Nathan's Child (18 page)

Love me,
Nathan had said.
Let me love you.

And as they began to move together, as their rhythms meshed and their bodies became one, Carin felt tears prick her eyelids as she prayed that he meant more than the pleasure their bodies were taking in each other.

He'd said her name. He'd asked. She'd answered.

It was a start.

If only he loved her and would let her love him…life would be beautiful.

 

It was a truce, Nathan supposed. A marriage built on duty and their daughter.

It was what he had asked for—and what he had got.

They were a family of sorts. They lived at Nathan's, all three of them and Zeno the dog. And during the days they settled into a routine. Lacey went to school, Nathan worked on his book, and Carin, once she got her arm out of the cast, went back to working in the shop and started painting again.

They were polite to each other—maybe more than polite. They smiled, they talked, and sometimes, tentatively, they
teased. They were moving in the right direction, building connections.

But Nathan wanted so much more.

He wanted the casual contact he'd seen between Dominic and Sierra, between Rhys and Mariah. He wanted to be able to come up behind Carin while she was doing the dishes or working in the shop and slide his arms around her and pull her back against him and kiss the nape of her neck. He wanted to take her hand when they walked along the beach. He wanted to tell her that he loved her.

But he was afraid to push. He'd got this far, he told himself. He had her in his home. At night he had her in his bed. It was the one time that their inhibitions seemed to vanish. Their limbs tangled, their bodies merged. Physically they connected.

But they never spoke endearments. They never talked of love.

Someday they would, he told himself. But he had no idea when.

 

When Gaby called the first time, he said no. He wasn't ready. He was still on his honeymoon, he told her.

“It's been a month,” Gaby said.

“I'm not ready,” Nathan told her.

She called again a week later. And a week after that. He stalled her. Hedged. Put it off. Yes, he wanted to do what she wanted him to do—spend three months in the wilderness checking out the wolf Zeno or, if that didn't work, then a project of his own choosing.

He wanted to do it—but he wanted his marriage on solid ground first. Even better, he wanted Carin and Lacey to come with him. But he couldn't say so.

Gaby said it for him. “If you want to bring Carin and Lacey, do it,” she'd said.

“I…can't,” Nathan said awkwardly. “School, you know. And Carin's got her painting. Her business.”

“She can get a lot of new material if she comes with you,” Gaby said. “And think how educational it would be for Lacey.”

“Mmm.” Yes. Yes to all of the above. But he still couldn't ask.

He was afraid to. Afraid Carin would say no. Afraid he'd lose whatever advances he'd made over the past two months. Afraid if he left she would rejoice in his going and he would know she didn't love him—not really.

Afraid she wouldn't want him to come back.

“Well,” Gaby said impatiently when he didn't answer.

“I'll think about it.”

He thought about nothing else. He rehearsed a hundred ways to ask Carin—and Lacey—to come with him.

You could paint the north woods. You could paint wolves. Lacey would learn so much. Think of the educational opportunities. Not many kids ever get a chance to do something like that. I could show you my world. We could share it.

But that was getting dangerously close to personal. It was almost like saying
I love you,
and Nathan couldn't do that because he was afraid she didn't love him.

If he knew she did, it would be easy. If only he could figure that out without having to ask. He needed a sign, he thought, as he walked up to the house with Lacey three nights later, Zeno bouncing along ahead, darting after a lizard here and a frog there.

They had been out shooting in the twilight, and Nathan had talked a little about the light in the north woods. If Lacey said, “When are you going again?” he thought he would mention Gaby's offer.

But Lacey didn't ask. It didn't seem to occur to her that he would have to go again. Because he'd said he would stay forever, he reminded himself. Or take them with him.

Carin was in the kitchen when they came onto the deck. “Wash your hands. Supper's ready,” she said. She didn't
smile the way she usually did when they got home. She wasn't frowning exactly. She just seemed…remote.

“Something wrong?” Nathan asked.

“Wrong?” Blonde brows lifted. “What could be wrong?”

He didn't know. Still he felt an odd clutching in his gut at her words. A premonition?

He found out that night when they were going to bed.

“Gaby called,” Carin said. She was brushing out her hair and she didn't turn around. But he could see her face in the mirror.

Nathan went very still. “Did she? What did she say?”

“She wanted to know what you'd decided about going up north.” Carin's words were flat.

Nathan scrubbed a hand over his hair. The moment of truth.
Smile at me, damn it. Give me some encouragement,
he begged her.

But Carin just kept on brushing her hair. She didn't even look at him.

He paced around their bedroom. “I know I said I'd stay forever,” he began.

“And we both know that's impossible,” Carin said sharply.

“Well, I—”

“Gaby told me you need to go.” Carin's tone was firm.

“I—” Hell. How could he just blurt out an invitation now? Damn Gaby, anyway! “I'll be back.”

Carin's mouth pressed into a thin line. Her expression grew shuttered. “Lacey will be glad to know that,” she said dully. Their eyes met in the mirror. And then her gaze dropped.

Nathan sighed. “I'll call Gaby in the morning.”

“Good idea.” Carin set the brush down, then got up and crossed the room. She slipped into bed and pulled the covers up.

Nathan shut off the light and came to slide in beside her.
Every night since their marriage they'd touched, they'd made love or they just wrapped their arms around each other and slept.

Tonight they lay inches apart. But neither reached across those few inches.

“Good night, Nathan,” Carin said tonelessly. Then she rolled onto her side, turning away.

 

They went through the next three days like zombies. Polite, civil zombies who shared a bed and a daughter—and nothing else.

The rapport they'd built over the past weeks had vanished just as Nathan had feared it would. Carin shut him out and retreated into a shell. So much for wanting to take her with him.

Her indifference now was killing him. If he was going, he had to go now!

He called Gaby and told her, “Get me on the first flight you can.”

She'd called last night. “Get to Miami in the morning. Your flight leaves at one.”

Hugh agreed to take him. He had a cargo that needed to be delivered. “If you don't mind the seaplane,” he said.

“Anything.”

Even so, saying goodbye to his daughter nearly did him in. Lacey was distraught to learn that he was going away. She'd been sulking since he'd told her. “You could take us,” she'd said.

But Nathan, seeing Carin's back stiffen at her words, had said, “No, I can't.” He didn't say he wished he could.

Now Lacey wrapped her arms around him and gave him a fierce hug. “You'd better come back.”

“Of course I will. Soon.” It was the best he could do.

“You'll e-mail? You'll call?”

“Yes. And you will, too?”

“Of course,” she said indignantly. “I love you.”

Nathan's mouth twisted at the ease with which she spoke such words. He pressed his lips to the top of her head and held her close. “Likewise, kiddo.”

“I'll come to the harbor to see you leave,” she said.

“No, you won't,” Carin said firmly. “You have to get to school.”

“But—”

Carin looked at Nathan expectantly. He knew what she was waiting for.

“Go to school, Lace,” he said heavily.

Their daughter sighed. She gave him one more fierce hug, then reluctantly she got on her bike and wobbled off down the road.

Then it was just him and Carin—and Carin wouldn't even look at him. She started cleaning the table, turning her back on him, washing up the breakfast dishes.

“Carin?” He came up behind her. One last chance.
Tell me you'll miss me. Tell me you love me.

“Don't let me keep you,” she said, and stepped away abruptly when he would have kissed her goodbye.

 

And just like that, he was gone.

There was a moment's hesitation when Carin thought he might have insisted on that kiss, when—God help her!—she wished he would.

But then wordlessly he'd turned, picked up his bag and walked out the door.

And there was none of the relief Carin had promised herself she would feel seeing him go. None of the satisfaction of knowing she'd been the one to turn away from him, that she had not let him have things his way, that she had never given in.

Instead she felt hollow, aching, desperate. It wasn't supposed to be like this!

She stood, rigid, soaked in pain and loneliness, and knew
the truth at last—that in denying him, she'd denied herself, as well.

She loved Nathan Wolfe. She would always love him.

And not admitting it didn't mean it wasn't so.

Not admitting it meant she was a coward, that she was afraid to take a risk. She'd refused to let herself hope. She'd tried every way she could to protect her heart, to deny her love. But it wasn't possible.

And it didn't hurt less for trying. If anything it hurt more.

She could have wrapped her arms around him. She could have held him. She could have had his kiss to remember, to savor. She could have said, “I love you.”

And maybe…just maybe…he would have said it back.

Maybe it wasn't too late. If she could get to the harbor before they took off. She grabbed her tote bag and started to run.

She was almost to the village when she saw Hugh's seaplane circle above the bay.

She stopped, heart aching, and watched it go.

She made it to the shop before the tears began to fall. She sniffled and swiped at them, worried that someone would come in and see her. Please God, for a while at least, the tourists would stay well away.

But even as she thought the words, the door banged open.

She blew her nose, scrubbed at her eyes and pasted on a smile. “May I help— Estelle? What's wrong?”

“It's Nathan! Come quick.” The whites of Estelle's eyes were enormous in her dark face. She turned and ran back out again.

Carin's bones turned to water. Her knees wobbled. Bile rose in her throat. Nathan! Ohmigod, Nathan! And Hugh, of course. But—
Nathan
!!!!

She ran after Estelle, out the door and down the steps, tripping, stumbling. “What happened? Did they crash?”

“Yes,” Estelle said. “Yes!”

In the harbor? Were they still alive? Being rescued? Carin couldn't ask, could only run.

And then she saw him—limping up the road.

Limping up the road?

Carin stared. In the
road
? Not in the
harbor
?

But yes, it was Nathan, not fifty yards from her, with Estelle bearing down on him. She fluttered at him, but he brushed her off and soldiered on, scraped and battered, one arm looking wonky, an abrasion on his cheek—but
alive!
—and heading straight toward her.

Where was the plane? Where was Hugh? What in the world—?

They met in the middle of Pineapple Street, stopped an arm's length apart and stared at each other. Carin wanted to grab him and hold him, but could only shake her head.

“What—” she began.

“The plane?” she tried.

“You crashed?” she guessed.

“It was that bloody dog,” Nathan said gruffly.

“The dog?
Zeno
?” Carin stared, astonished. Something dangerously close to a hysterical laugh threatened to bubble up. But it wasn't funny at all and yet—

“Zeno,” Nathan confirmed, through gritted teeth.

Estelle was flapping at him, yammering about doctors and hospitals. They both ignored her.

“I thought…” Carin began. Her teeth beginning to chatter. It was shock, she thought. And joy. Pure joy at the sight of him. “What are you…? Didn't Hugh wait for you?”

She couldn't imagine Hugh leaving without him. Of course he had cargo, but surely he'd have waited if Nathan had been late. But Nathan hadn't been late. Had he?

“You better get yourself over to Doc Rasmussen's right now,” Estelle said.

“Later,” Nathan said firmly to Estelle. “Go away.”

There was something in his tone that stopped all the flut
tering and the yammering. Estelle looked at him, at the way he was looking only at Carin, then slowly she smiled and nodded her head. “I tell the doc you be along.”

“Do that,” Nathan said without glancing her way. He had eyes only for Carin. “I told Hugh to go without me.”

“Because Zeno—”

“Zeno got me on my way back.”

Carin stared. “What?”

“I didn't go with Hugh. I told him I wasn't ready. He brought me back to shore and I borrowed a bike. I was in a hurry. So was Zeno,” he said dryly.

“But…but why?”

“Because I love you.”

She stared at him. Words she'd almost given up hope on, words she'd feared never to hear were right there before her. More than that, though, there was the way Nathan was looking at her, intent, determined, and with a light in his eyes that she was sure met a matching one in her own.