“Dana!” It came out as a husky growl.
“Umm?” She nibbled on his earlobe.
Blood surged through him in heated waves. His strength seemed to wane and he lowered her to her feet, letting her slide down his body as his mouth sought hers and captured it hungrily. Her arms slid around his neck and she pressed her body close to his until shudders swept through him. She smelled of lavender soap and feminine musk, and the scent drove his senses wild.
“Dana,” he said softly, trying to tame the moment, but it was like trying to tame the wind.
“Hold me, Nick. Just hold me.”
His arms tightened more securely around her waist and she fitted herself to the cradle of his hips, undaunted by the hard press of his arousal. Nick was caught between agony and ecstasy. Some unknown desperation had driven her into his embrace, but regret, he knew, would steal her away. He took a deep breath and stepped back.
Her eyes blinked open and she stared up at him in mute appeal. He ran a finger across her swollen lips. “Why, Dana?” he asked quietly. “Why tonight?”
A sigh whispered across her lips. “Why not?” she countered with a touch of defiance.
“Because when I walked onto your porch not ten minutes ago, you were barely speaking to me. Now you’re ready to make love. It doesn’t make sense.”
She watched him, her expression turning grim. “Not much does these days.” She regarded him wistfully. “Why couldn’t you just feel, Nick? That’s what you’re always telling me to do.”
“As long as it’s honest. Can you tell me it would have been for you tonight? Or is there something you’re trying to forget?”
“Maybe…maybe there’s something I’m trying to remember.” She gazed up at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “Can you remember what love felt like, Nick? I can’t.”
“Oh, babe.” He swallowed hard and reached for her, but she shook her head sadly and held him off.
“No. You were right. It wouldn’t have been honest. I’m not ready for a commitment and that’s the only thing that would make it right.”
Puzzled by her bleak expression, Nick brushed the hair back from her face and caressed her cheeks. “What happened today to put you in this mood?”
“Just a lot of old memories crowding in.”
Nick held out his hand. “How about we go replace them with some new ones? That pie’s still waiting.”
She hesitated, but finally she took his hand and they walked slowly back to the house. They sat at the kitchen table, lingering over the pie and iced tea, talking about everything but what was really on Dana’s mind.
By the time Nick left an hour later, her mood had lifted, but his was uneasy. He went home with an odd sense of dread in the pit of his stomach.
Over the next few days he saw that his fears were justified. Dana began to withdraw from him again. She could pull back without saying a word. She’d stare at him blankly and let him see the emptiness. There was a perpetual frown on her lips, and dark smudges returned under her eyes. No matter how hard he tried to learn the cause, he kept bumping into silence. After days of feeling that happiness was within their reach, it suddenly seemed farther away than ever. It hurt all the more because he had no idea why this was happening. Dana evaded his questions with the deftness of a seasoned diplomat.
A few days after his visit Nick was sitting in his study supposedly going over the company books. Actually he was thinking more about Dana’s odd mood. Tony crept in quietly and came to stand behind him, his elbows propped on the back of Nick’s easy chair.
When Nick glanced around, Tony said, “Can we talk, Dad? You know, sort of man-of-man?”
Nick had to bite his lip to keep from smiling. Tony was far too serious to have his request taken lightly. He put down his pen and drew Tony to his side. “Sure, son. What did you want to talk about? Is there a problem at the day camp?”
“Nope. The camp’s okay. I’m learning some neat stuff.”
“That’s terrific.”
“It’s okay.” He shrugged dismissively. “But I wanted to ask you something about Ms. Brantley. Have you noticed how she’s been acting kinda funny lately?”
Nick was instantly alert. If Tony had noticed, then the problem was even more serious than he’d thought. No matter how distraught she’d been, she had always managed to hide it from Tony.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, like today. I went to the library right after camp and she wasn’t in front like she usually is. The door to the back was closed, but I went in anyway and she was crying. I know I probably should have knocked, but I just forgot and she was real mad at me. She never used to get mad at me, Dad.”
“Maybe she was just having a bad day. We all do sometimes. Did she say why she was crying?”
Tony shook his head. “But it’s not the first time. I think somebody’s making her afraid.”
A frown knit Nick’s brow. Tony was an unusual child in that he wasn’t prone to flights of fancy. He’d never had an imaginary friend or exaggerated his exploits. If he thought Dana was afraid, then she probably was, but of what?
“Why would you think that?” Nick asked. “Has she said anything about being worried or afraid?”
“Not exactly, but you remember that day I had off from camp last week? Well, I went to the library earlier that day and Davey had just been there with the mail. When I went in, she was tearing up some letter.”
“Maybe it was just junk mail.”
“I don’t think so, Dad, ’cause she burned it.”
Nick was startled and more than a little unnerved. “She burned it?”
“Yeah, in the trash can, like you see sometimes on TV. Do you think something’s really wrong? I wouldn’t want anybody to hurt Ms. Brantley.”
Nick ruffled his son’s hair, trying not to let him see the depth of his own concern. “We won’t let that happen, Tony. I promise. Thanks for telling me.”
Now more than ever Nick was determined to find out what was going on. That upsetting mail she was apparently getting would be a starting point. He wasn’t about to give up on Dana without a fight. They’d come through too much already.
Nick made sure he was at the library day after day when the mail came. She usually left it in an untouched heap on her desk as they sat in her office sharing the sandwiches she once again automatically brought for them.
Fortunately, she didn’t notice the way he surreptitiously sifted through the mail as he moved it aside, studying the return addresses, searching for something that might make an increasingly strong, always resilient woman cry. He had no doubt she’d be infuriated if she realized he was spying, no matter how well-intentioned his actions might be.
On the following Wednesday the stack was bigger than usual and Nick wasn’t quite as quick. At first glance, it seemed as though there was nothing more than the familiar circulars for upcoming books, an assortment of magazines and end-of-the-month bills. Then he caught the panicked look in Dana’s eyes as she spotted an envelope stuck between a farming journal and a women’s magazine.
“I’ll take all this,” she said, grabbing for the mail. If it hadn’t been for the edge of desperation in her voice, the offer might have seemed offhand and insignificant.
Nick let her take the stack, but he caught the edge of the letter and withdrew it.
“That, too,” she said, reaching for it.
“What’s so important about this?”
“Who said it was important? I just want to put it over here with the other stuff.” Her feigned nonchalance was painfully transparent.
Nick held the letter away from her and studied the fearful look in her eyes. Tony was right. Whatever was in this envelope frightened her badly and she didn’t want him to know about it.
“What is it about this letter that frightens you?”
“I’m not frightened.”
“You are. I can see it in your eyes. You’ve had these letters before, haven’t you?”
“Why would you sa
y that?” The words were casual enough, but her tone was suddenly defensive. Nick knew he’d hit the mark.
“Because of the way you’re acting. You’re jumpy and irritable. It’s not like you to snap, but you’ve been doing a lot of it lately.”
Her eyes flashed at him. “If I’m snapping, it’s because you seem to be intent on reading something that’s personal. That letter is none of your business.”
Nick ignored her anger. “You still haven’t answered my question: have you had these before?”
“Yes, dammit! Now hand it over.”
“So you can burn it?”
The mail fell to the floor as Dana shot him a startled glance. The color drained from her cheeks and her hands trembled, but she squared her shoulders and faced him defiantly. “How do you know about that?”
“Tony told me. He watched you do it. He’s also seen you crying and it worried him. He finally came to me about it a few nights ago. Frankly, I’m glad he did. What’s going on, Dana? Is Sam bothering you? If that’s it, I’ll take care of it. I’ll go see him. We can get a court order, if that’s what it takes.”
She sank down in her chair and covered her face with her hands. Nick felt some of her fear steal into him, tying his stomach into knots.
“Dana?”
“It’s not Sam.”
“Then who? Is it some jilted lover who won’t let go? Dana,” he said softly. “Is that what it is? I can understand if there’s some unresolved relationship in your past.”
“If only it were that simple,” she said with a rueful sigh. She glanced up at him. “After my marriage do you actually think I’d ever get seriously involved again?”
“You have with me.”
“This is different. We’re friends.” The look she cast was pleading. It was clearly important to her that he accept that simplified definition of their increasingly complex relationship.
“Okay,” he soothed. “If that’s how you want to see it for the moment, I’ll let it go. The important thing is these letters and what they’re doing to you. Let me help. There’s nothing we can’t work out together.”
“Not this,” she said. “We can’t solve this. Look what it’s doing to us already. We’re fighting about it.”
“Sweetheart, I’m not fighting with you. I’m just trying to figure out why you’re so afraid.”
“Let it go.”
“No. I’ve already done that too often. Let me see the letter.”
She continued to hold it clutched tightly in her hand. Frustrated by her stubbornness and torn by her obvious distress, Nick risked infuriating her even more by snatching the letter away from her. To his surprise Dana accepted defeat stoically once he had it in his hands. Refusing to meet his gaze, she went to the window and stared out, her shoulders heaving with silent sobs.
Now that he had her tacit agreement, Nick held the cheap white envelope with its scrawled address and debated what to do. The honorable thing would be to give it back to Dana unopened, to let her deal with whatever crisis it represented in her own way. However, she wasn’t dealing with it. Rather than asking for his help, she was allowing it to eat her alive. If the stress kept up much longer, she’d fall apart.
At the image of the deepening shadows under her eyes, he made his decision. He ripped open the envelope. At the sound of the paper tearing, he heard a muffled sob. It was almost his undoing, but in the end he knew he really had no choice if he was to help her.
“I’m sorry, Dana,” he said finally, relentlessly taking the letter out of its envelope.
As he read the hastily penned lines, so filled with venom that they seemed to leap off the page, his complexion paled and his heart pounded slowly. He had no idea what he’d expected exactly, but it wasn’t this. Dear God, in his wildest imaginings, he would never have considered something like this. He felt a surge of outrage on Dana’s behalf even as bile rose in his throat.
At last, when he had won the fight for control over his churning emotions, his gaze lifted and met hers. Her eyes were filled with a heart-rending combination of anguish and dread.
“Is it true?” he asked, hating himself for even posing the question. His heart cried out that it had to be a lie. Yet on some instinctive level, he believed the words he’d read. They fit, like the last, crucial puzzle piece that made the picture complete.
“It’s true,” she said curtly.
Nick winced. He had to swallow hard to keep from barraging her with questions. She had to tell him the rest in her own time, but as he waited, he wondered if it was possible to go quietly mad in the space of a heartbeat.
He’s so quiet, Dana thought miserably, watching Nick’s struggle. He must hate me now. Then she wasn’t thinking of Nick at all but of the horror of that night nearly eighteen months ago.
New Year’s Eve, the beginning of a bright new year. What an incredible irony! Instead of bringing joy and anticipation, everything had ended on that night. There had been that split second of stunned disbelief, then a cold, jagged pain that tore at her insides and then, unbelievably, relief and a blessed emptiness. The guilt hadn’t come until later. Much later.
And it had never gone away.
Now she looked directly into Nick’s eyes and repeated quietly, “It is true. Every word of it.”
She took a deep breath, then forced herself to say the words she’d never before spoken aloud.
“I killed my husband.”
Chapter 12
The flat, unemotional declaration hung in the air between them. Dana had made her statement purposely harsh, wanting to shock Nick with the grim, unalterable truth. There was no point now in sparing him the ugliness.
As she had both feared and expected, his expression filled with stunned disbelief. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them it was as if he’d wrestled with some powerful, raging emotion. Finally, at immense cost, he brought it under control.
“How could you?” The words seemed to be torn from deep inside him.
Her lips twisted and she said bitterly, “Sometimes I only wonder how it took me so long.”
Instinctively, he reached for her ice-cold hand and caressed it, warming it. Then he released it, got up and walked away, prowling the room like an agitated tiger. Dana’s breath caught in her throat as she waited nervously, watching the stark play of emotions on his face, praying for forgiveness or, at the very least, understanding.
When he finally turned back, to her amazement he apologized.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that accusingly, Dana. I meant that you’re the gentlest person I’ve ever met. You couldn’t even cut back that overgrown lilac bush, for heaven’s sakes. I can’t imagine you actually killing someone. God knows, from everything you’ve told me that husband of yours was sick and he probably deserved to die, but you…” His eyes were filled with pain and a tormented struggle for understanding.
Dana felt a new, raw anguish building up inside. She believed she was watching love wither and die right in front of her eyes. She deserved to lose his love. She’d been naive to dare to hope that with Nick things might be different, that eventually they could shape a future together without his ever learning the complete truth about her past. She’d wanted desperately to believe that he would never look at her the way he was staring at her now, his eyes filled with doubt and confusion and pain.
It had been a fool’s dream. Secrets had a way of catching up with you, no matter how far you ran.
Just let him understand, she thought, then wondered if even that was asking too much. The real truth was that Nick was a compassionate, reasonable man. He saw honest, open dialogue as the solution to all problems. How could he possibly accept something as cold-blooded and final as murder? Never mind that the authorities had ruled it an accidental death. She was responsible just the same. Nick would have found some other way out of a situation as horrible as hers had been, but at the time, God help her, she’d felt trapped and defenseless and more alone than she’d ever imagined possible. Her troubles with Sam had
escalated far beyond the reach of mere talk.
“Tell me about it,” Nick said at last. “Please. I need to understand.”
Dana sighed. She didn’t want to relive that night. The events that had passed still came to her all too often in her dreams, tearing into middle-of-the-night serenity to shatter her all over again. During the day she was able to keep her thoughts at bay with hard work and endless, mind-numbing chores. Now a man she loved more than anything wanted her to explain that one moment in time, that single moment in her life that had changed things forever, and had made her an eternal captive of the past.
When she didn’t speak, Nick pressured her, his words ripping into the silence. “Did you shoot him, stab him, what? For God’s sakes, Dana, tell me. Nothing could be worse than what I’m imagining.”
The demand for answers was raw and urgent. She couldn’t possibly ignore it. Why keep it from him now, anyway? He already knew the worst, and if he was ever to fully comprehend the tragedy, he had to know everything.
“No, I didn’t take out a gun and shoot him,” she said, feeling numb and empty. Passiveness stole over her, distancing her from everything. She tried to blank out the horrifying images in her mind and envision only the words she had to say. “God knows, there were times when I wanted to, but I didn’t have the courage.”
She dared a glance at Nick and found there were tears of empathy that tore her in two.
“I know this is horrible for you. I can only imagine how horrible, but I have to know it all,” he said with incredible gentleness. “If I’m going to help you, if we’re going to put a stop to these letters and the threat they represent, I have to know exactly what happened.”
Startled, she examined his expression and saw that he meant what he said. This wasn’t the curiosity or pity she’d feared. There was no condemnation in his eyes. He needed to know not for himself but for her. Only time would tell if his feelings for her had really changed as a result of what he learned, but for now he was thinking only of protecting her from any more pain. He was viewing her as the victim, not the perpetrator. It was far more than she’d dared to hope, and a wave of incredible relief washed through her.
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