Flashback (20 page)

“What’s going on in that busy little mind of yours?” he asked conversationally, and she swallowed nervously. It didn’t make the lump in her throat go away. “You must know that I’ve felt your block for the past several days. What have you been thinking about, I wonder? Why do you close up like a tight little clam every time I get through that door?”

“No reason,” she whispered, clenching her hand into the top sheet until her knuckles whitened. “No reason.”

“I don’t even know why you bother to lie to me,” he said pleasantly. Her mouth shook. “But I’ll tell you this, Dana. You aren’t going to get away with it. Sooner or later, I’m going to make you tell me what’s making you do this.” He waited and then said softly, “Look at me.”

“No.” She screwed her eyes tightly shut and kept her face turned resolutely away.

“Look at me, Dana!”

“No, I said!” Footsteps marched determinedly her way, and she felt a moment of intense frustration at her lack of mobility before hard fingers grasped at her chin and forced her head his way. She resisted but was too weak, and her face was taken firmly between his hands and cupped.

“Dana, I’m only going to say it one more time,” he told her gently. “Look at me right this instant—”

“All right!” she shouted, and coughed at the pain in her ribs as she glared her helpless rage at him. He seemed very calm, as he let his eyes travel over her furious features. After just staring at him hatefully for a few moments, she said hardly, “There, have you seen what you wanted to see? Are you satisfied now?”

“Yes,” he said strangely. “I think I am.” He loosened his hold and just touched her face lightly, gently, his thumbs starting to stroke at the base of her jawline, on vulnerable skin. She quivered and shut her eyes again.

“Then get out.”

He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Do you want me to tell you what I saw?” She remained stubbornly silent, and he went on patiently. “I saw a very frightened young girl just now. I wonder what has made her so afraid. Something has, in the past few days. What could it be?” He lifted one hand and smoothed the hair off Dana’s forehead. She suddenly grabbed at both of his hands in order to try to push him away, but he captured her wrists and held her clenched fists against his chest as he positioned himself on the edge of the bed and leaned over her, too near. She gulped and shuddered, and tried desperately to get herself in control. She was too damned weak.

“Whatever it is, do you think you could just let go of it?” he asked her gently, pressing her hands into his shirt. She felt his pulse. “It can’t really matter in the long run, can it? Let’s talk about something else. There’s something I’ve been wanting very much to ask you.”

“No! Not now, all right?” she choked, renewing her efforts to get her hands free. His own tightened on hers so hard it hurt and she sucked in her breath, collapsing in defeat. “Just go away and leave me alone, please.” It wasn’t a request; it was a moan of anguish.

He sat very still, eyes sharp on her, expression stern. “Whatever is hurting you so much is about me, isn’t it?” he asked slowly. “What have I done to upset you so, Dana? “Whatever it is, I’m sorry for it. Why won’t you talk to me?”

His gentleness was too much. She turned her face away and started to cry, and in her misery let her guard slip and her emotions spill through. He hissed, and with her guard down she felt a ripple of pure rage ripple through him. He grabbed at her chin and forced her head around again, his features hard and set. “Who told you, dammit?” he gritted. “Answer me! They weren’t supposed to say anything yet!”

She lifted both her hands to her mouth as she sobbed. “No one told me! I—I just knew, that’s all. When the doctors came in to check on me a few days ago, I just knew! It—it’s no one’s fault. It just happened. Like the accident,” she said miserably.

He fought to get his shocked surprise under control, fought to control his expression. “Then you know everything?” he asked quietly.

She said with great difficulty, “I know that my spinal column was damaged pretty badly. I know that I most probably won’t be able to walk again, if that’s what you mean.”

He looked away, jaw muscle working. “There’s a chance you may walk again, Dana. Don’t rule out that chance.”

“I don’t.” She didn’t look at him. “But I’ve got to be realistic. I’ve got to prepare for any eventuality.”

He asked, “Dana, please, will you marry me?”

She replied as quietly, with great finality, “No.”

“I love you.” It was a simple, heartfelt statement, and a plea.

“And I love you.” In spite of her efforts, her words trembled in the air horribly.

“Then you can’t say no.” He reached down, half turned on the bed, and brought his face down to hers. He didn’t kiss her right away but instead looked clearly into her eyes, the honesty in his own, together with the strength of his emotion reaching into her very soul. His eyes were vulnerable, searching, loving. His face was harsh and yet gentle, the rough features softened, the dark hair falling on his brow. “I love you, Dana. I love your smiles, and I love your warmth. I love your gentleness, your passionate sincerity, and your caring of others. I love your beautiful eyes, your lovely hair, your laughter, your sadness. I love your weaknesses and your strengths, and the femininity that is so inherently you. I love your faith and your gifts. Please don’t block me out. Please don’t send me away. You once said that you had the strength to stay, and that if I chose to go, I could. But now I’m the one who wants to stay, with you, and you are the one who wants to go.”

“I’m crippled,” she said clearly, in the clarity a wealth of fear and pain and helplessness was held.

“Don’t say that! You’re not crippled. You’re the most whole person I’ve ever known. You may not be able to walk, but you are not crippled.”

“I won’t marry you.”

“I won’t accept that.”

“Leave me alone!” she screamed at him, feeling as if her heart would break, pushing away with both hands at his shoulders. He grabbed her hands and forced them down as he leaned his head into her shoulder and buried his face in her hair. He didn’t try to fight with her, and he didn’t try to reason with her. After her first shocked moment of stillness, she caught such a strong and overwhelming tidal wave of love and longing and hope from him that she was rocked to her core. She’d never known another person quite like him before in her life: he was such a powerful man, with such powerful feelings, and he could overwhelm her every time with himself.

She turned her head and buried her face against his, gave a great sob, and whispered, “I’m not strong enough to handle this.”

“Hush. You’re the strongest woman I know.” He began to kiss her all over her face.

“I’m not. I’m not.”

“I’ll be your strength.”

“I’m so scared, I’ve never been so scared in my entire life,” she murmured in a moan, kissing him back, on his cheekbone, his jawline, the side of his nose, anywhere she could reach. “I’m so scared it makes me sick to my stomach, I can’t—”

“Oh, Dana, don’t.” He drew back, looked down into her eyes, and smiled tenderly. “You’re so precious to me. I was never so horrified in my life as I was when I watched you tumble through the air like a rag doll, and I felt your pain and your shock, your disbelief that it was actually happening. When you nearly died, I’d thought I’d never seen anything more beautiful than when I saw you as a bright, ethereal figure, running freely towards a great, wonderful light, and my feet were bound to the ground so that I couldn’t follow you. I saw your eagerness, and I called you back. You were in this hospital bed, and in reality you looked so small and white and still. The doctors had already told me that you might never walk again, and what I did was totally selfish. I didn’t call you back for you, I called you back for me. And what I’m asking right now is totally selfish, for no other reason but that I want, and need it more than I’ve wanted or needed anything in my life. I love all of you, every single thing about you, and I’ll beg. Don’t leave me. You refused to ask anything of me, but I’m asking something of you now. Please don’t leave me.”

There was no way she could put up the barrier again. He was in too deep, too strongly. She would never get him out of her heart or her life. She put out her arms and he came down to her, covering her mouth as his eyes closed in great, shuddering relief, and she surrendered her fears and uncertainties as she surrendered her mouth. And he absorbed it all, providing an immense well of strength and love for her to draw upon. She leaned on him.

Chapter Eleven

She sat, peacefully lounging under the wide, thick shade of the maple tree. A book lay on the dark green cushioning grass beside her. She drew her sweater around her slim shoulders, for the days were getting a bit chilly. The air was tranquil, bright light and mottled, shading leaves. Happiness was living inside of her, a constant healthy glow. She felt that her world was overflowing with the goodness and richness of life.

Across the beautifully cared for lawn, in the old, spacious home that was hers, the sound of the distant clicking of typewriter keys stopped and after a few moments a large, dark figure appeared in the doorway. The man searched with his eyes until he found her under the maple tree. He smiled, white teeth in a dark face, and walked over to sit down the grass beside her.

“How’s the story coming?” she asked him lightly, reaching out and pushing back the lock of hair that had fallen over his brow.

He grinned at her. “I think another five weeks or so should finish it. I’ll be well ahead of the deadline.”

She was pleased. “Good! And then we’ll take that vacation you’ve been promising me for the last year.”

“Mmm,” he growled, and reached over to kiss her lingeringly. “And we’ll lie in the sun and make love on the beach…”

She murmured laughingly, eyes half closed, “Wonderful love…whoever would have thought that our mental sensitivity to one another could make it so delicious?” His eyes laughed at her as he kissed her again.

“…and I’ll be thinking of the sequel for the book—”

“…and I will beat you if you do!” she exclaimed indignantly. He laughed again and picked up the book that lay on the grass beside her, opening it curiously and then cocking a quizzical eyebrow at her.

“You’ve been out here for a good hour with that book open,” he accused. “I saw you when I came down for coffee, and you haven’t turned a page yet! You’re right where you were last night. What’ve you been doing out here, anyway?”

She looked away, to the house, and felt his unspoken concern. “I’ve been looking back.”

His voice was very quiet. “Good thoughts?”

“Oh, yes!” Her response was immediate and total, and she felt his relief. A welling of tenderness rose up inside of her at that. He still could be unsure. “I’ve been thinking of all that you’ve given me. You’ve made me so very happy. We have a good life here, David. But when I look back, I get such a strange feeling when I think of how we met and what we went through together. Peter still calls it our ‘mutual need’, but though I can see what you helped me with, I can’t really understand what I did for you. If I hadn’t experienced the flashback, you would have, sooner or later, and you would have got help.”

“Would I have?” he asked strangely. She faltered and looked at him uncertainly as he stared at a chittering bird in the tree. “Or wasn’t I more along the path of no return? As I recall, I was breaking myself with my rigidity. No, my love, the one essential thing that you gave to me and that you still give me every night with your sweet, warm body and your eager loving, and every day with your peaceful tranquility—the one thing that I drink from you constantly and always come away refreshed—is,” he turned his head and looked into her eyes, “redemption.” They stared at each other for a long moment, and it was a silent giving and taking, a mutual sharing and a mutual filling. The wind blew through the tree leaves above, and a few fell to the ground in a scattered, random pattern. Then he smiled at her, and the smile was a communication of continued love and affection and human desire. “Come, sweetheart. It’s time to go inside.”

And after he stood, he bent to pick up her slight form and deposit her in the chair that waited nearby, wheeling her into the house.

About the Author

Thea Harrison started writing when she was nineteen. In the 1980s and 1990s, she wrote for Harlequin Mills & Boon under the name Amanda Carpenter. The Amanda Carpenter romances have been published in over ten languages, and sold over a million and a half copies worldwide, and are now being reprinted digitally by Samhain Publishing for their Retro Romance line.

For more information, please visit her at:
www.theaharrison.com
. You can also find her on Facebook at:
 
www.facebook.com/TheaHarrison
and on Twitter at:
@TheaHarrison
.

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Flashback

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Devil’s Gate