Power and Seduction

by Joan Hohl

  “I worried myself sick that other time, after your father died,” he interrupted in a faraway tone. “I called myself all kinds of a fool for being so careless.”

  As Tina listened to him, her eyes widened in stupefaction. How strange, she mused; usually it was the female who worried herself sick. At the time, crushed by his rejection and consumed with resentment, Tina hadn’t even thought about the possibility of becoming pregnant.

  “But, Dirk,” she chided gently, “that was a long time ago. Why would we need to be careful now?”

  “I could say it’s because I want you all to myself,” he said, expelling his breath on a very weary sigh. “And although that would be the truth, it would not be the complete truth.”

  Disentangling his legs and arms from hers with obvious reluctance, Dirk slid off the bed.

  Her still slumberous eyes cloudy with confusion, Tina stared up at him blankly. “Dirk, I... I don’t understand.”

  “I think it would be better for all concerned if we agreed not to bring children into this marriage,” he explained in an oddly thick voice.

  “No children?” Tina repeated dully, then shocked: “No children! But why?” This time Tina’s blink was against the hot sting of tears. Through the blur, she missed the spasm of pain that flickered over Dirk’s face.

  “Tina ...” Dirk raked his fingers through his hair agitatedly. “Honey, you must admit that you’re not the same type of woman your mother was,” he said distractedly.

  “My mother?” Tina echoed flatly. “Dirk, what does ...” Her voice trailed away as he turned away from the bed.

  “I know what it’s like to grow up in a house where the mother is so terribly busy with her own pursuits, remember?” Sublimely unconcerned with his nakedness, Dirk strode restlessly around the room. “For all the delight and enthusiasm my parents displayed last night, you know as well as I do that they could never really be bothered with the day-to-day problems of raising children.”

  Spinning to face her, Dirk smiled humorlessly. “Oh, I will grant that they love me in their own fashion, but in any competition with his work and her civic duties, both my sister and I ran a poor second. The closest thing to a real home I ever knew was in this house.”

  Every bitterly anguished word Dirk spoke was true, and Tina knew it. Hadn’t she heard her father voice the same opinion to her mother numerous times while she was growing up? But still, what did that have to do with their marriage? Tina felt even more confused than before. She would have expected Dirk to be almost fanatic in his determination to be a good father—but not to want children at all? That didn’t make any sense. And what had he meant about her mother?

  “Dirk?” Her eyes wide, Tina sat up as he rummaged in a drawer for underwear, a pair of jeans, and a shirt. When he paused to glance over his shoulder, she blurted, “Where are you going?”

  “For a shower,” he muttered. “Then for some coffee.” Turning away, he reached for the doorknob.

  “Wait!” Now Tina was on her knees in the center of the bed, disregarding her own nudity. Though he paused again, Dirk held firm to the doorknob.

  “Well?” he asked with tired patience.

  Hurting for him, and herself as well, Tina drew a steadying breath. She had to have an answer. “I’d like to know what you meant by saying I’m not the type of woman my mother was.”

  “Oh, Tina.” The eyes that met hers were bleak. “I would think, after last night, the answer would be obvious. You hadn’t even given any thought to where we’ll live.” His eyes closed briefly. When he opened them again, they were remote. “Or for that matter, if we’ll even live together.”

  “But—” Tina began, flushing.

  “I know,” he interrupted. “Your career and business mean everything.” He smiled sadly. “And that was what I meant by the comparison with your mother. The only thing your mother ever asked for from this life was this house—with her husband and daughter safely inside it. She was the home-maker-mother type.” His smile vanished, leaving his mouth unrelentingly tight. “On the other hand, you need the challenge of a career—at whatever cost.” Shrugging, he twisted the knob and swung the door open, unaware or unheeding of Tina’s low gasp of pain.

  “Dirk!” Once again her cry halted him. “I’ve—I’ve worked so very hard for it!”

  “I know. I’ve accepted it. I won’t ask you to give it up. Not the challenge or the excitement or any of it.” His chest heaved with the depth of his sigh. “You’re not the home-maker-mother type, Tina. I prefer not to bring a child into the unstable marriage situation we’ve bound ourselves to.” Stepping into the hall, Dirk shut the door quietly behind him.

  Tina stared at the door until the flow of tears obliterated the carved wood panels. What had they done? What had she done? Distractedly, she combed her fingers through the long mane Dirk had tangled during his impassioned lovemaking. More to the point: What were they going to do now? Everything Dirk had said was true—as far as it went. She did love her career, and the challenge, and the excitement. But she loved him too. She wanted to bear his children. Didn’t Dirk realize that?

  How could he? She silently answered her own question. Did they really know each other anymore? Tina sighed; how could they have gotten to know each other again? All they’d done was spar and jab at each other.

  What was she going to do? she wondered, gazing around the room where she’d discovered the meaning of the word bliss.

  They had to talk, she decided, slipping off the bed and drawing a robe over her chilled body. She should have insisted they talk things out before she so mindlessly agreed to marry him.

  Wiping ineffectually at the tears still running freely down her cheeks, Tina sank onto the edge of the bed. Why hadn’t they discussed the everyday details of marriage? Frowning, she carefully retraced every minute she and Dirk had spent together since he’d first mentioned the word marriage.

  Tina’s tears lessened, then stopped completely as enlightenment slowly dawned. Incredible, unbelievable as it was to accept, the realization hit her that Dirk had seduced her a second time... only this time he’d seduced her with memories. And she, fool that she was, had succumbed every bit as easily the second time as she had at the untried age of nineteen.

  Her lovely features settling into rigid lines of anger and self-disgust, Tina shook her head slowly. Denying the pain that seemed determined to tear her apart inside, she faced the truth squarely. Not only had Dirk seduced her twice, he’d rejected her twice, the first time when he’d sent her back to school after making her a woman, and just a few moments ago, by rejecting her worthiness in mothering his children.

  What kind of life could they possibly have together, Tina wondered dully. Unable to bear thinking about the barren emptiness of that life, she scrambled to her feet and fled to the now vacant bathroom.

  Some thirty minutes later, carefully attired in her finest wool pants and a complementing sweater, with her hair brushed into obedience and her tear-ravaged face camouflaged with expertly applied makeup, Tina strolled into the sunny kitchen determined to appear her best before her husband.

  Dirk was sitting at the table, his hair gleaming almost copper in the ray of sunlight streaming in through the window, his hands curled around a steaming mug of coffee.

  As she entered the room, he glanced up and Tina felt her breath catch painfully hi her throat at the weariness on his beloved face.

  And it always had been, and always would be beloved to her, Tina acknowledged sadly as she crossed the room to pour herself a cup of coffee. Whatever her future, Dirk would have to be part of it. Tina had tried denying that truth once, she simply wasn’t up to the subterfuge any longer.

  Carrying the cup to the table, Tina sat down opposite Dirk, who had watched her every move through shuttered eyes.

  “What are we going to do?” she asked with what she considered commendable calm.

  “Do?” Dirk raised one burnished brow, “Why, we’re going to enjoy our honeymoon.” He shrugged. “At l
east for the next ten days” he qualified dryly. “I have to be back in Wilmington a week from Monday.” Then, the sardonic smile Tina was quickly growing to hate curving his lips, he said, overpolitely, “And don’t you have some financial matters to see to?”

  “Yes,” Tina admitted tiredly. “That is, if you release my money.”

  “I have.” The coldness edging his tone chilled Tina to the marrow. “Any other questions ... my love?” Dirk drawled with quiet insolence.

  Refusing him the pleasure of seeing her flinch, Tina employed every ounce of willpower she possessed to retain her composure. “Just one,” she responded steadily. “Are we going to see each other at all? I mean, after we leave here next Monday?”

  “Of course,” Dirk replied unhesitatingly, if dryly. “I suggest we meet here on Christmas Eve and stay through the first week of the new year.” Again one brow arched quizzically. “Isn’t that what you had in mind as a ‘sort of arrangement’?”

  Tina opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. She had made the suggestion, and even if she hadn’t meant it the way Dirk had interpreted it, what difference did it make? For even though Dirk had said their home would be in Wilmington, Tina now realized he couldn’t care less whether they shared a home permanently or a bed every few weeks or so.

  “Does that arrangement meet with your approval, Tina?” Dirk insisted grittily.

  As she raised her cup to her lips, Tina lowered her lashes to conceal the shimmer of tears blurring her vision.

  “Yes,” she whispered, gulping the hot brew in a vain hope that it would warm her frozen insides.

  Tina held little expectation for the remainder of their time together. Confounding her yet again, Dirk proved her assumption incorrect as soon as they left the breakfast table.

  For the rest of that day and the nine days that followed, Dirk wrapped Tina in a glorious mantle of happiness. And if at times his laughter seemed a trifle strained and his love-making a bit desperate, Tina was far too bemused to notice.

  By the time she found herself behind the wheel of the BMW, approaching New York City, it was much too late to ask questions. Dirk had left the house in Cape May hours before she’d awakened that morning.

  Her hands gripping the wheel as she had a near miss with a cab, Tina felt her cheeks glow with the memory of the reason she’d overslept.

  They’d returned to the house very late after a last fling in Atlantic City, and Tina had literally danced into Dirk’s arms with buoyancy, flushed with the thrill of winning fifty-five dollars at roulette. Laughing with her, Dirk had swept her into his arms and up the curving steps. But the laughter subsided, replaced by the repeated murmur of her name as he slid into the big double bed beside her.

  Throughout what was left of the night and into the pearly gray dawn, Dirk was a flame in her arms, a flame burning out of control, igniting an answering blaze deep inside Tina.

  Now as Tina made her way back to her empty apartment, and her emptier life, she sighed for what might have been for her and Dirk—if the love she knew he carried for her only outweighed the bitterness she also knew he harbored.

  Away from Dirk, time dragged endlessly for Tina. But the slowly moving hours produced one positive resolution in her mind. Tina wasn’t even sure exactly when that resolution occurred, but midway through the three long weeks of separation following their honeymoon, she realized she had lost her resentment for Dirk. Now she merely loved him.

  When she’d awakened that last morning of their honeymoon, alone and already lonely, Tina had bridled at the terse note Dirk had left on his pillow. The note had consisted of four demanding words. In a slashing scrawl, Dirk had ordered: Christmas Eve. Be here.

  Disappointed, disheartened, Tina crumbled the note up angrily, only to smooth it out again after she was packed and ready to leave. It wasn’t much, just a small scrap of paper, but he’d scribbled his name across the bottom, and it was all she had of him to take with her. Folding the wrinkled note carefully, Tina slid it into a zippered compartment of her handbag; she’d carried it with her everywhere since then.

  As the tension and anticipation of the approaching holiday accelerated, Tina’s spirits swung from low to rock bottom. The glittering decorations, the joyous music, and the trills of excited laughter all combined to instill depression and longing in her.

  Telling herself she absolutely would not do it, Tina nonetheless found herself pushing her credit card across a counter for a beautiful handmade cableknit sweater for Dirk for Christmas. As she had already written out Christmas bonus checks for her employees, her only other purchase was a lacy shawl imported from Spain for Beth.

  Sleeping little and eating less, Tina was beginning to resemble the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come as Christmas Eve drew closer. As the holiday business was always frantic, Tina was working herself to a frazzle when, surprisingly, Paul Rambeau decided he’d had enough of it. Lingering in the shop after one particularly frantic day, he peremptorily closed the account printout Tina was laboring over.

  “I want you to get out of here,” he said quietly when Tina shot him an angry look.

  “What?” Tina muttered, shocked by his action and his advice.

  “And I mean all the way out,” Paul went on assertively. “Look at yourself, Tina!” Frowning, he ran an encompassing glance over her drawn features and thin frame. “For God’s sake, you’re so fragile—physically and emotionally—you look hike you’d shatter at the lightest touch.”

  “I’m all tight,” Tina insisted.

  “No, honey.” Paul shook his head pityingly. “You are definitely not all right. You’re on the verge of crumbling, and I don’t want to witness it. I think it’s time to go home.”

  “To an empty apartment?” Tina choked through her tear-clogged throat.

  Paul smiled tenderly. “No, Tina. To your banker.”

  “Paul, you don’t understand.”

  “That’s right, I don’t. But I understand this: If you don’t do something about the problem between you two, you’re going to wind up in a hospital.” Paul bent over to grasp her chin and raise her face to his. “There are only two days left before the holiday. I can handle everything here. Go home, Tina. Home to Cape May. Make peace with your husband... and yourself.”

  Peace. Yes, Tina decided sometime around three A.M. that night, perhaps it was time to make some sort of peace with Dirk. She had endured five years of undeclared war, both hot and cold, and she was simply too weary to maintain the battle. Paul was right; it was time she went home.

  The next morning, tired, nervous, filled with trepidation, Tina called the shop and asked to speak to Paul. The moment he came on the line, she blurted her question.

  “Do you still want to buy the shop?”

  “Yes,” Paul responded promptly, reassuringly. “Are you ready to sell?”

  Tina’s response was equally prompt. “Yes.”

  Paul’s long sigh of relief sang along the wire to Tina. “I’m positive you’re doing the right thing, honey. Every man likes to believe he comes first with his woman.” He laughed softly, “And as tough as Dirk obviously is, I doubt he’s any different from the rest of us closet chauvinists. And I know he loves you.”

  “Can I come cry on your shoulder if he proves you wrong?” Tina asked tremulously.

  “I’ll go you one better,” Paul said quite seriously. “If you like, I’ll come there and flatten him for you.”

  Paul’s promise was the one bright ray in an otherwise gloomy and overcast day. With the lowering clouds threatening snow, Tina loaded her suitcases and the two exquisitely wrapped presents into the un-sporty compact she’d bought the week before and, without a backward glance, drove out of the city.

  A fine, light snow began falling as Tina left the Garden State Parkway and turned onto Lafayette. The pavements wore a dusting of white when she parked the car in front of her house.

  “You’re early!” Beth exclaimed happily, hugging Tina as she urged her into the warmth of the house. “Dirk
told me to expect you both on the twenty-fourth.”

  “I needed a holiday,” Tina explained, laughing to keep from crying.

  Stepping back, Beth ran an assessing gaze over Tina’s slim body. “I’d say you needed one very badly,” she murmured despairingly. “Tina, are you ill?”

  “No! Of course not.” Shrugging out of her coat, Tina walked to the fireplace to warm her hands near the crackling fire. “I’m just tired. I’ve been busy at the shop the last few weeks. All I need is some rest.” And to be close to Dirk, she added silently.

  “The house looks beautiful, so Christmasy,” she complimented Beth, gazing around at the natural decorations of pine boughs, fruit and nut arrangements, and flickering candles. “And the tree is magnificent!” she exclaimed, staring at the shimmering six-foot blue spruce. “And”—Tina drew a deep breath—”I’d hazard a guess that you’ve been baking up a storm!”

  “Only the usual.” Beth dismissed her efforts, while still beaming with pleasure. “Cookies, mincemeat pie, and fruit cake.”

  “It smells like home.” Impulsively hugging the older woman, Tina sniffed. “It feels like home too.”

  Much too close to tears, Tina hurriedly collected her things and headed for the stairs, positive that unless she moved away from Beth at once, she’d be sobbing out her unhappiness on the older woman’s shoulder.

  By the time Tina finished unpacking in the room she and Dirk had so passionately shared for ten days, she was wound as tight as a spring. Pulling on her jogging outfit, she determined to run off her tension. As she left the house, Tina assured Beth she’d be back shortly.

  The beach was deserted. Tina’s sole company was the muted roar of the waves and the occasional caw of a gull. Tina was never certain, afterwards, when she lost sight of her intention to run for only a half hour or so. Depressed, fearful of yet another rejection from Dirk, her mind revolving with images and impressions of all the times, happy and bitter, they had shared, she began running, and forgot to stop.

  Her feet rhythmically slapping the wet sand, Tina ran on and on, past pain and into near euphoria. On and on, unaware that she was practically staggering, she was unsure if the call came from within or without the first time she heard her name, sounding like a cry of pain swirling in the wind-tossed snow.