Nightsong (7 page)

Elleny glanced at the ground below, at the hills and valleys formed by small hands and booted feet. “At least he hasn’t taken off his shoes.”

“Yet.” Phillip’s qualification brought her smile to him,

“You’re a quick study. Only here a few days and already you’re experienced in the customs of the preschool set.”

“Not experienced, merely observant. I’m not good with children. We never see eye to eye, so to speak.” One corner of his mouth lifted in rueful admission. “It’s just as well I don’t intend to have any of my own.”

Elleny accepted his comment without surprise or judgment, but she didn’t think it should go unanswered.

“I didn’t intend to have A.J., either. At least not so early in my marriage. But luckily, my plans went awry, and he was born a month after my first wedding anniversary. Now, of course, I’m inclined to believe that I couldn’t have planned it better.”

“You didn’t have much time alone with Mark then, did you?”

“I don’t suppose there’s ever enough time to be together, alone or otherwise, when you love someone.” One polished fingernail tapped the wood in contemplation. “And I did love him.”

Phillip didn’t move, yet she felt the intangible tension that suddenly altered his easy pose.

“You must have been very young.” His voice was husky, his tone rough before he cleared his throat and continued. “When you married, I mean.”

“Twenty. But when I met Mark, I thought I wouldn’t live to be any older if I didn’t marry him.” The wry curve of her lips laid claim to a memory and softened it with perspective. “He was….” Her laughter interrupted with throaty amusement.  “There’s no describing Mark. Even now. Sometimes he was as wild as a March hare, but he always, always was gentle. Charming, but unpredictable, too. I remember once, when A.J. was just a baby, Mark decided he wanted to go for an afternoon drive. We drove to California, stayed a week, and drove back. All because Mark had a sudden inspiration to paint the Pacific.”

Phillip turned his head, and his brows pulled into a frown. “That sounds just a bit irresponsible.”

Elleny returned his look with a degree of defensiveness. “Maybe it was, but I never hear anything about California without smiling. We were young, Mark and I, but then so is everyone at one time or another. Even you, Phillip.”

“I never, at any age, would have considered
taking you and a baby on a cross-country trip without some extensive planning.”

“I know.” Her answer irritated him, she sensed, and for a moment she thought he was about to argue the point.

“Did Mark get his oceanscapes?” he asked instead.

“He wasn’t pleased with the paintings, and when we returned home, he put them away and began working on some new idea. He did that a lot. Mark was seldom, if ever, satisfied with his work. He had restless periods and spent days on end locked in the studio. Once he left and was gone for almost three weeks.”

Phillip straightened. “He
left
you?”

“No, of course not. He just needed a little time to himself. I didn’t mind then, but now I do feel a certain resentment that he was reluctant to share that time with me. Maybe it just was artistic temperament, but Mark kept a part of himself separate from everyone and everything around him.”

Elleny sighed her acceptance of a past she couldn’t alter and brushed a casual resignation through the dark hair at her nape. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to tell you more than you ever wanted to know about my marriage. Honestly, I usually don’t talk about Mark.”

“Don’t apologize, Elleny. If the truth were known, I’m sure I inspired
you to confide in me.” Phillip’s smile seemed as wistful as his repartee. Again he leaned forward and braced his elbows on the wood rail beside her.

And for a few moments the landing was again quiet with private thoughts.

“So all things considered,” he said in a tone that strove for a light touch. “You were married for how long?
”

“Two and a half years. I’ve been a widow longer than I was a wife.”

“Why did you decide to stay here after Mark died?”

She shrugged and let her gaze drift to the house. “I don’t know that it was a conscious decision. There was no other place that I thought of as home. Besides, Jesse needed me. Or maybe I should say he needed A.J. I always thought it was odd that Jess had so little to say to Mark and so much to say to a baby.” She paused, remembering. “Anyway, I don’t think Jesse would have made it through these past few years without A.J.”

“I thought Mark and Jesse were a real team. A great father-son combination.”

Elleny heard the sarcasm beneath the words and wondered if Phillip knew the source of the conflict that she had only suspected between father and son. Maybe at some time during their friendship Mark had confided in Phillip what he wouldn’t confide to her.

“Maybe they were a team, once.” She rubbed her palm over the fleecy sleeve of her sweater. “There was a deep affection between them, at least on Mark’s part, but with Jesse it’s hard to fathom how he feels about anything. I know he loved his son, but I’m not sure he knows how to show his emotion, how to give the approval he must have felt. Anyway, by the time I met Mark, Jesse had stopped painting, and he was well on his way to becoming the recluse he is now. I’ve never understood why he doesn’t get therapy for his arthritis, but he doesn’t listen to me anymore than he did to Mark.”

Phillip turned a questioning gaze to her. “Did Mark encourage his father to  paint again?”

“Yes. Mark probably understood better than anyone else how Jesse felt about his art.”

Phillip’s nod was pensive and slow. “I’m sure he understood perfectly.”

She saw the skepticism in his expression, heard it – not for the first time – in his voice. “Do you know something I don’t, Phillip? Something about Jesse? Or Mark?” Meeting the dark eyes regarding her, realizing she didn’t know exactly what she was asking him to tell her, recognizing that Phillip probably had no earthly idea what she was talking about, Elleny suddenly felt overimaginative and a little foolish. “I don’t know why I said that. Just for a minute I thought….” She shook her head in dismissal. “Forget I said that. Let’s talk about something else.”

Phillip caught his hand before it could grip her shoulder in an enlightening shake, and he caught the impulse to tell her everything. It was a crazy thought, an irresponsible idea at best. He definitely was losing his perspective on this case. Elleny had just saved him the necessity of lying to her again, and his first impulse had been to tell the truth anyway.

“Do you want to talk about my divorce?” Now why in hell had he asked such a stupid question? Mentioned the most distasteful conversational topic he could imagine? But at the quick toss of dusky hair, at the flicker of surprise in tawny eyes, he knew. He had wanted to shock her, to shake the impression she had of him, to make her see that marriage wasn’t always picture-perfect.

“I don’t know,” she answered tentatively. “Do you?”

Her concern was sincere, her hesitation was for any discomfort
he
might be feeling, not her own. A curious curl of warmth invaded the pit of his stomach and diffused into an unfamiliar longing. His gaze fell helplessly to her lips and lingered....

He pulled himself together, reclaimed control of his focus, and cleared his throat. “I was married once. And divorced eighteen months later.”

“Were you sorry?”

“For getting married? Yes. For the divorce? It’s hard to feel any regret about that.”

Elleny’s mouth formed a dubious line that in turn formed an enchanting expression. “What made you so cynical, Phillip?”

“I’m just realistic, Elleny. What made you so trusting?”

“I was one of those fortunate youngsters who had a puppy. Pets have a great influence on personality development, you know.” Her soft brown eyes met his darker ones, and her brows lifted in innocent teasing. “At least, that’s what I’ve heard.”

Her smile curved in a leisurely dare, and his smile came from God knew where to answer the challenge. But there it was, tugging at the edges of his mouth, soothing the tension only to have it build again. “Your son comes by his creativity naturally, doesn’t he? But I notice he doesn’t have a puppy.”

She made an elfin grimace. “I’m trying to talk myself into that, but for now ...” In a smooth pivot she turned and leaned her back against the rail before settling a warning glance on him. “And if you so much as mention the word, puppy, to A.J., I’ll evict you in a second.” She punctuated the words with a snappy click of her fingers and then ruined the effect with a lilting laugh. “But you wouldn’t stir up that kind of trouble for me, would you, Phillip?”

It took a few seconds and the firm reminder that it wasn’t a true lie before he managed to voice a denial. And even then, his throat tightened in protest. Elleny seemed oblivious to his discomfort though as she tipped her chin to the cool twilight that dusted her hair with darkness and shaded her profile in a cameo silhouette.

“What happened to your marriage, Phillip?” Her voice was as soft as the shadows and somehow provocatively sensual. He wanted to touch her, to press his lips to the hollow of her throat, but he curved his hands – tightly – around the wooden rail.

“It was a mistake from the beginning. We both knew it, I think, but still....” He couldn’t believe he was telling Elleny something he seldom even remembered, much less talked about. And yet he knew it was the lesser of evils. If he wanted to maintain the status quo, he needed to keep talking. “When Dad died, my mother insisted she could continue to run the grocery store on her own. She couldn’t, of course, but there was no way to convince her. I caved in to pressure and decided to be the responsible son she seemed to want. I was twenty-five and I’d been roaming around Europe since graduation. She put up a strong argument for settling down, taking my place in the family business, et cetera, et cetera.

“So I became the owner and manager of the grocery, and I was determined to become a respectable member of the community as well. Within a year I was married and had a house in the suburbs. An eminently suitable wife and a beautifully furnished house. I had everything I needed to complete the portrait of a successful, settled man.”

His brows lifted in a reminiscent, rueful frown. “I’m not sure when I realized that I was trying to be someone I could never be and making everyone miserable into the bargain, but by the time another year had passed, I was on my own again.”

“And is that the way you like to be, Phillip? On your own?”

Against his better judgment, he turned to look at her. “My life works best that way, yes.”

She didn’t believe him. She didn’t say so, but he knew it just the same. Her doubts were evident in the steady way she returned his look, even in the way she held her hands. And it seemed suddenly important to convince her.

“I don’t like to feel obligated to anyone.” He straightened as if it would lend stature to his philosophy, “It’s one thing to depend completely on my own ability to solve problems and something else again to have someone else depending on me to solve theirs.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “I guess I’ve never associated words like obligation, dependence, or even independence with a relationship.”

“What words do you associate with relationships?”

She considered his question, and he felt the tension in his chest increase, felt himself being drawn toward her.

“Love. Trust. A give and take type of sharing. Compromise. Commitment.” Elleny paused and allowed a smile to touch her lips. “But then, I don’t think of
myself as a loner.”

“And I do.” He meant it to be a solid statement, but in the stillness it sounded uncertain.

Her smile returned, more definite now, understanding and yet arguing gently with his assertion. Unbidden, his hands covered hers, warming the chill from her fingers and sending a ripple of protective pleasure through him. Even in the gathering dusk he saw the flicker of surprise in her eyes and watched it change to a soft wonder. Her lips were tinted with moisture and parted – just barely – in unconscious invitation.

He never should have asked her to join him on the landing. Never should have allowed the conversation to turn intimate.

Never should have touched her.

But he had.

And he was going to kiss her. In a moment. When the anticipation became too intense to withstand. When the steady throbbing of his heart quickened to a painful ache of longing.

Phillip tried to reason away the desire, tried to warn his misguided intentions. But it was too late. It had been too late from the first moment her eyes had smiled into his. Slowly he lifted his hands to her face. Her cheeks felt cold and porcelain smooth to the touch, yet he trembled at the warmth that flooded his body.

Elleny.

Her name was a melody carried on the breeze, and he could wait no longer.

He bent his head. Her lashes drifted down in expectation, and then his lips were on hers, his pulse pounding like the surf on a moonswept night. She was soft and tasted of mint. Or was it the fresh herbal scent of her that tangled his sense of taste and smell? He didn’t know. He didn’t care. He simply enjoyed.

It was the gentlest of kisses, only because Phillip was afraid to test his control. She was vulnerable to the moment. And he was beginning to believe he might be vulnerable to her. And this was not the time to find out. As her arms slipped around him, pulling him closer, he didn’t seem to have any choice but to let the kiss deepen. And to let reason get lost in the enchantment.

He had thought of her as fragile, but her response was anything but. There was a promise of passion in the pressure of her mouth against his, a trace of desire in the caress of her hands at his shoulders. Yet there was also an innocence of spirit that was as much a part of their embrace as it was a part of everything about her.

Their lips met, parted, came together again and clung. As if there would be no final chord in their song.

It had to end, of course. He knew that the time limit for a casual kiss had long since come and gone. He knew if he continued to taste the sweetness of her lips that he would have to touch her in other more intimate ways as well. And then....