Waking Up (15 page)

He sighed again at the stubborn, contrary angle of her jaw. “All right. How about draughts?”

“No.”

“Scrabble. Chess. Anything in the world.” His voice was growing more and more fed up.

“No.”

“I suppose that covers it.” He stood and left the room. At first she couldn’t believe it, but when she whipped her head around to look, he was gone.

She was all alone. Finally, at last. She hoped he would go and soak up some sun and enjoy himself. It was nice to have the house to herself. She bent her head and cried.

“My God!” Jason exploded at the sight of her. He was at the open archway that led into the hall, and if she’d had full use of both legs, she would have hit the ceiling. As it was, she jumped violently and whirled to see him striding quickly into the living room, slapping down the two paperbacks he held. They landed on her TV tray, which wobbled on its unsteady legs. He came for her with such purpose gleaming out of his eyes that she shrank away from his touch.

But he wasn’t about to let her go. He held her by the shoulders and shook her steadfastly until she shouted in outrage. She was quite a sight, her hair streaming like soft rain from her forehead, eyes full to overflowing with both her fury and her tears: He bent forward and eagerly, hotly, took her mouth.

Surprise had her lips soft and open. He bent her back to the couch and delved in deep with his tongue, tasting the warm wetness of her until she began to recover and she squirmed in protest. He was leisurely in pulling away, nibbling at the fullness of her lower lip so that she shook in response.

“You have some nerve,” she said in shaky belligerence.

He looked at her in horrified fascination as though he expected her to start raving at any moment. It was not a flattering look. “What the hell is the matter with you, anyway?” he expostulated.

Robbie felt her composure going right out of the window, and she covered her face with her hands. The first sob she tried to repress, but it came out as an odd little snort. She was so mortified by that, she didn’t even bother trying with the second, or third, or fourth sob that shuddered out. She made a supreme effort and managed to say almost calmly, “I don’t know.”

His hand came under her chin, and he forced her to look up at him. For the first time since they had begun the strangely upsetting conversation, there was the beginning of real anger darkening his eyes. “Are you lying to me?”

She would have lied again, but his expression prompted her to second thoughts. “Yes.”

Overcome at last, he let go of her and just sat there, slowly shaking his head. “I will never understand you, Roberta Fisher. I will never, ever understand you.”

That stung, and she cried out, “I only want you to go away and leave me alone! Can’t you have a good enough vacation without tormenting me?”

His gray eyes widened as though she’d struck him, and then rage darkened his expression. She edged instinctively away at the sight. “Me, tormenting you!” he shouted deeply, and literally surged to his feet. “Come on, Robbie, let’s be a little realistic here! What about the way you torment me? But that doesn’t count, does it? I’m expected to handle that without saying a thing, aren’t I?”

She gaped. Then she shook herself, and she closed her jaw with an audible click. Then she shrieked furiously, “I have never tormented you in my life!”

He laughed sardonically, and started to pace the room. Then he snarled angrily, “Go ahead, pull the other leg!”

Sudden, vivid memories came to mind of the way she used to get even with him for his horrid pranks, and she flushed dark red. “I meant in recent years!” she snapped. Then in spite of herself, she ran her gaze down his lithely moving body and thought that she’d never seen such a handsome man.

Jason whirled to face her from the other end of the room. “Damn it, girl, all you do is torment me!” he bellowed, and she clapped her hands over her ears. He was in front of her in three long steps, and he forcibly dragged her hands down. Then he leaned over her, his eyes two molten, shining pieces of silver. She stared up and found she couldn’t look away. In a very soft, almost gentle voice that was infinitely worse than his shouting, he whispered, “You have been tormenting me every night and every day this entire summer. You have been looking at every inch of my body with desire practically screaming from your big brown eyes. You respond eagerly whenever I kiss you, but when I try to touch or caress any other part of your body, you shy away as though I’ve done something unspeakably vile. It’s coming to the point where I don’t even know whether I’m coming or going anymore, and I ache so badly to make love to you, I can’t sleep at night. Oh yes, cringe away! You want to tell me the truth about yourself and expect me to listen with patience, but you can’t take it when I give you a little truth of my own!”

Her indrawn breath was a deeply racked, harsh sound. Her face crumpled, and her slim shoulders convulsed uncontrollably. The fury that so changed his face turned to self-condemnation, and he sat down abruptly to pull her against his chest. His head bent wearily over hers, and after a moment, he said quietly, “I’m sorry. Ssh, Rob, don’t. I’m sorry.”

Strange, when he had hurt her so, strange to find her hands curling urgently into the front of his shirt. Strange that she should feel so full of pain and yet so full of an overflowing comfort that stemmed from an inexhaustible source within him. Bittersweet. She never cried when arguing with anyone else, only Jason. Sometimes even then, she didn’t understand why.

“It’s my fault,” she said unsteadily, and she felt his head shake in negation. His heartbeat sounded loud against her ear and his arms enfolded her tightly, holding her against his body warmth. “No, it is. I just have…have some things I need to work out.”

“I know. I know.”

“I only w-wanted you to stay if you wanted to. I wanted you to enjoy yourself. I had to go and sprain my damned ankle. I did want you to stay.”

“Robbie,” he murmured against her temple gently. “The only reason I asked you to go to Cedar Point was so that we could spend the day together. I didn’t care about the stupid amusement park. I care about you.”

She lifted her head to stare into his eyes. No longer were they filled with that frightening, alienating, hot anger, but instead they held a wry twisted look that was close to amusement, but not quite. She took a deep breath and opened her mouth. What she would have said, she hadn’t a clue. What she would have said just then was quite lost, as the front doorbell suddenly, loudly, rang through the intimacy of their quiet, tired, open declarations, shattering the moment forever.

Chapter Eight

A singularly frustrated look entered Jason’s eyes, and his softened expression hardened to bleak resignation. Robbie didn’t see, for she was too busy scrubbing frantically at her damp, pink eyes and attempting to straighten her rumpled hair. The doorbell sounded again, and Jason rose in a quick, impatient movement to answer it.

Marilyn’s voice came from the open doorway, but Robbie couldn’t hear what she said. She heard Jason’s reply clearly, though, as he said, “Oh, she’s sleeping right now. Yes, I’ll tell her you stopped by. She’ll be glad to have her bag back. I suppose her car is still in the restaurant parking lot? No, it won’t be a problem. Her father and I can go and pick it up this evening when he gets home from work. Thank you, Marilyn. It’s nice seeing you again, too. Take care.”

He shut the door again and walked slowly back into the living room. When she glanced quickly up at him, she saw him turning her bag over and over in his hands while he stared down at it absently. There was a dampened spot on his shirt which had been made by her tears. After a moment, he raised his head and glanced at her, then he placed her bag carefully on a small table nearby. “I thought you’d rather not see anyone right now,” he explained quietly.

He was quite right, of course. She moistened her dry lips and whispered, “Thanks.”

His gray eyes fell to the forgotten TV tray. “Did you still want another cup of coffee?” he asked.

Such a totally unimportant, stupid beginning to the argument: such an inauspicious way to let out festering tensions. Silently she shook her head.

Absently, he picked up the two books he had brought into the room, and handed them to her. “I thought you might like to read, since you weren’t interested in doing anything else.”

Those easy, baffling tears blinded her again, but she refused to let them spill over and blinked them back rapidly. She couldn’t think what was the matter with her. She was acting quite unlike herself, and everything was affecting her in the oddest way. If this was what happened when one suffered an injury, like some sort of delayed shock, then she would certainly do her best to avoid having another one. “Yes, I think I would.”

She noticed that he carefully avoided touching her fingers, and she found that it hurt incredibly. “Well,” he said, with some show of briskness. “I’d better clean up the mess I made in the kitchen. Will you be all right in here for a little while?”

No, she wouldn’t. Something was terribly wrong with her, and she couldn’t understand it. The balance of her world was upset, and she didn’t know how to fix it. “Sure,” she replied, eyes down bent. “No problem.”

He moved, and she thought he seemed to sway towards her. But she must have been mistaken, for when she looked up quickly, he was bending over the tray to pick it up, and then he walked out of the room.

Left all alone, she felt achingly lonely. She struggled to settle herself in a comfortable position on the couch, but her ankle throbbed abominably no matter what she did. She perused listlessly first one, then the other of the paperbacks that he had brought to her, flipping through the printed pages without reading a single word. She could hear the faint sounds of water running, along with the chink of china. What was Jason thinking? He had sounded almost as though he hated her when he finally lost his temper, and she couldn’t blame him, for everything he had said was true. Her head fell back dejectedly against the pillow she’d tucked beneath her neck, and then her eyes closed wearily. What a mixed-up mess everything was. What a terrible, mixed-up mess.

She was sound asleep when Jason peered into the living room a little later. After standing and regarding her pale, exhausted visage in contemplative silence, he gently took the book that rested on her stomach, eased it out from her slack fingers and then set it on the nearby table beside her bag. The other paperback was on the floor by the couch, and he bent to pick that up before walking over to the armchair and settling himself. His demeanor was that of a man prepared to wait for a long time. He opened the book and began to read.

She woke some time later, ruffled and bemused. Jason then carried her to the bathroom so that she could wash her face, straighten her appearance, and use the facilities. He made them a light snack for lunch at which she only picked, and they both treated each other with a delicate, painful wariness. They played cards throughout the remainder of the afternoon, Robbie’s foot and ankle propped carefully on a cushioned chair, and soon she began to anticipate her father’s arrival home.

“Oh, by the way,” said Jason, as he sprawled in his chair opposite hers at the dining table, “Herb invited someone named Marjorie over for supper tonight. Do you know her?”

She perked up a little with pleasure. “Oh, yes. She goes to the same church that he does, a lovely woman. I’ve been wondering when he’d find the courage to ask her over.”

“Yes, well, he thought you and I would be in Sandusky until late. Rather than have him cancel it, or have you forced to make an unwelcome third at supper tonight, I offered to take you over to my parents’ place for the evening. Is that all right with you?”

She lifted her brown eyes from her hand of cards and met his, which were shuttered and unreadable. Her heart twisted at that. Forlornly she wished he could relax and be open and natural with her again, but she was beginning to wonder if that would ever be possible. She tried to smile normally. “That’s fine. What are you going to feed me?”

Her question prompted a slight but genuine laugh from him, and her heartache eased. “I’m not sure, exactly,” he replied and then tossed down his discard. She perused the upturned card with the beginnings of satisfaction. “It depends on what’s in the refrigerator. I might have to make a trip to the store.”

“I refuse to touch anything over a week old,” she informed him and picked up his discard to rearrange her hand and lay the entire thing out to his suddenly disgusted expression. “Gin.”

When her father came home, he and Jason left immediately to pick up her Volvo while she fumed helplessly on the couch. She was beginning to feel better after her long night’s sleep and midday nap, and she found herself extremely irritated by her enforced immobility. When Herb and Jason returned about twenty minutes later, they found her glowering dangerously into space, her unusually volatile emotions rocketing back to the depths of depression.

Her father stopped just inside the living room and nudged Jason’s elbow as the younger man joined him. “What’s wrong with her?” he asked, more than loudly enough for her to hear. She ignored him determinedly.

“I think she’s just had a frustrating day,” replied Jason in a confidential tone. “Looks vicious, though, doesn’t she?”

“Do you think she’s upset that I have a date tonight and she’s not invited?” continued Herb cautiously, edging towards his armchair while giving the couch and her a meticulously wide berth.