
"No." Daniel shook his head. He didn't believe it. Any more than he believed he could change the past. He knew Eve loved him, needed him, just as he loved, needed her. What he didn't know how to do was to erase her fears. "Is she back?" There, he'd said the words. Pride, be darned.
"Not yet. I'm sorry, Daniel." The sympathy in Sam's voice had Daniel tightening his lips. Now he was an object of pity.
The sympathetic words were knives to his soul. "Thanks for the game." He pushed himself up and headed to the showers.
Daniel couldn't concentrate. Even work had lost its challenge. No, that wasn't right, he decided. The challenge was still there. It was that his heart wasn't in it any more.
He gave into the not-so-subtle demands of his staff and turned over work that should have gone to them to begin with. That soothed some of the ruffled feathers at work but failed to ease the ache in his heart.
For as long as he could remember, work had been a cure-all.
No longer.
At his house, he loosened his tie and yanked it off, shedding his shirt as he headed to the bedroom. There, he shucked his pants and then rummaged through a drawer for a pair of comfortable sweats. Pulling them on, he decided to take a run. Maybe some exercise would clear the cobwebs from his mind.
When he wasn't at the office, he tried to exorcise memories by pushing his body to the limit.
An hour later, the cobwebs remained. He knew he was only running from his problems. Unfortunately, no matter how much he pushed himself or how far he ran, he couldn't run away from his thoughts.
He returned home sweat-drenched and exhausted. Fifteen minutes in the shower solved the first but didn't relieve the weariness that had dogged him since he'd returned from his trip to Saratoga.
His housekeeper's voice calling him to dinner prodded him to move faster. He fi
nished dressing in jeans and a polo shirt. In the dining room, he noticed how ridiculous the one place setting appeared at the large glass-topped table. How had he failed to notice that until now? He picked at his food, ignoring Mrs. Carson's obvious displeasure.
"If you're not hungry, I'll clear the table," she said stiffly.
The reproach in her voice caused him to make an effort to appear to enjoy the meal. After five minutes of pushing the food around on his plate, he gave up. The cordon-bleu meal failed to tempt his appetite. Nothing tempted his appetite these days.
His thoughts strayed to the pizza he'd shared with Eve.
Stringy with cheese and hot with red pepper flakes, it had tasted like nectar. Other memories tumbled head-over-heels upon it.
Why did his mind pick now to remember the way her eyes lit up when she was happy? The gentleness of her voice as she comforted Zach? The sweetness of her smile when she looked at him? From there it was only a slight jump to think of the softness of her skin, the freckles that danced across her nose, the lushness of her lips.
He pushed his plate away and stood. All this because of a meal he couldn't bring himself to touch. Heaven only knew what would happen if he were to actually see her again.
The image took shape before the thought was fully formed.
He needed to see her. Just the thought of her, and his heart shattered.
Anger, hot and urgent, filled him. Enough was enough. He'd given her time. Now it was his turn. He didn't intend to stop until he'd found her and convinced her that they belonged together. Somehow, he'd make her see what he'd known from the beginning—that they were meant for each other. Whatever it took, he'd make it happen.
If it meant giving up his senate seat and a shot at the presidency, he'd do it. It was a small enough price to pay if it meant having Eve in his life.
Chapter Ten
The hurried trip to Saratoga had been for nothing. Eve still hadn't returned. After wandering aimlessly for hours, Daniel found himself at Sam and Carla's home. When he discovered Sam wasn't in, he was about to leave when Carla drew him inside.
He'd always liked the Hastings' home. It was the feeling of welcome he had whenever he entered it, the warmth that came from people who shared common beliefs and weren't afraid to act on them.
From Sam, he'd learned of Carla's commitment to helping the homeless. Daniel had frequently accompanied them to the shelters and used what he'd found there to draft a bill to fund inexpensive public housing.
Today, though, his thoughts weren't on shelters or bills before Congress.
"Eve's still not back," he said flatly.
What Carla saw in Daniel's face stirred her compassion. She gestured to a chair. He slumped into it, the tired gesture saying more than words about his state of mind. She ached for him, for Eve, for the suffering they both endured.
Carla stood and crossed the room to where she kept the makings for tea. The herbal tea she chose was designed to soothe. Daniel Cameron looked in need of it. She handed him a mug and watched as he wrapped his fingers around it, as if he needed the warmth, though the room's temperature hovered near seventy.
He took a careful sip. "Do you know where she is?"
Regretfully, Carla shook her head. "I know she's hurting." She left the statement open.
He nodded. "I pushed her for a commitment."
Her silence was eloquent on what she felt about that. She hid a smile as Dan squirmed like a small boy sent to the principal's office.
"I acted like an idiot. I shouldn't have rushed her. It's just that…I love her so much." His voice hitched at the last, and her heart wept for him.
"Did she say anything before she left? Anything at all?" The question cost him, she could tell. Dan Cameron was a proud man, one unaccustomed to asking for anything. That he did so now was but one more proof of the depth of his feelings for Eve.
"Just that she needed to get away for a while." Carla took his hand in hers. "It hurts, doesn't it?"
"Big time." He tried a smile. The compassion in her eyes confirmed what he already knew: his effort at a smile was a dismal failure.
Carla held out the only hope she could give him. "Eve said that she loved you."
The light in Dan's eyes flared quickly before flickering out. "Not enough."
"How do you know?"
"If she loved me, she believe we could work things out."
"She’s frightened."
"Don't you think I know that?" Daniel looked startled at his outburst. "Sorry. I didn't mean—"
Carla sliced through his apology with a sharp gesture. "If you love her, give her the time she needs. Love sometimes means waiting." She could see that Daniel didn't like hearing that. She tried another tack. "Did Sam ever tell you about how we got together?"
Daniel shook his head. "Only that the two of you met at a race and you whipped his…that you won."
A smile inched its way across her lips. "We managed to antagonize each other almost from the start. He thought I was some do-gooder and I thought he was just another politician."
She smiled briefly. "Sorry."
He didn't appear offended by the reference. "But then you got together."
"Yeah. We got together, but we had our ups and downs. Things were good for a while. Then we let something come between us." The memory of the bitter words she and Sam had hurled at each other caused a shiver to skip down her spine. "It almost cost us everything."
"What got you back together?"
"We found that we were better together than we were apart."
"You know how I feel about her," he said.
The understanding in Carla's eyes convinced him she did understand.
All of the frustration, all of the hurt, all of the anger poured out. "Telling her I loved her wasn't enough. Showing her wasn't enough. Nothing's enough. She doesn't know what she wants."
That wasn't true, he thought. She knew exactly what she wanted. And it wasn't him.
"I think you're underestimating Eve. And yourself."
"Am I?" he asked, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.
Carla's nod was a ray of hope, and he found himself clinging to it. "Eve's stronger than she thinks," she said. "She'll find her way back."
When the baby monitor picked up the sound of Zach crying in the nursery, Daniel surprised himself by offering to get the baby.
"He probably needs his diaper changed," Carla put in.
Daniel swallowed. "No problem."
"Mind if I tag along?"
Impatient squalls greeted them as they pushed open the door to the nursery.
Daniel was quick to realize that Zach had no use for him. He wanted his mother, and he wanted her now.
With a serene smile, Carla lifted the baby from his crib and set about the task of bathing him. She soothed him with nothing more than quiet murmurs and a promise he'd be getting his supper shortly. Zach stared back at her, seeming to understand every word.
Daniel could only look on in amazement as she finished the task of bathing, drying, and dressing the baby in a clean sleeper. Knowing that she probably wanted some privacy to feed him, Daniel excused himself and returned to the living room.
Some help he'd been, he thought with a self-deprecatory smile. He'd faced down opponents on the senate floor, critics in the press, slander in the tabloids, and yet he'd been helpless in the face of the baby's distress.
When Carla, the now contented Zach in her arms, appeared within fifteen minutes, he stood.
"Would you like to hold him?" she asked.
Without waiting for his answer, she placed the precious bundle in Daniel's arms.
Automatically, Daniel snuggled Zach against him. The smell of just-washed baby drifted up to him, and he inhaled sharply.
What would Eve think if she saw him now?
With a thimble-sized sigh, Zach settled against Daniel. The sigh turned to a yawn, the yawn to a sound suspiciously like a snore. He liked the sweet weight of the sleeping child in his arms, the way t
he tiny head nestled in the crook of his elbow, the baby soft breaths that escaped the rosebud-shaped mouth. There was a substantial feeling in holding the eight pounds plus baby, substantial as in truly mattering, substantial as in doing something important, substantial as in making a difference.
Isn't that what he claimed he wanted? To make a difference?
Wasn't that why he'd chosen a career in public service? Could he achieve the same feeling of doing something substantial, of making a difference, in marrying and starting a family? He followed the train of thought to its natural conclusion. If he gave up his career, there'd be no obstacle standing between him and Eve.
He thought of the meeting he'd attended in Washington. A man didn't walk away from that kind of responsibility. But neither could he walk away from Eve.
He looked up to find Carla watching her, a knowing smile on her lips. "You feel it, don't you?"
He didn't need to ask what "it" was. He knew. The tender weight of baby, the feel of barely-begun life, the promise of beginnings. The hope. Yes, he felt it.
His nod was barely there, but he knew Carla had caught it.
Zach stirred. Instinctively, Daniel held him closer. "Shh. It's all right."
Carla motioned toward the nursery. "Time for his nap." She lifted the baby into her arms.
Daniel tried not to imagine what his and Eve's baby would look like. He tried not to feel bereft at the loss of the sleeping child in his arms. He tried not to feel at all.
But Eve's face swam before his eyes, the sweet curve of her cheek, the fall of her hair, the tilt of her lips. He remembered each and every feature. Even more, he remembered her generous spirit, her zest for life, her joy in small things. And ached for what he had lost.
When Carla returned, she went to him and touched his arm. "She'll be back."
"How do you know?"
"I know."
He looked into her eyes and believed. Maybe because her words held the ring of truth. Maybe because he wanted to. Most probably because he needed to.
Later, Carla told Sam about Daniel's visit.
"I've known Daniel for close to fifteen years." Absently, Sam scratched George behind the ears. A deep rumble signaled the big dog's pleasure. "He's hurting."
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