A Race for Love

by Jillian Dagg

  The heat and humidity emphasized the odor of oil and gasoline. People were staring at her, but she didn't care. All she cared about was Richard. She continued to follow him.

  He began to strip off his clothes.

  "Richard?"

  "I told you to get lost." His eyes were icy.

  "You almost crashed. What do you expect me to do?"

  "I didn't almost crash. I spun. That's all. Now leave, Tanya, please. I'll see you outside."

  "It's too much for you. You aren't ready for it yet. I don't care what the doctor says."

  "I'm the one who decides what I'm ready for."

  "But I'm your wife."

  He stared at her; his face pale, his lips thin.

  "Yes, that was something I avoided before," he told her.

  Her world crashed around her at his words. "Do you think you've made a mistake?" she asked with more calm than she'd credit herself with.

  "Maybe I have."

  She turned abruptly and ran out through the maintenance area. She slipped on an oil patch, but managed to right herself before she hit the ground.

  John was working on the other car when she ran out. He anxiously scanned her taut features.

  "Okay?" he asked.

  But she didn't answer. She ran out to the parking lot.

  Mistake! He'd admitted that he'd made a mistake by marrying her. He'd never loved her. He had just been playing with her, using her for his amusement while he had no racing schedule to occupy his time.

  Her legs trembled violently as she got into the car. She leaned back against the seat. She bit her lip against the tears.

  She wasn't going to cry.

  She fumbled with the catch of the emerald and stuffed it into the pocket of her slacks. What did it matter that she had expensive jewelry when Dianna Watson had his love? His love was so much more important.

  She didn't know how long she sat in the car, but when Richard got in beside her it seemed as though it had been hours.

  "Aren't you hot and stuffy?" he said, winding down the window. He leaned across and wound down her window. His arm brushed her breast and she cowered back.

  "What's wrong?"

  "Do you have to ask?" she said stiffly.

  "If you mean my behavior just now, I'm not apologizing.

  You have to learn not to get hysterical at the least little thing.

  You could get injured running around on the track like that."

  Richard fingered the steering wheel. "I appreciate your concern, but it's not necessary."

  "It was once," she told him.

  He glanced at her, his eyes cool, not really focusing. "We made a bargain," he said, "I'd get you out of a sticky patch.

  You'd help me out of mine. I think we've done that for each other."

  "What happens now?" She was close to tears from the coldness of his words.

  "We go on as we are. We seem to have hit on a reasonably satisfying relationship." He started the car."Okay?"

  "Okay." She clenched her fists in her lap. She wasn't going to break down.

  They drove up north in silence. Richard drove without the speed he usually added to his expertise. Tanya suspected he was tired, but he wouldn't admit it. Especially not to her.

  She was glad to reach home. There was a peace surrounding the house and the lake that wasn't to be found in the city. She went for a long exhausting walk along the lakeshore. When she got back, she went to bed. She slipped beneath the sheets and stared up at the ceiling. Richard wandered restlessly around the house. He came to stand by the open bedroom door.

  "You lost something." He threw something at her. It fell against the pillow. Tanya propped herself up and touched it.

  It was the emerald pendant.

  "I must have dropped it," Tanya shrugged.

  "Isn't the clasp working properly?

  "Yes it is. I took it off."

  "I found it outside by the car," he said. "I'd appreciate you looking after the things I give you."

  "Why? So that I can show people what a wonderful husband you are?"

  His features went taut.

  "Did you give Dianna Watson gifts? Is that why she thinks she still has claim to you?"

  "What do you mean?" His eyes were an icy gray.

  Her lips trembled, "I saw you with Dianna."

  He frowned, "I don't get you?"

  "Upstairs at Dianna's. You were in a bedroom with her."

  Red suffused beneath his tan. He swallowed hard, but remained calm. "What do you want me to do about it?"

  She shrugged, "What do you want to do?"

  "I could explain."

  She shook her head, "Why bother? We don't love each other so I suppose it doesn't really matter."

  "I suppose not," he said dully.

  She held out the pendant. "You can take this," she said.

  "Why not give it to Dianna?"

  He held out his hand, and she slipped the cool pendant on to the warmth of his palm.

  "I'd rather you didn't share the bed with me tonight Richard. I don't like other women's cast-off's."

  He glanced at the jewelry he was holding. "I'll sleep upstairs," he said.

  "Good-night then," she moved down into the bed. Her calm was deserting her. She was going to cry if he didn't leave.

  "Good-night. But this is yours." He placed the emerald pendant on her dresser before he left the room.

  Chapter Eleven

  Tanya was awake when she heard Richard get up. She listened to the slam of the front door and the roar of the Ferrari departing. Turning her head into the pillow, she cried noiselessly until she could cry no more. Exhausted, she fell asleep. It was almost midday by the time she finally got up.

  She washed and put on jeans and an old T-shirt, then forced down a cup of coffee. She had work to do. She might as well do it. It would keep her mind off Richard. And who knew when he'd be back? She didn't even know where he was, but she could guess.

  She dragged out the ironing board and set it up. There were Richard's shirts to be ironed. A few days ago she might have taken pleasure in doing them for him, but not today.

  She wanted more from Richard than being his maid. But from force of habit, she hung the shirts neatly on their hangers and climbed up the stairs to put them in the closet. She tried not to notice the unmade, rumpled bed, the indentation on the pillow where he had laid his blond head. A mistake he'd told her. He'd seen Dianna Watson again and realized that he'd made a mistake. She made the bed and then started at the sound of a rap at the front door. No one usually called on them here except John. She went down the steps and opened the door. It was Dianna Watson. Well, at least she wasn't with Richard. Tanya's spirits lifted a fraction at the thought.

  "Hi," Dianna said, walking boldly into the house. "Dick around?"

  "No he's not." Tanya's clothes felt untidy in contrast to Dianna's smart white pantsuit.

  "Oh, well." Dianna took off her sunglasses. She glanced around the room, "I just thought you might like some female company. Life could get boring stuck away up here."

  "Not really," Tanya said.

  "Well," the woman shrugged her slim shoulders. "Aren't you going to offer me a drink? I'd like a nice glass of white wine after traveling all that way."

  "I'm afraid we're out of wine. We only have beer or soft drinks."

  "Oh, in that case, beer will do."

  Tanya went into the kitchen and ungraciously emptied a can of beer into a glass.

  "Thanks." Dianna took the overflowing glass. Aren't you joining me?"

  "No. It's too early for me to drink. I've got coffee."

  "I might as well sit down then." Dianna walked over to the sofa and perched on the edge. She slipped her shoulder bag onto the floor beside her feet. "I hear there was a bit of excitement out at the track yesterday? Richard almost crashed?"

  "He spun," Tanya told her. "Nothing serious."

  "But you were scared. I hear you were quite upset. Went chasing after him or something?"

 
"Do you have spies there?" Tanya asked.

  Dianna smiled. "Actually I do." Then she came straight to the point. "I don't think you're right for Richard. He needs someone strong, someone who can support his work, who doesn't crumble at the least little thing."

  Tanya grew angry, "I don't think it's any of your business."

  "Of course it's my business. Richard and I—well, we once had a good relationship."

  "Had? Isn't that the key word?" Tanya glanced at Dianna.

  She sounded cool, but underneath she wanted to lash out at the woman.

  "Dick doesn't love you."

  "He does," Tanya said with more conviction than she felt.

  "We have a very good relationship." And they did if Dianna didn't keep interfering.

  "I'd suggest," Dianna put down her glass, "that you reconsider your marriage. Let Dick go free. He obviously had a moment of weakness during his illness, but he doesn't need a nurse now."

  "I was never his nurse."

  "Maybe not, but he still loves me."

  "Has he told you he still loves you?" Tanya asked. She felt close to tears, but she wasn't going to lose control in the presence of this spiteful woman. If she'd learned one thing in the past few days, it was to hide her emotions.

  "He doesn't need to. It's unspoken," Dianna said.

  "I don't believe you."

  "It's true. Dick needs me. He always has. The one time I let him down, he had that accident. I've never forgiven myself."

  Tanya stared at Dianna. Her heart was pounding. Was she hearing right? Had Dianna been the cause of Richard's accident?

  "What happened?" she couldn't help asking."

  "We had a fight before he left for the States. He wanted me to go with him. I couldn't—!"

  "But if you loved him you would have gone. You would have stayed with him afterwards."

  "What do you know of love?"

  "A lot more than you," Tanya said. "Now would you please leave my house."

  "Your house?" Dianna raised an eyebrow. "You really do think you've got him, don't you?" Nevertheless Dianna got up.

  She picked up her purse and slid it onto her shoulder.

  Tanya followed her out to her sports car.

  "'Well, thanks for the beer," Dianna said. "I'll tell Dick I've seen you. I'll be seeing him tonight."

  She got into her car. "Next time," she said, "get yourself a man whom you can hang on to."

  As Dianna drove off, Tanya couldn't even think of an answer for her.

  It was late afternoon. The air felt heavy and the lake was black and boiling. Lightning crackled ominously through the air. Tanya fastened all the windows and huddled in the corner of the sofa, hoping for the sound of Richard's Ferrari. Thunder roared all around her and rain pounded on the roof. At midnight Tanya gave up. She crawled into bed, lonely and scared, pulling the covers over her head to somewhat muffle the bursts of thunder. Was Richard still with Dianna? Was he holding her close amid the ragings of the storm?

  A few hours later she was wakened by the sound of the key being turned in the lock. She put on her side light and looked at the clock. Half-past two. She recognized Richard's footsteps in the living room and out in the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and then walked back into the living room.

  She got out of bed and slipped on her robe, tying the belt as she went to the bedroom door.

  "You're home?"

  He was standing with his back to the fireplace with a glass of beer in his hand. "Seems that way." His eyes looked disgusted by her disheveled appearance, her tangled auburn hair and tear-stained face.

  "Did you have a good day?" she asked.

  "Very good." He opened the top buttons on his denim shirt.

  "Did you get to the track?"

  He nodded.

  "That's good," she said. She looked toward the window.

  "It's stopped raining."

  "For a while now."

  "I'm kind of scared of storms."

  His glance was disparaging. "Seems you're scared of most things."

  "That's not true," She shouldn't have given him the chance to undermine her. She looked down at her bare toes, "Can I get you anything to eat?"

  "I'm fine thanks," he said. "Why don't you get back to bed.

  You look beat."

  "I'm okay," she told him."

  "You don't look okay."

  "It's been a hot, stormy day," she licked her lips nervously.

  "Then why don't you go to bed and sleep? I'd kind of like to be alone now, Tanya."

  Tanya went back into her room and closed the door, Kneeling on her bed, she looked out into the darkness. She could barely make out the shapes of the black rocks along the lake below the cedar forest. She knew she couldn't stay here if Richard treated her like this. He had made it painfully obvious that he no longer wanted her. She'd heard the contempt in his terse tones and seen the coldness of his eyes.

  Better to go before the situation got any worse and while she still had a shred of pride.

  The next morning Richard came to the door of her room. "I was wondering if you would like to swim?" he asked.

  She sat up in bed and shook her head, "You go on."

  "It might make you feel better."

  "I'm fine and I don't want to swim." She pushed her hands through her tangled hair. Her eyes were dull and listless from lack of sleep.

  "I'll get you some tea," he said.

  He returned a few minutes later and put the tray on her bedside table. "Here."

  "I don't want it."

  "What do you mean you don't want it?"

  "Just what I said."

  "Don't be awkward, Tanya."

  "I just don't want anything from you."

  "What have I done?"

  "What have you done?" She looked at him incredulously.

  "You've destroyed my life that's what you've done. You've got a housekeeper and a cook. You had a nurse when you were ill, and a woman when you needed one. But you don't need one anymore because the woman you love has just blinked her pretty blue eyes at you. You think I'm just some unsophisticated kid who you can chuck away now that the hard times are over. But I'm not!" She swallowed hard. "I've grown up quickly these last months. I'll be twenty one in a few weeks, and I feel as though I were forty."

  "I'm sorry," he said, his eyes like washed gray stones. He tucked his thumbs in the leather belt of his jeans and seemed to be waiting for her to finish.

  "You should be! I wish had never laid eyes on you!" she shouted. "Dickie," she screamed sarcastically, and threw herself down into the bed.

  How long she stayed like that she didn't know. She must have fallen asleep. When she woke up, the anguish and crying were gone, to be replaced by a listless calm that scared her. She had never felt so empty before.

  She dressed in her jeans and blue top. After fixing herself a cup of coffee, she wandered out to the screened veranda.

  Richard was sitting on a lounger reading a book.

  "Nice day," she said leaning against the wire screen and looking out toward the lake. The storm had washed away the clouds. The air was fresh and sparkling

  Richard deliberately marked the page of his book and put it down. "Great," he replied. "Are you feeling better now?"

  "I'm fine," she lied. "How about you?"

  "Good."

  She caught him looking at her in a strange way. "Why are you staring at me like that?" she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

  "I was wondering."

  "About what?"

  "About us."

  "Do you want a divorce?" she asked. It was probably the next logical step.

  "Oh, Tanya." He stood up and walked to the opposite end of the veranda.

  "Well, do you?"

  "Of course not," he said roughly. "Look honey. I've just come to the time when I'm going to race again, that's all, and I don't want any arguments."

  Was that all their argument had been about? She didn't think so. But she felt confused and her head ached. She was too ti
red to fight about anything. When Richard suggested a walk, she accepted out of lassitude. What difference did it make anyway? He started out ahead of her, stopping only occasionally to spin a stone in the water. There was no conversation between them. She was almost relieved when he told her he had work to do and had to go back to his study. "Don't bother about lunch," he told her, "I'll get my own when I feel like it. I have lots of catching up to do."