Waiting for Lila (9 page)

Bill
. Without warning, memories of the night before washed over her, leaving her weak and breathless. She relived the feel of his hands on her, her hands on him. His scent and the warmth of his flesh. The memory alone brought stronger emotion than Delilah had ever allowed herself to feel.

And that was why the nightmare had returned, she told herself. Bill, with his loving heart and passionate hands, had brought her back to life. For years all her emotions had been carefully buried, but in Bill's arms she had begun to feel again. And she was once more open to the pain—past, future, and present.

Scrambling out of bed, she dressed quickly and quietly. She didn't want to wake Addie. She wanted to be out of the hotel before any of her friends awakened. Before Bill awakened.

An hour later Delilah stepped aboard a crowded pleasure boat. As she mingled with the other tourists, finding the anonymity she needed in the crowd, she allowed her thoughts to return to what had happened the night before. She allowed herself to think about Bill.

He had said he loved her. Bill had said he loved her. She still couldn't believe it. Things like that didn't happen to Delilah Jones. Not that she hadn't heard the words before. She had. Dozens of times. But she had always known that the words were nothing more than a man's way of telling her that he wanted her body in his bed or her beauty at his side. No one had ever tried to look inside her and love the real Delilah Jones.

Closing her eyes, Delilah didn't even try to fight the wave of self-contempt that swept over her. She was mooning around, thinking of how last night had felt from her side. What she had avoided looking at was what Bill had felt. And what he would feel when she told him the truth,

She had let it go on too long, she acknowledged silently. She had willfully allowed a sweet, harmless flirtation to become complicated. Although she knew Bill wasn't really in love with her, he believed he was. And that meant he was going to get hurt.

Sweet heaven, she hadn't wanted that. She had intended to put an end to everything before that could happen.

Although she tried, she couldn't find it in her to regret their lovemaking. It had been too wonderful. But she should have told him the truth first. She should have insisted on telling him who and what she was. Dammit, she should have found a way.

But she hadn't. It had been pitifully easy for him to convince her that explanations could wait until later. Like the selfish witch she was, she had grabbed what he was offering with both hands. She had wanted his love. She had been greedy for it. She had wanted to pretend that she had a right to it. Lord help her, she had wanted to pretend that last night was a beginning for them.

What a joke, she thought, leaning her head wearily against the side of the boat. It would take a mind more ingenious than hers to imagine hardhearted Delilah Jones with a sweet man like Bill.

Even if he really loved her—her, not the woman she had created—Delilah knew it would never have worked. Bill should have a woman who was clean and whole, a woman who wasn't all twisted inside, a woman who could love him as he deserved to be loved.

Gradually, bit by bit throughout the day, memories of the beauty she had found with Bill began to fade, and the darkness and doubts returned. It wasn't a pleasant experience, but it was familiar. It was something she had had years of practice at handling. It was reality.

Hours later Delilah walked along the beach toward the hotel. The sun had already set and it was that peaceful time between day and night.

She hadn't wanted to come back, but she knew she couldn't spend the rest of her time in Aca-pulco avoiding Bill. Sooner or later she would have to see him and tell him the truth, about her character and about her past. She had to make him understand what she was. And then it would be over.

Simple, painful reality.

With a shake of her head she stubbornly picked up her pace. There was no sense in putting off the inevitable.

On her left, a few yards away, she saw a woman sitting alone on the beach near the edge of the water. Delilah almost passed her before she realized it was Glory.

Delilah walked over and sat down on the sand beside her friend. After a moment Glory turned her head, belatedly acknowledging Delilah's presence. "Where did you disappear to?" Her voice was strangely flat. "Addie's been looking everywhere for you."

"I needed some time alone."

When Glory made no effort to continue the conversation, Delilah studied the younger woman's face carefully. Catching her breath at the undisguised sorrow there. This must be what Addie had seen.

"The whole world is changing," Delilah said in confusion. "This was supposed to be such a wonderful vacation. All of us together again after so long. What's happened to us?"

Glory bit her lip, turning her face toward the ocean. She was silent for a long time, then she began to speak quietly. "You know, Dee, when I found Alan I didn't want to believe in what we had. I think I was afraid to believe. See, if it was real, then I could lose it. For the first six months of our marriage this . . . this fear nagged at me constantly. It was always there, just below the surface. My life with Alan was so beautiful. So damned beautiful."

Glory drew in a shaky breath. "You have to pay for that kind of happiness. Dee. Sooner or later you have to pay."

Delilah was suddenly scared for her friend. Something had gone terribly terribly wrong for her. "Tell me," she whispered hoarsely.

Glory didn't answer for a moment. She tried to smile, but her lips trembled, ruining it. "I can't have children, Dee. I can't ever have children." She closed her eyes tightly. "I wanted Alan's baby." She drew the back of her hand roughly across her cheeks to wipe away the dampness. "I wanted it so much."

"Are you sure?" Delilah said, feeling a painful tightness in her chest. "This is the age of medical miracles. Have you gotten a second opinion?"

"Second and third and fourth." Her voice was bitter, final.

"I'm sorry," Delilah said quietly. "How is Alan taking it?"

Glory sighed. "Alan has been wonderful. I didn't think it was possible, but he's been even more loving than before."

"Then you have a lot more than most people ever get, Glory," Delilah said, more roughly than she had intended. "Can't you be satisfied with that?"

Glory kept her head turned away as she whispered, "Dee, he wants a baby. I know he does. Don't you see? This is something that he wants so badly, and I can't give it to him. I'll never be able to give it to him. When we're together we pretend. We pretend that we don't mind so much. We pretend that everything is fine. And the pretense is growing into a solid wall between us."

"Maybe the wall's only in your mind. Maybe Alan's not pretending. Isn't it just possible that you really are all he needs?"

"He said—" The words were a rough whisper. She swallowed and began again. "He said we could adopt."

Delilah swore long and hard, pulling up every vulgarity she had ever heard to vocalize her anger.
Damn him
, she thought.
Damn him to hell
.

Apparently Alan wasn't as smart as Delilah had thought he was. Didn't the idiot know that now was not the time to talk about adoption, she asked herself silently. Maybe sometime in the future, but not now. Not when Glory was grieving for her child, the child she would never have.

Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, Delilah said, "Why don't you talk to him? You need to let him know what you're feeling."

Glory nodded apathetically. "I will . . . sometime." She smiled. "I'll be okay. Dee. You know me. I always bounce back."

Glory returned her gaze to the water, resting her chin on her knees. After a while Delilah stood up and, without another word, walked away. There was nothing more she could say.

That was what love got you
, Delilah told herself, kicking at the sand in anger. Pain and more pain. She had hoped Glory was immune. She should have known better. No one was immune. Love, the universal destroyer.

Delilah had just reached the terrace when Alan walked out of the hotel. Spotting her, he waved and hurried toward her, but Delilah simply nodded as she walked past him.

Alan grabbed her arm and smiled. "What's up?" When she didn't answer, his smile faded. Furrows appeared on his brow as he gave Delilah a puzzled look. "Have you seen my darling? She's done a disappearing act."

Delilah hesitated," then, turning away from his gaze, she said, "I've seen her, but I think she wants to be alone right now, Alan."

When his hand tightened on her arm, Delilah glanced at him. He looked grim suddenly, like the dark pirate Glory had called him shortly after they had first met. "Where is she. Dee?"

She jerked her arm away. "I said she wants to be alone. Dammit, haven't you done enough already? Just leave her alone."

"What are you talking about?"

Delilah ran a hand through her hair. It was none of her business. She should stay out of it completely.

But she couldn't. "Why did you have to mention adoption?" she asked, allowing her anger to show at last. "Couldn't you see, couldn't you sense that she's in mourning? It was a stupid, stupid thing to do."

Alan jerked back as though she had struck him. But Delilah couldn't stop. "You promised me four years ago that you would keep her safe and happy," she told him. "Damn, Alan, I trusted you. She trusted you. If you can't protect her from this kind of hurt, you don't deserve her."

She glared at him, then looked away from the deep pain in his dark eyes. After a moment she let out a slow breath.
Damn him.
"She's on the beach," she said shortly.

With clenched fists she watched Alan run down the beach toward Glory. And Delilah felt a strange sensation, as though she, too, were being watched.

Whirling around, she found Bill sitting in a chair beside a flowering bush. His eyes were narrowed slightly as he studied her intently.

"What in hell are you staring at?" she demanded, her voice harsh. "I tried to tell you last night. I tried to tell you I'm not that nice, special woman you keep talking about. Maybe now you'll believe me." She turned and began walking quickly toward the hotel.

Seconds later he caught up with her, grasping her arm to swing her around to face him. One look at his face made Delilah go weak in the knees. When she began to shake, he pulled her into his arms, stroking her hair as he whispered incomprehensible words of comfort.

"Why?" she asked hoarsely against his neck. "Why are you treating me like this when I'm such a bitch?"

"You're not a bitch, love. You were just worried about a friend."

She stepped away from him, shaking her head wildly. "Don't do that. Don't build fairy tales around me, Bill. I'm not who you think I am. I don't know how to be that person. I told you that you have no idea who or what I am."

He shoved his hands into his pockets, his shoulders slightly slumped. "And I told you that I do know you. I know you've been hurt and have built walls to protect yourself. I know you're beautiful inside and out. Maybe I don't know where you've been or where you're going, but I know you. I knew who you were the minute I saw you." He smiled his crooked smile. "I looked into your eyes and I knew you were the woman who was made especially for me." He moved his shoulders in a faint shrug. "That may not be what you want to hear, Lila, but it's the truth."

As Delilah stared at him she suddenly realized why he had seemed familiar from the very beginning. It was the trusting look of adoration she saw in his eyes. It was the same look she had seen in Buddy's eyes so many years before. And now she felt the same urgent need to protect Bill that she had felt toward her brother.

Moving away, she stood with her back to him. "This time you're going to listen to the truth," she said, her voice determined. "All this time, since the first minute we met, I've been pretending, Bill. You're a nice man, and I knew we wouldn't see each other again when we leave here so I decided to pretend to be a nice, normal woman. It was all a game . . . just a silly game."

She turned slowly to face him, then stopped. He was smiling. Smiling as though he knew something she didn't.

"Damn!" she said in frustration. "Listen to me. I lied to you. There were no loving parents, no suburban background, no happy childhood. None of that was true. What I didn't borrow from Addie's life, I made up. I was taking you for a ride."

"I know," he said quietly.

She stiffened. "What do you mean, you know?"

"You made too many mistakes. You kept changing your father's age and your mother's hobbies and— Don't you see? It doesn't matter. None of that is important. Your background isn't all that makes you Lila."

He didn't understand yet
, she told herself wearily. But he would. She would make sure of it.

Speaking slowly and deliberately, she said, "By the time I was fourteen I was on my own, living in the streets. Things"—she stopped to clear her throat—"bad things happen when you live on the street."

He drew in a sharp breath. "Why? Why were you alone? Why were you on the streets? Sweet heaven, baby, how did you survive?"

"None of that matters. What matters is that on the street you learn to lie and steal and cheat. I've done it all. But that's not the worst I've done." She turned her head and looked him squarely in the eye. "I've slept with only one other man before you. That was when I was sixteen. I—" She broke off and swallowed the painful lump in her throat. "I didn't sleep with him because I loved him or even because I wanted him. I let him ... I let him use me so that I would have a safe place to sleep. Just for one night. I wanted to be secure and unafraid for just one night."