Undaunted. Diana Palmer
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“She’d been healthy, perfectly healthy. The doctors said it was risky, to go off like that, but we were young and stupid. Something went wrong. She was in agony and I didn’t know what to do. I tried to call for help, but there was a storm and the lines were down to the mainland. I couldn’t even manage to build a fire and signal, because of the rain.” He lowered his head. The memory was still painful. “She died in my arms. The baby died with her. At least, I suppose it did, because I had no idea how to save it. It would have been too soon in any case. When the boat came to bring supplies, I was half-mad. They took me off the island, put me in the hospital and sedated me. My father and mother, and her mother, came to make the arrangements for her and to bring me home.” His face hardened. “I never wanted a child after that. I hated the whole idea of a baby, because a baby cost me Winona.”
She grimaced. What a tragic life he’d had. Now she understood his attitude about love. He’d had one great love, and now he’d convinced himself that love and sex were the same thing. It was a shame. “I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “I can’t even imagine how that would feel.”
He hesitated a minute before he spoke again. “I’ve had brief affairs, but I never let a woman get close again. And I make sure there will never be another child. I thought about having a vasectomy, but my doctor talked me out of it.” He shrugged, then clenched his jaw. “Every woman who came along wanted a child. I told them that if they got pregnant, I’d insist on a termination.”
The words chilled. He was the sort of man who would love a child if he had one. But he was obviously determined never to let that happen. To Emma, who loved children, it was a blow. She caught herself. Why should it bother her? She was just his assistant. She sat up straighter. “It’s sad, to blame a baby for something that wasn’t its fault,” she said very quietly.
“The baby killed Winona,” he said harshly.
She felt his sorrow, his rage. “You know, we think we’re in control. That we can decide what happens to us by the actions we take. But life isn’t like that. We’re like leaves, floating down a river. We can’t even steer. We have the illusion of control. That’s all.”
He sat up. “And now we can talk about God and how He loves people and takes care of us,” he scoffed.
“No. We can talk about how there’s a plan to every life, and that what happens to us is part of it. If she’d been meant to live, she would have.”
His eyes began to glitter. “Twenty-three, and already a philosopher,” he said sarcastically.
“I’m not bitter, the way you are,” she said. “I haven’t had bad things happen to me.” That was a lie, but she couldn’t tell him the truth. “So I see things from a different perspective.”
“Pollyanna.”
She smiled. “I guess I am. Optimism isn’t expensive. In fact, it’s cheap. You just have to take life one day at a time and do the best you can with it.”
“Life is a series of tragedies that ends in death.”
“Oh, that’s optimistic, all right.”
A half smile touched his hard mouth. “Happiness is an illusion.”
“Sure it is, if you think that way. You’re living in the past, with your heartache. You don’t trust people, you don’t want a family, you don’t have faith in anything, and all you live for is to make more money.”
“Smart girl.”
“Now you’re all sarcastic,” she said. “But what I’m trying to say is that you don’t expect any more from life than a struggle and more heartbreak.”
“That’s what I get.”
“And are you happy?”
He scowled.
“It’s an easy question,” she persisted. “Are you happy?”
“No.” His jaw tautened. “Nobody is happy.”
“I am,” she said.
“What makes you happy?”
“Birds calling to each other in the trees. Leaves rustling when they turn orange and gold and there’s just the faintest nip in the breeze. White sails on the lake just after dawn. Crickets singing on a summer night. Things like that.”
“How about nights on the town? Dancing in a nightclub? Going to a rock concert? Watching the Grand Prix in Le Mans?” he mused.
“Martians playing in dust storms? Because I’m just as likely to see the latter as the former. Not my world.”
“I’ll take my dancing in a nightclub before your crickets on a summer night,” he said sardonically.
“Glitter. That’s what you have. Glitter. It’s an illusion.”
“So are crickets. I’m sure they only exist in cartoon form and star in Disney movies.”
“I give up.”
“You might as well. You’ll never change my perspective any more than I’ll change yours.” He chuckled.
“How’s your head feeling?”
He blinked. The question surprised him. “Better.”
“Probably all the talk about crickets and rustling leaves,” she said pertly.
“More than likely the hilarity over your concept of happiness.”
“Whatever floats your boat,” she told him. She stood up. “If you’re better, I’ll go back to bed.”
“You could stay,” he pointed out. “We could lie down and discuss sailboats.”
She laughed softly. “No, thanks.”
“Have you ever been in love, Emma?” he asked, curious.
She drew in a breath. “I thought I was once,” she said. “We got engaged. But it didn’t work out.”
He didn’t like that. It surprised him, that he was jealous, when she was far too young for him and an employee to boot. She’d been engaged. Even religious people had sex when they were committed. It changed the way he thought of her.
“Why didn’t it?” he asked.
She didn’t dare tell him the truth, because she’d told him about her ex-fiancé before he was blinded. “We discovered that we didn’t think alike in the areas where it mattered,” she said finally. “He wasn’t at all religious...”
“And that matters?” he chided.
“It did to me,” she said stiffly.
He cocked his head and looked toward the direction of her voice. “You’re a conundrum.”
“Thanks.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
“Now you’re getting nasty. I’m going.”
“How about bringing me another bottle of water before you leave me here, all alone and in pain, in the dark, by myself?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, you’re a grown man! You’re always by yourself in the dark,” she muttered as she opened the minibar and pulled out another bottle of water.
“Not always,” he said in a deep voice that positively purred.
She blushed, and she was glad he couldn’t see it.
“Okay,” she said. “I’m putting it right here on the night table... Oh!”
While she was talking, he’d reached out and caught her around the waist, pulling her across him and down onto the bed with him.
He was very strong, and she felt the warmth of his body as he made a cage of his big arms and trapped her gently