Rekindled (32 page)

“Rachel,” she began softly, checking back over her shoulder, “do you think you might wait here while your father helps me out with one last thing upstairs? Maurice, the doorman, will keep you company.”

The child looked to her father for permission. He kissed her and set her back in the car. “We’ll be down in a jiffy.” He spoke gently, repeating the same for the doorman. Taking Anne’s elbow, he escorted her inside. As soon as they rounded the corner and were out of the child’s sight, Anne turned on him. “You arranged this with my parents, didn’t you?”

He grinned. “They’re wonderful people. When I explained the situation, they were more than glad to help out.”

“Well, that’s just fine, but I’m not going! For all your smugness and your crafty little plans, I’m not going!”

His grin died. “I told Rachel that you’d be spending the week with us.”

“You had no right to do that.”

“But it’s done. She’s counting on your being there. Would you disappoint her?”

Anne was exasperated. “How can you use her like this? You know I can’t hurt her.”

“I was counting on that.”

“So you’re going to go out there”-she pointed a shaky finger toward the street-“and tell her I can’t go.”

“But you can. Your bags are packed and loaded. Your work has been cleared for the next two weeks. There’s nothing left to hold you here.”

Anne felt trapped. With a tired sigh, she slumped back against the wall. “Why don’t you leave me alone? Can’t you see that I don’t want to be with you?”

He was sober then. “That’s because you won’t listen to reason. I’ve tried to explain, and more than once, but you wouldn’t answer my calls or let me in when I banged on your door. You wouldn’t give me the courtesy of hearing me out. So now I’m asking you, for Rachel’s sake, to come with us. Just this once. At the end of the week, if you still feel this way, I will leave you alone.”

Anne wondered if it was the only way out. She couldn’t bear the thought of hurting a child who had already been so badly hurt in life. And the little girl would be a chaperon of sorts. What harm could there be?

“Is that a promise?” she asked cautiously.

“Yes.” There was no point belaboring the matter. With a defeated sigh, she pushed away from the wall and returned to the car with Mitch.

Within the hour they left the traffic of the city behind and sped northward. “When did you get the new car?” Anne asked, groping for conversation with Mitch as Rachel knelt on the backseat, studying the receding skyline.

“About a week ago. This is her maiden voyage. The Honda was a bit small for three.” The eyebrow that arched her way was subtle, but Anne had to marvel at his presumption. If the three included her, he had paid a whole lot for a single trip.

Rachel poked her golden head between the bucket seats and rubbed her cheek against the soft velour. “I like this car. Daddy says the color matches my eyes.”

“It does, at that,” Anne said with a warm smile. How not to smile at a child who exuded sweetness like this one? She prayed there would be pouts, crankiness, and temper tantrums as the week progressed. Otherwise, she could be in big trouble.

There weren’t any pouts, crankiness, or temper tantrums, and Anne grew more and more attached to the child. Even knowing that Mitch contrived it didn’t detract from the pleasure Anne took in simple custodial things like bathing her, combing those long blond curls, helping retie the shoelaces that came undone after Rachel laboriously tied them herself. There were substantive things to cherish, like cookie baking, hikes in the woods, and reading stories before the fire at night.

And if Anne was in love, she felt it coming right back from Rachel. Such innocent, heartfelt, freely given affection was the most precious thing in the world.

Staying indifferent to Mitch was a problem, but she did her best and, to his credit, he didn’t push. She slept upstairs, he slept downstairs, with Rachel in a sleeping bag on the floor of his room. By Wednesday morning, though, Anne felt she was walking a tight-rope of conflicting emotions, with Mitch watching from morning to night to see which way she would go.

Memory nagged. She remembered beautiful times here with Mitch, innocent times of fulfillment and love. She might put them aside in New York, but they were more real here and harder to flee.

Still she tried. “I’m going for a walk,” she announced after a postbreakfast bit of brooding.

“That’s a good idea,” Mitch said without mockery, but then, his gentleness was part of the torture. “Take your time. I think I can manage Rachel for a few hours.”

Despite the little girl’s protest, Anne left. It was the first time she had been alone since they had arrived, and she needed it badly. She was feeling frayed at the seams, but there were still two days left in the week. She had to find a way of surviving.

Spring was everywhere. What had been damp and gray a month before was now a fresh, vibrant green. The scent was of rebirth, spreading upward from the lush carpet of new grass and through the lime leaves that clothed long tree branches. The sounds were enchanting ones-the chirping of birds from nest to nest, the rustle of forest creatures in the newly spreading undergrowth. Water ran freely over rocks and silt, rushing with the force of the snows that melted higher up the mountain. The pasture glowed yellow with dandelions and pink with crab apple blossoms. It was the countryside at its gayest and most promising.

Not so her heart. Its sadness was all the more poignant by contrast. Pebbles scattered before her shuffling feet. She kicked a boulder or two. When she finally buried her head on her arms, the tears flowed as fast and free as the brook beside her. But while the brook’s course was one of liberation, Anne’s was the opposite. She was in an emotional prison. Loving Mitch did that.

In time, she knelt on the stones and splashed her face. The water was so cold that she gasped, but the pain felt good, and the invigoration was welcome. She headed slowly back toward the cottage, winding in and out among the forest paths, physically relieved from the cry, if no closer to a solution.

Under the warmth of the high noon sun, she arrived at the house to an unexpected silence. Assuming that father and daughter were out in the woods themselves, she passed through the kitchen to the living room, only to stop short at the sight of Mitch, standing tall and lean at the front window. His hands filled the pockets of his jeans in a pose that was more idle than she would have expected, given the presence of a vivacious six-year-old.

“Where’s Rachel?” she asked.

He faced her. “She’s gone.”

“Gone.” But he wasn’t upset. “What do you mean gone?”

“My parents came by to pick her up. They’re continuing on to Montreal for a few days.”

“You mean, she’s gone?” The implication of it was only slowly seeping in.

“Yes.” His eyes held hers. “You’ve been crying.”

“No.” She felt justified lying. He had tricked her again!

“Your eyes are red,” he challenged softly.

“I have hay fever,” she snapped, feeling a growing fury. “You planned this, didn’t you? You had it all arranged with your parents. You orchestrated the whole thing, using Rachel to get me up here, then conveniently having her vanish.” Every muscle in her body had tensed.

“Yes,” he admitted and offered no excuse.

Anne’s eyes blazed. “And you really think I’m staying, now that she’s gone? Hell, she was the only reason I agreed to come up here in the first place!”

He began to move toward her. “Was it, Anne? Was it really? Be honest with yourself”

She was suddenly afraid. “I am! That was why I came up here.” She put up a hand to ward him off and took a step backward. “Don’t come any closer. Don’t you dare touch me-“

“Or what? Haven’t we been through this before? We’re right back at the beginning, Annie. Face it. No child. No deposition-taking. No other pretense. Just you and me.”

“It’s not that simple!” she cried and took another step back. He was too tall, too attractive, too near. “I can’t forget those things. They’re all here, even if you try to deny them, and nothing can change the fact that I didn’t want to see you, that I don’t want to have anything to do with you!”

But her body was trembling. It remembered how he felt and responded the closer he came.

He continued his advance until she was backed against a wall. “I don’t believe you,” he informed her smoothly. “I think you want the opposite.”

She shook her head in denial. “Don’t, Mitch. Get away from me.” But her warning was a whisper, and a faltering one at that. She was between Mitch and the wall, between a rock and a hard place. She was wondering where to go, when he flattened his hands on the wall by either shoulder.

“This has gone on long enough. I’m going to talk now, and you’re going to listen. My patience is wearing thin.”

“Your patience?” she cried, raising her eyes to his. “What about mine?

And what about my feelings? But then, you never were all that concerned about what would happen to me after you’d taken everything you wanted!

You are the most selfish, arrogant, ruthless-“

The list of scathing expletives would have gone on if he hadn’t stopped them with his mouth. She tried to pull back, to twist her head away, to push him off. But he was bigger, stronger, and determined.

He drew her from the wall and into his arms, kissing her so vehemently that her breath was cut off. At the instant she would have collapsed, he eased his grip, breathing raggedly for a moment before capturing her lips again.

This time was different. His mouth was more persuasive now, moving with gentleness and sensual sureness. Anne might have been able to resist force, but a caring kiss was something else. Her body was weak, her mind muddled. While her arms continued to apply a token pressure against his chest, her lips betrayed her. Gradually they softened, then opened, then drank helplessly of his kiss.

When he finally raised his head, she bowed hers and dissolved into helpless tears.

“Don’t cry, Annie. Please.” Sounding tormented, he held her tightly until she gradually quieted. “I won’t hurt you. Please believe me, honey. I’ve never meant to hurt you. I just want you to listen to what I have to say.”

“Do I have a choice?” she finally whispered.

He smiled. “No.”

She remained docile as he led her to the chair before the cold hearth. The same wings that had once been blinders against the dark, now blotted out all but Mitch.

He raked a hand through his hair. “I know what you must be thinking about me, but you’re wrong. It’s unfair of you to blame me for what happened to Jeff.”

Anne had never blamed him for the crash. But before she could tell him that, he said, “It wasn’t until February, when you were so sick and had that nightmare about the accident and mentioned the court hearing, that I began to wonder if there was a connection. Contrary to your assumption, I did not run right back to New York to check it out.” He turned away and approached the hearth. With an arm on its mantel, and a foot on the ashstrewn grate, he was silent for several minutes. “I didn’t want to know,” he finally said. “My guilt feelings about that accident were bad enough, without having to bear your scorn.”

But he was missing the point! She didn’t blame him for the accident!

That wasn’t the problem!

He went on without turning. “I was tortured coming back here in March. I knew I had to be with you, but I also knew you might hate me even more afterward.” He pushed a hand through his hair. “You were bound to learn the truth sooner or later. I wanted to tell you myself I just … couldn’t.”

Slowly he turned to face her. His eyes held unfathomable pain. “When we made love, Anne, it was magnificent. We might fight about little things, but when we came together that day, it was heaven. I kept thinking that if you knew how much I loved you, you’d forgive me. If I could have prevented that accident,” he said on a note of defeat, “I would have, believe me, I would have.”

“I never blamed you for that crash!”

“The guilt has been unbearable,” he said as though he hadn’t heard her. “It’s irrational and unjustified, but it’s real. You have no idea. Between the plane and the car…” He shook his head.

Anne was missing something. Quietly, she said, “What car?”

He turned away, took a shuddering breath, straightened in resignation. “My wife was killed in an automobile accident three weeks before that plane crash. It was late at night. The roads were icy. Our car was hit head on by a man who’d had too much to drink.” He looked back over his shoulder. “I was at the wheel.”

Anne stared dumbly at him, and suddenly she was the one overwhelmed with grief She hadn’t asked how Mitch’s wife had died, because that was against the rules. But she should have known that the death of a young woman would be tragic no matter how it occurred.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she reasoned.

His eyes flashed. “I was driving! If only I’d driven slower or faster, or taken a different route.” He hung his head. When he raised it again, his anger was spent. “Remember the nightmare you had? Mine was no dream. I was able to pull Bey out of the car, only to watch her die in my arms. There was nothing I could do. A battered arm was the least of my punishment. The plane crash seemed an extension of it. Then”-he pressed his lips together and nodded-“then I found you.”

Anne swallowed hard. He wandered across the room, seeming aimless, as though it didn’t matter where he went. She had never seen him like this, had never heard his voice so bleak or so sad.

“I had fallen in love with you long before I made the connection between Jeff’s death and my airline. In an odd way, I felt you were my only chance at happiness, at building a new life. I was terrified of losing you. I didn’t know what would happen when I told you what I knew. I wanted to think you’d understand, but the stakes were so high.”

He turned to face her, earnest now. “I never lied to you about the crash, Anne. I just didn’t tell you the whole truth. It’s tormented me for months. But the longer the deception went on, the worse my sin and the greater the risk of coming clean. I was afraid that once you knew, you’d despise me.” For a long and heartrending moment, he stared at her. Then he cursed softly. “What’s, what’s the use. It’s happened, and I deserve it. I was too blinded by my own need to see to yours.” He took a ragged breath. “I just wonder when the punishment will end.” Turning on his heel, he stalked out of the room, leaving Anne alone and in shock.