Читать книгу Mills & Boon Showcase - Christy McKellen - Страница 22

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

SANDY WAS JUST about to turn in to the hotel entrance when she stopped. It wasn’t exactly anger towards Ben that made her pause. More annoyance that she was letting herself tiptoe around vital issues she and Ben needed to sort out if they were to have any hope of a future together.

Ben needed to be treated with care and consideration for what he’d been through. But she had to consider her own needs, too. Decision time was looming. If she was to go to Melbourne and interview for the candle shop franchise she had to leave here by the latest tomorrow morning.

She turned right back around and headed down the steps to the beach.

The heat was still oppressive, the sand still warm. At this time of year it wouldn’t get dark until nearly nine.

Before the sun set she needed answers.

She found Ben sitting on the wooden dock that led out from the boathouse into the waters of the bay. His broad shoulders were hunched as he looked out towards the breakwater.

Without a word she sat down beside him. Took his hand in hers. In response, he squeezed it tight. They sat in silence. Her. Ben. And that darn woolly mammoth neither of them seemed capable of addressing.

Beyond the breakwater a large cargo ship traversed the horizon. Inside the harbour walls people were rowing dinghies to shore from where their boats were anchored. A large seagull landed on the end pier and water slapped against the supporting posts of the dock.

She took a deep breath. ‘Ida wants to sell me Bay Books.’

‘Is that what you want?’ His gaze was intent, the set of his mouth serious.

She met his gaze with equal intensity. ‘I want to run my own business. I think I could make the bookshop work even better than it already does. But you’re the only reason for me to stay in Dolphin Bay.’

‘An important decision like that should be made on its own merits.’

‘The bookshop proposition’s main merit is that it allows me to stay here with you.’ Time to vanquish that mammoth. ‘We have to talk about where we go from here.’

His voice matched the bleakness of his face. ‘I don’t know that I can give you what you want.’

‘I want you, Ben. Surely you know that.’

‘I want you too. More than you can imagine. If it wasn’t for...for other considerations I’d ask you to stay. Tell you to phone that candle guy and cancel your interview in Melbourne. But...but it’s not that straightforward.’

‘What other considerations?’ she asked, though she was pretty sure she knew the answer.

He cleared his throat. ‘I saw how you were with Amy.’

‘You mean how I dote on her?’

He nodded. ‘You were meant to be a mother, Sandy. Even when you were eighteen you wanted to have kids.’

‘Two girls and a boy,’ she whispered, the phrase now a desolate echo.

‘I can’t endure loss like that again. Today brought it all back.’

She wanted to shake him. Ben was smart, educated, an astute businessman. Why did he continue to run away from life? From love.

‘I appreciate your loss. The pain you’ve gone through. But haven’t you punished yourself enough for what happened?’

He made an inarticulate response and she knew she had hurt him. But this had been bottled up for too long.’

‘Can’t you see that any pleasure involves possible pain? Any gain possible risk. Are you never going to risk having your heart broken again?’

His face was ashen under his tan. ‘It’s too soon.’

‘Do you think you’ll ever change your mind about children?’

She held her breath in anticipation of his answer.

‘Since you’ve been back I’ve thought about it. But four days isn’t long enough for me to backtrack on something so important.’

Deep down she knew he was only giving voice to what she already knew. She wanted Ben. She wanted children. But she couldn’t have both.

Slowly she exhaled her breath in a huge sigh. ‘I can take that as a no then. But, Ben, you’re only thirty-one. Too young to be shutting down your life.’

His jaw set in a stubborn line. ‘It wouldn’t be fair for me to promise something I can’t deliver.’

‘I...I understand.’ But she didn’t. Not really.

She shifted. The hard boards of the dock were getting uncomfortable.

‘And I appreciate your honesty.’

His gaze was shrewd. ‘But it’s not good enough for you?’

She shook her head. ‘No. It’s not.’

Now she felt the floodgates were open. ‘It was compromise all the way with Jason. I wanted marriage and kids. He said he had to get used to the idea. I moved in with him when I didn’t want to live together without being married. Fine for other people. Too insecure for me. But I went along with him, put my own needs on hold.’ Her attempt at laughter came out sharp-edged and brittle. ‘Now I hear he’s not only married, but his wife is pregnant.’

‘That...that must have been a shock.’

‘I can’t go there again, Ben. Can’t stay here waiting for heaven knows how long for you to get the courage to put the past behind you and commit to a future with me.’

Ben looked down at where the water slapped against the posts. She followed his gaze to see a translucent jellyfish floating by to disappear under the dock, its ethereal form as insubstantial as her dreams of a life with Ben.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

She didn’t know whether he was apologising for Jason or because he couldn’t give her the reassurances she wanted.

‘I...I won’t make all the compromises again, Ben,’ she said brokenly. ‘No matter how much I love you.’

She slapped her hand to her mouth.

The ‘L’ word.

She hadn’t meant to say it. It had just slipped out.

Say it, Ben. Tell me you love me. Let me at least take that away with me.

But he didn’t.

Maybe he couldn’t.

And that told her everything.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said again, his voice as husky as she’d ever heard it. ‘I can’t be what you want me to be.’

If he told her she could do better than him she’d scream so loud they’d hear it all the way to New Zealand.

Instead he pulled her to him, held her tight against his powerful chest. It was the place she most wanted to be in the world. But she’d learned that compromise which was all one way wouldn’t make either of them happy.

‘I’m sorry too,’ she murmured, fighting tears. ‘But I’m not sorry I took that turn-off to Dolphin Bay. Not sorry we had our four-day fling.’

He pulled her to her feet. ‘It’s not over. We still have this evening. Tonight.’

She shook her head. ‘It’s perfect the way it is. I don’t want to ruin the memories. I...I couldn’t deal with counting down the hours to the last time we’ll see each other.’

With fingers that trembled she traced down his cheek to the line of his jaw, trying to memorise every detail of his face. She realised she didn’t have any photos to remember him by. Recalled there’d been a photographer at the dinner dance. She would check the website and download one. But not until she could look at his image and smile rather than weep.

‘Sandy—’ he started.

But she silenced him with a kiss—short, sweet, final.

‘If you say you’re sorry one more time I’ll burst into tears and make a spectacle of myself. I’m going back to my room now. I’ve got phone calls to make. E-mails to send. Packing to do.’

A nerve flickered near the corner of his mouth. ‘I’ll call by later to...to say goodbye.’

‘Sure,’ she said, fighting to keep her voice under control. ‘But I’m saying my goodbye now. No regrets. No what-ifs. Just gratitude for what we had together.’

She kissed him again. And wondered why he didn’t hear the sound of her heart breaking.

* * *

Ben couldn’t bear to watch Sandy walk away. He turned and made his way to the boathouse. Every step was an effort, as if he were fighting his way through a rip.

His house seemed empty and desolate—the home of a solitary widower. There was a glass next to the sink with Sandy’s lipstick on the rim, but no other trace of her. He stripped off his smoke-stained clothes, pulled on his board shorts and headed for Big Ray Beach.

He battled the surf as if it were a foe, not the friend it had always been to him. He let the waves pound him, pummel him, punish him for not being able to break away from his self-imposed exile. The waves reared up over him, as if harnessing his anger at the cruel twist of fate that had brought Sandy back into his life but hadn’t given him the strength to take the second chance she had offered him.

Finally, exhausted, he made his way back to the boathouse.

For one wild moment he let himself imagine what it would be like to come back to the house to find Sandy there. Her bright smile, her welcoming arms, her loving presence.

But the house was bare and sterile, his footsteps loud and lonely on the floorboards. That empty glass on the draining board seemed to mock him. He picked up the photo of him and Sandy on the beach that long-ago summer. All their dreams and hopes had stretched out ahead of them—untainted by betrayal and pain and loss.

He put down the photo with its faded image of first love. He’d lost her then. And he’d been so damned frightened of losing her at some undefined time in the future he’d lost her now.

He slammed his fist down so hard on the dresser that the framed photo flew off the top. He rescued it from shattering on the floor only just in time.

What a damn fool he was.

He’d allowed the fears of the past to choke all hope for the future.

Sandy had offered him a second chance. And he’d blown it.

Sandy. Warm, vibrant, generous Sandy. With her don’t-let-anything-get-you-down attitude.

That special magic she’d brought into his life had nothing to do with the glitter she trailed around with her. Sandy’s magic was hope, it was joy, but most of all it was love.

Love he’d thought he didn’t deserve. With bitterness and self-loathing he’d punished himself too harshly. And by not forgiving himself he’d punished Sandy, too.

The final rusted-over part of him shifted like the seismic movement of tectonic plates deep below the floor of the ocean. It hurt. But not as much as it would hurt to lose Sandy for good.

He had to claim that love—tell her how much she meant to him. Show her he’d found the courage and the purpose to move forward instead of tripping himself up by looking back.

He showered and changed and headed for the hotel.

Practising in his head what he’d say to her, he rode the elevator to Sandy’s room. Knocked on the door. Once. Twice. But no reply.

‘Sandy?’ he called.

He fished out the master key from his wallet and opened the door.

She was gone.

The suitcase with all her stuff spilling out of it was missing. Her bedlinen had been pulled down to the end of the bed. There was just a trace of her vanilla scent lingering in the air. And on the desk a trail of that darn glitter, glinting in the coppery light of the setting sun.

In the midst of the glitter was a page torn out from the fairy notebook she always carried in her bag. It was folded in two and had his name scrawled on the outside.

His gut tightened to an agonising knot. With unsteady hands he unfolded the note.

Ben—thank you for the best four days of my life. I’m so glad I took a chance with you. No regrets. No ‘what ifs’. Sandy xx.’

He fumbled for his mobile. To beg her to come back. But her number went straight to voicemail. Of course it did. She wouldn’t want to talk to him.

He stood rooted to the ground as the implications of it all hit him.

He’d lost her.

Then he gave himself a mental shaking.

He could find her again.

It would take at least ten hours for her to drive to Melbourne. More if she took the coastal road. It wasn’t worth pursuing her by car.

In the morning he’d drive to Sydney, then catch a plane to Melbourne.

He’d seek her out.

And hope like hell that she’d listen to what he had to say.

* * *

Sandy had abandoned her plan to mosey down the coastal road to Melbourne. Instead she cut across the Clyde Mountain and drove to Canberra, where she could connect to the more straightforward route of the Hume Highway.

She didn’t trust herself to drive safely in the dark after the emotional ups and downs of the day. A motel stop in Canberra, then a full day’s driving on Thursday would get her to Melbourne in time to check in to her favourite hotel and be ready to wow the candle people on Friday morning.

She would need to seriously psyche herself up to sound enthusiastic about a retail mall candle shop when she’d fallen in love with a quaint bookshop on a beautiful harbour.

Her hands gripped tight on the steering wheel.

Who was she kidding?

It was her misery at leaving Ben that she’d have to overcome if she was going to impress the franchise owners.

She’d cried all the way from Dolphin Bay. Likely she’d cry all the way from Canberra to Melbourne. Surely she would have run out of tears by the time she faced the interview panel?

She pulled into the motel.

Ben would have read her note by now. Maybe it had been cowardly to leave it. But she could not have endured facing him again, knowing she couldn’t have him.

No regrets. No regrets. No regrets.

Ben was her once-in-a-lifetime love. But love couldn’t thrive in a state of inertia.

She’d got over Ben before. She’d get over him again.

Soon her sojourn in Dolphin Bay would fade into the realm of happy memories. She had to keep on telling herself that.

And pray she’d begin to believe it.