And then something else occurred to him, a thought he might’ve had much sooner had he not been so caught up in horror.
“Is it hard for you, loving the kids, knowing who fathered them?”
Could a woman love the child of her rapist? A tough question he couldn’t answer.
“No.” She shook her head. Her smile was tired, but it was probably the first genuine smile she’d cracked all night. “In the first place, they’re human beings, separate and apart from him,” she said. “Just as I wouldn’t care or not care for you based on the man your father was.”
That made sense, logically, but the heart was pretty independent, making its own decisions that often had nothing to do with logic.
“Now that you know, does it change your feelings for Jonathan?”
“Of course not.” Of course not. Thank God.
“And in the second place,” Leslie said, the smile fading from her mouth but still warming her eyes. “I loved my brother, Kip. There was one part of him I hated, one weakness that nearly destroyed me, but it destroyed him, too, you know. Aside from that one thing, he was a wonderful man. Gentle, giving, selfless.”
“I’ve begun to see that I made a life out of being selfish, Leslie, and yet I would never have dreamed of taking for myself something that would irrevocably damage another person.”
“I don’t think he saw it that way,” she said softly. “I think he really loved me…that way. To him, it was only society’s laws that were the problem.”
“What about the fact that you didn’t want it?”
“As he kept reminding me, he was in a position to know better than I did what was good for me in other aspects of my life. It carried over.”
“You can’t convince me that what he did wasn’t one of the worst betrayals a man can commit. One of the worst crimes.”
“It was.” She leaned her head against the couch, her eyes half closed. “But if I’m going to heal, I have to understand what really happened. And part of the understanding is to realize that life wasn’t fair to Cal, either.”
He might be sick again. Just hearing her defend the bastard set him off. He held back the tears and wondered if there’d ever again be a time when they weren’t there.
“He was grieving, too, Kip. Not only did he lose the father he adored, his mentor, his safety and security, but he was given responsibility far beyond what was fair to a boy his age. He was a child himself, being asked to raise a child.”
“So he shouldn’t be held accountable?” Kip asked, some of the anger that corroded his soul spilling over in spite of his attempts to spare her. “The prisons are full of guys who had it rough, Leslie. I had it rough. So did you. How does that give any of us the right to commit horrendous acts?”
“It doesn’t.”
Kip silently cursed himself as her tears welled up again.
“Cal paid for what he did, Kip. Not in the eyes of the law, but I believe it ate at him every day of his life. That first year, after he left for college and I finally had some time away from him, I grew stronger. Once I saw for myself that I could make it without him, that I didn’t need him as much as he’d convinced me I did, I made up my mind that he’d never again see me alone. When he was home on break, I slept over at a friend’s, or at least that’s what I said. Most times I checked into a motel. And once I left for college, I never went home again anytime he was there. You see, in the end, he lost the one thing he loved most in the world. Me. I haven’t seen him since he attended my college graduation.”
He’d wondered. Was slightly mollified, but only because it meant Leslie hadn’t had to deal with the bastard or suffer through any further encounters with him.
“Abby certainly saw something in him,” she was saying. “And you know he suffered, too, that he was sorry, based on what Jim had to say about their relationship. Abby helped him find forgiveness for the parts of himself he hated.” She looked at him now. “Everyone has weaknesses.” Leslie’s gaze was compelling, but he wasn’t anywhere close to seeing his best friend as anything other than vile. “Cal’s weakness was unacceptable,” she continued, “but that still doesn’t define the whole person he was, just as you aren’t judged only by your weaknesses.”
In this case, the weakness did define the man. Everything he’d known Calhoun Sanderson to be had simply burned up, as if it had never existed. Only ashes remained.
Cal had committed one of the greatest sins known to man and that was all he was.
“MARRY ME.”
Four o’clock had come and gone. They both had to be in the shower by five-thirty to make it to work on time. Leslie had shown no signs of leaving his room. And as long as she stayed, Kip was going to be there for her. He didn’t want her to leave. Ever.
“I can’t marry you.” The rejection was accompanied by a sad smile, almost as though she was humoring him. “And you don’t really want me to,” she said, reaching over to run a hand along his arm.
Her touch was magic. Comfort and hope and a heady anticipation of the unknown. Those sensations infiltrated his skin.
He grabbed her hand, threaded his fingers through hers. “Yes, actually I do.”
Leslie shook her head, still wearing that weary, knowing smile. “You just think that right now because it’s been a grueling night and we’re exhausted. You’re feeling sorry for me. And that’s no reason to get married.”
“I asked you to marry me before I knew any of this.”
“But when Jonathan mentioned us getting married you ran off because it was all too much for you.”
“I didn’t run off. I went for a drive. I’m not used to being out of my element, and I needed some time alone with myself.” He squeezed her hand lightly. “I had a lot of time to think that night and no matter how I looked at things, I kept coming right back to wanting to marry you.”
“Kip, I’m frigid. I can’t marry anyone.”
“We can get help.”
“And there are no guarantees it’ll work.”
“Marriage is about far more than sex, Les.” He hadn’t ever expected to propose marriage; even less would he have imagined meaning the words he’d just said.
Yet they rang completely true to him.
Leslie shook her head. “You love women. You enjoy sex. I care about you too much to tie you to a possible lifetime without it. And I also care about you too much to stand by while you get it elsewhere.”
Okay, obviously they had to deal with this little issue so they could go on to bigger topics—like the rest of their lives. Kip took her hand, brought it slowly toward his crotch, giving her a chance to pull away at any time. On the contrary, she seemed quite willing to go where he led.
And then, with her hand in place, he released his hold on her. “What do you feel?” It took every bit of control he had to appear unaffected by that touch.
Her hand began to move, slowly, up and down. He let his mind go, aware only of Leslie. Not of the horrible truths he had to learn to live with. That would come later.
And when his body hardened, growing with an intensity that would soon have a life of its own, he stopped her.
Frowning, hand back in her lap, she silently questioned him.
“There are many ways to give and take pleasure, Les,” he said softly, enjoying the slight flush on cheeks that had been far too white. “Let’s give that concern a rest, huh?”
MONDAY PASSED IN A BLUR as she tried to stay focused enough to get through the hours until bedtime. In the end, she’d left Kip’s room with the question of marriage still hanging between them.
But it was overshadowed by her bigger concern that, when she saw him again after he’d had a chance to think about what she’d told him, things would be different. He’d look at her differently. Or worse, not look directly at her at all.
“You know how it is,” she said to Juliet at noon. “When people know you’ve gone through some horrific event, they start to see you as defined by the event, instead of as a three-dimensional person.”
She’d finally told her counselor that the abuser in her past had been her brother. Juliet hadn’t seemed all that surprised. Which didn’t really surprise Leslie. Juliet had suggested that perhaps they ought to meet a few more times to talk about it, not the physical abuse but the abuse of trust.
Juliet had also given her some reading to do on reintroducing the body to desire after abuse. And given her the name of someone to call if she wanted to talk about what she’d read. She seemed to think that if Leslie was willing to try some of the suggestions in the book, she’d be pleased with the results. She said that Leslie had been preparing for this next step and her time had come.
Leslie didn’t know about that. What she knew was that she would always have a guide and a dear friend in Juliet McDaniel. The counselor’s relief when she’d opened her door to Leslie at noon had warmed her heart in a way she’d never forget.
ON TUESDAY, upon seeing Nancy’s reminder of a black-tie charity function she’d agreed to attend that evening, she called Kip in his new presidential office at SI and asked if he’d be able to get home in time to be her date for the event.
She’d escaped to her bed the moment she got home the night before and still hadn’t seen him since leaving his suite early Monday morning.
“It’s fine if you’d rather not,” she said quickly, not wanting him to read anything more than a last-minute need for an escort into the request. “I can ask Mom. I thought maybe you’d rather not bother with putting Kayla to bed.” There, that sounded unromantic enough.
Sort of. If you considered talking to the man whose proposal you’d turned down about putting the kids to bed in the house you shared as unromantic. Leslie had always seen domestic affairs as the height of romance. But then, her list was lacking most people’s top choice—sex.
Although when Kip had put her hand on his crotch the other night, asking her what she’d felt, her heart and belly had both flip-flopped. As they had every time she’d thought of that moment since.
Which was far more often than she’d ever admit.
“I’d be honored to go with you.” Kip’s reply interrupted her mental ramblings. “What time should I be ready?”
Agreeing to meet him in the kitchen at six, Leslie disconnected and pushed speed dial to reach her mother and ask her once again to watch Kayla and Jonathan. She was afraid that otherwise she’d change her mind and send word that she was ill to the client who’d invited her to attend tonight’s function.
Judging by the weight in the pit of her stomach, she wouldn’t have been far off in saying so.
KIP’S SUSPICION that he had it bad was confirmed Tuesday evening, dancing with Leslie. He considered himself lucky just to be holding her close. The sensations that swept through him as her body swayed against his almost had him acting like an inexperienced schoolboy attending his first prom instead of the man of vast experience that he was. The slinky, long black halter dress she was wearing didn’t help matters. Nor did the fact that the silk trim on his tux slid so easily against her back, making it far too convenient for his hand to end up at the curve of her buttocks.
Had she shown any sign of displeasure, he would have removed his hand instantly. But she’d stepped closer to him, fitting her thigh between his as they finished the slow song that was playing and stayed on the floor for another.
She was safe here; he understood that. Fully dressed, with an audience of people who both liked and respected her. In this room she was not a young victim of sibling incest. She was Leslie Sanderson, Finance Analyst, and soon-to-be partner at one of the most prestigious privately owned brokerages in the country.
And if this was the extent of the intimacy she could freely offer, Kip still considered himself lucky to be the recipient.
That scared the hell out of him.
THE COOL NIGHT AIR DRIFTED over Leslie’s skin as they walked to the parking garage in downtown Phoenix where they’d left Kip’s Expedition. Buildings and lamp posts glittered with Christmas lights, which illuminated the shiny metallic ribbons on the wreaths adorning many of the streetlights. Ah, Christmas. A time of hope. Of possibility.
So why did she feel as though, for her, the season was already over? She’d come full circle. Had faced the past. Been offered the culmination of all of her deepest dreams. And she’d turned it down.
“There were a lot of beautiful women there tonight.” No point in rubbing her own nose in it, but she was facing reality these days, not running from it.
“I didn’t notice,” Kip said, nice as always. His arm brushed hers as they stepped down to cross the street.
The downtown consisted of little but offices and the bars and restaurants that served the professionals who worked in them. It virtually closed down at night, unless there was a baseball or basketball game in the nearby stadiums, or a function at the symphony hall. Tonight there were still some partygoers making their way slowly along the streets.
“It’s hard to believe it’s only five days until Christmas.”
“There’ve been a lot of distractions this year.”
Yes, well, she didn’t really want to talk about that.
Face burning, she wished for the thousandth time that she hadn’t told Kip about Cal. To hell with Juliet’s assertion that she’d taken a major step forward. She felt like she’d slipped back eighteen years. Only this time, she had to look at the past with hindsight gained from the present, from an adult perspective.
“I found Jonathan’s backpack tonight when I was putting his dirty clothes in the hamper in his closet,” he told her suddenly.
“Oh, good.” She knew he’d been concerned that the bag—one of the last gifts from his father—had been lost in the move.
“It was packed with clothes, including underwear and pajamas, some toothpaste but no brush, several individual packages of teddy grahams—”
“I’d bought a box of them, but couldn’t find them,” Leslie interrupted, frowning.
“…and the copy of Huckleberry Finn we just finished reading.”
“So he packed recently.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You think he’s going to run away?” The thought made her ill with fear. Her sensitive little redheaded champion out on the streets alone?
“I’m sure he’s thinking about it.”
She stopped abruptly, digging in her small black evening bag for the flip phone she’d never been anywhere without since Kayla came into her life. “How can you be so calm?” she asked Kip. “We have to tell my mother, warn her to keep a close watch—”
“I’ve already done that,” Kip said. “I also talked to Jonathan about it.”
Sliding the phone back in her purse, she resumed walking, her heels clicking against the cement sidewalk. “What did he say?”
“That he was just cleaning up his room like his grandma told him to.”
“He lied to you.”
A man dressed in baggy pants and a torn and dirty beige shirt, sitting against a lamppost on the corner, held out a shaky hand. Kip reached into his pocket, pulling out a handful of change, and dropped it into the other man’s hand.
“Not for long,” Kip said. “As soon as I started praising him for minding his grandmother, he broke down and told me he might have to leave for Kayla’s sake.”
Her breath caught in her throat, Leslie managed to ask, “Why?” Only one more block to go and they’d be at the car where she could sit, closing her eyes to shut out a world that had grown confusing and difficult.
“Because she’d pass as white and if we didn’t have him causing us so much trouble maybe we’d keep her and get married and be a real family. That’s what he said.”
“He’s not causing any trouble.” Other than the haircutting, none at all. In a few short weeks, the little boy was already a vital part of her life.
“I told him that, but he’s still blaming himself
.”
“It’s a common symptom arising from childhood loss,” she said, half to herself.
She almost missed Kip’s pointed look. And brushed off his silent intimation that she should look a little closer to home.
“What are we going to do?” she asked instead.
“Get married.”
Leslie didn’t even bother to respond. He was beginning to sound like a broken record when they needed to find real answers.
She’d never realized Kip Webster had such a small repertoire of ideas.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
HE WAS LOSING HER.
Kip might only know what he’d been able to learn in two days regarding victims of sibling incest and its aftermath, but he knew women, and the walls Leslie was building around her heart, around her life and her secret, were growing higher by the second.
Almost at the house, he pulled off the road onto a dirt track that would eventually lead up the mountain to someone’s home. Tonight it was deserted, private, and it offered the same gorgeous views of the city that Leslie had from her living room.
“Why are we stopping?”
Putting the SUV in park, he turned off the ignition, still not quite used to the fact that he didn’t need the heat on in the middle of December. “We have to talk,” he said, facing her. The moon up in the mountains was full and brighter than the lights that shone from the city below them, illuminating her face as brightly as any lamp might have done.
“We have a perfectly good house where we can talk.”
“With a child near your room, another near mine, and your mother staying with us. We covered some pretty hard issues the other night, Les, and I’m not prepared to slide backward. I’m serious about wanting us to get married.”
She shook her head, face impassive. “Give it up, Kip, we aren’t getting married. But we should go home and sleep. We both have to work tomorrow.”
The Promise of Christmas Page 18
