The agent cleared his throat. "This is a great shock for all of you. But the only way the program can work is complete and total separation from your former lives. This includes relatives, friends, business acquaintances. What your father said is completely true. To involve anyone else is to put their life in danger. While it might seem cruel to disappear, it would seem a worse disservice to jeopardize a life."
Billy felt the sinking truth slam him in the chest. The words he'd casually thrown out to Barbara mocked him. "Marry me now, Barbara or it's over."
Meeting his parents' gaze, he knew there was no choice. Still he raged, his youth and passion unchecked. "I can't leave her behind, as though she means nothing! You don't understand!"
"We understand far too well, son." His father pinned him with the gaze that had always commanded obedience and respect. "It is, of course, your choice. Are you willing to risk Barbara's life and those of your brother and sister?"
Choking on the rage that consumed him, Billy turned on his heel and ran upstairs to his old room. He wanted to rail, to rant against this incredible unfairness. Instead, he felt a terrible death inside. A death of youthful hope and unending optimism. He knew in that instant life would never be the same again. And the changes were just beginning.
* * *
Kenneth swallowed hard against the memories even as he replayed them for Barbara. Her face, a study of growing disbelief and concern, mirrored a host of emotions.
"That's why no one at school knew where you'd gone," she whispered.
"We left everything behind," he replied, unable to disguise the bitterness, the sense of injustice that could still overwhelm him. "And life has never been the same for any of us. My brother never found anyone to replace Susan. The few women he decided to trust found they didn't love him enough to leave everything behind and join his anonymous life." He brooded as he thought of his older brother, always alone, still searching. "We had to break up the family so it didn't resemble the Duncan unit. That meant one person here, two somewhere else, but never all of us living together in the same city. That traumatized my sister and she's been on the run ever since."
"The photos from around the world," Barbara surmised aloud.
"We can't get together often. It's too risky."
"This many years later?" she questioned, shocked.
"There's no statute of limitations on murder," be reminded her. "And the guy's still behind bars. Even so, he's an influential man, one who'd still like to see my father six feet deep."
"If lives are at stake, why are you trusting me with the knowledge?"
"Because I know you, Barbara."
"This—" she gestured helplessly with her hands "—all sounds so dangerous."
"It is," he replied briefly, not asking for pity, not wanting any.
Barbara shivered in spite of herself and Kenneth smiled sadly. "Anyone who chooses to join with us becomes isolated, as well."
"Are your parents happy?"
He shrugged. "As happy as anyone can be with their family flung to all corners of the globe, destined never to see their children on a regular basis and having given up their life's work."
It was a grim picture. "Do you see them at all?"
A grimace of the inescapable truth tugged at him. "My brother visited me recently."
"Josh was in Salt Lake?" she asked in surprise.
His gaze raked her sharply. "I call him Eric now, but yes, he was there. I was distracted and I hadn't returned my messages. In most families that's simply annoying. For us it can be far more serious."
The unspoken implication was there. She had distracted him. His unblinking gaze confirmed the thought.
Barbara flung her hands out in entreaty. "I've seen you laugh, clown around. How is that possible?"
"Because I can't live every moment in fear. If I'm discovered, I'm not going to look back and regret most of my life because I was afraid to really live. I'll look back and he thankful for what I had."
Her eyes were clouded and troubled as she stared at him, hardly able to take in all he'd revealed. It certainly wasn't what she'd expected. "This is very … confusing."
His short bark of laughter was caustic. "It's been confusing since it all began."
The fire burned steadily, yet Barbara could feel a distinct chill. How would it be to spend most of your life running? Not because you'd done something wrong, but because you insisted on standing up for what was right. She remembered the warm, clannish coziness of Billy's family. They had been close, protective of one another and always full of laughter.
"Is that why you don't keep photos around?" A dart of fear clutched her. "In case you are … located?"
He shoved a hand through his hair, and for the first time since their time together, he tugged at the ear that had once held a flashing diamond stud. The old habit must return when he was under extreme stress, she realized.
Abruptly he turned and walked toward the desk, opening a deep bottom drawer and retrieving a leather-bound album. He sank down on the oversize sofa beside her and opened the book.
"It's too difficult to keep them out," he said, his fingers moving over the pictures, touching the familiar faces. "It reminds me of what I no longer have."
Barbara felt a start of moisture gather in her eyes, the constriction of her throat. She glanced down at the happy faces on the first page of the album. These were the Duncans she remembered. Loving and cheerful. The album progressed, a set of happy memories. He continued turning the pages and the pictures changed.
The countenance was more somber now. Strain edged the faces. Even though it had been fifteen years since she'd last seen them, his parents seemed to have aged tremendously. Many of the photos were of one or two family members. Only a few group shots were scattered through the pages.
It was a drastic, telling chronicle. The devastation of the Duncan family. Gone were the happy smiles, the togetherness. It was clear they were isolated from one another and desperately unhappy about that isolation.
Horrified, Barbara did her best not to cry. But a tear escaped unchecked, sliding down her cheek. "It's all so terribly unfair!"
His jaw clenched. "It's something I've had to come to terms with. My father did the right thing, and sometimes that's harder to deal with than walking away. But I wouldn't have had him choose any differently. Someone has to stand up for what's right – regardless of the cost." His hand closed over hers. "But I do regret that you were hurt needlessly."
Her fingers curled softly within his hand. "Why did you take the case, knowing you'd see me?"
"That's why I took the case," he replied simply. "I had to know if you were happy. Then I planned to walk away."
"And now?"
"Now it's not that easy."
Barbara took a ragged breath. She felt overwhelmed, staggered by everything he'd revealed. And she wondered how different their lives would have been if she'd said yes, come with him that night. They'd have been together when Josh found him and she'd have been part of his life. Still… There was one question, one critical answer she needed. "Why did you wait to tell me this time?"
The fragrant air still wafted inside, the fire burned steadily. Kenneth stood abruptly, pacing the oak floor. "There's no easy answer to that, Barbara."
"But I want one," she replied quietly.
"Could we walk?" he asked, holding out a hand to her.
Nodding reluctantly, she rose on her own, seeing the flare of pain on his face as his hand dropped to his side.
His jaw ticked as he reached for his car keys. "Let's drive down to the beach. I do my best walking there."
* * *
The sand made a soft, giving carpet beneath their feet as they picked a trail up the magnificent beach. In the darkness, the surrounding trees lent a mystic air as the moss draped elegantly over far-flung branches.
Kenneth squatted down to retrieve a bit of driftwood, turning to stare into the ebony panorama. An oil derrick, decked out in full lighting, resembled a fairy ship. He po
inted it out to Barbara as he rose. "A deceptive illusion," he said finally, unable to keep the agony from his voice.
Barbara raised her head to follow his gaze and her beauty struck him again. "Deception is easier for some to see than others."
The tic in his jaw tightened. "I never intended to deceive you, Barbara."
"You just thought you'd argue a case with me, disrupt my ethics … make love to me … and then walk away?"
"I thought I could see that you were happy, fulfilled. And then, yes, I was going to walk away." He lifted a hand to touch her hair. It was still loose, flowing, and he let his knuckles skim over the length. "But it wasn't that easy. You didn't laugh anymore."
"Laugh?" The word was wobbly, uncertain, and she trembled beneath his touch.
Feeling his own heart tremble – and ache – he pulled her a fraction closer. "You always had more spirit than anyone I ever knew. And back then you were full of laughter and love. But when I met you again, all that was missing. Oh, you were on a fantastic career track, but that was all – your life was two-dimensional." He allowed a small smile to escape. "You were uptight, Barbara, with a veneer tough enough to crack coconuts. I wanted more for you. I wanted you to remember how to have fun, to care about something other than your work."
"You made me care about you," she replied quietly.
"I didn't intend to." His hands absently massaged her upper arms. "I had the crazy idea that I could open you up, bring some laughter into your life and then you'd go on." He lifted one hand to cup her chin. "But then I realized that meant you'd go on with someone else. And even though I knew I couldn't have you, couldn't ask you to make the sacrifice, I couldn't stand the idea of your belonging to someone else."
"And it didn't occur to you to tell me who you really were?"
Exasperation mingled with hurt. "I thought I was more than a name … an eye color … a hairstyle. I thought you'd know."
She replied with an equal amount of exasperation. "How … how was I supposed to know? I got these strange flashes, bits of memories or recollections, but how was I supposed to connect them to you?"
"You were part of my soul," he replied, searching her eyes, hoping she would somehow understand.
"Which makes it harder for me to believe you would wait so long to tell me."
Caught in a trap of his own making, Kenneth stared out at the pounding sea. "I kept getting in deeper and deeper, all the while intending to pull back." He turned back to her, tucking a lock of her hair behind one ear. "And then, believe it or not, I didn't want you to get hurt."
"Too late."
"Is it too late for us?" he asked finally, unable to squelch the question, while knowing he still would never ask her for that ultimate sacrifice. Even though he'd willingly given up everything, it wasn't a request he could make of anyone else. Especially not Barbara, not after he'd hurt her needlessly.
The ocean continued its pull and the moon washed over their faces.
Barbara's expression was shuttered as she turned to him. "I don't know … I just don't know."
* * *
Chapter 14
«^
Barbara stirred as long fingers of sunshine crept through the tall windows and warmed the goose-down comforter that was snuggled around her. The night before she had been sure she couldn't possibly sleep, yet she'd fallen into a deep, dreamless slumber. As she stretched, she realized it had been a healing sleep. And a long one, she discerned with some chagrin, seeing it was nearly nine o'clock.
Padding to the French doors, she flung them open and was rewarded by a tumble of bougainvillea that decorated the terrace. In the daylight, she could see the sweep of Carmel Valley, the incredible view of mountains and ocean.
Wondering suddenly what Kenneth was doing, wanting to see him, she slipped down the hall. Beyond the den was a huge kitchen. Doors opened to a flagstone terrace. Kenneth sat there with a carafe of coffee. He turned, sensing her presence.
She hesitantly walked toward him, tugging at the folds of her oversize terry robe.
"Did you sleep well?" he asked, automatically pouring her a thick mug of steaming coffee.
She accepted it gratefully. "Surprisingly well. My mind blanked out on me."
"Perhaps for the best." He rose. "I'll get our breakfast – it's in the warming oven."
She blinked. He'd made breakfast? She was expecting a serious talk over endless cups of black coffee. Mentally preparing herself to shred her remaining nerves, she didn't know what to say when he brought out a huge tray.
First he handed her a spray of orchids, then whisked a plate in front of her. While she watched, he poured goblets of mimosas. Abandoning her coffee, she sipped the heavenly mixture of champagne and orange juice. Intrigued by the covered plate, she lifted the metal warming lid.
"Blintzes?" she asked in surprise. "You made blintzes?"
A grin tugged at his lips. "Afraid not. But Carmel boasts the best in restaurants." His voice ripened. "I remember how well you liked them on our Orient Express breakfast."
So she had. She swallowed the knot in her throat, remembering the perfection of that day. Knowing he watched her, she forced herself to taste the heavenly combination of crepes, rich filling and obviously homemade strawberry jam.
Enchanted with the picture-perfect setting, she found, despite all that lay between them, that she was able to eat a few bites. "This is quite a change from last night," she commented, sipping her drink.
"I figure I don't have long to win you back. I don't want to waste any time."
Her eyes widened. "That's subtle."
"But true. I'm guessing you're still confused." She was. Impossibly so. Could she forget the pain he'd caused by not giving her any choice this time? Was there any reason valid enough to destroy her first love, then her trust?
His voice turned brisk. "Then my job's cut out for me. You'll find clothes in the closet in your room. You and my sister are about the same size."
She shook her hair back, preparing her excuses, protecting her battered emotions.
But he was one step ahead. "No stress, Counselor. Let me show you around the area – it's really quite beautiful."
She hesitated. "Is it safe?"
He laughed, that rich café au lait laugh that curled her insides. "Of course. That's the whole point of changing my identity. You didn't see me watching my back in Salt Lake City, did you?"
Good point. "But I thought…"
"It's not entirely grim," he said softly. "If it was, I would never have contacted you."
The beautiful valley and the man who held her heart beckoned. "All right. On one condition. I fly back tonight."
He started to argue, saw the determination in her eyes and relented. "But the rest of the day is mine."
* * *
Kenneth took full advantage of their time, plying her with the sights, sounds and wonders of Carmel and Monterey, from the Aquarium to the Cannery to the incredible row of art galleries.
And she loved it all. Yet even as he wooed her, Barbara's thoughts kept rushing toward everything she'd learned since last night. She knew she still couldn't forgive his omission, the way he'd shattered her trust.
The hours spun by, sharpened by the need she felt, by the desperation she sensed in him. It was as though each moment rushed them toward a destiny that couldn't be postponed. The sea drew them at day's end to an uncrowded spot. Gone were the distractions, leaving only all that lay unresolved between them.
The ocean plunged toward the shore behind them. Gray sky melded with the sea, blotting out the horizon. Magnificent moss-shrouded trees lined the beaches. As they walked the length of the pier, the smell of wet hemp mingled with the day's catch and the heady aroma of hot dogs from a sidewalk vendor. It was a piercing array of aromas. Ones she knew she would always remember. Ones she would always link to this day, this man.
Barbara fought the catch in her throat. "Kenneth, I have to get to the airport. I'll just have enough time to catch my flight."
His eyes dimmed and he braced himself against the urge to persuade her to stay. How could he ask her for such a sacrifice? She was right. He had manipulated her since the beginning of the case. He'd stretched her trust and broken it. He couldn't ask for more. As much as he wanted to speak the words crowding on his tongue, instead he tightened the grip on her hand as he searched her eyes. "It's your call, Barbara."
They were quiet as, true to his promise, he drove to his house, picked up her briefcase, then started down the road toward the airport.
Tension slashed between them, a force as vivid as the clouds that rolled ominously from the sea.
"Funny weather," she commented finally in a tight voice. "It was beautiful all day, but now…"
It hit him suddenly. Fog. That was what she was seeing.
"You realize what this means?" he asked, slamming on the brakes and pulling off the side of the road.
She glanced at him suspiciously. "No."
"That's fog, Barbara. You won't he able to fly out tonight."
Jerking her head, she stared out the window. "Are you sure?" she asked weakly. "Maybe it's just rain, or a thunderstorm or a—"
"It's fate, Counselor. Giving us one more chance."
* * *
The fog shrouded the house, enfolding them in an incredibly intimate setting. Barbara didn't even pretend it wasn't affecting her.
Because everything about him affected her. She sat in the study while Kenneth showered. Giving in to the urge that had been nudging her, she reached for the picture album that was still lying on the coffee table.
She leafed through the pages, seeing again the suddenly changed history of the Duncan family. Unhappiness and distress lined all of their faces. How could she have overlooked this heartache? Practically dismissed it as she'd concentrated on how it had affected her, rather than them. True, she'd felt terrible about what he'd revealed, but the enormity of the sacrifice hadn't completely sunk in.
Rocking her, the realization stabbed.
He'd had to choose.
The safety of his family, or her.
WHEN A MAN LOVES A WOMAN Page 18