by Sandra Field
She’d know that man anywhere, the tall, black-haired man dressed in a scruffy khaki shirt and bush pants. Judd. Judd in Africa delivering food and medical supplies to refugees, when he was supposed to be on a business trip. With a woman.
It couldn’t be Judd. But it was. The announcer’s voice said that there’d been no fatalities, and the next clip began. Lise ran from her room, went to Judd’s study and ripped open the white envelope. In it, neatly typed, was his itinerary from Montreal all the way to the Sudan, with a list of phone numbers where he could be contacted at all times.
He wasn’t away on business. He wasn’t making more money. He certainly wasn’t with one of the elegant women in Marthe’s photos. Instead he was working for the Red Cross under circumstances both dangerous and difficult. Remembering how she’d accused him of being mercenary, Lise cringed with shame.
Once again he’d taken her by surprise. And Angeline’s assessment of his character was beginning to seem more and more unlikely…ruthless businessmen motivated entirely by greed didn’t risk their lives flying aid planes for refugees. Lise suddenly found herself sitting down hard in Judd’s leather-backed chair. The other plane had crashed. There was a very real risk in what he was doing.
If something happened to him, she couldn’t bear it.
Hunched over, her arms wrapped tightly around her belly, Lise sat very still. Judd was right. She did have to choose between his version of events and Angeline’s. She couldn’t have it both ways. Against her lifelong loyalty to her beautiful cousin with her casual kindnesses, she had to balance a man who had made love to her with passionate intensity, who adored his small daughter and who was willing to risk his life for the sake of people far less fortunate than he.
Trust, she thought. Which one do I trust?
Surely you learned something about a man when you made love with him? Judd’s total attention, his care of her, his eliciting from her of a passion she hadn’t known herself capable of—didn’t all that add up to a man who gave as well as received? His face had been as naked to her as his body, she thought humbly. He, too, had been shaken by the sheer intensity of their mating. Hadn’t he called it unforgettable?
Ever since he’d told her about his background, she’d carried an image in her mind of a little boy with a shock of black hair consigned to an orphanage in one of the world’s biggest cities. Bereft of family. Brought up by strangers. That had to have marked him, to have shaped the man he’d become.
Whereas Angeline had grown up with a mother who doted on her, unable to refuse her anything. To Marthe, her daughter’s external beauty mirrored equal beauties of soul. But was that true? Indulgence of every wish perhaps wasn’t the best thing for a young girl. Neither was uncritical worship. Who could blame Angeline if she’d grown up with a child’s greediness for pleasure and love? Marthe had to bear some of the blame for that. Furthermore, how could Angeline have learned about responsibility if Marthe had always shielded her daughter from the consequences of her actions?
These were new thoughts for Lise. Long overdue thoughts, she decided, and got up from the chair. She should go back to her room, just in case Emmy woke.
For a moment she looked around her. The desk was antique walnut, the carpet delicately faded Tibetan wool. Over the desk hung an oil painting of the desert: ochre sand, gray-green sage, a huge bowl of blue sky. Space, she thought. A landscape that challenged. A dangerous landscape. Judd had grown up in a hostile environment, he knew what it was like to fight for his life.
These, too, were new thoughts. Am I falling in love with him? Is that what’s happening? Don’t, Lise, don’t. He doesn’t love you. He’s sworn he’ll never fall in love again.
With anyone. Including you.
As tears shimmered in her eyes, Lise fought them back. She couldn’t have Judd now any more than all those years ago. He was out of reach, as impossible to attain as it would be for her to purchase his house on a firefighter’s salary. But she was carrying his child, and for that she was passionately grateful. Never mind about the difficulties, the sacrifices that would be called for. She would be the mother of Judd’s child. If she couldn’t have Judd, that was the next best thing.
Lise went back to bed and fell asleep; and the weekend, despite a constant undertow of worry about Judd’s safety, was oddly peaceful and fulfilling. While she was still subject to occasional dizziness, there was color back in her cheeks from all the time she and Emmy were spending outdoors. Deliberately she chose to ignore that the bond was imperceptibly deepening between her and Judd’s daughter. There was nothing she could do to prevent it, and both of them were enjoying it.
Judd was due back Tuesday afternoon; on Monday night Lise put on her old nightgown, took a bundle of magazines to bed and switched off her light about eleven. She’d see Judd again tomorrow, she thought, curling up under the covers; and was aware of a confused mingling of panic and happiness. Conjuring up the image of his face, she hugged it to her and eventually drifted into a deep sleep.
Lise lay still under the covers, her eyes wide-open. Was it a noise that had woken her? Or a deep intuition of another person where there should only have been herself and Emmy? Every nerve on edge, she heard the soft fall of footsteps in the hallway. Her heart gave a great lurch. How could an intruder have gotten past the security system? And what should she do?
There was a phone in Judd’s room. She’d sneak in there and dial 911. Moving with extreme care, she sat up and eased her legs free of the covers. The digital clock by her bedside said 3:18 a.m.
Lise edged across the thick carpet toward the door, which she always left ajar, the better to hear Emmy. On the way, she picked up the smooth marble carving of a dolphin that stood on the lacquered table; it was reassuringly heavy in her grip. Cautiously she peered around the door.
The hall was empty. She had to pass Emmy’s room to get to Judd’s. Clutching the statue in her right hand, her heart thrumming in her chest so loudly she was sure the intruder must hear it, she crept along the cool oak flooring. The boards had been laid impeccably; not one of them creaked. Emmy’s door, too, was ajar; silent as a ghost, Lise slid past it and glided toward Judd’s bedroom.
It was empty. In one swift glance Lise took in the taupe linen that covered the walls, the cream linen on the big bed. Two huge Schefflera plants flanked French doors that led out onto a terrace. The room’s single painting was an abstract, a shimmer of greens and blues. Swiftly she reached for the phone.
“What the hell—”
Lise whirled, raising the statue in front of her defensively. Then her arm fell to her side. “Judd,” she quavered, “I—I thought you were a thief.”
To her horror, a wave of faintness washed over her. Her knees buckled. She sank down on the bed, her breathing shallow in her throat, fighting back the red mist in her brain.
Judd flipped on a light switch. Then he knelt beside her, gently detaching her fingers from the statue. “Your hands are like ice,” he said. “Lise, what the devil are you doing in my room?”
She flushed scarlet. “I heard something—it woke me. So I was going to call 911.”
Judd said the obvious. “I got home early…what’s the statue for?”
“To bash you on the head, of course.”
“You’re brave as a lion, you know that?”
He was still caressing her cold fingers; she stared at his hands in fascination. “I was scared out of my wits,” she confessed.
Raising her eyes, she looked full at him. He was still wearing an outfit much like the one she’d seen on TV; dark circles shadowed his eyes, and a long scrape ran from one wrist almost to his elbow. “Judd,” she said, “I saw you on the TV news. In Sudan.”
He swore under his breath, his jaw tight. “I was too busy arguing with the airport officials to even notice the media until it was too late. But I didn’t figure it’d go international.”
Again she stared absorbedly at his hands, feeling warmth creep back into her own. “Why didn’t you tell me the t
ruth? About your destination, I mean.”
“I don’t tell anyone I do that stuff.” He paused, then added tautly, “I was in Venezuela doing airlifts the time of the fire. You can guess how I felt about that. But this time I knew Emmy would be safe with you. I trust you with her, Lise. Totally.”
Moved to tears, Lise faltered, “The day you left, I accused you of being greedy and mercenary…I’m so sorry.”
“You couldn’t have known.”
She looked up, gazing straight into his eyes. “You’re a good man,” she said unsteadily.
“I’m no angel, Lise. One reason I do it is for the risk, the adrenaline, the need to push my limits—nothing very saintly about that.”
“You do it. That’s what’s important.”
He shifted uncomfortably, releasing her hands. “I shouldn’t be anywhere near you—I stink. No showers, and I was in too much of a hurry to get home to bother changing.”
The words spoke themselves. “We could shower together,” she said; and waited with bated breath for his response.
He stood up, pulling her to her feet. “You’re wearing your sexy nightgown,” he said, his features inscrutable. “Difficult for me to resist you in that.”
“You see,” she went on, as if he hadn’t spoken, “I believe you. Not Angeline. I figured that out on Friday, the night I saw you on TV…I’m only sorry it took me so long.”
“You’re so generous,” Judd said roughly. “You take my breath away.”
With a radiant smile, Lise pulled his head down and kissed him full on the mouth. His stubble of beard rasped her chin; his response, instant and intense, soared through her body. Wasn’t this why she’d taken the job as companion to Emmy? So she could be with Judd?
“Shower,” he growled against her lips, nibbling them with erotic urgency. “I think I’ll burn these clothes.”
Sweeping her into his arms, he strode across the room to the bathroom, where a raised ceramic platform with a sunken Jacuzzi overlooked a small enclosed garden of pines and hemlocks. The shower was paneled in polished granite, with massage water jets at different levels; as Judd put her down and began stripping off his clothes, Lise stood still, almost faint with desire. When he was naked, he came over to her, easing her gown over her head, his gaze drinking in the gentle curves of her body. In quick distress, she said, “How did you scrape your arm? And you’ve got bruises all down your ribs.”
He said awkwardly, “Getting one of the crew out of the crashed plane—we were afraid of fire, so we weren’t being overly careful. Let’s not talk about it, Lise, not now.” He reached over to turn on the water and said with a boyish grin, “Last one in’s a chicken.”
As the jets pummeled her flesh, enveloping her in steam, Lise twisted her hair on top of her head. Judd advanced on her, the bar of soap in his hand, and suddenly she was laughing in exhilaration at the sheer joy of being with him again. She splashed him, her green eyes gleaming with mischief. He grabbed for her, running his hands down her body, then trapping her against the smooth tile and kissing her until she was breathless, boneless with longing. The pelt of dark hair on his chest was slick to his wet skin; water trickled from the concavity of his ribs to his navel. “You’re so beautiful,” she breathed.
His face intent, he cupped the weight of her breasts in his palms, stroking them to their tightened tips; and all the while he watched the play of expression on her face. In sudden impatience, he said, “I want you in my bed. Now.”
“There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”
Swathing her in a towel, wrapping one around his hips, Judd led the way back into his room. Very gently he rubbed the water from her skin; then he began raining kisses on her lips, her throat and the silken slopes of her breasts. Smoothing her hips with long, rhythmic strokes, he drew them closer to his body, pressing her into his erection until she gasped with pleasure. They fell on the bed in a tangle of limbs. Judd’s quickened breathing and heavily pounding heart echoed in her ears; she was encompassed by him, forgetful of anything in the world but him. She was where she belonged.
Then Judd reared up on one elbow. “Last time I didn’t even think of protection. Not until the next day. Should I use something, Lise? Or are you—”
She stared at him blankly. She was pregnant. She didn’t need protection. And now was the perfect time to tell him. She said faintly, “No, you don’t need to use anything.”
“I thought you were probably on the pill,” he said with a crooked grin. “Should have asked, I know—but it all happened so fast in Dominica, I forgot all the normal rules.”
The rules he used with other women, she thought sickly. Had they all been as willing as she? Falling into his bed like a ripe apple from a tree? Judd said urgently, “What’s wrong? Why are you looking at me like that? Protection’s an obvious issue, I’d have thought—I’ve never liked the idea of bringing an unwanted child into the world.”
What of the child in her womb? Would he regard that as unwanted? Of course he would. Because Judd wasn’t into commitment: he’d made that clear to her days ago. He’d been married once, and once was enough.
Then one more dimension of her dilemma tumbled into Lise’s brain. If Judd were to find out she were pregnant, he’d probably insist on marrying her, to legitimize his child; she knew him well enough for that. So she’d have forced him into an unwanted marriage, a marriage he’d resent. As he would resent her, who was its pretext.
She couldn’t—wouldn’t—do that. Not for anything.
With the swiftness of panic, Lise twisted free of him, stumbling to her feet by the side of the bed. Crossing her arms over her breast, horribly aware of her nudity, she faltered, “I can’t make love to you. I mustn’t.”
In a single lithe movement Judd rolled over and stood beside her, his body looming over hers. “What’s going on, Lise?”
“We shouldn’t be doing this. There’s no future in it for either of us, we both know that. I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have led you on the way I did, it was wrong of me.”
“We’re both adults. What happens between us in bed—it’s unique and we’d be fools to pass it up.”
“And that’s where we’re different,” she said in sudden bitterness. “I’m a typical woman, the kind you read about in magazine articles—I can’t have an affair with you just because the sex is great. Making love has to mean more than that! We’re not in love, Judd—and you made it very clear you never want to fall in love again. So I’m pulling out now. Before I get hurt.”
He frowned. “Are you saying you’re falling in love with me?”
“No! I’m saying I don’t want to risk that happening.” In a low voice, she added, “I’m not cool and sophisticated like all those other women you date. I could get hurt by you. And I’m not going to let that happen. That’s what I’m getting at.”
In a sudden angry movement, Judd ripped the spread from the bed. “Here, put this around you.”
She hugged the softly woven cloth to her body, grateful for its warmth, glad she was no longer naked. Knowing she’d never have a better opportunity, she added in a rush, “I think I should leave before four months. It’s not fair to Emmy for me to hang around.”
“You need the money.”
“I’ll get another job—I can always do the course a year later.” She’d have to anyway, because of the baby. But she couldn’t tell him that.
“Stay,” Judd said with sudden urgency, clasping her by the shoulders, all the force of his willpower in his words. “Give us the chance to get to know each other better. Who knows—both of us might change.”
Briefly Lise was suffused with a hope as fragrant as rose petals. Or was it joy at the mere thought that Judd might change, might be open to more than just a passing affair?
Might fall in love with her? Might want to marry her?
But then her heart clenched with pain, hope crushed like a withered leaf. She couldn’t stay, for the obvious reason that before long her pregnancy would reveal itself and become a weap
on over Judd, a means to secure a hasty commitment that afterward he would regret. “No,” she said in a stony voice. “I can’t stay.”
His fingers dug into her shoulders with cruel strength. “Then I’d suggest you start looking for another job right away,” he said with icy precision. “Because you’re right, Emmy’s feelings are involved—she’s starting to get fond of you. She doesn’t need a second mother figure leaving her in the lurch.”
Lise flinched. “You seem to be forgetting that you’re the one who offered me this job.”
“I haven’t forgotten—it was one of the stupidest decisions I’ve ever made. Like I said, common sense goes out the window as far as you’re concerned.”
Once again he was looking at her as though he hated her. He certainly didn’t look as though he had the remotest interest in making love to her anymore. Hugging her dignity as well as the bedspread, wondering if she could make it to the door without tripping and falling flat on her face, Lise said, “I’ll do my best to be gone within the week.”
“Fine,” said Judd; and released her so suddenly she staggered.
Lise looped the spread to her knees and scuttled back to her own room. Closing the door, she collapsed on the bed. Her body ached with unfulfilled need and her soul felt bruised and battered. She’d been exiled. Exiled from Judd and from Emmy. Shut out from the possibility of happiness, all because her own body had betrayed her. What a cruel irony that the intimacy she’d shared with Judd was now banishing her from any hope of deeper intimacy.
Tomorrow she’d start looking into a move to Halifax. She couldn’t stay in Montreal, the risk was too great of meeting Judd when her pregnancy was more advanced. Or after the baby was born. Either prospect made her shudder in terror.
But even worse would be a forced and loveless marriage. Anything was better than that.