by Miranda Lee
'Don't be ridiculous!'
Oh-oh. She was definitely sobering up. And returning to her former stroppy self.
'Just tell me one thing.'
'What?'
'Did you love him?'
'I was marrying him,' she snapped. 'What do you think?'
'I think that's a very evasive answer. For a person who demands the truth from others, you're not too good at delivering it yourself.'
She sighed. 'Very well. I liked and respected Luke, but, no, I did not love him. Satisfied?'
'Not even remotely,' Rafe said ruefully. 'Did you think he loved you?'
'No.'
'What on earth kind of marriage was that going to be?'
'One that lasted.'
'Oh, yeah, right. It didn't even get through the engagement. For pity's sake, Isabel, what did you expect? Men want passion from their wives. And sex. At least in the beginning.'
'You think I didn't give Luke sex?'
'Not the kind which his new dolly-bird obviously does.'
'You don't know what you're talking about. Look, I'm sorry I started this conversation. You simply don't have the capacity to understand what Luke and I had together. How could you? You're one of those men who lives for himself and himself alone. A woman is just a passing pleasure to you, a bit of R&R from your work. You don't want a real relationship with one. As for children, you probably see them as inconveniences, little ankle-biters who'd get in the way of your lifestyle. Luke wasn't like that. He wanted a family. Like me. He wanted for ever. Like me. We might not have been madly in love but we were good friends and extremely compatible, in bed as well as out. We could have had a happy marriage. I don't believe he's in love with this new dolly-bird, as you call her. He only met her yesterday. I think it's just sex, the kind that obsesses you so much sometimes that you can't think straight.'
Rafe's eyes widened. It sounded as if she'd been there, done that. She was becoming more interesting by the minute.
'That kind of physical affair never lasts,' she finished bitterly.
Yep. She'd been there, done that, all right Rafe didn't know if he felt tantalised by this knowledge, or jealous. Either way, the thought of Isabel in the throes of an all-consuming sexual passion was an intriguing one.
'Is that what you're hoping?' he suggested. 'That maybe this thing your Luke is having with this girl won't last? That maybe he'll wake up on Monday morning, realise he's made a big mistake and beg you to take him back?'
'Well, actually, no. I hadn't been hoping that. But now that you've mentioned the possibility...'
Luke could have kicked himself.
'Don't start grasping at straws, Isabel.'
'I'm not. But I'm also not going to repeat the mistakes of my past. So, thank you for thinking of me, Rafe. But find someone else to photograph, and to take to dinner, because it isn't going to be me.'
'Isabel, please...'
'No, Rafe,' she said sternly. 'I realise you have difficulty in accepting that word, but it's definitely no. Now I must go. Goodbye.'
And she hung up on him.
Swearing, Rafe slammed down his end of the phone. He'd handled that all wrong. Totally abysmally wrong!
Still, perhaps it was for the best. Isabel wanted marriage. Whereas he most definitely didn't.
But she was wrong about what he wanted from her. It wasn't just sex.
Oh, come now, the voice of brutal honesty piped up. It's always just sex you're looking for these days. All that other stuff you offer a female is nothing but fore-play. The chit-chat. The photographing. The dinner dates. All with one end in view. Getting whatever pretty woman has taken your eye into bed and keeping her there on and off till you grow bored.
Which you always do in the end. Admit it, man, you've become shallow and selfish with women, exactly as Isabel said you were. You haven't been worth two bob since Liz left you. She stuffed you, buddy. Took away your heart. Isabel was right not to get involved with you. You're a dead loss to someone like her. Go back to work. That's the only thing you're good for. Creating images. Anything real is just too much for you.
He stomped downstairs, still muttering. Till he saw Isabel's shiny blue cellphone on the hall table. How odd that just seeing something she owned gave him a thrill.
Did he dare still take it back to her?
No, he decided. She'd said no. He had to respect that He'd post it to her on Monday, as she'd asked.
Feeling more empty and wretched than he had in years, Rafe returned to his darkroom and tried to bury himself in the one thing which had always sustained him, even in his darkest moments.
But, for the second time that day, his precious craft failed to deliver the distraction he craved.
CHAPTER FIVE
ISABEL groaned. She'd handled that all wrong; talked too much; revealed too much.
Alcohol always made her talkative.
She thanked her stars that she'd pulled herself together towards the end—and that she'd had enough courage to resist temptation.
But oh, she'd wanted to say yes. To everything he'd offered. The photography. The dinner date. Sex afterwards, no doubt.
Isabel closed her eyes at the thought.
They sprang open again at another thought. Her mobile!
Would he still post it to her after all she'd said to him? Her assassination of his character had been a bit brutal, even if correct. He hadn't denied a single word. Okay, so the man did have a sweet side. But how much of that was real? Maybe he'd just learnt that you caught more with honey than with salt.
If he was really sweet, then he'd post her phone back. If not?
Isabel shrugged. She couldn't worry about a phone. If she never got it back, then she'd report it lost and get another one. After all, she didn't have to watch her pennies any more. She was an independently wealthy woman now. Or she would be soon.
Luke would be as good as his word. That, she knew.
Isabel wandered down the hallway to her mother's kitchen, thinking about Luke. Was it possible he might change his mind about this Celia? Or was she simply looking for an excuse not to tell her parents the wedding was off when they came home?
Just the thought of their reaction—especially her mother's—made Isabel shudder. If she hadn't been over the drink-driving limit, she'd pack up her car right now and make a bolt for the town house Luke had given her. She bad her own set of keys.
Unfortunately, as it was, there was nothing but to stay here and face the music.
The music, as it turned out, was terrible. Her father recovered somewhat after Isabel explained Luke was going to recompense them for everything they'd spent. But her mother could not be so easily soothed, not even when Isabel told her what Luke was doing for her in a financial sense. When Isabel repeated Luke's suggestion that her parents go on their pre-booked holiday to Dream Island, her mother's face carried horror.
'You think I could be happy going on what should have been your honeymoon?' she exclaimed. 'No wonder Luke left you for another woman. You have no sensitivity at all! I dare say he worked out that you were only marrying him for his money. So he gave you what you wanted, then looked elsewhere for some genuine love and warmth.'
Isabel was stunned by her mother's harsh words. 'You think I was only marrying Luke for his money?'
Heir mother flushed, but still looked her straight in the eye. 'You weren't in love with the man. That, I know. I've seen you in love, girl, and what you felt for Luke wasn't it. You cold-bloodedly set out to get that man. I didn't say a word because I thought Luke would make a fine husband and father, and I hoped that you might eventually fall in love with him. You played false with him, Isabel. And you got what you deserved.'
'Dot, stop it,' Isabel's father intervened sharply. 'What's done is done. And who knows? Maybe it's all for the best Maybe someone better will come along, someone our girl can like and love.'
Isabel gave her father a grateful look. But she was close to tears. And very hurt by her mother's lack of sympathy and understanding. 'I...I have to
go and ring Rachel,' she said, desperate to get away from her mother's hostility. Rachel would at least be on her side.
'What about everyone else?' her mother threw after her. 'Who's going to make all the other phone calls necessary to cancel everything?'
'I'll do all that, Mum.'
'On our phone?'
Isabel closed her eyes for a second. Phones. They were her nemesis today. 'No,' she said wearily. 'I'll be moving into the town house Luke gave me tomorrow. I'll make all the calls from there.'
'You're moving out?' Suddenly, her mother looked wretchedly unhappy.
Isabel sighed. 'I think I should.'
'You...you don't have to, you know,' her mother said, her voice and chin wobbling. 'I don't really care about the phone bill.'
Isabel understood then that her mother had been lashing out from her own hurt and disappointment. She'd always wanted to see her only daughter married. And now that event seemed highly unlikely.
Because her mother was right, Isabel conceded. She had set out to get Luke rather cold-bloodedly, and she simply couldn't do that again. Which left what? Falling in love with another Mr Wrong?
No! Now that was on her list of never-do-again.
'It's all right, Mum,' Isabel said, giving her mother a hug. 'Everything will be all right. You'll see.'
Her mother began to cry then, with Isabel struggling not to join in.
She looked beseechingly at her father over her Mum's dropped head and he nodded. 'Go ring Rachel,' he said quietly. 'I'll look after her.'
Rachel, who was Isabel's only real female friend and now the owner of an unused wine-red bridesmaid dress, answered on the first ring.
'Can you talk?' was Isabel's first question. 'Have I rung at a bad time?'
Rachel's life was devoted to minding her foster-mother who had Alzheimer's. She'd been doing it twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, for over four years now. Despite being a labour of love, it was a grinding existence with little pleasure or leisure. Rachel's decision to take on this onerous task after her foster-mum's husband had deserted her, had cost her her job as a top secretary at the Australian Broadcasting Corporation, and her own partner at the time. Sacrifice, it seemed, was not a virtue men aspired to. Nowadays, Rachel made ends meet by doing clothes alterations at home. Her only entertainment was reading and watching television, plus one night out a month which Isabel paid for and organised. Last night had actually been one of those times, Isabel taking her friend to Star City Casino for dinner then a show afterwards. It was a pleasing thought that she'd have the time and the money to take Rachel out more often now.
'It's okay,' Rachel said. 'Lettie's asleep. Thank goodness. It's been a really bad day. She didn't even know me. Or she pretended not to. She's always difficult the day after I've been out with you. I don't think she likes anyone else but me minding her.'
'Poor Rachel. I'm sorry to ring you with more bad news.'
'Oh, no, what's happened?'
'The wedding's off.'
'The miserable bastard,' was Rachel's immediate response, which rather startled Isabel.
'What makes you think it was Luke's doing?'
'I know you, Isabel. No way would you opt out of marrying Luke. So what was it? Another woman?'
'How did you guess?' Isabel said ruefully.
'It wasn't hard. Men are so typical.'
'Mum blames me. She says Luke looked elsewhere because I didn't love him.'
'You confessed it wasn't a romantic match?'
'No, she guessed.'
'Oh, well, you have to agree she had a few clues to go on. Luke wasn't your usual type. Too traditionally good-looking and far too straight-down-the-line.'
'Mmm. It turned out he wasn't quite the Mr Goody-Two-Shoes I thought he was. Not once he met the sexy Celia.'
'So who is sexy Celia? Where and when did he meet her?'
'He only met her yesterday, and she's his father's mistress's daughter.'
'What?' Rachel choked out. 'Would you like to repeat that?'
She did, along with the rest of Luke's story. Isabel had to admit it made fascinating listening. It wasn't every day that a son found out his high-profile hero-status father had been cheating on his mother for twenty years. Or that the same engaged and rather strait-laced son would jump into bed with the mistress's daughter within an hour or two of meeting her.
Isabel still did not believe that Luke was in love with this Celia, but he obviously thought he was after spending all night with her doing who knew what. Even now he was speeding back up to his dad's secret love-nest on Lake Macquarie for more of the same!
It sounded like an episode from a soap opera.
No, a week of episodes!
Rachel's ear was glued to the phone for a good fifteen minutes.
'You didn't tell your mother all that, did you?' she asked at the end of it.
'No. I just said he'd met someone else, fallen in love with her and decided he couldn't go through with the wedding.'
'At least he was decent enough to do that. A lot of guys these days would have tried to have their cake and eat it too, a bit like Luke's father did with this Celia's poor mother for twenty years.'
'Yes. I thought of that. But I also wondered if Luke might eventually realise it wasn't love he felt for Celia, but just good old lust.'
'Could be. So you'd take him back if he changed his mind?'
'In a shot.'
'Maybe I shouldn't alter my bridesmaid dress just yet, then.'
'Maybe not'
'And maybe you shouldn't cancel the reception place, or the cake, or the photographer. Not for a couple of days, anyway.'
Isabel wished Rachel hadn't mentioned the photographer. She didn't want to think about Rafe.
'Oh, dear, I think Lettie's just called out for me,' Rachel said. 'Amazing how she's remembered my name now that I'm on the phone. I must go, Isabel. And I am sorry. But...'
'Don't you dare tell me it's all tor the best,' Isabel warned.
Rachel laughed. 'All right, I won't. Keep in touch.'
'I will.' When Isabel got off the phone, she realised she hadn't told Rachel about her financial windfall. But she would, the next time she rang her.
Meanwhile, she set about packing her clothes. She was emptying the drawers in her old dressing table when her mother came into the bedroom, looking miserable and chastened.
'I feel terrible about what I said to you earlier, Isabel. Your father said I should have my tongue cut out.'
'It's all right, Mum. You were upset.'
'What I said. I...I don't think you were marrying Luke just for his money. I know you liked him a lot, too.'
'Yes, I did.'
'Do...do you think he might not have fallen for this other girl if you'd slept with him before the wedding?'
Isabel turned to stare at her mother. Truly, what world did she live in? 'Mum,' she said with a degree of exasperation, 'I did sleep with him. Quite often.'
'Oh...'
'And he liked it. A lot.'
'Oh!'
'Sex wasn't the problem. It was passion.'
'Passion?'
'Yes, that overwhelming feeling you get when you look at a person and you just have to be with them.'
'Jump into bed, you mean?'
'Yes. Luke and I never really felt like that about each other.'
'I used to feel that way about your dad,' her mother whispered, 'when we were first married. And he felt that way about me, too.'
Isabel smiled at her. 'That's good, Mum. That's how it should be.'
'Maybe your dad's right. Maybe you'll find someone nicer than Luke, someone you'll fall deeply in love with and who'll feel the same way about you.'
'I hope so, Mum. I really do.' It would be cruel to take away her mother's hope. She'd always had this dream of seeing her daughter as a bride. Isabel had had the same dream.
But not any more.
'You're still going to move out?' her mother asked a bit tearily.
Isabel stoppe
d what she was doing to face her mother. 'Mum, I'm thirty years old. I'm a grown woman. I have to make my own life away from home, regardless. I only moved back in for a while because it was sensible and convenient, leading up to the wedding.'
'But I...I've liked having you home. You are very good company.'
Isabel thought the compliment came just a bit late.
'You're a good cook, too. Your dad and I are going to miss the meals you've cooked for us.'
Isabel relented and gave her mother another hug. 'What say I come over and cook you a meal once in a while? Will that do?'
'Just so long as you come over. Don't be a stranger.'
'I won't. I promise.'
'And you've forgiven your old mum?'
Isabel smiled a wry smile. 'Have you forgiven me for not giving you some grandchildren by now?'
'Having children isn't everything, Isabel.'
Isabel gave her a dry look. 'Said by a woman who had five.'
'Then I should know. What you need to do is find the right man. Then the children will follow.'
'Don't you think I've been trying to do that?'
'Don't try so hard. You're a beautiful girl. Just let nature take its course.'
Isabel was tempted to tell her that nature always led her up the garden path into the arms of men who'd never give her children.
But it was too late to confess such matters. She'd never told her mother the bitter truth about her boyfriends. She hadn't wanted to shock her. To reveal all now would only make her look even worse than she already did in her mother's eyes.
'Are you sure you don't want to go on that Dream Island holiday, Mum?' she asked, deciding a change of subject was called for.
'Positive. I'm too old that for that kind of holiday, anyway. Look, why don't you go yourself?'
'It's not a place you go alone.'
"Then ask a friend to go with you.'
Isabel thought immediately of Rafe... He'd jump at the chance of going with her, all expenses paid!
It was a tantalising idea. Did she dare? Could she actually do something like that without getting emotionally involved?
Perhaps she could. Her experience with Luke had changed her, made her stronger and much more self-reliant. She'd gone after what she wanted for once, listening to her head and not her heart. She'd actually gone to bed with a man she didn't love, and quite enjoyed it. Her mind no longer irrevocably linked sexual pleasure and being in love.
