Then Kate made a comment that caused Barbara to suspect she knew more about Kyle's relationship with her sister than she had previously revealed. "What did you think of Roseanne?" she asked innocuously.
Barbara grimaced as she sipped her coffee. "About the same as everyone else, I suppose. There's no mistaking that type of woman."
"She sure played a neat game to trap Kyle though," remembered Kate. "As sweet and demure as you please till she left the altar. Then she let her true colors show. It's a shame," she added sadly. "She's done everything she can to ruin Kyle's life."
"I don't suppose," ventured Barbara, "that he'll ever really be rid of her."
Kate glanced at her cautiously. "Financially, I suppose," she agreed, "she could cause him problems for a long time. Not that he can't afford it. But emotionally—" she shook her head "—all she can do is make him mad. He got over his infatuation with her, or whatever it was, quickly and completely. Of course," suggested Kate, and her face now was suspiciously innocent, "if Kyle was to marry again and have a family to invest his money in, I'm sure he would cut her off pretty quick."
Barbara avoided the lead-in, wondering if Kate was trying to pry a confession from her. It would be only natural for Kyle to have discussed his problems and his feelings with his brother, and perhaps Michael had relayed some of the conversations to Kate…or perhaps it simply would have taken a blind person to ignore what had been going on between Kyle and Barbara over the summer. The temptation to pour her heart out to her sister was great. But Michael's policy had been best: noninterference. She couldn't involve Kate in something that was tearing her apart, not while she was still so confused herself.
After a while Kate wandered off, joking, "If you write Kyle back, ask him if he's coming home for Christmas!"
But even that mild joke caused a shaft of alarm to go through Barbara, for it wasn't so much of a joke at all. It could very well be Christmas, or beyond, before she saw him again. She tore open the letter with shaking fingers.
Dear Bobbie,
I think about you all day long and at night I dream about you. I've been trying to write this letter ever since I got here but every time I started it, it came out all wrong, and I know you don't need any more pressure from me. I just wanted you to know I never stop thinking about you and I miss you so much it hurts.
She had to stop and close her eyes before she could read further. I miss you too, Kyle, she thought desperately, more than I ever thought possible.
Do you remember you asked me once if I ever had bad dreams? I do now. I dream sometimes that you're calling me and I can't reach you, or that I come home and you're not there. I hope you're not planning to make that particular dream come true because you know I would follow you all over the world if necessary, and I wouldn't stop until I found you. I told you before I'm not giving up, and if you don't believe anything else I've told you, believe that.
The bold, artistically curved and looped letters of his handwriting began to blur into black smudges on the white paper. She blinked rapidly and tried to focus.
I know what you're going through, Bobbie. I know what you're thinking. Of course it's hard for you. Maybe that's one reason I forced myself to make this trip even though I didn't want to, because I knew you had to have time alone, to work it through by yourself. There are going to be problems, Bobbie, more than you know, and I won't try to tell you otherwise. But we can work them out. Because I know nothing is going to stand in the way of my loving you—not even you.
I know you were hoping this would be a "cooling off" period for me, you were hoping that when I came back I would be ready to admit I had been impulsive and unnecessarily romantic and everything could go back to the way it was before I spoiled it all by telling you I loved you. It's simply not true. I knew it would frighten you, I knew the chance I was taking when I told you how I felt, but it simply couldn't be any other way. Bobbie, what I have for you is the once-in-a-lifetime magic you were talking about. It's changed my life and made everything that happened before this point seem like a waste. I didn't ask for you to come into my life, Bobbie, I'll be the first to admit I wasn't ready for it when it happened, but there you were and nothing has been the same for me since. You make me laugh when I'm low, you share the good times when I'm not, you're smart and you're tender and you're vulnerable and you're strong… you're everything that makes up the other half of me and when I try to imagine life without you I can't.
I wish it hadn't happened now—now, before you've completely adjusted to the loss of Daniel, now, when it's so easy for you to think I'm simply on the rebound from a bad marriage. But you're lucky, you've known love before. I've had my share of empty relationships—my marriage ranking high among them—but I've never known love before. And I would rather it had come now than not at all, because whatever happens, Bobbie, you can't take that away from me. My love for you is for a lifetime, no strings attached, absolutely guaranteed.
Darling, it's three in the morning and I have to be on the job site at six. I'm going to try to get some sleep but I don't think I will: The bed is too empty and my mind is too full. I don't know when I'll be back. Every day it drags out a little longer and I don't suppose I'm helping matters much—my mind is not exactly on my job. Maybe they'll fire me and I can come back to you. That's not entirely a joke, Bobbie, some strange thoughts have been going through my head lately and I want to talk to you when I get back. You're the only one I've ever been able to talk to about things that are really important to me, and right now there's so much I want to say.
Think of me, Bobbie, and know that I love you—
Kyle
She folded the letter with trembling hands and whispered at last, "Oh, Kyle!"
Those two words seemed to encompass all she was feeling, or capable of feeling. Think about him? It was impossible to do anything else. Day and night he surrounded her, penetrated every corner of her mind, was an unshakable part of her. It was so easy to allow herself to be drawn into his fantasy, especially late at night when she was lying in his bed and wishing with all her might that he was beside her. She could allow herself tentative explorations into his world, imagining what it would be like, seeing only the good parts.
But she was too pragmatic to allow herself that escape for long. It simply wouldn't work. Everything was against them, and how could Kyle, not usually a dreamer, ignore that? There were too many ghosts lined up ready to march against their happiness. Roseanne was still a very real part of Kyle's life, a constant reminder to Barbara that Kyle had been mistaken in his feelings once, and always there to make her wonder how much Kyle still felt for his ex-wife. Marriage would be hard enough without those unspoken suspicions lurking in the shadows. Marriage. How could she consider such a thing, even in daydreams, when she was already married to Daniel? His memory would ever be with her, reminding her of her betrayal if she took another man's name. No, happiness, true happiness, only came along once in this life, and Barbara had had hers.
But she couldn't stop herself from wanting Kyle, from missing him, from lying awake at night torturing herself with reasons why it wouldn't work.
She was kept busy the next few weeks, and for that she was grateful. Most of what she was doing now was observing and learning the business, but she carefully supervised the production of the latest issue of the technical journal, made a few suggestions, and was gratified by the promise that the next issue would be entirely her responsibility. A whole new world opened up for her in the form of inventors, engineers, and those ingenious people behind the designs that make huge corporations work and modern-day life the technological miracle that it is. One of Mr. Daily's first priorities was that she take every opportunity she could to meet their clients; clearly he was grooming her for that right-hand position. Accordingly he sent her on a two-day trip to Washington, then later accompanied her on an afternoon visit to a convention in New York. She was growing in awareness of herself and her capabilities, and the only flaw in her new life was that she had no one to
share it with.
Gradually her confidence in her work began to extend to other parts of her life. At first she had felt awkward and shy coming home every afternoon to Kyle's apartment; she saw herself as an intruder and was not really comfortable there. She was overzealous in her housekeeping, always making certain that nothing that belonged to him was ever even a fraction of an inch out of place and that all evidence of her occupancy was well hidden. And then one day she looked around and saw that some changes had been made, almost without her being aware of it.
Her clothes hung boldly in the closet next to the few articles he had left behind. His drawing board had been rearranged slightly to make room for her desk and worktable. She no longer carefully hid her files and paperwork at the end of the day, but left them arranged comfortably on her work space, where she could pick up at the point she had left off when next she returned. She had placed her portrait on his easel, because she liked to look at it and think about him when she was lying in bed. A few paperbacks she had bought and some other books borrowed from Michael's library were intermingled with his own collection, and she was listening to one of his record albums with as much ease as if it had been her own, for their taste in music was another thing they had in common. She actually felt as though she belonged here, and part of it was seeing their possessions interspersed and side by side. Separate but together.
She had even brought up a television set from the house, a small portable model that had once been in the downstairs guest room, and she was watching the end of a not-very-enthralling movie when the telephone rang one night. She knew Kate and Michael were in, and it was answered on the third ring. She divided her attention between the movie and the remnants of a crocheted baby sweater Kate had started and made a mess of and had begged Barbara to try to fix. Then the intercom rang.
She sighed, thinking it was probably Mr. Daily wanting her to come in tomorrow, and she had already promised Kate she would go shopping for nursery furniture with her. She picked up the extension. "Who is it?" she asked her sister.
"Surprise," responded Kate and disconnected.
Barbara's heart was pounding as she pushed the other button and said an uncertain "Hello?" and she told herself she was being foolish. It was probably just her mother, who had gotten into the habit of calling once a week to check on Kate's progress. But their mother usually called on Saturday nights…
"God," Kyle said softly, from almost a thousand miles away, "it's good to hear your voice."
For one moment everything was suspended, frozen in time, even her breathing. Then the happiness and the yearning flooded over her, choking off words and filming everything over with a shimmer of unexpected tears, and more precious seconds were lost. At last she managed to whisper, "Kyle!"
He said, "It was beginning to look like just getting a call through to you was an impossible dream. There's only one telephone in this place and it doesn't work half the time… Bobbie, how are you?"
It was not the kind of question that was meant to be answered with a simple "I'm fine." It was deep and full of concern, and nothing less than complete honesty would serve. "I—I miss you," she said softly. "I really do."
"I know," he responded with a sigh. "It seems like a year, doesn't it?"
She nodded silently.
"How do you like your new living quarters?"
She laughed a little. "I'm making myself right at home."
"Good. I was hoping you would."
"Kyle, I love my job." She wanted to share it all with him, every detail she had saved up over these past weeks, but she knew that was impossible on long distance. It was frustrating and only served to make her more eager for his return. "I was afraid I couldn't do it at first, but I've learned so much! And it's all so exciting. I've been to Washington and New York—"
He laughed. "Whoa there, you're not turning into a jet-setter behind my back, are you?"
She laughed with him. "Hardly! But it feels so good to be working again, doing something responsible, something that I enjoy."
"I told you, didn't I?" he reminded her. "A new job was exactly what you needed."
She hesitated. "I got the feeling you didn't want me to take it, though, when it came right down to it."
"That," he replied quietly, "was for personal reasons."
She quickly changed the subject. "And so, how is Canada?"
"Having a rotten time," he returned. "Wish you were here. Bobbie, you're not going to believe this—" his tone fell "—I have to fly to Mexico tomorrow."
"Mexico!" She was stunned. "But…how long will you be there?"
"Not long," he assured her. "It's just that I was packed and ready to go home. This time tomorrow I would have been holding you in my arms. And then the call came. Well, I can't put it off. A couple of weeks at the most, and then—well, I'll tell you all about that when I see you. We have so much to talk about, Bobbie," he finished quietly.
"Yes," she agreed, but her tone was bleak. Another two weeks, and already he had been gone too long. What was it, that she couldn't live without him and she couldn't live with him… or was it that she wouldn't let herself live with him?
"Have you been thinking?" he insisted, reading her thoughts.
"Oh, Kyle," she replied miserably. Even hearing his voice had weakened her reserve and wiped out the careful fortifications she had built against him. What would it be like when she was in his arms again, which was, above all places, exactly where she wanted to be right now? "I'm so confused. I miss you so. And I do want to be with you, only—"
"Only you won't take a chance on committing yourself forever," he returned flatly.
"Don't sound that way," she pleaded. "Kyle, you know it wouldn't work! What we had was good, the way it was, why—"
"You still don't trust me, do you?" he interrupted quietly. "You still think I'm just trying to live out a fantasy with you. Good God, Bobbie, I'm almost thirty-five years old. Don't you think I know my own mind by now? I've made mistakes, plenty of them, just like everyone else, but this is not one of them. I know it won't be easy, and I know the reasons why. I know we've got a long way to go, and we have more things working against us than the average couple. We can handle all of that, one step at a time. The important thing right now, the only thing that matters right now, is for you to learn to let go and maybe admit that you care for me a little."
"No," she whispered, for now was the time for perfect honesty. She squeezed her eyes closed against the tears. "M-more than a little." He was her confidant, her adviser, her protector. He was the one who had given her a whole new life. He was more than a lover. He was her very best friend. And she wanted him so badly it hurt, deep within the core of her, like a heart that was preparing to break.
She heard the whisper of his sigh across the miles that separated them. "Bobbie," he said softly, "I love you."
She fought a valiant battle with the tears that were trying to choke off her voice. "If you ask me," she managed at last thickly, "I'll fly to Mexico with you. We could be together…"
"We're going to be together," he assured her, "for a lot longer than two weeks in Mexico. I won't settle for less."
"Oh, Kyle," she whispered, her voice breaking, "don't do this to me."
"You're doing it to yourself," he said sadly. "But I'm not going to let you do it for very much longer. I'll be with you as soon as I can, Bobbie, and you'd better be prepared for a fight if you want to get rid of me, because I'm not letting you go. Is that perfectly clear?"
She smiled weakly through her tears. "Yes, sir."
"I love you darling," he said softly. "It won't be long."
"Good night," she whispered.
"I hope you don't have any plans for the weekend," Mr. Daily said.
Barbara looked up suspiciously. It was Friday afternoon, two weeks later, and she was packing her briefcase for a four-day absence from the office. Actually, the only thing she had planned was to help Michael and Kate paint the nursery, but she had looked forward to having the weekend
to herself. There was enough paperwork in her briefcase to keep her busy at her home office all day Monday and Tuesday, and she had learned to value her free time whenever she could schedule it.
"Nothing definite," she had to admit reluctantly. "Why?"
"There's a client I'd like you to meet," said Mr. Daily, benignly ignoring Barbara's reluctance to give up her weekend. "He's a very busy man, but he's managed to schedule us this weekend to go over a promotional campaign for his latest invention. It will be a nice chance for you to get away too."
"Oh," she replied, enthusiasm for the project waning with each word he spoke. "Out of town?"
"Oregon," he answered. "I thought we would book an early-morning flight tomorrow, spend Sunday and Monday working on the campaign, and fly back sometime Tuesday." He gave her a sheepish grin. "My wife worries if I'm away for very long."
She frowned. "Oregon! But that's quite a trip for just two days of work. Wouldn't it be better to wait until he's in town?"
He shook his head. "I told you, we have to work around his schedule. Besides, the client always pick up the bill for expenses, you know that."
"Yes, but—" She was still trying to think of some way to get out of the trip, which sounded strenuous and unexciting. "For both of us to go—"
"Obviously it's important for you to meet a client who does so much business with us, and I'll have to be there to guide you through the first time. I know I don't always accompany you on these trips, but—" he winked "—this is a good-looking, single guy, and my wife would never forgive me if I let you go unchaperoned."
Barbara managed a conceding laugh but inwardly she groaned, That's all I need. A weekend fighting off a good-looking, single wolf-client.
Their flight was so early that Barbara slept through most of it. She apologized to her boss when they reached their hotel, knowing he would want to brief her on some of the particulars before they arrived, but he waved it aside. "You just be fresh and alert for the meeting tomorrow," he told her, "and everything will be self-explanatory. We don't expect a lot of input from you this time, but next time I expect you to be able to handle something like this on your own."
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