Like One of the Family (61 page)

He was flabbergasted. She saw his expression range from shocked amazement to anger, and then sorrowing despair.

`'Why didn't she say so?' Terry burst out at last. ‘Of course she has to stay with him now. Oh God, why didn't she tell me?' For a moment she thought he was going to cry. Then he whirled about and ran to the door.

‘Terry!' Jane called urgently after him. ‘Listen... come back. It's not what you think.' But she heard the door slam and realised he was gone.

Oh, God! thought Jane wretchedly, what have I done?

When she heard the peremptory knock at the door she sighed with thankfulness that he had come back and hurried to open it. She found not Terry but Antonio standing outside.

‘May I come in, Jane?' Antonio waited politely until she beckoned him over the threshold.

Distractedly, Jane led the way to the balcony. She was reminded of the night he had called to the apartment to say goodbye to her after her sojourn in hospital, and how their passions had almost run away with them. Her cheeks warmed at the memory. So much had changed since then, she thought. His wife was no longer alive, the shadow hanging over them that night had been removed. And now the way was free before them.

But was it?

As Jane motioned Antonio to a chair and breathlessly sat down beside him, she could not but be aware that another shadow loomed in its place. She could not ignore that what had happened to Sheena made it unlikely that her daughter would ever want to return to the country that only months before they had all so joyfully embraced. It had undeniably put the knell on the idea she had once entertained of some day moving to Spain to work in a Spanish hospital, perhaps even enrolling Ruthie in one of the day schools in the city. How could she possibly contemplate such a thing now?

So burdened was she by her thoughts and the desolate image of Terry as he rushed away that Jane almost forgot the man sitting so quietly beside her. Would she have to sell the apartment, she wondered, recalling the unhappy blend of circumstances that had compelled her to sell the seaside cottage. But surely they could not spend their lives running away from things?

She sighed and turned her head to watch the sun sinking over the sea. With what high hopes she had bought the apartment that day, she thought miserably. It could have been such a good venture if only things had turned out differently

‘Something is troubling you,' Antonio said gently. ‘I can tell by the sadness of your expression.' All at once Jane became acutely conscious of his dark eyes intently regarding her and, as he reached out and took her hand, she felt almost shy in his presence.

‘Can you share your trouble with me?' he asked.

Antonio had heard Terry ‘s frantic footsteps clattering down the stairs and stepped aside, but Terry had not been aware of the Spaniard's greeting as he ran past, his eyes wild and unseeing. What his mother had told him had been the very last thing he'd expected to hear. And the very worst!

Terry strode across the parking lot, undecided where he would go. He had made a date with one of the English girls but he didn't want to keep it. She was pretty and trite and he felt a terrible boredom at the thought of spending another evening with her.

He glanced up at the sky in frustration. He longed with all his heart to be up there now, soaring through the clouds. In the darkness of his soul Claire was the only bright light and she was no longer shining for him.

He was about to step down on to the street and then, almost by their own volition, his footsteps turned again and he began climbing the hill to a spot high above the apartment block. As he climbed he was reminded of a night in April when, his head whirling with Jane's disturbing story about his father and Claire, he had taken the same leafy overgrown path. He knew he would be quite alone there and, in his pain and rejection, solitude was what he craved.

Terry shivered with shock and a desperate kind of sadness. Claire had belonged to him since before time began, or so it seemed. In his youthful arrogance he had considered she could not have been more completely his if she had been given to him in bondage. Now she was being taken from him and he knew he had only himself to blame.

Terry cursed his failure to see that what occurred between his father and Claire had not been sick and perverted, not on Claire's part. She had been merely the victim of his father's unbridled lust, and her own loneliness and childish innocence the snare which had led to her downfall. He remembered her anguished cry, ‘I was lonely'
.
Why hadn't he been more understanding? He'd known loneliness himself, all those teen years missing his father. He should have understood yet he'd deliberately blinded himself to her needs. Why? he agonised.

Terry had always held on to what he had owned. Even as a child no-one had ever taken anything from him without a battle. Now he thought about flying back to his squadron next day and leaving Claire behind with Fernando Gonzalez. Claire, his Claire - he saw her grey eyes and gleaming fair hair, and felt as deprived as a soul cast into exterior darkness at the moment it hovers on the very threshold of heaven. Despair washed over him in an icy black wave.

Listlessly he turned and looked back down at the sea. Far below it was a leaden shimmer, capped with silver. A cry of anguish rose from the depths of his being and broke in his throat. Didn't she know they were destined for each other? He was visited by an image of her lying in his arms and softly speaking of a love which nothing, not even earthquakes or floods, could destroy. Dammit! Terry swore. He couldn't, wouldn't give her up. He didn't care if she was expecting triplets by that bloody Spaniard. He had known and loved her long before Gonzalez ever set eyes on her.

Terry knuckled his eyes and turned back to the path. He would fight for her, he resolved. He would seek out the man and they would engage in primitive battle for possession. And he would win! Terry clenched his fists and imagined the sweet satisfaction of slamming them hard in that aristocratic face.

As Terry reached the crest of the hill, sweat glossed his forehead and he was breathing hard, unfit despite the punishing swim that day. His dark waving hair flopped on his forehead and he forked an impatient hand through it, irritated by the unaccustomed length. Almost a month away from the Air Corps and it was curling on his neck.

It was minutes before he realised that he was not alone on the grassy knoll.

A woman was sitting on a rock, her legs gracefully curled under her, her chin propped pensively on her hand, her face side-lit by the dying sun. He saw that it was Claire.

At the sight of her, Terry's heart swelled in his chest and his breathing grew shallow. She was so beautiful, he thought, the light from the sky lending radiance to her skin and bathing her in a rosy glow. He moved forward and the sandy gravel softly crunched under his shoes. She turned her head and froze at the sight of him.

‘Terry,' she whispered, her face lighting with strong emotion. With a slight awkwardness of movement she got to her feet and came slowly towards him.

When Terry thought what might have been his heart yearned hopelessly within him. But time could not be reversed.

‘Claire.' His voice sounded hoarse in his own ears, and she came closer and stood before him, unconsciously adopting the classic stance of the expectant woman, hip slightly thrust forward, weight resting on one foot. Her grey eyes were soft and luminous in her heart-shaped face.

His gaze swept down her body and she saw that he knew. A pulse beat in his cheek and his eyes were very bright. Claire returned his gaze steadily and a little apprehensively.

Terry tried to speak but the words died in his throat in the face of her new blossoming maturity. He no longer felt the fires of jealousy raging in his blood. Let her marry Fernando if that's what is required, he thought wearily. Somehow in the space of a few minutes Claire's needs and happiness had become of paramount importance to him and his own desires as nothing.

After a long moment he spoke as though with great difficulty. ‘My mother told me. I don't know why you felt you couldn't tell me yourself. He'll stick by you, I suppose?' There was a white line about his mouth and his eyes had again that wounded look in their golden depths. She drew back and stared at him, her own eyes very bright.

‘Is that what you think?' she asked. ‘That it's Fernando's baby?'

‘Who else's?' Terry looked at her aghast. ‘Surely there weren't others?'

‘None at all,' Claire said, almost cheerfully. ‘Not even Fernando.'

The sky seemed to drop on him. He stared at her for a long moment. ‘Are you saying it's mine?' he asked quietly.

When she nodded he grabbed her to him so hard she gasped. ‘Oh my love,' Terry cried and his voice cracked with emotion. ‘If you only knew what I've suffered thinking it was his and that you...' He could hardly take in this wonderful change of circumstances. She was still his and had never been anyone else's. Words of love and gratitude tripped on his tongue and he could not hold her closely enough.

Claire stood close-pressed in his arms, feeling his heart beating rapidly against her. Nothing has changed, she tried to tell herself, but as her bewilderment turned to joy, her determination wavered.

‘It's the best news... the greatest, Claire.'

The blackness receded and light and hope flooded her soul.

‘Claire... you'll never know how much I've missed and wanted you.' Terry's voice was fierce with longing. ‘But this - this makes up for everything.'

She was almost afraid to trust her ears. He didn't feel trapped. He was glad! And Oh God! He loved and wanted her. She covered his mouth with hers, overwhelmed by the weight of her love for him.

The last glow was flaming the sky and still Jane and Antonio sat on the balcony, gazing at the distant coastline. For some time no words had been spoken. Both were still savouring the moment when Jane had finished tremulously confiding all that was troubling her and Antonio had been moved to take her in his arms and begin the tender task of reassuring and comforting her.

And what a good job he made of it, Jane thought contentedly. Perhaps he was right and everything would come right again. ‘Do not try and force a solution,' he had told her softly. ‘Time is all that is needed for Sheena to forget the horrors she has endured and for the young lovers to find a way out of their dilemma.'

And then Antonio delicately broached the subject closest to them both.

‘Out of respect to the memory of my beloved wife,' he told her, ‘I must wait out the period of mourning but then I hope with all my heart I may speak to you with the intimacy of a lover.'

Jane couldn't help smiling to herself when she recalled the many warm conversations they had shared. Certainly none of them had lacked emotion. She composed herself, however, and continued to listen to what he had to say with fond attention, as always, impressed by his sensitivity. When he fell silent at last she warmly gave him the assurance he sought.

‘How I look forward to that time,' she told him, ‘It will make me as happy, if not happier, as you have already professed yourself to be.' In answer Antonio had placed a kiss in the palm of her hand and gently closed her fingers over it.

‘Until that time comes,' he told her seriously. With this, Jane knew, she would be content.

Now, having shared her worries, Jane felt more hopeful and was able, at last, to enjoy the rosy heavens.

‘Red sky at night,' she said softly, hardly aware that she said it. ‘shepherd's delight.'

Antonio stretched out his hand and took hold of hers again.

‘Jane, my delight,' he said softly. ‘Look at me.'

She did so.

‘At the time of your car accident,' Antonio said in heartfelt accents, ‘I thought providence had brought you back into my life only to take you from me a second time.'

‘And now?'

‘I believe we have been given a second chance at happiness.'

Jane looked into Antonio's eyes. When he gazed at her with the same tender look she had surprised in his eyes the day he came to meet her at the airport, she felt as though she had come into a safe haven at last and would never again know the rough and perilous seas she had sailed on for so long and alone.

All light was quite gone from the sky and the stars overhead were so many glittering diamanté chips. Terry and Claire lay close together on the stalky grass, their heads pillowed on Terry's shirt and he held her to his heart. His lips brushed the curve of her throat and he murmured over and over, ‘Clairey, my Clairey,' and she trembled against him.

In the months since they had made love her body felt the same, and yet there were subtle differences. Her breasts were heavier and fuller and more satiny than before, her hips and belly softly rounded. He registered these changes as he loved her and heard the sighing moans that escaped her parted lips with a satisfaction that was all the more deeply felt for having waited so long and come so close to losing her.

‘You are even more beautiful than before,' he whispered, tracing the swollen curve of her belly with gentle, possessive fingers. And Claire kissed the healing scar on his neck with equal gentleness and marvelled at how tender and accepting he had become.

And when they had desperately meshed together, straining as close as they were physically capable, seeking total fusion of their bodies, he wanted her all over again and felt he could never get enough of her. The feeling they experienced transcended anything that had gone before, because they had each learned, in the lonely separateness of spirit, the true meaning of love.

They talked lying close to each other, she looking steadfastly into his face and he gazing down into her grey eyes. ‘You were so harsh and angry about Spain and the Spaniards that I thought you meant it,' Claire said softly.

‘Yes, I was angry,' he told her, his voice trembling in his throat, ‘but only because I loved and wanted you and was desperately afraid you would marry him.'