A Solitary Heart (23 page)

hard lump to her throat as she stared out of the window on the bus

ride back to South Bend. Jane talked, but in a soothing, placid voice

about inessential matters that did not require a response, and after a

time she could muster up enough energy to reply with some

semblance of normality.

But underneath the murmur of undemanding conversation she

realised that at least one question had been raised and answered by

the weekend. She knew without a doubt that she had indeed fallen in

love with Matt, and had even, in the midst of her pain and anger,

found the courage to confess as much to his face. Otherwise his

judgemental accusations could not have hurt her so badly, and she

would never have agreed to even talking to him over the phone

afterwards; she would have just broken off all contact and counted

herself well rid of the whole affair.

As it was, she couldn't. Even at the height of her most uncontrollably

damaging fury, he had managed to reach past the red cloud of pain

and anger and touch her again in her soft, sensitive core. That he

could do as much so quickly after his own heedless outburst of

temper spoke, if nothing else, of his immediate remorse, and his own

deep-seated uncertainty, and the desperate speed of man working

very hard to recover fast from an unexpected, terrible blow.

Did that mean he loved her as well? She honestly couldn't tell. It

might mean merely that he had outraged his own sense of fair

judgement, and was appalled enough to try to make amends. He

might decide that he couldn't bring himself to trust her as much as he

thought he could, especially after learning of that stupid pretend

engagement she had cooked up with Joshua, and his phone call in a

few days would indeed be to say goodbye.

All she could do was wait, helplessly, trapped by her own emotions,

a victim of her own fears and the aftermath of stress. She couldn't eat

or sleep that Sunday evening, for fretting over what had happened,

what she had said, what she should have said, and what might

possibly come. She grieved for the breakdown of the beginning,

yearned with an awesome loneliness for the comfort of his strong

arms, and worried over what she would do or say to him when he

phoned her.

But even in her most wild imagining, she couldn't have foreseen what

would happen, or that the phone conversation that had assumed so

much importance in her mind would never take place.

Jane left Monday morning to go to work. Sian showered and washed

her hair, and sat at the kitchen table listlessly combing through the

tangles when the front doorbell rang and she went to answer it.

Joshua stood on the doorstep, looking as drawn as she felt, and very

much ashamed. Her mouth tightened as she stared at him, and her

fingers clenched on the doorknob before she stepped back and

gestured in abrupt silence for him to enter.

He went to the living-room, then turned around to face her. 'Sian,

I'm" sorry,' he said without preamble. 'I'm just so sorry.'

After all that had happened, and now this. It never rained, but it

poured. She shook her head at the pleading in his face, sighed heavily

and tightened the belt of her wrap. 'Why did you do it, Joshua?

Couldn't you see that you would hurt us both? And Matt, especially

Matt—he never explodes like he did, unless he's thoroughly shaken

and upset. I can see that, now that I've had a chance to calm down.'

'You're right,' he said miserably. 'There's no excuse for what I did. I

can't really even explain it very well. I was just so
jealous.
I saw you

with him, and then everything went red. Matt always gets the best of

everything, in career, lifestyle, friends, and it looked as if he would

get you as well. I loved you.'

'You didn't love me,' she said quietly, turning back to face him. 'You

were just infatuated and we both knew it.'

'No,' he said, just as quietly, with an honesty so painful it brought an

ache to her already overburdened heart. 'I did love you, and I still do.

Maybe it isn't quite the love I had imagined it was, but you were my

friend first, and then he came along and seemed to take you away.

Oh, I know it sounds possessive and ridiculous, but—Sian, you and

the others have been some of the best things that ever happened to

me. For the first time in my life I didn't feel like I came second to my

big brother, who was always better, stronger and more popular than I

could ever be. Don't you see? I thought I was losing you, and now,

because of my own thoughtless, stupid actions, I probably have.'

She was unable to speak. Weren't they all to blame in some measure

for what had happened? Didn't she, too, bear the guilt of her own

irresponsible actions, for if she hadn't been so hell-bent on revenge

she never would have taken things as far as they had gone.

'Anyway,' he said heavily, misreading her silence. 'I just thought I'd

tell you—I've talked to Matt and explained everything. He's still

angry but at least he understands now. And I just want to say again

how sorry I am. I can't make it up to you, but I hope some day you

can forgive me.'

'Oh, Joshua,' she sighed, and stepped forward to hold open her arms.

He came to her in a rush and hugged her tight, and she said into his

shirt, 'You fool. You silly fool, how could you think that our

friendship would end just because I got involved with your brother?'

'I told you it sounded stupid!' he said with self-directed anger.

'Please—please don't let what happened come between us. My

friends are the best and most important part of me.'

'I'll be your friend,' she whispered. 'Don't you see? I need you too.

Just don't ever do anything like that to me again. I'm not big enough

to forgive that much a second time.'

'Never, I promise.'

The moment was shattered as the doorbell rang again. Sian stepped

away from Joshua and threw up her hands in disgust, while he wiped

his face and found an unsteady laugh for the expression on her face.

She went to answer it, smiling as she threw open the door, and, at the

sight of the man standing on the porch step, everything stopped in her

heart.

Malcolm, her father's friend and associate for over twenty years;

Malcolm, whom she loved like an uncle and trusted implicitly. He

was one of the few stolid anchors of stability in her young and

changeable life. He never came to South Bend when her father

visited her, to spare Sian the necessity of explaining Malcolm's

presence to her friends. For years, the three of them had kept up the

pretence that Sian hadn't guessed that Malcolm really worked as her

father's bodyguard.

One look at his serious face, and she knew at once that something

terrible had happened to her father.

'Sian is everything all right?' Joshua came into the hall. Neither she

nor the silent man on the doorstep paid any heed to him.

She whispered, stricken, 'Is it bad?'

'Aye, lassie,' said Malcolm, and she moved like a sleepwalker into his

great, bear-like arms. 'Can you come right away?'

'Of—of course. Let me throw some things into a bag and get my

passport.'

She turned away, and her face was so dreadful that Joshua bridled

and said aggressively to the stranger who had done this to her, 'Look

here, who are you, and what do you want?'

'That's not for me to say, young man,' replied Malcolm quietly.

'Leave him alone, Joshua,' said Sian sharply, as panic rushed into fill

the empty void in her mind. 'Look- could you write a note to Jane for

me? Jell her I'll call just as soon as I can.'

'Sure,' he agreed readily, but she was striding down the hall even as

he said it. He came with her, asking in helpless concern, 'Isn't there

anything else I can do?'

She glanced at him as if from an immeasurable distance, this earnest

and inexperienced young man who came from such a normal

existence, and she said with quiet fatalism, 'I doubt there's anything

anyone can do.'

AFTER the heat of the American Midwest, London seemed chilly and

comfortlessly damp, as a mammoth bank of storm clouds moved

north from Europe and enshrouded Britain.

The trip from South Bend to Heathrow was a nightmarish marathon.

She and Malcolm took a flight from the Michiana Regional Airport

to Chicago, then flew stand-by on the first available seats to London.

Looking around her at the crowded, impersonal expanse of the

O'Hare airport as they waited, Sian felt as though she had entered a

world that was bleached of all colour and sound, as the quiet-tired

burr of Malcolm's voice explained in her ear, just what had happened

to her father.

That there had always been an element of risk to Devin's life was

something that she'd had to accept over the passing years. He

travelled light and fast, often with huge sums of cash and leaving

behind irate casino owners, some of whom were unscrupulous

characters who operated illegal establishments in the shadowy half-

light existence of a global black market.

Despite Malcolm's cautionary admonitions, Devin had gained

entrance to one particular gambling den just a few weeks ago and

walked out again with a cool half- million in English pounds sterling.

He had played and won against the owner himself, who was a man

notorious for his gambling addiction, among other vices, and it was

this man who had engineered an ambush just two nights ago.

Malcolm and Devin had managed to overcome the attackers, who

had subsequently been arrested and were now in prison on charges of

attempted murder, but in the process of the struggle Devin had been

seriously injured.

Reeling with exhaustion and distress, she nevertheless rejected

Malcolm's concerned suggestion that they go back to the hotel suite

that he'd booked for her under an assumed name, and instead took a

taxi straight from Heathrow for the private hospital where Devin was.

A phone call had assured them that her father was still alive, but in a

coma from the head wound he had sustained, and during the long ride

in the taxi Sian had cause to recall the quiet conversation she'd had

with Matthew only a week ago...

'You must have been a beautiful little girl. If I had a daughter like

that, it would break my heart to send her away.'

'Would it?'

'Yes. I also know that if I were in a job or lifestyle that was unsafe or

unsuitable for that precious little girl, I would send her away, to some

place where she could grow up safe, and I would deny myself the

selfish pleasure of letting her depend on me too much.'

So much fell into place, now that she could look back with the clarity

of hindsight. Devin's phone call to her, his odd manner of behaving,

his refusal to come to her commencement and birthday party—they

had been right after the big score; of course he would never come

within a thousand miles of her if he thought for any reason he was

under threat. He wouldn't want any breath of danger to fall on to her.

She leaned her forehead against the cold window-pane of the taxi and

sobbed drily, 'Oh, why did he do it, Malcolm? He'd already made

more than enough money to keep him in luxury for the rest of his

life! He always knew how to quit when he was ahead. Why couldn't

he have stopped all this years ago?'

'He didna want to, lassie,' said Malcolm quietly, his Scots burr

becoming pronounced whenever he was under stress. 'Ever since

your ma died, I think Devin's been lookin' fer some way to join her.

He loved her, you know, more than anything, even enough to try to

quit when they married. But his old life wouldna let go of him— too

many people knew him, and there was always somebody looking to

pay him back for winning too much. In the end, he left her, and you,

for he wouldna ever have forgiven himself if something had

happened to either of you because of him.'

Sian turned around to stare at Malcolm with wide, unseeing eyes, and

her heart was just not big enough to sustain the huge grief that she

felt. Was it that simple? Was that the final truth after so many years,

when all her life she had believed her father to be a faithless,

irresponsible charmer? How could she have been so blind, for so