Bella's Choice (19 page)

“I want you to know everything about me,” she said as she nestled against him, her eyes fixed on the moving sea; its calming influence soothing her in its own way.

“I am glad you trust me enough,” he replied, his embrace reassuring her as she surrendered to it.

“Really?” She looked up at him, hadn’t known what to expect, but the understanding he was giving warmed her heart immensely.

“Yes, sweetheart. I guess I better tell you what happened to me.” He grinned as he placed another kiss on her forehead.

Their eyes met, and she smiled tenderly up to the handsome face.

“What could possibly have happened to you?” she asked, unbelieving.

“Women find me irresistible,” he said with a soft chuckle.

“You are conceited, Mr. Hagin.”

He smiled at her innocence before the seriousness of the moment returned. This was a breakthrough for them. They could speak to each other unashamed and without fear of rejection.

“Seriously, there was this woman…”

And he told her about Ms. Etsibeth’s relentless advances while she listened with growing trepidation. Aldrich was much older than her; ready for commitment and kids, and here she was holding him back. Her youth, her career, and her life seemed to work against them. Wouldn’t it be fair to rather let Aldrich go? She blinked away the sudden pooling of tears. She could never give him up, could she?

“Hey, what are you thinking?” he asked, when he noticed her attention wasn’t with him anymore, shattering her thoughts.

She looked at the scenery as she pulled away. The mere thought of letting him go lay heavy on her heart.

Aldrich had to have sensed her mood as he lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him.

“Hey, sweetheart, you know I love you, right?”

“I do,” she confirmed, not wanting to meet his steady gaze.

“You are everything I want, and I’m willing to wait for you,” he said in answer to her thoughts.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. Never doubt me.” He kissed her again, first on the eyelids and then on the cheeks, eventually claiming her lips as she moaned with pleasure. He was a good kisser; no scrap that, an excellent kisser.

“I don’t want to hold you back,” she said, after catching her breath.

“No, Bella, never. Besides, I asked you to be my wife, which is serious stuff.” His eyes pierced her soul, burning away her heavy thoughts. “Do you believe me?”

She swallowed. She had no choice. It was stupid of her, she knew. “Yes,” she managed, barely audible.

“Now kiss your fiancé,” he demanded softly, and she laughed as his mouth captured hers once again, leaving her breathless. “How are the nightmares?” he finally asked, after a long silence.

“They’re better.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He looked at her, his eyes searching her face. Convinced she had told him the truth, he finally let her go, sitting back in the plush seat. He asked softly, “You will tell me if the nightmares continue, won’t you?”

“I will,” she admitted after she again glanced at the scenery, swallowed, and closed her eyes. The images flashed before her frequently, willing her to give in to the desire that they fed. She squeezed his hand, eager for the thoughts to go away, whilst the ever-present call to join them was strong; they promised her rapture in their midst.

After the failed attempt with Charles and Thomas, she’d found herself asking the ‘what if’ question. Her parents lived it, her brothers participated in it, and she had to admit, it had felt good on the dance floor with the two boys; the total abandonment as they enjoyed her, her body’s response to them, and the pleasure of knowing them in such an intimate place. But deep inside, she knew it wasn’t the way she wanted to live. That it was wrong for her as a person. Ever since the incident, she had deliberately avoided any contact with anyone, and her swimming had received all the attention it deserved. Having worked hard to accomplish that, her goal was in reach. That was what she wanted to do, besides being in Aldrich’s arms.

She remembered one of two quotes Mrs. Smit often referred to in the mails she sent her:

For the mouth speaks what the heart is full of.

Our thoughts determined our way of life.

The wisdom was so profound, but so simple to follow. This kept her quiet, afraid to say what was on her mind, running the ris
k that he would think she was like her parents; that her desires would drive them apart.

Aldrich was her focus―other than swimming―and he deserved the best. This time with him had just emphasized her heart’s desire yet again. She had missed him, there was
no doubt in her mind. He was her future. She was committed to him and her swimming equally in her life. That was what needed to spill over into her heart and thoughts, becoming a part of her life. Her life changing for the better. It was her choice.

When they finally got to his apartment and he stopped next to her parked Clio, he placed her luggage in the trunk of her car. They parted with a long kiss. She was tired. Reluctantly, she let him go, and drove away. Once again, he assured her of his love, thrilled that she had trusted him enough to tell him what had taken place.

A weight had been lifted off her shoulders. At first, she hadn’t wanted to tell him, but as soon as she saw him, she knew it was for the best. She didn’t want to jeopardize what they had, and keeping secrets only caused more pain in the end. That much she knew.

It was well after eleven when she pulled into and stopped on her parents’ driveway. Her brother Roy’s vehicle was nowhere to be seen; only two other cars had been parked in the driveway, next to the oversized fountain spewing its water in an arch to cascade into the pond below. The light breeze ruffled the shrubs as she walked in with her overnight bag in hand. She’d unpack tomorrow. Just before she’d gotten out, she had slipped the ring from her finger, kissed it tenderly and placed it in her jacket pocket. After the last discussion she’d had with her parents, she knew they would not be happy with her engagement, and she was not in the mood for any confrontations.

Nothing had changed, she noticed, in the three months she’d been abroad as she opened the huge, wooden door and walked into the foyer with its oversized chandelier.

“Ah, there you are, darling!” her mother’s smooth, syrupy voice echoed throughout the foyer.

Startled, Anabella stared at her as she took in the whole picture. Number one, the woman was fully dressed, which was a shock in itself. Number two, the woman was sober; and number three, the most shocking of all―she had no male ornament clinging to her.

Surprisingly, number four was that the house’s welcoming warmth was refreshing, something she had never experienced before. She had to admit that she was at a loss for words over this change. Was it only for tonig
ht, or could she dare hope for more?

Just then, her father and an older man joined them, their smiling faces beaming at her. They were fully dressed.
Okay, now this really creeps me out,
Anabella thought, flustered, but plastered a smile on her face and greeted them. The older man was familiar, but she couldn’t place him at that moment. Maybe it had to do with the black, well-cut suit he wore, making him seem all businesslike and serious. However, the interest in his eyes was unmistakable, raking over her body as if she was his possession, which made her uncomfortable.

“Mother. Father.” She nodded, looking briefly at the older man.

“You remember, André, darling?” her mother asked, cheerfully.

“I can’t say I do.” She nodded in his direction as well, and he returned her greeting with a brilliant smile.

Anabella wasn’t willing to meet his stare.

“We are so glad you are back, honey,” her dad said, giving her a hug.

Okay, now this really gives me the jitters. What’s happened to my father?
With difficulty, she hugged him back. It left her uneasy and unsure; being as this was the first time her father had given her a hug spontaneously.

“Thanks, Dad,” she replied, and stepped back.

Her father, fifteen years her mother’s senior, had more gray in his dark hair―her beneficiary in hair color and eyes, only her hair was crisper and her eyes a brighter, clearer green than her father’s, which showed her youthful innocence. Years of a hard life were evident on his face, but it never allowed the smile to falter on the handsome face. His tall, lean frame was still in peak condition, another attribute she could thank her father for. He was dressed in a white shirt and charcoal, dress pants, proof of a life spent in the gym and well-balanced diets. His life centered on his business, his wife and the pleasures they shared. The children and house were last on the list, which meant that after nineteen years, she barely knew him.

“You were on the news briefly tonight,” her mother said, with a hint of pride.

Anabella couldn’t help but look at her curiously. “Yes, reporters met us at the airport,” she informed them.

“Congratulations on the medals,” the older man said as he moved closer, invading her personal space.

She stepped back once again.

“Thank you, sir.” Her smile faltered. The whole scenario just didn’t seem right, and she felt extremely uncomfortable. The momentary welcome she had felt was gone, now replaced by a strange nagging feeling. Not all was as it seemed to be.

“Please excuse me, I need to go to my room,” she said, moving to the side, but Sandra stopped her escape to the stairs.

“No, darling, first let’s have a drink. This is a celebration, after all. We are delighted you’re back.” She pushed her to the living room where a couple was seated. Sandra introduced them as
Lizzy and Dan Porter.

Anabella shook their proffered hands. The man’s appreciative glare deepening her reservations.

They sat down on the couch, with André next to her, her mother and father directly in front of her, holding hands. André turned to her, his eyes fixed on her. On the smaller couch, which was to her left, the other couple could barely contain themselves. Lizzy sat on Dan’s lap, rather than on the couch, quite happy, apparently, to be together.

Her father asked about her experiences in
America, and through stifled yawns, she answered him as politely as possible. André sat listening to every word she said, which made her squirm. Not once had he interrupted her, just listened intently, his hands folded in his lap in a relaxed posture. Avoiding his eyes, she fixed hers on either her father, or the painting behind him.

His closeness unnerved her, and she didn’t know what to think of this profound interest, both from her parents and this man. The other two were too involved with each other to care what she said. After half an hour of relentless questions, and no drinks, Anabella called it a night. Determined, she walked away after excusing herself on yet another covered yawn.

Inside her room, she fell onto her bed, exhausted after the long flight, ready to do the sleep-thing when a paper crunched under her body. She lifted herself on to her elbow to retrieve the A5, brown envelope underneath her. She turned it around, but saw no name had been written on either side. She threw it to the floor, jumped from the bed to shower, which she followed with a good night’s sleep.