She tried to speak. But nausea rose in her throat. “I... Conor...”
Blackness swirled and shrouded her until the world disappeared.
Seventeen
Conor caught her before she hit the ground.
Kirby cursed.
“I’ll take her home,” Conor said.
Kirby nodded, his worried gaze on his sister’s limp body in Conor’s arms. “The graveside service won’t take long. I’ll be right behind you...or as soon as I can.”
Conor’s car was parked not far away. Opening the passenger door, he reclined the seat, set Ellie down carefully and belted her in after smoothing the skirt of her knee-length black dress. Moments later, when he started the engine, Ellie roused and sat up.
She put her hand over his on the gearshift. “Conor. Tell me what happened.”
“You fainted. I’m taking you home.”
“No, you’re not.” She reached for the door handle, unlocking it before he could stop her. “I can’t let Kirby go to the cemetery on his own.”
Fury blasted through Conor’s calm. “Hell, Ellie. You don’t have to take care of the whole entire world. Somebody needs to take care of you for a change. And like it or not, today, that somebody is me.”
She gaped at him as if he had sprouted an extra head. “You’re yelling at me.”
“Damn straight I am. Now sit still and do what I tell you to do.”
Ellie collapsed in her seat, tearing leaking from the corners of her eyes.
Shit. “I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely. “I know this is a tough day. But you’re scaring me to death. People have heart attacks from stress, Ellie. Or complete mental breakdowns.”
She didn’t say a word.
He leaned his forehead on the steering wheel and said a prayer for patience. “I won’t make you leave,” he muttered. “If you’re set on going to the cemetery.”
Still the tears fell, slowly, painfully. As if something had broken and couldn’t be fixed.
She turned her head toward him, face wet, expression quietly determined. “I want to go to the cemetery. But not in the limo. In your car. Will you go tell Kirby?”
“Do you want him to ride with us?”
She nodded, sniffing. “Yes, please.”
Conor fetched Kirby and the two men climbed into the car without speaking, Conor behind the steering wheel, Kirby in the backseat. The cemetery wasn’t far. A much smaller subset of mourners had come for this portion of the service. Many of them were Kavanaghs.
The day was warm but drizzly. Most people huddled beneath the green awning that flanked the burial spot. Conor kept a hand on Ellie the entire time. Her gaze was fixed on the flower-draped casket.
As promised, the ceremony was brief. Soon, after shaking hands and speaking with a few more people, it was time to go. Maeve had taken Emory with her to give Kirby and Ellie some time to change clothes and regroup.
Conor drove home, his gut in turmoil. Neither of his passengers spoke. When they reached the house, Ellie fled from the car. There was no other word for it.
Kirby and Conor climbed out and stared at each other.
“She’ll be fine,” Kirby said.
For the first time, Conor could tell he was lying.
* * *
After changing into jeans and a comfortable cotton button-down, Conor grabbed a sandwich. People had brought food to the house...enough to feed a small country. Conor liked living in a place where community was important. He’d watched as Kirby and Ellie reminisced with old friends and met cordial strangers. The Porter twins were wrapped in a cocoon of concern whether they realized it or not.
At last, he couldn’t stand it. He had to check on Ellie. Giving her space seemed like the smart thing to do right now, but his gut was telling him there was more going on with Ellie than met the eye. Sadly, he had a feeling he knew what it was. All of the funeral stuff must have brought back Kevin’s death.
Her bedroom door was open. No Ellie. She wasn’t in the living room, either. Kirby, however, was sacked out facedown on the sofa. Conor exited as silently as he had come. His buddy needed the rest.
It was another ten minutes before he found Ellie...on the deck that extended from the back of the house. Conor had plans to put in a swimming pool and hot tub, but he hadn’t gotten that far yet.
He had, however, invested in a collection of cushioned deck furniture. Some nights, he and a few poker buddies played out here and watched the sunset. Other times, Conor simply liked to sit as the evening waned and be alone with his thoughts.
Ellie had chosen a lounge chair, though it was a good bet she wasn’t relaxed. She had her knees pulled up to her chest with her arms circling them. To Conor, the posture looked defensive.
Dragging a chair closer without an invitation, he felt his heart break when he saw that she was crying, sobbing, in fact.
He picked her up and sat back down on the chaise with her, his legs outstretched, Ellie curled in a ball of misery against this chest.
For a long time, he let her cry it out. They had nowhere to go, and tears were often cathartic. Eventually, however, he felt her go soft in his arms...heard the ragged cadence of her breathing as she exhausted herself.
Choosing his words carefully, he stroked her hair as he spoke. “Your grandfather wouldn’t want you to do this, Ell. He’d want you to be happy.”
She scrubbed a hand over her face and gave a little hiccupping sigh. “I’m not crying for Grandpa,” she said.
“You’re not?” Conor frowned.
“Well, I’m sad. I’ll miss him a lot. But he lived a good life, and with the dementia accelerating, he faced a difficult road ahead. Now he’s whole. And with my grandmother.”
“Then why are you so upset? Why the tears, Ell? For Kevin? Did today bring it all back? Is that it?”
She stared at him, her expression guarded. “Yes. But not in the way you’re thinking.”
“It’s understandable,” he said gruffly, almost unable to look at her, because it hurt so damned much to know she still loved her dead husband. “It hasn’t been that long since you buried him. Healing takes time.” More time than Conor had.
Shaking her head, she flipped her hair behind her shoulders. The simple navy top she wore emphasized her pallor. “I shed all my tears for Kevin a long time ago. Today I was crying for you.”
He stared at her. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“When we came home from the lake and Kirby was sitting there with such a terrible look on his face...waiting to tell me bad news... I realized that one day that same scenario may unfold. Only Kirby will be telling me about you. I’ve been strong and resilient and all those things they tell me I’m supposed to be. But, oh, Conor...if you died, I couldn’t bear it.”
She used the hem of her shirt to dry her face. The childish action made him want to smile, but this confrontation was too important.
“That won’t happen,” he said firmly.
Her jaw firmed mutinously. “You don’t know for certain.”
“I do,” he said. “Because I canceled my trip yesterday.”
She gaped at him. “Why?”
Why, indeed. Here came the hard part. In fact, he couldn’t be this close to her and say it. So he levered himself up from the lounger and paced the deck. “You and I have differing opinions on the mountain-climbing thing, Ellie. I see it as an adventure. You see it as a death sentence. I may not agree with you, but I certainly understand why you feel that way.”
She scooted back into her original position, resting her chin on her knees. “I still don’t get why you canceled.”
He shrugged. “Because I love you.” The words fell like stones from his mouth. He held up a hand. “Don’t say anything. Not a word. I know it’s too soon and you still love Kevin. I know all
that. But I love you too much to put you through any more pain. So the trip is off.”
* * *
Ellie was astonished and deeply moved. To hear that Conor cared enough about her to give up something so important to him was utterly precious and very emotional.
But she had used up her tears.
The time had come to be honest with Conor. He deserved the truth, even if it put her in a bad light...even if it changed his opinion of her.
She wouldn’t tell him she loved him. Not yet. Because he needed to understand the whole picture. She had kept things from him intentionally. To protect herself. To survive. To keep him at a distance.
But Conor had thrown down the gauntlet. He had been as honest as a man can be. It was up to her to match his courage.
“You’ve asked me again and again to open up to you or to Kirby about my feelings. To talk about Kevin’s death. Both of you believe that I haven’t dealt with what happened, and you’re right. I suppose my hospitalization last week proved that. I didn’t completely snap, but I definitely came unglued. Lucky for me, I had very good care. Although it may surprise you, I did share things with the doctor.”
Conor sat down in a chair, his hands on his knees. “I’m so glad.”
“It was hard. I won’t lie. But I knew that if I could tell a stranger, I could eventually tell you.”
“You don’t have to. It’s been a difficult day.”
“I want to,” she said.
Conor sat and waited. She liked that about him. His calm strength. His utterly unbreakable commitment to those he loved.
She searched her brain, looking for the perfect place to start. But the story was fragmented and sad and ugly. So one spot was as good as another. “Kevin and I were having trouble,” she said.
“I see.”
“It had been going on for far too long. We’d been married four years when he died. The first two were good...the last two not so much.”
“Where did you meet?”
“In Buenos Aires. His father was Argentinian, his mother American. So Kevin straddled both cultures. He was sophisticated and well-traveled and never met a stranger. I was twenty-four. He was seven years older. He dazzled me.”
“Did your parents approve?”
“I think so. He came from a good family. Had a great job. The two of us were head over heels in love.”
“So what happened?”
“He wasn’t cut out to be monogamous...or that’s what he told me. When the cheating started, I questioned myself. I know, looking back, that I was not thinking clearly. But all I had to go by was my parents’ marriage. They were—and still are—devoted to each other. I began to ask myself if I had failed Kevin somehow.”
“Please tell me you know that’s a pile of crap.”
Conor’s indignation soothed her nerves.
“I do now. But instead of addressing the infidelity directly, I begged him to go to marriage counseling.” Remembering those sessions made her cringe inside. “Kevin was an amazing chameleon. He could wring emotion from an audience with a bald-faced lie and no one ever questioned him. The therapist we were seeing told me I was young and naive and I needed to learn how to trust my husband and not be so insecure.”
Conor’s vicious curse and look of incredulity was satisfying. Though the worst was yet to come. He shook his head. “That’s almost criminal.”
“You can see why I began to wonder if the problem was me. But in the end, I discovered that Kevin was a serial cheater. Things came to a head when I found out that one woman he’d been seeing regularly was also going on the Aconcagua trip.”
“Damn.”
“Yep. I told him I was finished. That I was going to file for divorce.”
“And he agreed?”
“No. He said I was being childish and that there was no need for us to break up our marriage. That men were different from women and they needed variety. But I was still his wife. Blah, blah, blah...”
“Please tell me you punched the guy.”
“Maybe if I had, I would feel better about all this. But no.”
“And you didn’t tell anyone?”
“I was too ashamed. I had always been the smart girl. It was humbling to know I had been taken in by a man whose personality and integrity were nothing more than smoke and mirrors.” She paused, her throat tightening. “I moved out.”
* * *
Conor was confused. Foreboding settled in his gut. By all rights, this story should be making him feel relieved. Instead, his skin crawled.
“So you moved out,” he said slowly. “Good for you.”
Ellie nibbled one of her fingernails. He’d never seen her do that. “Good in theory. Kevin was furious. I packed my things while he was at work one day. When he came home to an empty house, he went ballistic. He hired a detective, and in less than twenty-four hours Kevin was on my doorstep.”
“What did he say?”
“His performance was Oscar-worthy. Contrition. Repentance. Begging for another chance.”
“You didn’t.”
“I did. To me, marriage vows were sacred. If he was genuinely willing to change, I felt duty-bound to try again.”
“Aw, hell, Ellie.” He knew something was coming he didn’t want to hear. “What did you do?”
“He asked to come in. I let him. And he forced himself on me. Repeatedly.”
Conor felt nausea rise in his throat. “He raped you.”
“He was my husband.” She was so pale he was worried that she might faint again.
“Husband or not, Ellie, Kevin had no right to your body if you said no.”
“He didn’t see it that way. And he had an ace in the hole. He knew if I got pregnant that I would never leave him. So he didn’t use protection.”
Conor felt as if he were being ripped apart from the inside out. He didn’t want the rest of Ellie’s halting confession. He couldn’t handle it. But he had no choice.
“What happened then?”
“When he fell asleep, I ran away.”
“To Kirby’s place?”
“I wanted to...so badly. But Kirby and Kevin were going on the Aconcagua trip together in little over a week. I didn’t want there to be bad blood between them. A girlfriend offered me her couch. Since her boyfriend was a policeman, I felt relatively safe.”
“And Kevin?”
“I have no idea if he tried to find me or not. I didn’t go to work. I didn’t go out. My friend wanted me to press charges. But I wouldn’t agree. I’m not sure what I thought I was going to do. I was in shock, I guess.”
“Thank God, you had someone looking out for you.”
“Yes. I was lucky.”
“What happened next?”
“I never saw Kevin again. The next I knew of him was when I got word that he had fallen and died. And that Kirby was stranded.”
Holy God. This was far worse than finding out Ellie was pining for a lost love. He was dumbfounded and struggling to process the dreadful details. She’d been raped, widowed and almost lost her brother.
“Who got in touch with you?”
“I felt safe because Kevin was on the mountain. So I went home to get some more clothes and larger items I’d had to leave behind. I had recovered enough mentally to know what he had done to me. I was prepared to go back to my apartment and press charges as soon as he returned. While I was at the house, the phone rang and rang. I finally answered it. That’s when I heard what had happened.” She shook her head, her expression bemused. “Three weeks later I found out I was pregnant.”
Conor hunched his shoulders and searched for words. No wonder she hadn’t wanted to talk about it. “Did you ever tell Kirby and your parents?”
She shrugged. “No. Kirby has had enough to deal with without juggl
ing my problems. And the truth would have killed my parents.”
“I don’t know what to say, Ellie. I wish he was alive so I could throttle him.”
Her smile was weak. “You said you loved me. But you need to hear me out before you say it again.”
“It’s not the kind of thing a man takes back in fifteen minutes.”
His humor was lost on her. “Conor.” She looked out over the valley, almost as if she had forgotten he was there.
“Yes, Ellie?”
“When I hung up the phone...after hearing that Kevin was dead, I did something terrible.”
He couldn’t let her go on. Not without touching her. Returning to where she sat, he picked her up, even as she struggled to get free, and sat down, pulling her between the vee of his thighs so her back was against his chest.
“Okay, my love. Tell me this terrible thing you did.”
She waited so long he thought she had changed her mind. Her fingers linked with his, playing with the gold signet ring on his right hand. Finally, she spoke. “I stood there in our house...the place I never wanted to see again, and I wasn’t sad. I wasn’t devastated. I wasn’t even upset.”
He kissed the back of her hair. “You were likely in shock, but go ahead.”
She half turned, staring up at him with tragic eyes. “I was relieved, Conor. What kind of person is relieved to hear someone has died?”
A year and a half. Eighteen months. Longer by now. All this time she had borne the weight of her guilt. Even as she nursed her brother back to health...even as she endured labor and sleep deprivation and learned how to be a good mother...all that time his sweet Ellie had tortured herself.
He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her nose. “You are such a drama queen. If you were expecting me to throw you out of my house or demand that you dress in sackcloth and ashes, you’re going to be sadly disappointed.”
The look of shock on her face was priceless. Not for anything in the world would he let her know how horrified he was by what she had experienced. His job was to give her normalcy...and indirect absolution. Smiling, though it was an effort to tamp down his anger at her worthless dead husband, he pulled her to her feet.
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