"Do you want to stop doing this? Cleaning out her things, I mean? If you do, I understand." She spoke gently.
He shook his head. "We're through now. The scarves were the last of her things except for the shoes, and I'll ask the housecleaners to pack them in the box with the other clothes she might want."
Cathryn was so filled with compassion for him that she scarcely realized the import of her next words: "You still love her, don't you?"
Drew's arms tightened around her until she could hardly breathe. Then he relaxed his hold and stepped away. His brow was lined, and the tiny creases at the corners of his eyes seemed deeper than she'd ever noticed. He led her to the bed in the bedroom and sat down on the end of it, pulling her down beside him with an expression of uncommon intensity. His own eyes were deep pools, the pain inside him rippling up from their depths.
"I've asked myself that question over and over. At first, despite the fact that Talma went away to be with another man and despite all the unforgivable things she said to me, I wanted to forgive her. I longed to move past all the bad things that happened and get her back. Because at the time, she was all I knew. And if she came back, so would Selby, and I'd have my family again."
"And did you forgive her?"
"It wasn't that easy. But I did forgive her eventually. I thought for the longest time that if my love remained alive in my heart she'd come back. There's a lot of heartbreak in being left for another man."
"I know," she said, thinking of Terry Ballard.
"I suffered a lot of damage to my ego and my self-esteem. I kept punishing myself with the idea that I shouldn't have spent so much time at the office trying to build an empire that was of no meaning and no use without her. I kept wishing that I'd wake up some morning and the three of us would all be together once more. It didn't happen, and slowly I began to mend. And then I met you."
Cathryn felt as though it would be too painful to draw another breath. She waited for him to continue.
So far, Drew hadn't said whether he still loved his ex-wife or not. Cathryn's happiness and her certainty of his love for her waited to go up in a puff of smoke, ignited by the words she now fully expected him to utter: "I still love her."
Drew touched one hand to her face and slid it down the slope of her neck to her shoulder. He did the same thing with his other hand, his thumbs extending upward along the tendons in her neck.
"I met you," he continued, "and suddenly I wasn't thinking about myself—or my problems—anymore. I was thinking of that soft light in your eyes when you look at me, of the way your wrist tapers so gracefully into your hand, of the laughter bubbling up from your throat in delicate waves." His eyes mesmerized her so that she could look nowhere else.
"I love you, Cathryn. Believe it. I've found something with you that I've never experienced with anyone else—anyone. A depth of feeling and knowing another person beyond anything I ever thought was possible. I love you with every bit of life and hope and happiness in my body. Do you believe me? Do you?"
There was urgency in his touch now, and desperation. His eyes were intent and fierce, his look so compelling that she answered him truthfully and confidently.
"Yes," she whispered, because it was true.
He clasped her in his arms, lowering his head and kissing her, his mouth desperate with longing for oneness, for unity. And she responded with equal desperation, yet she was unable to abandon herself completely because he had not yet answered her question.
She could have pulled away, but despite her inner turmoil, she longed to give of herself. In that way, she could provide for him in a way that Talma hadn't been able. It was something she had to prove in order to make him comprehend her love. Loving was giving. Hadn't she read that somewhere? Her mind raced along, thinking these thoughts as Drew's hands moved to the buttons of her blouse.
She didn't want to think. She wanted to surrender to the feelings but couldn't until Drew answered her question—did he still love Talma? Finally she eased space between them.
His eyes sought hers. His hand was still molded to her breast. "Cathryn?" he whispered. She had never hesitated in their lovemaking before.
She leaned farther away, back across the bed. In the deepening twilight, shadows in the bedroom faded into hues of purple.
"I asked if you still love her." The words hung in the emptiness between them, ready to fall.
Drew took her hand. "I told you that I love you, and it's true. I'm convinced that you believe me. So you must also believe what I'm about to say. I'll always love Talma in a way. We shared our lives for ten years. She's the mother of my child. Even though we're fighting tooth and nail over Selby, I care for Talma because of these things. Can you possibly understand?"
Cathryn nodded. Her mouth felt dry. "I can try." The words were spoken hoarsely.
"But Cathryn, what I said before is true. I love you in a way I've never loved anyone else, even Talma. And believe me when I say that what she and I had at the time is over. I will never be in love with her again."
"You love her." The words fell like stones.
"I care for her. I'm not in love with her. I don't even like her very much!" Drew spat out the words, startling her so that she began to comprehend his meaning.
She didn't know, couldn't know, what it would be like to be a part of someone else's life for ten years. It would be an all-encompassing experience. Living in tandem with another person would leave its mark. Drew's life with Talma had undoubtedly influenced him in ways that Cathryn couldn't fathom. As much as his childhood, as much as his adolescence, those years were part of him and had made him the person he was today—the person she loved so much.
She drifted toward him—her face, then her body. His hands were sure and knowing as he removed her clothing, and she found herself helping him, slipping out of her clothes with an urgency that she had never felt before. When she lay completely naked on the bed, she shivered in the cool room, and he lowered himself over her, murmuring softly in her ear.
"Cathryn, Cathryn, my beautiful Cathryn," he whispered, his hands gliding like feathers up and down her body and eliciting the most tantalizing sensations in the deepest part of her. He raised his head, and in the dim light his features shimmered and she drew his head up to her level so that she could look into his eyes. At a moment such as this, his eyes wouldn't lie. He loved her, she could see it. With a deep sigh, she moved toward him until their lips met, letting their lovemaking draw a curtain of forgetfulness.
He stroked her thighs lightly and then more urgently until she opened to him. Their union, when it occurred, was so complete and meaningful that she cried out. They moved frantically in unison, proving to each other and themselves that their deeply felt emotions were true and real. When it was over, they remained joined, love and trust and joy once more renewed.
A long time later, when the walls had receded into darkness and all Cathryn could see was the outline of his profile against the moonlight from the window, she spoke drowsily.
"All those years of listening to people like Susannah talking about love," she said, nestling her head contentedly in the special place on his shoulder, "and I never knew it could be like this."
"I suspect that people like Susannah don't know what love really is," Drew said, turning his head to kiss her right temple. She snuggled closer, smiling into the darkness.
"Thanks for helping me with the closet, Cathryn. I know it wasn't easy, but it closed a door in my life so that I can open new ones. I'm leaving the past behind. I'm looking forward to a future with you. And with my daughter, if I can arrange it."
"What have you heard lately about Selby's visiting?" She asked reluctantly, but she had to know.
"My lawyer talked with Talma's lawyer last week, and they're making progress about Selby's visit. Talma wants to take a trip to Italy with her actor friend, and it would be difficult to take Selby along, so things look brighter."
For Drew's sake, she said, "I hope it works out." Yet if she couldn't share h
im with Judy and Amanda, she wondered unhappily how she would share him with his daughter.
Drew stroked her hair, and his voice was low, melodious. "Selby's school will be out the first week in June, so I could fly to New York and pick her up that weekend. I might stay in New York for a week or so, take Selby to the zoo, buy her some new clothes, get reacquainted."
She thought, then, that he would return his attention to her, because usually in the aftermath of their lovemaking, he was all hers with his sweet murmurings, gentle laughter, and total peace. But instead, he went on talking about Selby, about how much fun it was to be with her and how much Cathryn would like her.
"Yes, that's what I'll do. I'll plan a brief holiday just for Selby and me." Drew's eagerness was growing, she could tell from the sound of his voice. "And then when we come back, you'll have a chance to meet her. You'll love her, I know you will."
"I'm sure I will," said Cathryn, but she felt a twinge of apprehension.
She shifted her weight so that her head rested on the pillow, not on his shoulder. She forced herself to listen to Drew's voice with complete detachment while she pondered with uneasiness the addition of Drew's seven-year-old daughter into their lives. If it happened, that is.
Listening to Drew, only half hearing him now, she consulted her mental calendar. The first week in June—the week Selby got out of school—was only fourteen days away.
Chapter 9
"You packed Raggedy Ann, didn't you?" Cathryn asked anxiously as her car negotiated the curving road leading to Palm Beach International Airport. She was driving Drew to catch his flight to New York for his reunion with his daughter. The visit and all that it entailed had come to pass suddenly, within the past week, when Talma had finally acquiesced to Drew's request for visitation. Cathryn wasn't sure that she herself was ready for it.
"Yes, of course," Drew replied. His own nervous energy was contained, but Cathryn knew that anticipation and excitement simmered just beneath Drew's calm exterior. He couldn't help the excitement. For the first time in sixteen months, he'd see his daughter.
Heat rose from the black asphalt road, and a stiff breeze whirled dust at the side of the pavement into miniature tornadoes. Ahead, the airport buildings gleamed white in the sun. Cathryn drove distractedly with an occasional glance at Drew out of the side of her oversized sunglasses. She hoped Drew was not aware of their secondary purpose, which was to hide her eyes in case she started to cry when they parted.
He was only going to be gone for a week, but his departure had taken on more significance than any ordinary leavetaking. Even though she kept telling herself that Selby's presence would not detract from their relationship, deep down inside Cathryn still didn't believe it.
She'd managed to keep up a brave front with Drew, and she had tried to be encouraging about Selby's visit. She'd convinced him that she was looking forward to it almost as much as he was. But she hadn't convinced herself.
"I hope your first meeting with Selby goes well," she said.
Drew reached over and massaged her shoulder for a brief moment. He'd told her that the instant when he and Selby first were to see each other was one of his biggest worries. What if Selby barely knew him after all this time? What if she refused to go with him?
He removed his hand from her shoulder. Cathryn immediately wished he'd put it back.
"I'll use this week in New York to rebuild," Drew said. "I'll remind Selby of all the things we used to do together, like swimming and canoeing. I'll see how much she remembers of our lives together. Then I'll tell her how much fun it will be to do all those things again."
Drew spoke with confidence, but Cathryn knew him well enough to know that he was secretly anxious. She was glad he had remembered to pack Raggedy Ann. The doll would perhaps help to break the ice between father and daughter in those important first few moments.
"Do you think you'll have time to check in with Susannah while you're in New York?" Cathryn asked. Cathryn was concerned because although she had called Susannah on her cell phone several times, her friend hadn't answered. Since Susannah was forever losing her cell, this wasn't concerning, but she wasn't answering her New York City landline. Nor was she picking up email. Usually, if Susannah planned to be out of touch for any length of time, she'd let Cathryn or Judy know.
"I'll track her down," Drew promised. "Anyway, I'll enjoy hearing what our favorite scatterbrain has been up to lately. Do you think she'd like to go out to dinner with Selby and me?"
Cathryn shook her head. "She's not terribly fond of children," she told him. It was an understatement.
"When I find Susannah, I'll make her promise to get in touch with you or Judy. Okay?" He grinned at her.
"Okay," Cathryn replied.
She parked the car in short-term parking and accompanied Drew inside the terminal. She wanted to be with him every last minute until he went through security. At the check-in counter, she stood to the side, feeling awkward, while he checked his suitcase. She hated airports and had always found them cold and impersonal. Airports were designed for people who were going somewhere, and for people like her, who weren't, there wasn't anything to do but stand around wishing that she, too, had a destination.
Of course, the possibility of her going had never been mentioned. Not that she would have, even if Drew had invited her. She was planning to use this week as a chance to catch up on neglected details. She was smack in the middle of rearranging the architect's office, and he was impatient to get it over with. During the past week, though, Cathryn had been so preoccupied with Drew that the architect's problems had taken a backseat to her own. But Cathryn did have a contract to fulfill and was becoming more and more worried that the architect was going to end up dissatisfied with the job she was doing. And he could, if he saw fit, do irreparable damage to her career.
"Hold this, sweetheart, won't you?" Drew thrust his jacket at her; the weather had been so hot that he hadn't worn it on the ride to the airport. She folded it carefully over one arm, looking him over one last time to capture him in a mental snapshot.
They'd spent last night together, curved and enfolded in each other's arms. As Cathryn watched him going through the baggage check procedure, she felt a familiar yearning and then despair that he would be gone for seven days. The week yawned before her like an empty chasm, and she knew that no amount of work would fill it.
Drew hoisted his briefcase and turned to her with a smile. She held his jacket while he shrugged into it.
"I guess it's about time to board the plane," he said.
"I guess so," she replied, thinking that their words sounded so vacant and unfeeling. She wondered if Drew realized that when he returned with Selby, things would be different between them.
"Take those sunglasses off or I'll do it for you," he said, the catch in his voice belying his tension. "I want to see your eyes."
"You take them off," she whispered, her eyes never leaving his.
Slowly he reached up and lifted the sunglasses from her face. He did it solemnly, seductively, his eyes delving into hers. The earpiece tangled in a strand of her hair, and he twisted the frames to free them. She was spellbound by the pent-up passion in his eyes.
He couldn't imagine a whole week without her, and suddenly and irrationally he wished she were going with him. "I love you, Cathryn," he said hoarsely, and at that moment she knew that no matter how he longed to be with Selby, he hated being separated from her as much as she hated being apart from him.
"And I love you." The words seemed so inadequate for the deep emotion she felt.
"I'd better go. We're a little late. If it hadn't been for your wanting one more time..." A brief flash of humor found its way to his eyes.
"You were the one," she said, pretending an attitude she certainly didn't feel. "Not even allowing me to take a shower in peace and privacy."
They were being overly polite with each other, reminding her that she hated public goodbyes. "Okay. See you next week." She tried desperately to remain casua
l, even though her pulse pounded in her temples.
Suddenly he caught her against him with his free hand, smothering her face against the crisp gray fabric of his suit.
"I'll miss you, Cathryn. Take care."
The people bustling through the airport, the rattle of the voice on the PA system, the opening and closing of the doors as people came and went—all of it stopped. She clutched him to her, cursing the tears that rushed to her eyes and threatened to spill over. She pulled away, not wanting to spot Drew's coat.
Drew saw the tears. He put a finger gently beneath her chin. "It's only a week," he said comfortingly.
"Have a good time," she whispered. A tear formed slowly and trickled forlornly down her cheek. Others threatened to follow.
Drew nodded and tenderly kissed away the tear. "I'll call you when I get there. I'll text you. I'll be thinking of you all the time."
He broke away from her, wishing she didn't look so sad. Suddenly it struck him, what she was going through. When he reached New York, he would have his daughter. Cathryn, left behind in Palm Beach, would have no one to fill the empty hours of his absence.
Cathryn raised her hand and waved. A group of tourists chattering in French wedged themselves into the space between them. Cathryn ventured a half-step forward, then realized the futility of it. Drew was far away from her now, striding in long steps through the terminal.
A tremendous sense of sorrow washed over her, leaving her feeling weak and lost. She turned and walked slowly toward the outside doors. When she stepped out of the air-conditioned building into the humidity of a South Florida summer morning, it was as though she were being smothered by a warm, wet quilt. She felt stifled by the soggy heat, and she dispiritedly slid into her car, turned the key in the ignition, and eased out of the parking space.
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