'I told you.' The blankness in her eyes was somehow worse than reproach.
'I haven't forgotten. Are you ever going to forgive me?'
'I suppose a resentful wife would make life uncomfortable. Poor Ethan—you didn't bargain for all this when you gave me the job, did you?'
He shook his head from side to side as she spoke. 'Talk to me, Hannah,' he pleaded urgently. 'If you hate me, just come out and say so. Yell at me if you must!'
Hannah just looked at the upturned palms of his outstretched hands and slowly her gaze shifted to his so familiar face. Did she hate him? Was that what happened to love when it went sour?
'I can't perform to order just for you, Ethan. Besides, what would the nurse say if I started throwing things?' she asked drily as the figure in white appeared behind him.
The wheelchair seemed excessive, but Hannah was quite happy to fall in with hospital policy. Ethan carried the accumulated clutter of her stay, but even as she got into the car he didn't touch her; she noticed that.
'I asked Mother. I thought you might like to see her,' Ethan said as he opened the big front door at home.
'That's nice,' she observed without any real enthusiasm.
The pain started when she walked into the living room. The part inside her which had been frozen started to thaw. The ice had been so tangible, she looked down half expecting to see a pool of water around her feet. The room was full. They all seemed so happy to see her. Faith's new husband was beside her, and Drew. Even Mrs Turner had forgotten her usual reserve. There were flowers everywhere.
'Grandma fetched them for you,' Emma said excitedly when Hannah admired them. 'I baked biscuits for you. Alison helped me.'
Hannah looked incuriously at the tall, strapping figure of the young girl standing in the corner of the room. The girl smiled back shyly. Emma was obviously reluctant to let go of Hannah's hand, but when Ethan motioned her to fetch the plate of home-made biscuits for Hannah she did so.
Hannah was surprised the crumbs would go past the immense, aching constriction in her throat. 'You're all so kind, but it's a bit...'
'Overwhehning,' Faith said, immediately noting the tell-tale signs of disintegration on the drawn face of her daughter-in-law. 'Come on, children, let's go for a walk before tea. Come along, Robert.' She tugged at the arm of the tall, distinguished-looking figure of her new husband. 'Alison, will you get the children's coats on?'
Hannah could hardly see them through t^e mist of unshed tears that welled hotly in her eyes. Ethan was still there—he was the last person in the world she wanted to display her weakness in front of.
'Who is Alison?' She willed back the tears and even managed a stiff smile.
'A girl from the village. You needed help.'
'You mean Mrs Turner needs help. What's happened to Grace?' Grace was the student who supplemented her grant helping Mrs Turner with some of the domestic chores.
'Not with the house; with the children.'
Hannah's eyes followed him as he walked over to the baby grand piano that sat in the comer of the room. He lifted the lid and played a single chord.
Suddenly her heart was racing with panic and anger. 'Whilst I was in hospital, possibly. I'm home now.' She'd already realised her place here was tenuous. Was he trying to wean the children away from their dependence on her? She loved them as if they were her own and she couldn't even contemplate the idea of losing them. She'd fight Ethan over that.
'You'll still need help.'
'No, I don't,' she insisted belligerently.
Ethan viewed her dogmatic denial with thinly concealed frustration. 'She's well qualified,' he said, as if she hadn't spoken. 'She hopes to get a job in a kindergarten eventually—she was quite honest about that—but as a short-term measure—'
'You're employing her as a nanny?' Hannah asked, breathing hard. Was this Ethan's brutally efficient way of showing her how dispensable she was?
'She's only doing a few hours a day, but she's quite flexible. I said we didn't want her living in or anything, and I made it quite clear that it was a trial period. If you don't like her—'
'Oh, I still come into it, then!' Breath coming hard and fast, she glared at him with dislike.
'Naturally you still come into it.'
His calm was beginning to infuriate her. 'Why? You've just replaced me the moment my back was turned.' ... 'That's nonsense and you know it.'
'Don't patronise me, Ethan. Why do we suddenly need a nanny? I'm the nanny, in case you've forgotten.'
'You're my wife.'
'I've been your wife for the past year; We didn't need a nanny then. Have you decided I'm not up to the job?'
'I should have done something about it earlier—you need some time for yourself.'
'Oh, I see,' she drawled, 'it's a shift system you have in mind. Are Alison's duties going to take her as far as the bedroom too?'
She had managed to ruffle his tranquillity good and proper this time. The tightening of his mouth had been accompanied by an intimidating flare of fury in his grey eyes. She observed the changes dispassionately.
'I married you. You're my wife,' he snapped, as dark colour seeped up from the collar of his open-necked shirt until his olive-toned skin looked several shades deeper.
'It's not what you did, Ethan,' she said. 'It's why you did it. You married me because you wanted someone to care for your children. Someone who expected nothing from you.' Her voice rose until it sounded hysterically shrill in her own ears, but she couldn't stop. It was as if the floodgates had been opened and nothing could prevent the backlog of repressed emotions escaping. 'Everyone must have realised. Faith did,' she babbled wildly. "That's why she begged you not to marry me. The people you work with talk about us. Did you know that? Do you know how it makes me feel when I think of all those people speculating about us? I feel degraded!'
'I'm sorry if you find being my wife degrading.'
'Being the focus of smutty speculation and pity is degrading!' she yelled back. With the back of her hand she mopped the tears that had begun silently to slide down her cheeks.
'Who pities you?'
'All those smart women that know you, that knew Catherine. They know...'
'Know what?' he asked, taking a step closer.
'What a sham this marriage is. If the baby had lived they'd probably have put it down to immaculate conception.' She stopped abruptly, confusion creeping into her eyes.
Ethan almost sighed with relief. At last. It was the first time she'd actually referred to the lost child. Don't hurry things, he'd told himself. Let her decide when she wants to talk about it. He'd felt impotent listening to the doctor's explanations of denial and the grieving process.
He'd never felt so clumsy and inept in his life. Words were his trade but they came awkwardly now. 'I know it hurts,' he said softly. 'I wish I'd known about the baby.' What was the right thing to say? They hadn't told him that, had they?
Anger and resentment moved inside her She'd wanted to tell him. It should have been a time of shared joy but it wouldn't have been like that. She'd been robbed of that too—Ethan's distrust had robbed her.
It was the scent of his cologne which made her realise he was standing close to her. The evocative scent of his male body made her uneasy; it stirred memories she'd carefully blanked out.
'It was very early on. It was only a collection of cells, so tiny,' she said. The pragmatic words didn't help at all; the baby in her mind was whole and perfect. Her lips quivered. 'Why?' she wailed in a small, bereft voice. 'It isn't fair!'
'I know, honey, I know,' he crooned softly as she laid her head against his chest. He could feel the tremors that racked her body as he wrapped his arms around her. 'It's bloody unfair.'
She sobbed out her grief against his chest. When she pulled away Ethan's arms dropped to his sides, letting her go. His heart sank as he saw her expression. It was set and hard. The words she uttered were like a knife-thrust.
'You're probably glad.' In h
er pain she needed someone to blame. Part of her registered the intense pain on his face as he flinched. Part of her wanted to reach out for him and deny her words, but the impulse of a wounded animal to strike out was stronger at that moment. 'You don't think I'm responsible enough to look after Emma and Tom. You can take them away from me, but the baby was mine, the only thing in my entire life that's been mine. You couldn't have taken him off me.'
I’d trust you with my life, Hannah.' She frowned and stared at him in confusion. It was hard not to believe that calm certainty in his voice. 'I trust you with the lives of my children.'
Her resolve hardened as she recalled the awful things he'd accused her of. She couldn't forgive him for being so quick to condemn her. 'You didn't. You believed I put my own pleasure before Emma's safety,' she reminded him stonily. 'You treated me like a leper.' He could have no inkling of how much that had hurt. It had been like being cast out of paradise. At the first hurdle he'd failed the test; he didn't trust her. She'd thought something, special had grown between them, but his attitude had shown her what an idiot she'd been to believe that.
'I was a fool!' he said urgently, trying to break past her icy disdain.
'I'd be a fool if I believed anything you said to me now. It's easy to be generous when you know the truth, Ethan. Now you know I'm not the selfish slut you accused me of being, what do you want to do? Does this mean a promotion back into your bed?' she suggested with blighting scorn. 'What makes you think I'd want that sort of professional advancement?'
'I know you're hurting, Hannah, but stop this before you say things you'll regret.' His eyes were dark with pain, but she made herself blind to the fact. In the tunnel of her restricted vision all she wanted to see was her own pain and his lack of trust
'I don't suppose Catherine would have been as crude and...vulgar...' Her eyes went automatically to the walnut bureau where a whole cluster of smiling portraits of her predecessor sat. Her voice died away as she saw, mjich to her amazement, they had vanished. An antique pewter bowl held a casual arrangement of late, overblown faded roses.
'On the contrary, Hannah, Catherine would have approved of your disgust at the thought of sharing my bed.
We conceived Tom on the only occasion during a six-month period when we slept together. So you see I wasn't exaggerating when I said it had been more than three years. You look shocked.'
'I don't understand.' His words made no sense to her. They'd been the perfect couple—a shining example that she could never aspire to.
'What don't you understand?'
'Everyone says...' The ironic gleam in his eyes made her voice fade uncertainly. 'The pictures... Alexa said...'
'"Alexa said"—oh, then it must be true,' he drawled. 'The pictures were for the children. I didn't want them to forget who their mother was. I owed her that much. Guilt made me go overboard.'
'Guilt?' The bitterness in his voice cut through her miasma of self-pity and aching loss.
'If I'd let our marriage die a natural death, instead of being so bloody-minded and stubborn, Catherine would still be alive.'
Hannah's chaotic thoughts couldn't make sense of the things he was saying. The habit of thinking of his first marriage as perfect was too ingrained to drop immediately.
'I'm not going to force you back into my bed, Hannah. I'm not even going to beg you.'
Of course he wasn't. Ethan didn't have to beg—he was too clever for that. She was awake to the danger she was in. A self-destructive part of her wanted to believe in him. Loving Ethan hurt, and she couldn't bear to hurt any more.
'I know you hate me, but don't let your grief twist things.'
I’rn not twisting things; you are.'
'When you're grieving for the baby, Hannah, try and remember that he was my child too. Do you think I don't feel the loss? You don't have a monopoly on grief! I learnt I had a child and I'd lost him in twenty seconds. I nearly lost you.' His voice cracked with emotion. 'I couldn't have borne that, Hannah.'
She took a step away from the message that blazed in his eyes. Why hadn't he said he cared before? she thought angrily. When there was still time. Couldn't he see it was too late now? Everything was spoilt.
'I love you, Hannah.'
'No!' she said, pressing her hands to her ears. 'Don't say that. You bought me, that's all. I'm like any other investment. You can't love me, Ethan. If you did you couldn't have thought all those wicked things about me! You didn't give me a chance.'
'Let me explain,' he begged.
'Nothing you can say could make me feel any different. You set out to make me love you, didn't you?' she accused. His silence spelt out his guilt in her eyes. 'I know you had no use for my love—it was just a way you saw of controlling me. You must have been pleased when your plan worked so well. The irony is you needn't have bothered—you didn't have to lift a finger. I didn't marry you for financial security—I married you because I loved you. I loved you from the first moment I set eyes on you.' She broke off, her bosom heaving with emotion.
The colour drained dramatically from his face as she watched. 'Is that true?' he asked, in a voice she scarcely recognized. He closed his eyes. 'I didn't know. I didn't know...'
Hannah still didn't know what had possessed her to blurt out the truth, but it was too late to deny it now.
'Of course you didn't know—you wouldn't have married me if you had. But don't worry, mistrust and suspicion did what complete neglect couldn't' Even as she spoke she was suddenly unsure whether her words were actually true. Part of her knew they should be comforting each other through this hard time, not hurting each other.
Ethan turned on his heel and walked towards the window. He missed the quiver of uncertainty that made her lips tremble and filled her eyes with sudden doubt.
'I hear what you're saying.' She saw his broad shoulders lift and then straighten. 'I won't give you any more pain by inflicting my feelings on you, but if you change your mind...I'll be here.'
This was the point where she was meant to say scornfully, I won't. Her mouth opened but she couldn't bring herself to say the words. She stood for a long time staring out of the window after he'd gone. Ethan had said he loved her and she'd sent him away. Hadn't punishing him been meant to make her feel better? She felt wretched, and too confused by the amazing things he'd said to make sense of anything. She started crying and didn't stop for a long time.
CHAPTER NINE
'It’s Hannah, isn't it?'
Hannah looked blankly at the smart young woman in the fashionable, businesslike trouser suit for a moment. Then recognition dawned.
'Helen?' She didn't bother to disguise the incredulity in her voice.
It was hard to reconcile the image of this smart, confident young woman with the girl she had known. Helen hadn't had an easy time after she'd left the children's home.
'You look marvellous, Helen. The last time...'
The young woman grimaced. 'I know. I must have looked pretty desperate, but then turning up on your doorstep out of the blue was an act of desperation. When I saw the announcement of your marriage in the newspaper I didn't have anywhere else to go.'
It was the only time Hannah had gone to Ethan for help. She'd half expected him to be angry, or refuse, but he'd agreed to listen to the girl's story of how she'd been forced out of her bedsit by a landlord who'd been about to sell the building for redevelopment.
All Hannah had been able to think about was that it could so easily have been her standing there with no place to go but the street. 'I hope the place Ethan found you wasn't too awful. I meant to keep in touch, but things have been...' How exactly did you explain the strain of being in love with your husband?
Helen laughed. 'Are you kidding?' she said. "The trust has changed my life. They don't just provide a roof and food; they encourage you to gain skills to go out and help yourself. Listen, have you got time for a coffee? I'd love to tell you about it.'
Hannah shrugged. She was escaping; she had
nowhere to go. Originally she'd thought it might be easier to think away from the house, away from everybody. It hadn't worked out that way—she'd been wandering around for the past hour, unable to string two thoughts together.
In the small coffee bar Hannah listened to her friend's description of the charitable trust that was there to help young people who would otherwise have ended up on the streets.
'I'm probably preaching to the converted,' Helen laughed as she sipped her neglected drink. "This is stone-cold. I do go on once I get on my hobby-horse. I'm sure Ethan has told you all about it.'
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