by Flora Kidd
“No, I can’t,” she admitted.
“Then there’s your answer, girl. The reason why I married you and the reason why I didn’t marry Stella are one and the same. I needed a woman who would be a mother to my child, so I married you.”
She gazed back at him. He was very good at dodging the issue without actually lying, she thought frustratedly, and now, as if he guessed at her frustration, he was grinning at her.
“Unlike many others I don’t believe that love makes the world go round. Someone has to be practical in this life,” he scoffed gently.
What did he mean? Did he mean that if he had married for love he would have married Stella, but because he had Megan to think of he had let his actions be governed, as always, by practical considerations? Being tough and strong and apparently unemotional, he had been able to push aside any softer feelings he might have had for Stella, but that didn’t mean that he had stopped loving the beautiful ballerina.
Light went from the room as the tropical night fell. Someone switched on the lamps in the hall and the archway was silhouetted against a rosy glow. The room was full of deep black shadows. Brooke leaned her head on her folded arms. This was the first time she and Owen had been alone since the previous night, yet although the moment had a certain magic in the soft velvet darkness she felt slightly sick and dizzy because she was sure now that he loved Stella.
Why the knowledge should affect her in this way she could not understand. She had always known he had not married for love because he had told her that he wanted a different relationship. She had not married him for love either. She had married him on the rebound from that wretched affair with Kevin. She could see that now.
Fingers touched her hair, tangling in it lightly.
“Has anyone ever told you your hair shines in the dark?” asked Owen.
“No.” Brooke was suddenly breathless, aware that for the moment they were closer in mind and body than they had ever
been.
“Not even Kevin?”
The reference to Kevin startled her, coming so close on top of her own thought of him. She stiffened involuntarily and her head came up. He moved his hand at once and contrarily she experienced a strange aching longing to feel the touch of his fingers in her hair again.
“You like to know all about me and what makes me tick,” he murmured mockingly, “but you don’t like me to know about you. We’re very alike in some ways.”
“What ways?” she demanded curtly, angry with herself for destroying the intimacy of the moment.
“We don’t like sharing our feelings with anyone else. You were right last night when you said that I don’t tell everyone how I feel. Most of the time I can’t express my deepest feelings in words. I can only express myself in actions which may have the effect of making me appear ...” he paused, then added with a curious little laugh, “like a bull in a china shop.”
He had hardly finished speaking when the telephone rang, a harsh jangling sound which dispersed any magic there might have been left, bringing the world into the dark room. Owen pulled himself out of the armchair and went over to the instrument.
“It’ll be from the hospital,” he said, picking up the receiver.
Rising to her feet, Brooke went to a table lamp and switched it on. Golden light spilled on the shining floor. Beyond the circle of its glow, highly-polished furniture gleamed, silver and pewter ornaments glinted. Owen put down the receiver of the phone and stood looking down at it. As he stood silent and still a feeling of dread swept over Brooke.
“What is it, Owen? What did they say?” she asked, going over to him. He looked down at her, his eyes cold, his face like pale stone.
“She’s very ill. The concussion was worse than we’d thought. It’s going to be another long slow haul to get her right again.”
Even his voice was cold. No one would be able to tell whether he was being torn apart inside or not, she thought. Suddenly something seemed to burst inside her, like a flood bursting through a dam. Moving unhesitatingly, not consciously aware of what she was doing, acting entirely on impulse, Brooke put her arms around him.
“At least this time you’ll be near her,” she said comfortingly. “And I’ll be here too. Will that help?”
His hands were on her arms, pushing her away.
“There was a time when I thought it might,” he said coolly.
“Now I have to go back to the office. I was in the middle of something important when Pilar called. See you later.”
The next few days were the worst Brooke had ever known. Owen’s rejection of her offer of comfort seared her emotions in a way she would not have thought possible. The pain she had experienced when Kevin had left for Canada had been nothing compared to this. Added to the feeling of rejection was the sense of guilt over Megan. She felt as if she had let Owen down. He had married her because he had thought she would be a better mother to Megan than Stella. Clamping down on his own personal feelings, he had put his child first. Now he must be regretting even more his hasty action.
It was a mess, no more, no less - a mess out of which she would have to think her way because it was obvious that no one else could untangle the ravel. Neither was there anyone in whom she could confide her problem. She couldn’t discuss the situation with Inez Meredith because, although the woman was superficially pleasant, she made no signs of being friendly with her stepson’s new wife, and gradually, Brooke who had felt at home at the Casa, began to feel she was merely a visitor there, who might soon be leaving.
As for Owen, he might as well have removed himself to another planet. She still saw him at breakfast and they even went to the hospital together to visit Megan, but his mind was closed to her. She could feel it. He no longer teased her, and slowly she began to feel she had failed him and, therefore, he did not want to have anything to do with her.
She made an attempt to get through to him one morning. Megan was a little better, so Owen was going away again. Knowing that
he was packing his bag before going to the airport, Brooke went to his room. The bed was strewn with clothing and he was just folding a shirt. He glanced up at her as she walked in, but made no comment. Going up to him, she took the shirt from him and began to fold it neatly.
“Where are you going this time?” she asked.
“To a mining site south of Ciudad Bolivar.”
“May I come with you? I’d like to see a little more of the country,” she said coolly.
He had gone to the chest of drawers to take some more articles out. Coming back to the bed, he said,
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It isn’t the place for a woman.”
No answer could have irritated her more.
“Oh, what nonsense! Why shouldn’t I go there?”
“Because you wouldn’t be welcome. It’s a rough place and there’s no accommodation for you,” he said tersely, pushing some socks and underwear into the zipped holdall in which she had placed the shirts. Owen zipped the bag up sharply, then glanced at her, his expression softening slightly. “Besides, I’d prefer it if you stayed here to keep an eye on Megan. I’d feel better that way.”
“Are you always going to put her first?” she asked. “Your stepmother could visit her.”
“Megan doesn’t know her,” he argued. “She wants to see someone she knows - preferably me or you. Have you forgotten that’s why I married you?”
“No, I haven’t, but during the last few days since the accident I’ve been thinking that perhaps you’ve been regretting your hasty action, and your stepmother makes me feel as if I’ m unwanted in this house. I wish you weren’t going away.”
She had never intended to cry out in that manner and when she saw him flinch she wished she hadn’t spoken. So might Glynis have appealed to him.
Owen placed his hands on her shoulders and she stiffened, expecting him to shake her as he had done once before. At once his hands left her and he swung away to pick up the zippered bag.
&nb
sp; “You’ll manage,” he said quietly, walking towards the door and opening it. He glanced at her, his eyes unreadable. “We’ll see about moving out of here when I come back. I know Inez is resenting you a little, but that’s because she doesn’t understand you. Be patient with her and she’ll come round. I’ll be back on Wednesday, probably. We’ll work something out then.”
Later the same day Inez complained about Owen’s absence.
“Was it really necessary for him to go away just now?” she said to Ivor. “Carla and Henriques have arranged a little home coming party for us, and all our friends and relatives will be there.”
“I don’t run Owen’s department for him. He does what he has to do,” growled Ivor. “The company doesn’t seem to suffer. He’s a damned good manager and I’m proud to say so, seeing he’s my son. He could have been just a hanger-on, not pulling his weight.”
“Yes, but to go away now when Megan is ill,” complained Inez, shifting ground.
“He knows Brooke is here to see to the child. He depends on her as I used to depend on you and still do. After all, that’s what a wife is for, isn’t it?” said Ivor, his eyes beginning to twinkle with amusement.
Inez made a face, shrugged her shoulders and threw out her hands.
“Men are always running away from responsibility,” she retorted.
“Not at all,” argued Ivor. “We just leave some responsibility for others to take, hoping that someone will share the load, as you’ve done, love, for these past thirty-two - or is it thirty-three years?”
“You know very well that it is thirty-four,” replied Inez haughtily.
“Seems as if it was only yesterday,” replied Ivor disarmingly.
“To me, too,” was the surprising answer as Inez smiled at him. Then turning to Brooke she asked politely, “How is the child today?”
“She is a little better. Perhaps you would like to come with me to-morrow when I visit her.”
“Good idea, girl,” boomed Ivor. “Go with her, love. It’s time you were getting to know the child again. Time we were all getting to know her.”
Inez seemed pleased by the invitation and even let Brooke drive her to the big University Hospital. After seeing Megan she suggested that they went into the city for lunch.
It was while they were eating at a restaurant renowned for its seafood that Inez mentioned the homecoming party being held for herself and Ivor by her brother and his wife, Henriques and Carla Estaban.
“I hope you will come to it, Brooke,” she said. “Even though Owen is unfortunately away I know Henriques would like you to be there. Eva will be there too, and Stella Cordoba.”
Aware that the eagle eyes were watching her closely, Brooke managed to keep her face serene.
“Owen introduced me to Senora Cordoba at the racecourse one day and then she called to see me once while he was away,” she said.
“She is a very fine woman and I have great admiration for her,” said Inez. “I have the honour and pleasure of being her godmother and of having been able to help her over the years. She and Owen are good friends - in fact it was my dearest wish that they should marry one day. I felt that with each other they might attain that happiness which has been mine and Ivor’s. Owen had a very difficult time with his first wife, you know.”
“Yes, Eva told me.”
“So you have met her too. Beautiful, is she not? The perfect wife and mother, as I intended she should be and as I always hoped Stella would have the chance to be if she married Owen.” “But surely Senora Cordoba is married to her career now?” replied Brooke coolly, refusing to let Inez’s remarks shake her.
“She would not be if she could marry the man she loves. She would wish to be the mother of his children. It comes to us all in time — the wish to show our love for the man of our choice by
having his children.”
Brooke glanced away from the intense gaze of the golden eyes which seemed to try and search into her mind.
“If I had not gone away with Ivor for the good of his health I would have done all I could to stop Owen from going to England again. Then he would not have met you nor married you,” added Inez assertively.
“But he went to bring Megan back here.”
“And what good has that done? She is ill again. It would have been better for him to have left the child with her other grandparents. They wanted to keep her. They even wrote to Ivor asking him to persuade Owen to leave her with them. If he had done that he could have turned his back on his unhappy marriage to Glynis and married Stella, for love, not for convenience. All this nonsense of putting the child first before his own personal preferences - bah! I do not understand it. I love children and I wish I could have borne more, but never would I put them before my love for my husband.”
“You married Owen’s father for convenience,” retorted Brooke.
“Never. I married him because I loved him. He might have married me for convenience, but I married for love. You do not love Owen. Ah, I can see the question in your face. How do I, his stepmother, know that? Because I know that you do not share his bedroom. If you loved him you would not be happy to stay alone in that big white room. And he does not love you, because if he did nothing would keep him out of that room. He loves Stella and they should be married to each other.”
Brooke sat still, unable to eat any more, clenching and unclenching her hands on her knees. She longed to spring to her feet and cry out, But I do love him, only she wasn’t sure whether it was true. In the end she said nothing, and Inez, taking her silence for defeat, leaned forward and said gently,
“The answer to this problem lies with you. Only you can solve it, because Owen will do nothing. I know him well. He is stubborn and will even stand by his mistakes. He will never leave you. You
will have to leave him.”
“But he’s depending on me to look after Megan. Oh, can’t you see I can’t let him down?” exclaimed Brooke.
The golden eyes flashed her a surprised glance, but the thin lips tightened.
“If he is to have any happiness you must leave him,” stated Inez again. “I shall take care of the child. He will not have to worry any more about her.”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it,” muttered Brooke.
“Don’t think too long,” murmured Inez, rising to her feet. Then she smiled her winning smile. “There, I feel much better now that we have talked. It does no good to keep resentment bottled up, and I have been resenting you ever since I learned that Owen married in haste again. I hope you understand that I’m thinking only of him, of his future happiness.”
“Yes, I understand,” said Brooke dully.
As she dressed for the party later that same day Brooke pondered on the conversation she had had with Inez. Snippets had kept returning to her all afternoon, tormenting her as she was sure Inez had intended they should.
He loves Stella and they should be married to each other. If you loved him you would not be happy to stay alone in that big white room. And he does not love you, because if he did nothing would keep him out of that room.
And as the words repeated themselves over and over in her mind she remembered the sound of Owen’s footsteps going past her door the night he had accidentally smashed the glass on the patio.
“But I do love him.” This time she spoke out loud, defiantly facing her reflection in the long mirror. The words were absorbed by the thick walls, the thickly carpeted floor, the heavy draperies of that beautiful white room where she had slept alone for so many nights and which she was beginning to dislike.
Had she really fallen in love with Owen? And because she loved him could she leave him so that he could marry the woman he loved? Oh, Inez Meredith was very clever. She had known what weapon to use. Love.
If Brooke had not fallen in love with Owen she might have been able to put up with the situation and continued to be a paper wife in a marriage which existed on paper only, but now that love had stepped stealthily and unnoticed into her heart she
could not bear to stay with Owen and not show her love for him in the ways that wives have shown their love for their husbands since the beginning of time.
But he did not want her to show it - his rejection of the comfort she had offered the day of Megan’s injury was proof of that. He loved Stella and so Brooke would have to leave him - how and when had not yet occurred to her. A way would present itself. Inez might even help her.
Having come to that decision, ignoring a desire to weep, Brooke finished dressing and went along to the entrance hall. Ivor was just coming down the elegant staircase.
“You look lovely, girl,” he said gallantly, as he came across to her. He was slightly shorter than she was, a big-shouldered, wide man with an aggressive bulldog kind of face and the kindest smile imaginable. “I like my women to be tall,” he added, his eyes twinkling under their bushy eyebrows.
She was reminded suddenly of Owen saying so long ago, it seemed, at the Thomases’ party, “I like my women to be scared of me.”
“What’s the matter, girl?” Ivor’s voice was sharp and concerned. “You’ve gone as white as a sheet. Feeling all right? Not sick or anything like that?”
“No. I was just wishing that Owen was here, that’s all,” that was near enough to the truth, “and sometimes he talks like you.”
“Is it any wonder? I’m his dad,” he said. “But don’t let his absence get you down. There’s years ahead of you both when you’ll be together. I used to go away a lot - that’s why I married Inez. I couldn’t leave Owen on his own after his mum died without knowing he was being taken care of properly. One of the best moves I ever made in my life, marrying Inez, and I’ve an idea that
Owen has picked a winner in you. Has he taken you to the races
yet?”
“No, not yet,” she mumbled, glad he had changed the subject. His reference to the possibility of her and Owen being together for years in the future almost defeated her after the decision she had just made and she had difficulty in keeping tears back.
“Then how about you and me going to-morrow?” went on Ivor jovially. “I’ll look forward to that and it’ll take your mind off your worries about the child and Owen being away. Now let’s go and wait for Inez on the verandah. She’s nearly always late - changes her mind about what she’s going to wear and has to start all over again. It’s a lovely night. That’s what I like about this place, the climate in Caracas.”