by Ginna Gray
A half hour later, Alissa had barely entered the apartment and put her purse down on the table in the entry hall when the doorbell rang.
Turning back, she opened the door without thinking, and drew in a sharp breath. "Dirk."
She stared at his haggard face and haunted eyes, her heart pounding. She had missed him dreadfully, but the sight of him brought all the pain rushing back. Had he come to tell her they were finished? "May I come in, Alissa?"
"Yes. Of course." She stepped back and held the door wide. "Why didn't you use your key?"
When she turned from closing the door, he was watching her, his face solemn and full of pain. "I didn't know if I would be welcome."
"It is your apartment."
"No. It's ours. But I'm not sure I have any rights here now."
Alissa sent him a wary glance. Not certain what to make of the statement, she turned away and led the way down the steps into the living room. Sick with nerves and afraid her knees would give way beneath her, she sank down on the sofa and folded her shaking hands together in her lap. She looked up at him, feeling like a convicted prisoner waiting for her sentence to be meted out.
Dirk stopped in the middle of the floor and looked at her with such anguish in his face she wanted to cry. He looked thinner, and his face was gaunt with strain. He was clean-shaven and dressed in the trousers from a suit—one of the spare ones he usually kept at the office. Along with it he wore a white dress shirt, but the sleeves were rolled up and the collar was unbuttoned and the tie missing.
It occurred to Alissa then that he had come from the office, and she wondered what had prompted him to seek her out now, in the middle of a workday.
She clenched her hands tighter and waited. Her heart pounded as she met his intense gaze.
"I'm sorry, Alissa," he said in a raw voice. "I'm so sorry."
She stared at him, too stunned to move. That was the last thing she had expected him to say.
He seemed to take her silence for disbelief. "I don't blame you for doubting me, after the things I've said, but I am sorry." When she still did not answer, he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Jack made me see what a fool I've been."
Alissa's heart gave a little leap, and relief flooded her, but her expression remained composed. So that was where he'd been these past four days. At Jack's.
"At his suggestion, I went to see my doctor this morning—the one who performed the surgery. He explained to me that it is possible for a man who has had a vasectomy to become fertile again. It's something called canalization. Simply put, that means the severed ends of the vas deferens form a new channel and reconnect." He shrugged. "It's rare, but it happens. In one case, it occurred eight years after the surgery was performed, so I don't even hold the record."
"I see," Alissa said in a strained little voice.
"Jack was right—I was a fool. I should have known that you would never be unfaithful. I should never have doubted you for an instant. Can you ever forgive me, Alissa?"
She look up at his anxious expression, making no attempt to hide the reproach she felt. "I honestly don't know. Though it would be easier if it hadn't taken proof from a doctor to convince you."
The remark hit home, and he winced as though she had kicked him. "I had that coming. That, and more." Watching her, he held himself stiffly, his hands clenched at his sides. A desperate fear glittered in his eyes. "I know I don't deserve you, Alissa. Hell, I've known that all along. But I pray you'll find it in your heart to forgive me. I'll never doubt you again, sweetheart, I swear."
She loved him; she knew she always would. Still, she hesitated. He had hurt her deeply, inflicting a kind of insult and pain that no woman should have to endure.
She wanted to believe him. She wanted that desperately. But if at some point in the future his faith in her should falter, she wasn't sure if she could bear this kind of pain again.
Dirk took a jerky step forward and held out his hand imploringly. "Please, Alissa. I'll beg if I have to."
"Oh, don't." She shook her head sharply and looked away, unable to bear the hell in his eyes. The thought of this strong man begging was too painful to even contemplate. "Please … just … don't."
He halted, his head jerking back as though she had slapped him. He was shaking now, his breathing shallow and fast. He had the desperate look of a man who was going down for the last time. "Do you love me, Alissa?"
"Dirk, that's not fair."
"Do you?" he insisted, ignoring the rebuke in her eyes. "Dear heaven, I hope so, because I love you."
"What?" she gasped softly. Shock widened her eyes, and her chest felt as though a steel band were squeezing it. "Dirk, please … don't … don't say that unless you mean it, because I couldn't bear—"
"I mean it. I love you, Alissa. I never knew what love was before, but I do now. I love you more than life itself. Give me another chance. Let me prove it to you, Alissa."
"Oh, Dirk." The longing in his voice was more than her tender heart could take. She shot off the sofa and catapulted into his arms.
Instantly, they locked around her, and he held her so tight she could barely breathe, but she didn't care. She was back in Dirk's arms … where she belonged. "Oh, Lord, sweetheart," he murmured against the hair at her temple. "I've been such a fool. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Leaning back, she reached up and cupped his face between both of her hands. Her gaze roamed his face, all she was feeling—all the love, all the warmth, all the hope and happiness and heartfelt relief—shining from her eyes. "Ssh. Ssh. It's over now. And we're together. That's all that matters."
Something flared in his eyes, and as she gazed up at him she was amazed that she had ever thought they were cold. The silvery depths blazed with so much emotion her heart turned over. "I love you, Alissa," he whispered against her mouth as his arms tightened. "Sweet heaven, I love you."
He held her in a crushing embrace, binding her to him fiercely. Her spirits soared, and her heart swelled with so much happiness she thought it would surely burst.
Doubts and fears dissolved, as with ardent lips and seeking hands each sought to express all the love and passion they were feeling. They were voracious, insatiable. They strained together, unable to get close enough, to touch enough, to give enough.
Only the need for air finally ended the kiss, but still they clung to each other. Alissa burrowed against him as he buried his face in the fragrant waves of her hair.
"I do love you, Alissa," he vowed again, his voice rough and tinged with desperation. "So much. So very much."
Emotion moved through her, sweet and painful. Her throat ached with it. She squeezed her eyes shut, hot tears of happiness seeping from beneath her lashes. "Oh, my darling, I love you, too."
For a long time, they simply clung to each other, absorbing the sense of peace and sweet relief, their hearts overflowing. Dirk rocked her gently and stroked her back. Alissa sighed and closed her eyes and cuddled against his chest.
After a while, though, she stirred, awareness growing inside her that they had one more problem to solve. Immediately she dismissed the twinge of concern and smiled. If they could survive the past few hellish days, she was confident that they could weather anything.
"Dirk? Are … are you going to be okay with this baby?"
She felt him stiffen. Very slowly, very gently, he grasped her shoulders and eased her back until they were at arm's length.
"Darling … I know this baby means a lot to you, but…" Dirk swallowed hard, and squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds. When he opened them again, Alissa's newfound happiness and confidence drained away at what she saw there. "But … would you consider having an abortion?"
* * *
Chapter 12
« ^ »
"What?" Alissa gasped. She backed away from him, her eyes wide with horror. "No! Of course I won't!"
Unutterable pain clouded his eyes, and his shoulders slumped. "I thought you would say that."
Alissa shook her head slowly fr
om side to side, as though in a daze. "How can you even ask that of me?"
"I know. I know. It's a terrible thing to ask. Believe me, I didn't want to, but I had to try. The thing is … you can't have us both."
"Wh-what are you saying?"
"I'm saying that I love you with all my heart and soul, Alissa, but I can't raise a child. I just … can't. If you want us to stay together, then you'll have to have an abortion."
"Why are you doing this? I don't understand," she said, her face pale. "I know you don't hate children. You're wonderful with Maude Ann and Todd and Susan and all the other kids in my family."
"Of course I don't hate children. I'd never been around them much in the past, but since I married you I've discovered I like kids a lot. They're great. But I'm simply not father material."
"That's absurd. You'd make a wonderful father."
"No. I wouldn't," he said in an implacable voice. "Look, Alissa, I know you believe what you're saying, but you're wrong. You'll just have to trust me on this."
"I most certainly will not!" she insisted hotly. "I won't let you fob me off with that kind of blind-faith nonsense! Not when it's this important. You can't tell me that I have to choose between you and our child without giving me a reason. If I'm going to lose either of you, I darn well deserve to know why. Do you hear me, Dirk Matheson?" she demanded, giving his chest a poke with her forefinger. "Now I want to know why you don't want children, and I want to know right now!"
Dirk blinked, taken aback by her aggressive vehemence. Never, in all the years that he'd known Alissa, had he seen her so riled. She was almost crackling with ire.
He had always thought of her as mild-mannered and malleable, but he could see by her glare that she wasn't going to rest until she had an answer.
He closed his eyes, his mouth grim. He had never told anyone his story. He had never intended for anyone to know. The thought of spilling the whole sordid tale to Alissa made his gut clench like an iron fist. But she was right; she deserved to know why she couldn't have her dream of a normal family. At least not with him.
"All right. But you'd better sit down," he said somberly.
Eyeing him with a combination of wariness, concern and belligerence, Alissa returned to the sofa and clasped her hands together in her lap.
Dirk sat down in the chair opposite her, perching on the front of the seat and leaning forward with his forearms propped on his spread knees. Sick with dread, he clenched his jaws and gazed longingly at Alissa across the few feet that separated them. It felt like a bottomless chasm. Drawing a deep breath, he forced himself to begin.
"My family was upper-middle-class. My father owned a plumbing supply company in Dallas and my mother was a buyer for a major department store. I was the youngest of three children … the one they both despised."
"Oh, Dirk, surely not," Alissa protested, startled. "You must be mistaken. Children often misinterpret their parents' actions."
"Not bruises and broken bones and burns, they don't."
"Wh-what?"
"What I'm trying to tell you, Alissa, is that I was abused as a child. Physically and emotionally abused, by my parents," he said in a flat voice. When she continued to stare blankly, as though she could not quite comprehend what he was saying, he raked a hand through his hair.
"Look … I know this must be difficult for you to understand, given your background, but not all parents are loving and nurturing. Mine hated the sight of me. They beat me regularly, with their fists or whatever was handy."
"Oh, my poor darling," she moaned. "How awful for you."
Awful? His mouth twisted. That didn't come close to describing his childhood. Dirk gazed at Alissa's concerned expression and realized that she still did not fully comprehend the extent of the pain and degradation he had endured.
He was profoundly glad for her ignorance on this particular subject, and he intended to shield her from the more hideous details, but it was important that she understand the depth of perversion and evil in his past.
"Whenever I displeased them, which I did by simply breathing, they punished me by burning me with cigarettes, or they used various other means of torture. Since most are too hideous for your ears, I won't elaborate."
Alissa sucked in her breath and pressed her fist against her mouth. "Oh, my word! Th-those scars on your back and arms and legs," she said in a horrified voice. "They weren't caused by childhood accidents at all, were they?"
"No," he said flatly. "Those are souvenirs of my loving parents."
"Oh, how could they?" she moaned.
"Apparently it was easy. At times, growing up, I was locked in a closet for days at a time with nothing to eat or drink, no way to relieve myself except to make a mess on the floor, which earned me more punishment when they finally unlocked the door."
Wave after wave of shock flashed across Alissa's face, and for a moment he was afraid she was going to be sick. "That's … that's horrible! I simply can't comprehend how parents could do such things to their children."
"They didn't mistreat all of us. Just me. They doted on Jennifer and Scott." One of his hands lifted in a helpless gesture. "As a kid, I used to wonder what was wrong with me, or what I had done to make them hate me so much. I tried everything I could imagine to win their love, or to simply get them to accept me, but it was hopeless."
The revulsion he had halfway expected to see did not materialize. Alissa stared at him, her eyes wide now with horror and glittering with tears. "Oh, Dirk," she whispered.
Unable to meet the pity in her eyes, he lowered his head and stared at the Oriental rug between his feet. His shoulders were hunched, and his hands hung loosely between his spread knees.
"By the time I was thirteen, I was big enough to fight back. I couldn't win, of course. My old man was a big brute of a guy, but I got in a few licks. For all the good it did me. It just made them angrier.
"When I was fourteen, my mother broke my arm with a fireplace poker. That's when I'd had enough. The next day I took off and hitchhiked to Houston." He shrugged. "I've been on my own ever since."
"Is that … is that when you lived on the streets?"
"Yeah. For six months or so I slept in alleys in cardboard boxes or in doorways. Once in a while I'd find an unlocked car and sack out in the back seat. It was tough, but I managed. I did odd jobs—whatever I could find.
"I was a big kid, and finally I lied about my age and got a job at a lumberyard. That put a roof over my head and food in my belly, and after about six years I had managed to scrape together enough to put myself through college. The rest you know."
"Did … did you ever see your parents again?" Alissa choked out.
"No."
"How did you learn they had died?"
"I didn't. For all I know, they could still be living in the same place."
"What? But you said you had no family. I assumed you meant they were dead."
"They are to me."
"But what about your brother and sister? Surely you stayed in contact with them?"
"Why should I? Jennifer and Scott both knew what was going on, yet they stood by and never so much as lifted a finger to help me. I want nothing to do with either of them. Ever."
"But … they were just children."
"Not quite. When I left home, Scott was twenty-two and Jennifer was nineteen. But even when we were all younger, they could have told someone. Or called Protective Services. Something."
"Still, they are your family. Don't you think—"
"Drop it, Alissa. It isn't going to happen. As far as I'm concerned, I don't have a family. Just leave it at that. Okay?"
The bitterness and hurt in his voice, in his face, broke Alissa's heart. His parents' treatment of him was unforgivable. If she was ever to come face-to-face with them she probably would not be able to refrain from striking them herself. For his own sake, though, she was certain that Dirk needed to make peace with his siblings. However, she had been married to him long enough to know when to back off, so she tuc
ked her arguments away for another time.
"All right. If that's what you want," she agreed softly, gazing at him with worried eyes. "Dirk … I'm so sorry you had such a horrible childhood. Really, I am. If I could change what happened, I would. But, darling, just because your childhood was a nightmare isn't a reason to deny yourself a family of your own."
"That's where you're wrong. That's the best reason there is. In recent years I've done a lot of studying on the subject of abuse. One thing I've learned about abusers, especially child abusers, is that in most cases they themselves were abused as children. Their parenting skills—or, more accurately, lack of them—they learned from their parents, who learned from their parents, and so on. The pattern of behavior imprints itself on the victim's psyche, and the vicious cycle repeats itself generation after generation.
"Oddly enough, I learned that my case wasn't unusual. Quite often it's only one child who is the target of the parents' pent-up rage, while the other children are adored. In our family, I was the hated one. I'll probably never know why.
"I assume that one or both of my parents came from an abusive home. My grandparents were all dead by the time I was born, and my parents spoke about them very little, so I'll never know for certain. Regardless, I can't forgive them for what they did.
"All my life I swore that I would never inflict that pain and suffering on another innocent child. The only sure way to break the cycle is not to become a parent. That's why, no matter how much I'd like to have a family, I won't put a child at risk by raising it."
The words wrenched Alissa's heart. His pain tore at her very soul, and she couldn't bear it a moment longer. "Oh, my love, don't say that!" she cried, launching herself off the sofa.
She rushed to him, and he latched on to her like a drowning man grabbing a lifeline. He wrapped his arms around her hips and pulled her close until she stood between his legs. He squeezed her so tight she could barely breathe, but she didn't care.
Alissa held his head to her breasts as though he were a hurt child, clutching him close as tears streamed down her face. Eyes closed, she rubbed her cheek against the silky dark hair of his crown.