On Love's Own Terms (3 page)

Forcing herself to break the magnetic connection, Bonnie stood and turned toward the kitchen. Round one belonged to Luke.

“Darlene, would you clear away the bowls while I bring in the meat and vegetables?” It was a perfectly normal request, yet her voice sounded strange—quite unlike her own. Bonnie walked the interminable distance from the table to the swinging doors, acutely aware of Luke’s potent gaze following her every move.

The kitchen was familiar turf. While she mentally regrouped, her hands functioned automatically. She arranged stuffed lamb chops on the meat platter, poured a velvety hollandaise sauce over the steamed asparagus and unmolded the wild rice ring.

“Why didn’t you fix the steaks I brought from Atlanta?” Luke greeted her with the loaded question when she wheeled the carved walnut serving cart into the dining room.

“I’d already planned the menu for this evening,” she explained patiently. She flashed him a tight smile, betraying none of the fury she felt. “We’ll have the steaks tomorrow night,” she reasoned. “Okay?”

Bonnie managed to fill four plates and pass three with a deceptive domestic tranquility that left her bursting with pride.

Round two looked rather promising, she thought. But her complacency proved completely premature.

Ignoring his food, Luke repeated his visual attack. His dark eyes narrowed suggestively whenever her fork disappeared into her mouth; his grin widened devilishly whenever she lowered her eyes from the aggressive challenge in his. The juicy lamb chops, the tender asparagus, the fluffy rice—they might well have been sawdust for all she tasted them.

Still oblivious to their older siblings’ silent combat, Darlene and Dave ate heartily and talked nonstop about their wedding and the house they were building in Atlanta. Bonnie nodded and smiled every time it seemed appropriate that she do so, but the conversation could have been conducted in gibberish as far as she was concerned.

It was a battle-weary Bonnie who finally abandoned the pretense of eating. Mumbling a lame excuse about having sampled too much as she cooked, she laid her fork aside. Although her hand itched to slap away the triumphant smile on Luke’s face, she squelched the urge and stood.

“I’ll go plug in the coffee maker,” she announced brightly to no one in particular. “When you’re finished eating, leave the dishes for later. I’ll meet you in the living room with the coffee tray.”

The kitchen was a warm and friendly haven. Through the years, hundreds of relatives and neighbors had gathered around the old formica table, gossiping, laughing and swapping recipes and tall tales. Why then, out of those untold numbers, was the memory of Luke the only one that came to her mind while she worked?

Bonnie took cups from the cabinet, spooned sugar into a bowl and filled the cream pitcher—routine actions that required no real concentration on her part. How many midnights had Luke and she raided this old refrigerator? She ran her hand along its smooth porcelain surface, recalling in unappetizing detail some of the weird ingredients they’d slapped between two slices of bread and called a sandwich. How many evenings had Luke and she sat up over her algebra papers, redoing each problem until she understood what to do with the x’s and y’s well enough to earn a passing grade?

Those moments and others swirled around her now, dancing like dust motes in a stream of sunshine. After their marriage, she and Luke had stood in the middle of this kitchen, hands tightly clasped, while announcing their elopement and her pregnancy to her parents. Later, she’d sat alone here, sobbing out the hurt, sorting out the uncertain future.

Methodically, Bonnie finished preparing the coffee tray and carried it into the living room. Dave sat in the overstuffed recliner, paging through a sports magazine. Darlene knelt in front of the entry-hall chest, rummaging for something in the bottom drawer. Luke stood staring out the bay window, his broad shoulders backlighted by the scarlet rays of a stunning sunset.

“Who wants coffee?” Bonnie set the silver tray on the low table in front of the sofa, then perched on a cushion to pour. Dave accepted a cup; Darlene said she’d fix her own in a few minutes.

Bonnie glanced up at Luke’s unyielding silhouette. If only he’d cooperate! “Let’s see,” she began in an optimistic voice, “you drink yours black if I remember correctly.”

He spun around, his stubborn expression exterminating her hopes for a halfway pleasant evening.

“I found them!” Darlene proclaimed with a laugh. Holding a small cardboard box, she fairly waltzed across the room and plopped down beside Bonnie. “It’s your half of the family photographs. Mama divided them before she died and put yours away for safekeeping.” She lifted the lid off the box. “Let’s have a look at them.”

Bonnie and Darlene browsed through the photographs, taking a sentimental visual journey through childhood and adolescence. Dave continued reading. Luke kept his distance.

“Lord love a duck!” Darlene hooted, closely inspecting one of the pictures. “Where did you get this steel-wool hairdo?”

“Don’t you remember the hell I raised when mama gave me that home permanent and left the waving lotion on too long?” Although Bonnie could laugh about it now, it hadn’t been a bit funny at the time. “I cried three days straight and refused to leave my room. Finally, to shut me up, daddy drove me to his barber and told him to keep cuffing until the frizz was gone. The guy practically scalped me!”

“I loaned you my baseball cap,” Luke recalled out of the blue, “and you wore it everywhere for a solid week.”

Bonnie looked up at him, and their gazes locked. For a wonderful moment time reeled in reverse, erasing old sorrows and wrapping them in the sweet cocoon of youth. Darlene stood. Luke walked over and claimed her place on the sofa.

“When I took the cap off Danny Tyler called me a skinhead, and you punched him in the nose.”

Luke chuckled. “The next day you brought me a batch of chocolate chip cookies you’d baked—all of them burned black as pitch on the bottom.”

“You ate them.”

“Every last crumb.”

Unnoticed, Darlene and Dave left the living room.

“Will you just look at these?” Bonnie asked rhetorically. She scooped the entire pile from the box and set them on her lap. “Why, I’ll bet you’re in every other picture.”

“Let’s see.” Luke slipped his arm around her shoulders and leaned closer.

Dusk fell as softly as a down comforter. Together, they examined the photographs and traded the souvenirs they had saved in their minds and hearts. Bonnie groaned occasionally in embarrassment. What a skinny creature she’d been—her legs looked just like matchsticks in this one! Luke’s frequent laughter reverberated vibrantly in her ears. Whatever had happened to all those baseball trophies he’d won in school? Probably serving as door-stops all over town, thanks to his mother’s famous rummage sales.

When they came to the pictures taken during their marriage, they both lapsed into silence. Here she’d mugged for the camera while he’d pointed at her bare feet with one hand and the small but definite bulge of her belly with the other. There, after her miscarriage and the quarry closing, Bonnie’s eyes were deep pools of pain and Luke’s grim expression seemed chiseled from stone. There’d been no reason for either of them to smile.

On the brink of tears, Bonnie gathered her composure while returning the photographs to the box and replacing the lid. “I’ll take these upstairs and put them in a suitcase before I do the dishes.”

Luke’s arm remained around her shoulders.

Keenly conscious of the intimate press of their bodies, she groped for emotional distance. “I saw a beautiful leather album last week in New York. When I get back to the city I think I’ll buy it. Sort of an early birthday present. To myself…”

Luke’s hand slid to the nape of her neck where his thumb made lazy circles that felt like billion-volt brands. Bonnie trained her gaze straight ahead. If she looked at him, even for an instant, she was lost.

“Do you realize this is the first time we’ve ever slept under the same roof without sharing the same bed?” he murmured.

Stung by his question, she stood. “Only if you don’t count the nights one of us slept on the sofa after an argument.”

She started toward the stairway. The box she carried felt as heavy as lead; it was so full of memories. She’d sort them out later, behind closed doors.

“Wait!” Luke stood and came after her.

Of their own volition, her feet stopped walking. She stared down at them in amazement.
Traitors!

“Look at me, Bonnie.”

“No. You’ll just make those come-to-bed eyes.”

He took her arm and turned her around. His smile was incredibly tender. “Surely you can’t fault me for noticing what a beautiful woman you’ve become?”

Her skin burned beneath his strong grip, and she jerked free of his hold. “Don’t smooth-talk me, Luke.”

“I’m not,” he protested. “But seeing those pictures—”

“Made you wonder if Miss Roundheels might topple again?” she interrupted bitterly.

He shook his head, mutely denying her accusation.

Bonnie grasped the box with both hands and hugged it to her aching heart. “Seeing these pictures had an effect on me, too. They made me realize how much I disappointed my parents, and what a lousy example I set for my younger sister.” It took a supreme act of will, but she faced him squarely. “They made me ashamed all over again of what we did to our families, to each other and to ourselves.”

“Damn it, Bonnie, haven’t you forgiven yourself yet?” Although Luke sounded grave, he didn’t seem angry. And when he clasped her shoulders, his hands were much gentler than she felt she deserved. “I’ll bet under that silk blouse, you’re wearing a hair shirt with
failure
printed across the front.”

She lowered her head, humbled at being so astutely exposed, and let him draw her into his arms. Only for a minute, she promised herself, leaning against his muscled chest.
Only until the pain eases
, she vowed, pressing her cheek to the warm hollow of his wide shoulder.

He comforted her like he would a child with a skinned knee rather than as a woman emotionally paralyzed by her past. His body absorbed her shudders; his shirt blotted her tears. The box she held bonded them together through her storm of grief. When she was all cried out, he released her.

Bonnie experienced a flash of regret as she stepped free of his embrace, a reaction she quickly quelled. She’d already revealed too much of her turmoil. Keeping her head lowered to avoid meeting those darkly perceptive eyes she murmured, “I owe you an apology.”

“For what?” He sounded perplexed.

“For all those terrible things I said to you today.”

“I deserved them,” he admitted in a rueful voice.

“Partially, yes. But I spread on the spite with a trowel, and that really was unfair.” Swamped with guilt, she ran her fingernail beneath the rim of the box lid.

“Sometimes we have to take a hard look backwards before we can go forward.” Luke cupped her chin, forcing her to face him. “Confronting the past is part of the healing process.”

“But it hurts.”

“I know.”

“I’m afraid,” she protested.

“I’m here,” he promised.

Dare she trust him again? Bonnie closed her eyes and felt his warm breath fanning her skin.

Luke traced the curve of her lower lip with his thumb. “I won’t rush you, even wanting you as much as I do.”

She looked at him and knew he told the truth. It was her first glimpse of hope in seven years—and it scared her.

“It’ll get worse before it gets better,” he warned.

“Can you take it?” she challenged softly.

He smiled, slow and sweet “Darling, the worst you’ve ever dished out is still the best I’ve ever had. I’ll take it in double portions any day of the week.”

She blinked, dangerously close to tears again. After all these years, she’d become reconciled to living with her regrets and hiding her true feelings. It was a stifling existence, but safe. If she failed—

“It’s your decision.” Luke bent and brushed her lips with his, then let her go. “Take the risk and rediscover the woman. Or settle for the safety of self-pity.”

Floundering in a sudden rush of fear, Bonnie backed up one step. He expected too much of her! She started to tell him exactly that when the box she held began caving in at the middle. She was clutching it too tightly.

“Let me help you.” He reached out to her.

She stumbled up another step, retreating.

“Damn.” He swore softly, but his tone was more threatening than thunder. “I’ve accepted the past and learned to live with it. You can, too, if you’ll only try.”

She stopped, spellbound by his haunted, dark eyes.

“Why, Luke?” she whispered. “Why?”

“Because I still care.” His mouth slanted in a self-mocking smile. “Because even when I wake up with another woman in my bed, I wake up alone.” His gaze narrowed with a determination she recognized all too well. “Because you took half of my soul when you left, and I want it back.”

His honesty nearly proved her undoing. They’d always been able to communicate physically. Time hadn’t changed that; but it had changed them. Could they really reach one another on a more mature level? Or was this another pipe dream, doomed to end in the same old nightmare?

“Think about it, Bonnie,” he urged.

“I’ll try, Luke.” It was the most she could promise at this point. Turning, she started upstairs. “If Darlene needs me for anything, I’ll be in my bedroom.”

“Aren’t you coming downstairs again tonight?” he asked.

“No; I’m exhausted.” She took the steps at a weary pace.

“I’ll tell Darlene to do the dishes, then,” he volunteered.

Should she say it? Bonnie paused, her foot poised on a riser. The temptation overwhelmed her, and she pivoted, smiling innocently. “Did you mean what you said earlier about wanting to help me?”

“Name it and you’ve got it,” he answered earnestly.

“You
do the dishes,” she retorted. Bonnie spun and scampered up the stairs.

Luke’s laughter followed her all the way.

* * * *

Oddly enough, silence woke her. The quiet here was almost palpable, a welcome respite from the round-the-clock street racket she’d become accustomed to as a resident of New York City.