by Sydney Allan
Irony was a cruel mistress once more, he mused. He'd faced his problems head on, was honest and straightforward, and still he faced pain.
After hours of struggling to subdue Raphaela, she lay in a heap in the middle of the floor, and Garret, who was as exhausted as she, lay in the middle of the bed, wishing he could fall asleep. Hours droned on, dragging along at a snail's pace, until finally dawn's rose-hued light cut through the gap between the drawn curtains. Dust motes danced in the light, and he remembered when he was a child how he'd wondered what those tiny sprites dancing in the air were. So many things to learn as a child.
So many things to learn as an adult. When would it all end?
He forced his leaden frame from the bed, and gritty eyed, went to the shower. Today, he would finally return to the real world--to work and life.
And he couldn't be more miserable.
Funny, he'd never expected to feel this way. Before he shut the bathroom door, he glanced at his daughter, who lay curled in a ball on the floor, her yellow blanket gripped to her chest. He was just as unsure of his ability to care for her today, as he'd been when he arrived. The camp hadn't been the answer to everything.
He softly closed the door, the catch clicking, and then turned on the water. It gurgled and splashed against the plastic-lined shower stall. Dropping his shorts, he stepped into the cool water and let it wet his hair, splash over his face and run down his back, drawing the heat from his body. A swim, that's what he needed before he left.
After washing up, he brushed his teeth and donned his swim trunks, not bothering to dry off. He laid out some clothes for their drive home, then tossed the last of his belongings in his suitcase and zipped it closed.
With a suitcase in each hand, he walked into the hallway and down the corridor to Marian's room. Setting them down, he knocked quietly and Marian answered. She agreed to sit with Raphaela until she awakened, and he carried the luggage to the car and headed through the woods to the lake, yearning for the caress of the sparkling, icy water.
As he approached the crystalline lake, still and inviting, with a mist hovering over it, the sight of something sleek slicing through the water caught his attention. The swimmer stopped about fifty yards from him, dipped her head back, and slicked back long hair. Garret considered turning around and heading back, almost feeling like he was intruding, but decided to stay.
"Hello!" he called out, figuring the least he should do is warn the other swimmer she had company.
"Garret?" the voice answered.
Faith.
A flame of desire shot through his body as he stared at her in the lake, imagining his hands running over the curves he'd never had the pleasure of seeing unclothed. Oh, to be a fish! "Yeah, it's me. Looks like we both had the same idea."
She swam closer to shore, treading water about twenty feet from him. "I had to shut down the air conditioning in my cottage."
He stepped into the water. A shock of cold bolted up his spine. "Shit, this water's ice cold!"
"It's not so bad once you get used to it."
He waded deeper, his stomach muscles tightening against the chill.
"Just dive in," she called. "You won't get in if you don't."
Now, those words had more than one meaning. "Just dive in," he repeated. He steeled himself for the shock, sucked in a deep breath, and plunged under the water. The air he'd stored in his lungs shot from them, and he immediately resurfaced. His whole body shook. "Not so bad? I'm shivering like a fool."
She swam to him, her hair slick from her face, droplets clinging to her eyelashes and skin. He looked down, through the water to catch a glimpse of her body.
He wasn't cold anymore.
She was wearing a hot pink bikini. His swim trunks grew snug. His gaze rose from the shimmering water back to her face. Without hesitation, he reached for her, drew her body to him and kissed her. Her curves fit against him, the warmth of her body heating him until he thought the water might steam up around them. Her mouth tasted sweet, her tongue dancing a seductive tango with his.
She groaned, the sound echoing in his head as she wrapped her arms and legs around him, her body buoyant in the iridescent water. His feet planted in the sandy lake bottom, he gave his hands full freedom to roam where they might. Their first target, the firm roundness of her bottom.
He hadn't thought he could get any hotter, but he did. Liquid heat, intoxicating and heady, pulsed through his body. He slid his hands up the sides of her body until they found the firm roundness of her breasts, his mouth still sliding and tasting her, devouring every tiny space of her mouth.
Her nipples grew rigid under his fingertips, and a throbbing centered on his groin. He longed to plunge into her.
That was it. He had to stop. Now. He broke the kiss. His breathing ragged, like he'd run a marathon. Damn, what this woman did to him!
She looked at him, her expression wide-eyed, dazed. She dropped her hands and legs, and ever so slowly drifted from him, the distance widening, and the silence filled by the thumping of his heart in his ears.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
"Why do things have to be so complicated?"
"Isn't that true of all the great loves throughout history?" he asked. Was he turning into a heartsick sap? He'd never thought himself romantic before.
"Are we talking about love here or something baser?"
Damn it, she didn't expect him to say those words already, did she? After two weeks? He could not fall in love in two weeks. That was impossible. "I don't know. Given time, maybe. But it's not only lust, either." Even to himself, he sounded like a rambling fool. The sad truth was, he didn't know the answer to her question, but he knew this much--he didn't want to face another day without her.
Faith sunk her toes into the sandy lake bottom, the cold water, and the lingering taste of Garret sending shivers up her spine. He'd all but admitted he loved her, and now she had no idea what to do. Not only did she soar on wings of joy, but she hung at the precipice of sorrow.
He'd said he was reconciling with Marian. And she'd encouraged him.
The image of Raphaela's face, her sky-blue eyes and ebony ringlets, the milky white of her skin and rose-kissed lips, played through Faith’s mind. Didn't she deserve her parents together? And their entire focus? Faith knew the little girl needed everything they could give her. Raphaela's condition would require a great deal of time and attention from both of them if they had any hope of growth in her communication skills. They certainly weren't out of the woods yet.
Would he reconsider his decision? Change his mind, based upon his feelings? Not quite love, but not lust either.
The answer, which she tried hard to ignore, drifted to her mind.
He wouldn't.
The droplets of water scattered over his shoulders twinkled in the sunlight, and his jet hair slicked flat to his scalp, his curls weighted by water. His lips were parted a tiny bit, and she had the sudden urge to press her own to them, luxuriate in their taste again.
She forced her eyes from him, to the trees lining the lake's edge. A squirrel scampered up a trunk, its bushy tail twitching as it stopped mid-climb and sniffed the air. "I hope we can remain friends."
Did he hear the lack of conviction she heard in her own voice?
"Okay. Do you still have my card?"
She nodded.
"Good. Call me when you get back to Akron, and I'll give you the phone numbers I owe you." He turned from her, headed toward the beach. The water thrashed about him as he ran toward the shore, sending brilliant diamonds into the air.
She longed to reach for him, tell him how she truly felt. But whom would she hurt? And more importantly, whom would she be serving? There was no way in hell she'd be that selfish.
With at least thirty feet of water between them, she watched him glance over his shoulder one last time before disappearing into the woods. Her heart felt like it had been clamped in a vice--tight and bruised. Her stomach gnawed upon itself, not from hunger but pure misery.
"I love you," she whispered. "Damn it, it makes no sense, but I love you."
The joy of the swim lost, she waded through the crisp chill of the water to the shore, and leaving a trail of drops, walked back to her cottage. One last search of each room, and she'd be ready to leave. Ready. Like she'd ever truly be that.
She only hoped she was doing the right thing--leaving Mountain Rise to avoid their name being brought into scandal. Was she being a fool for giving up so easily? She supposed she'd never know for certain.
One makes decisions based upon the knowledge one has at any given moment. She remembered her father saying that, long ago, before he'd moved away from her and her brothers. Before he'd grown sick, cancer eating away his body.
So true, that statement. Simple and true.
She changed into her street clothes, a pair of khaki shorts and a tank top, slid her feet into a pair of sandals, and wandered from the living room to the bedroom and finally the kitchen before stepping into the aging morning and locking the door one last time. She dropped the key under the mat, as the director had told her to do--no doubt because Mrs. Murphy hadn't wanted to face her this morning--and walked the short trail to the employee parking lot.
Her car, a late model Toyota--the typical metallic blue--was packed to the ceiling with her belongings, mostly art supplies and clothes. Everything else had been provided by Mountain Rise, even dishes, and linens. Good thing she'd thought to store her own furniture and household things just in case. At least she'd done one thing right.
Immediately she corrected herself. She didn't deserve the mental thrashing she inflicted upon herself every time anything went wrong. Every turn of fate was not her fault. The days of blaming herself for everyone's problems were over.
Climbing into her loaded car, she glanced at the lodge, then closed the door and started the engine. Without a backward glance she drove through the gate and onto the washboard dirt road, her teeth chattering as her tiny car rattled over the bumps.
Throughout the entire drive back north, all five hours, her mind was tormented by doubts that she'd done the wrong thing--both by leaving Mountain Rise and holding Garret off. She hoped he wouldn't cut her out of his life completely.
By late afternoon, her car bounced up the drive of her grandfather's light gray brick ranch in a rural suburb of Akron, Hartville, occupied half by Amish and Mennonites--those humble people who she'd admired her entire childhood. She hadn't called to tell her grandfather she was coming, but now that he was in his eighties and alone, she knew he'd be happy for some company.
No sooner had she shifted the car into park, than her grandfather's wisp-covered head poked out the front door. "Faith, is that you? I wasn't expecting you." His gritty voice brought feelings of home to her heart. She loved this man, and this place. It was the closest thing she had to a home. A broad grin lit his heavily lined face as he stood on the porch, his shoulders stooped as he supported his weight with the metal railing.
"Hi, Grandpa, I hope you don't mind some company for a while. I'm moving back to Kent." She yanked a suitcase from the backseat and walked up to the porch. After dropping it at her feet, she hugged him, relishing the feel of his embrace, and his genuine joy.
"Mind? You know me, I love company." He opened the black metal screen door and waited for Faith to step into the house. He followed as she carried her suitcase into her bedroom, a small room with busy floral wallpaper, and 1970's orange shag carpet. The furnishings, a couple of mismatched dressers, a cedar chest, and a twin bed, were nothing special, but functional. She dropped the suitcase on the bed and inhaled that smell, the indescribable scent that couldn't be attributed to any one thing, but was always in the house. After shoving the suitcase to one side, she sat on the bed and pulled Garret's card from her purse. She ran her fingers over the lightly raised lettering. Garret Damiani, M.D. Kentwood Clinic, Kent, Ohio.
Was it too soon to call him? Surely it was. He'd have to get Raphaela settled after the long trip, unpack, shop for groceries. She'd call him tomorrow.
Was it time for bed yet?
She glanced at the clock. No, it wasn't even close. That was the only thing about this place she didn't care for: time seemed to stand still, as though Hartville, Ohio existed in its own time zone. Knowing that sitting on the bed and staring at Garret's business card would only make time drag slower, she decided to spend some time chatting with her grandfather, maybe take him to one of his favorite restaurants. Every week her grandparents used to go out to eat, usually to a buffet that gave senior discounts, but now that his wife was gone, he didn't get out very often. He was wise enough to know he shouldn't drive alone.
The rest of the day dragged along, but passed, and finally she fell into bed. The buzz of cicadas lulled her to sleep.
Chapter Fourteen
"What's the point of discussing this further, Marian? We're beating a dead horse, again," Garret said as he leaned back against the couch cushion, thankful to be home. He glanced at the mantle clock. "Hell, we've been at this for hours and have gotten nowhere. We're talking in circles."
Marian stared at Raphaela, who sat on the floor, toys scattered around her, her fingers wiggling in front of her face.
"I know why you want to reconcile," Garret hedged.
"Why is that?" Marian met his gaze.
"Guilt."
"You're wrong."
"Am I?" he challenged. "Guilt makes everyone do strange things, including me."
"Well, you can say what you want. I know the truth." She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back into the wingback chair facing him. "I want to reconcile because…" her voice trailed off and her face paled.
"Because what?" he asked. Leaning forward, he rested an arm on the armrest and reached his hand to her.
She dropped her hands to her lap. "Because I don't have anyone else. Because I'm so damn lonely, I can't stand going into that miserable condo again. It's so cold and sterile. I hate it. I hate my life."
Garret nodded. Although he'd had Raphaela the past three years, he still felt lonely, yearned for a pair of arms to hold him, a face to beam a greeting when he came home. "I understand. But that's not a good enough reason to reconcile. And it's not fair to either of us. We won't be happy."
"I'm willing to try."
"I know you are."
"Ella would be better off," she said, clenching and unclenching her hands around each other.
A heavy sigh huffed from his chest. "I don't know about that. What kind of life would it be for her? We might live under the same roof, but we wouldn't love each other. What kind of example would we set?"
"We would teach her about commitment and loyalty, sacrifice."
He gazed down at his baby girl. "Sacrifice," he repeated. Reconciling with Marian would be the ultimate sacrifice. That was true. He didn't love her. Would never love her. The best he could hope for was friendship. "What about your career?" he asked her. "Are you willing to sacrifice that to stay home with her?"
"My career?" For the first time since she'd stepped foot in the house, he saw a glimmer of doubt in her eyes.
"Yes. Why should we hire a nanny if there are two of us? After all, that's why we are considering this move, isn't it? So we can help Ella?" Was she so eager to find a substitute for Michael, the man he suspected she really loved, to surrender her career?
He didn't want to be her second choice. Not for the price he would have to pay. The memory of Faith, droplets of water clinging to her eyelashes, her face flushed, her hair slicked back, flashed in his mind.
"I make more money than you do. Why don't you retire?"
He nodded. "What you need is a roommate. Not a husband. Or…" He let the sentence trail off. Could he tell her what he really thought? He damned well better. Too much was at stake not to. "Why don't you swallow your pride and call Michael? He's the one you love."
Pain reflected in her eyes, she shook her head. "I can't."
"Why not?"
"I did." Her bottom lip qui
vered and a gathering of tears sparkled in her eyes. "He's engaged."
"Engaged," Garret repeated. He stood up, walked to the minibar in the room's corner and poured two glasses of water. The ice cubes clinked in the glasses as he walked across the room. At Marian's side, he handed one glass to her. "You need to fight for him if you love him."
"But what about you and Ella? What about everything you said?" She took a sip of the water, staring at him over the top of the glass.
"I was hurt and angry. I said things I shouldn't have. We both know we don't work. You're looking for me to replace Michael, but that's not going to happen. I’m not Michael." He smiled and she returned it with a shaky one of her own. "No one will replace him. If we remarry, you'll be more miserable than ever."
She nodded, studying the glass she held in her hands. "But I don't know how to fight for him. What if I try and he…" She shook her head. "I don't think I can do this."
"There's a reason why you were with him for three years. And there's a reason why you broke up. Only you and he know what changed. Find the magic you shared in the beginning, and he'll come back."
She smiled. "You said we could do that once. You remember that?"
"Yes, I did. The problem was we didn't have magic. Ever. I know that now."
Her gaze steady, she said, "So do I." She set the glass down on the end table next to her and stood. "Thank you, Garret." She tentatively reached to him in an offer of an embrace.
He accepted it, but felt unwelcome and uncomfortable in her arms. He stepped away and crossed his arms over himself.
She patted his arm. "You're a good man, Garret Damiani."
"No. I'm just a man. A man who doesn't have all the answers he wished he did."
"You never did give yourself enough credit." She stooped down next to Raphaela. "Good bye, sweetheart. I'll see you tomorrow."
Raphaela kept studying her fluttering fingers, seemingly unaware of Marian.