by Sandra Kitt
“That’s insulting.” Eva stood up indignantly. “You have no right to say that to me!”
“And how dare you presume to tell me how to raise my child! What do you know about being a parent!” he bit out angrily. He’d hit a sore nerve and Eva was silent, grabbing for the edge of the table. Her hands were shaking, and her heart leaped.
“It was honest concern. I—I wasn’t trying to interfere,” Eva said stiffly.
“You lost one husband. But you’re young. You’re healthy and attractive. You’ll want someone else, all right…”
“Will you stop it!”
“When the fun and novelty wears off and you find you don’t want to be alone, that you want a home and children.”
“Don’t you think you’re going a bit overboard?” Eva asked, stunned.
“And then when the man’s not everything you want him to be, you give up on him. Make him leave…go looking for someone else.”
Eva was shocked into growing anger, her knees so weak she sat down again.
“Is that what your wife did to you?”
Maxwell stared at her silently. “What?” He frowned, puzzled now.
“You heard me. It’s your ego that’s hurt, Maxwell…not your sensibilities, because you haven’t any!” Eva shot at him. She began to climb down the ladder back into the house. She was surprised when Maxwell followed her and grabbed her by the arm, swinging her roughly around to face him. Eva jerked away from his hold.
“Let me go!”
“I want to know what you meant?”
“No, you don’t! You couldn’t care less what I say or what I mean!”
Adam took her by the arms again and shook her. “Answer me!”
“You’re crazy!” she gritted out through clenched teeth. “I don’t have to put up with this!” Eva pulled away again. “And apparently your poor wife felt the same way.”
Maxwell stood watching her strangely, as if she’d just said something he hadn’t considered before. For that matter, he looked as if he’d just been kicked in the stomach. Eva’s expression in watching him slowly changed from anger to one of curiosity. Her own anger then died in the face of this metamorphosis Maxwell went through. Where had she hit on the truth that now had this man, this impregnable stone giant of a man, in the grips of some past pain?
“Maxwell?” Eva questioned as he stood in a slightly dazed state. He slowly walked away from her toward the door. He stood blocking the entrance.
“Maxwell?” Eva tried again, curious as to his sudden quietness. He turned then to regard her, his face closed, the nighttime beginnings of his beard darkening the lower part of his cheeks and chin. He looked almost evil and very menacing. His eyes swept over Eva from head to toe and back to her eyes to hold their steady gaze for long moments. His jaw worked tensely, and even as he stared at her for so long, Eva knew he wasn’t seeing her at all. Suddenly he blinked rapidly as though to clear his vision and his thoughts.
“I don’t expect anything more from Lavona Morris than what she gives. And she gives that freely…and frequently.” He showed no guilt or remorse at the admission. But then again, why should he?
“And what does she get from you?” Eva asked quietly.
Maxwell’s frown deepened, as the question sank in. “The same thing, I suppose. But nothing more.”
Maxwell suddenly opened the door. He looked back over his shoulder at Eva. “But my wife—my wife is a different story.” But he didn’t say how. “Come on. I’ll take you back to your house.” He continued through the door without looking back or waiting for her to respond.
Eva hurried to catch up to him. “You don’t have to. I’m perfectly capable of going home alone,” Eva stated firmly. “Despite your opinion of me, I’m not helpless.”
His sudden remoteness indicated a number of things to Eva that she recognized at once: exhaustion, both physical and emotional after the day’s adventure, and a thoughtfulness that she was sure had to do with mentioning his ex-wife. His verbal attack on her she felt was unnecessary, but it was obvious that she’d held up better under fire than he did.
“Whether you’re helpless or not isn’t the issue. It’s very dark and the road is unfamiliar to you. I’m taking you home!”
There was a definite finality to his tone that Eva gave in to. She had nothing to gain with further arguments.
They first had to get her Jeep from where it was left earlier in the day on the beach. In the darkness they walked along the uneven rocky road in silence. Eva found the quiet between them depressing and unbearable, but she couldn’t think of a single thing to say. She stumbled in the dark and gasped, reaching out her hand for balance. At once Maxwell reached out to steady her, his hand moving along her arm and finally grabbing her hand strongly. He continued to hold it securely to lead her, but it was totally impersonal and only meant as a gesture for safety’s sake. Eva was nonetheless glad for his support when she tripped a second time before reaching the Jeep, which was pulled over on the side of the road.
“I’ll drive,” he said releasing her hand and getting behind the driver’s seat.
“How will you get back home?” Eva questioned.
Maxwell put the key in the ignition and started the engine. “It’s only a half mile. I can walk it in ten or fifteen minutes. Get in.”
They continued in silence all the way to Eva’s house, and Maxwell followed her up the cement steps from the driveway, through the gate, and into the gallery. He put her tote on the floor.
“I don’t want to leave Diane too long…in case she wakes up in pain,” he said in his deep voice.
Eva nodded. “I understand. I—I’m sorry I wasn’t more help this afternoon.”
“You did okay,” Maxwell said, leaning casually against a support column. He looked at her in a certain searching way that made Eva feel very exposed and open to his gaze. Suddenly Maxwell shook his head, closed his eyes, and passed a hand across his bristled cheek and then over the back of his neck.
“What made you think I was going to yell at her?” he asked.
Eva frowned. “What?”
“When we got home with Diane. You told me not to yell at her tonight. What made you think that I would?”
Eva hesitated, watching the tired man in front of her. He didn’t hold much tolerance for her interference earlier, and she wasn’t sure he’d appreciate it any better now. She shrugged. “I don’t know. You seem…so impatient with her. She’s curious and quick, and she gets into a lot of things you don’t want her to. But she’s just being a child. She needs time…and patience,” Eva ended softly.
Maxwell watched her for a long moment, his jaw working, his eyes narrowing at her. Eva prepared herself for another tirade.
“I guess I’m a lousy excuse for a father. I always seem to do or say the wrong thing to her.”
Eva was surprised and instantly moved by this confession. “Oh, Maxwell…you’re not a—a bad father.”
“I don’t know how to handle her,” he said in some frustration, swinging a hand in gesture. Eva smiled at the motion of helplessness.
“She doesn’t need handling,” Eva suggested softly. Maxwell glowered at her in his usual manner, but there was, nonetheless, an expectant expression in his eyes as he stared at her. “I think what Diane needs is to know you love her and that you really want her here with you.”
He stared down now at his sandals. Eva had never seen him so unsure of himself. This made her smile, too. She walked over to him and laid a soft, small hand on his forearm. She felt the muscles tighten in response under her fingers.
“You haven’t had a chance to be a father. You just lack some experience is all.”
Maxwell made a soundless chuckle. “It’s hard to be a father long distance.”
Eva bit her lip. He sounded bitter, making her curious again about his ex-wife. “There is the rest of her vacation…”
“And what do I do when the vacation is over? Send her back to New York and let her mother wipe me from her memory aga
in with her bad mouthing and put-downs?”
“You don’t know that she does that. And you can’t blame your wife forever. If you knew Diane better, you’d know that no one can damage your image in her eyes, except you. She’s old enough to understand her separations from you. You just keep letting her know how important she is to you.”
Eva’s voice broke, and she felt a wave of emotion wash over her. She missed Gail. She missed her own pretty little girl who would have been almost a full year older than Diane Maxwell. Maxwell had his daughter here with him. He could love her and help her to grow into a lovely, happy young woman. Eva couldn’t bear it if he lost that chance and lost his child as well.
They were both tired and both high-strung from the emotional impact of the day, and in each of their hearts Eva knew it was for the same reasons.
She clutched at Maxwell’s arm, and somehow, she was never to know how, they were locked in each other’s embrace. Her head was pressed against his hard warm chest, the hair through the open front of his shirt surprisingly soft on her cheek. She rubbed her face against it, closing her eyes. A deep sigh of comfort escaped her as Maxwell’s arms tightened. The whole solid length of him was hard against her. It was like being embraced by a bear.
Eva didn’t question for one moment his holding her. She had instantly tapped into the Maxwell that was a questioning, uncertain parent, rather than the hard, uncompromising man. They were not antagonists now, and there was a momentary mutual sympathy.
Eva recognized in him the confusion and possible fears of being just a part-time father, of being responsible for another life and not sure you’re doing everything right. And although Maxwell couldn’t have known it, Eva needed comforting against the sudden onslaught of her past grief. If it had to be anyone to die, why couldn’t it have been she and not Gail? The warm embrace held them each together, kept them whole, gave them some kind of strength to go on. Neither had asked for this, but here it was. And then it changed.
Maxwell’s hand came up to cup and caress her cheek, his thumb firmly pushing her chin up, tilting her head back so he could see her face. He was as close now as he’d been this afternoon when he began to teach her to swim, but his look was altogether different. Eva was aware of his brown rugged features, his firm square chin lowering toward her. His mouth was pressed to hers and rested there. It was nice. It was easy. Just another comforting gesture she didn’t know he was capable of.
But then his mouth moved, caressing the full surface of her lips, pulling on them, his tongue quickly moistening the curves before they separated involuntarily. Eva’s eyes flew wide open in complete surprise. They searched his hard face to find his eyes watching her mouth, his jaw tensing.
“Max?” she whispered in confusion, shortening his name to something special. He quirked a corner of his mouth at her, as his forefinger gently outlined her lips.
“When you kiss a man, it’s okay to call him by his first name…” he actually teased. Before she could change her bewildered expression, he had gathered her once more against him and began to kiss her in earnest. His wide, well-shaped mouth coaxed her lips apart, and his warm tongue furrowed deep inside to stroke against her own. Eva’s mind spun around dizzily. Maxwell was very slow and excruciatingly deliberate in his exploration, and all of Eva’s senses were zeroed in to the feel of his mouth over hers. It held her rigid…and fascinated.
She had grown to adulthood only knowing one man’s kisses, one man’s touch. It had been very pleasant and warm. She’d enjoyed being held and loved by Kevin Duncan. But her relationship to her husband was all she had to compare this new embrace to. Something told her this was wrong. She shouldn’t be feeling this way, as if her legs were limp noodles and her mind was bursting with wild bright colors. She shouldn’t be so pliant and yielding, letting another man have his way. She shouldn’t be feeling that if he didn’t stop for a long, long time she wouldn’t care. She shouldn’t be responding, enjoying it, melting into him, giving him complete access to her mouth. It was a gentle sensuous caressing, the kiss deepening even more. She had no clear thought of holding back, of not participating. His one hand around her shoulders, alternately massaged and pressed her nearer. That was one thing. But when Maxwell’s other hand made a sensuous journey up the back of one thigh causing a quaking through the center of her body as he pressed her buttocks to bring her against his distinct hard masculine form, she finally came to her senses, pulling her mouth away with a gasp and turning completely within the circle of his arms.
“No! Please, Maxwell…don’t!” she breathed erratically. His arms remained around her, holding her to him. Against her back Eva could feel the pounding of his heart, his quickened breathing over the top of her head, the length of him hot against her back. And there was no mistaking the changing feel of him now.
Eva pulled loose and walked unsteadily away from him. But now she was too ashamed to turn around and face him. And she didn’t want him to say anything, afraid of his sarcasm.
“I’m sorry,” Maxwell said very low, breathing out, his deep voice a bass rumbling through the silence of the open gallery. Eva heard him, heard the words, and slowly shook her head.
“No you’re not,” she whispered almost in pain. Her eyes were closed tightly, blocking him out deliberately. There was a quiet behind her.
“You’re right…I’m not,” he admitted in the same voice, same tone.
How could she expect him to be sorry when, if the truth were known, she wasn’t sorry either? She was only very scared.
When Eva turned around finally, Adam Maxwell was gone, and she stood in the open gallery all alone.
Eva felt unreal. Suspended. An unmistakable terror took hold of her as she slowly walked into the bedroom. A chill swept over her, raising bumps on her flesh. She hugged herself. She realized that there was a part of her that had enjoyed thoroughly Maxwell’s kissing her, squeezing her soft frame to his harder one. She had acquiesced to his mouth drawing a response from her own.
Eva moved in front of the mirror over a low dresser. She looked the same. Maybe her eyes were a little bright and startled-looking. Maybe her lips were still moist and parted, kissed into softness. She raised her right hand with a slight tremor to her cheek. Maybe the skin was a little warm and sensitive with emotion. But she looked the same.
Eva lowered her hand and eyes from her image with infinite sadness and silently shook her head. She was not the same. And beyond a doubt she knew she would never be again.
Eva gently twisted off Kevin Duncan’s wedding band. The shiny gold was almost instantly cold in her hand. She looked at it long and hard. Tears blinded her vision, making the gold shimmer, before rolling down her cheeks. Eva tied the ring into a linen handkerchief and placed it in a zippered compartment in her suitcase.
IT WAS another perfect day on the island. Eva rose early and dressed in a white summer sun dress with thin spaghetti straps. It buttoned down the front all the way to the hem of its A-line skirt and had two pockets constructed of lacy Irish linen handkerchiefs. The white of the dress was startling and very pretty against her brown skin.
She wasn’t going to the beach today. Sitting there and speculating would add nothing to her already shaken state of mind. She hadn’t slept well the night before, but she had no intention of making more of last night’s encounter with Adam Maxwell than was actually there. In the clear light of day, she saw it as a spontaneous happening. She was sure of it. But last night, in the dark all alone, that belief had not been present.
For a long time she could think and feel nothing but the pressure of his mouth on hers, of his weight and form against hers. There had been the smell of him, the feel of him, overwhelming, powerful and enticing all around her. Eva had felt very safe in Maxwell’s arms, and she had no right to feel that way. She’d stood shaking like a leaf long after he’d gone, feeling her insides releasing themselves slowly from emotional tension so that she could move at last and sit down.
And somewhere else in her mind Kevin Du
ncan stood watching her in pained curiosity, watching his wife being kissed and held by another man. The guilt had sent Eva off to the shower, to wash away the feel and memory of Adam Maxwell from her skin and her mind. But he had stayed with her far into the night, until mourning doves set up a repetitive cooing with the coming daylight, and she moaned awake, utterly exhausted.
Today she would go back to St. Thomas and spend the day involved in something else. She’d treat herself to lunch and maybe shop for gifts and souvenirs. She’d walk until she was too tired to think and then maybe tonight she’d sleep. But she had one thing to do first.
Eva left her house and purposefully drove the half mile to Adam Maxwell’s. It was a little after ten o’clock, and she’d planned her time so that she could check in on Diane, say hello, and leave reasonably soon to catch the eleven o’clock ferry. This way she could not later be accused by Maxwell of deliberately avoiding him all day.
Eva left the Jeep on the road and climbed the short incline in her low-heeled sandals to the door. She knocked and waited, concentrating on staying calm and settling the sudden swarm of butterflies in her stomach. She was totally nonplussed when the door opened and a doe-eyed Lavona Morris stood there. Eva knew she must have gaped with her mouth open, and she quickly closed it.
Lavona never said a word but lounged rather indolently against the door frame as if she belonged there. She cast a heavy-lidded, haughty look over Eva in a none-too-complimentary way. It succeeded in momentarily unnerving Eva, making her more than conscious of Lavona’s obvious feminine appeal. And she made it obvious that she had no intention of making Eva feel welcomed.
“I—I came to see how Diane was doing today. She had an accident yesterday.”
Lavona smiled only slightly, raising her chin. “Adam say so.” Her tongue moved slowly around the name, saying it with two distinct syllables, her musical island accent only making the words sound lightly foreign. Eva couldn’t help being fascinated with Lavona’s speech pattern. It was lovely.
