riham ali

مشكوره على المرور،

باعرض المزيد من الروايات الانجليزية اذا لقيت اقبال عليها من الاخوات بالمنتدى

Chapter Seven


Stacey shrugged, as a response to his question. But Zach pushed.

"So you were worried."

"Scared silly, was more like it. I watched every car race I could get on television after you left, hoping to hear something about you. Until I saw a racer get killed in a fiery explosion. I couldn't watch after that, I was afraid that might be you one day." The fear she felt showed in her voice.

"It's rare that someone gets killed," Zach said, knowing that was the dread of every racer's family.

"Rare maybe, but not unknown. Anyway, I moved on."

"Left Carson Valley and came to San Francisco. I was heading home after the wedding, you know," he said easily. Wondering what he would have done had he arrived there and found her gone.

"Why?"

He took a breath, glad when the waiter arrived with their food. He waited until they'd been served, then spoke,

"I figured it was time to mend fences."

"Life has gone on for seven years, what makes you think any of us want fences mended?"

He should have known it wouldn't be easy. How would his parents react? Had they also not received his letters? They, too, never wrote.

He reached out to take her hand, but she snatched it away.

"I never meant to hurt you, Stacey. But I wanted my chance in the sun. Haven't you ever wanted something so badly you'd do anything to get it?"

She didn't move, but he knew she was thinking. About him?

"I should have come home. I asked more than once in my letters if you'd join me. When you didn't respond, I thought that meant no. I wrote so often and never heard a word from you."

"The famous letters," she scoffed.

"Stacey Taylor, PO Box 73, Carson Valley," he recited.

"Zach, I never used that post office box. You left and I went home –where my folks were less than happy with me for running off to marry you in the first place. Surely after the annual fee expired, the post office would have returned your mail."

"I don't put on return addresses. I travel a lot, never know where I'll be to get mail. I gave you a cell phone number to reach me and the address of the sponsor's office. They forward mail to me."

"Don't you have a home somewhere?"

He shook his head. "There's training, racing, and planning strategies on new courses all over the world. I told you, I travel a lot."

"But everyone has a home."

"I thought I had one in Carson Valley, now find out I don't."

"Did you think I was just going to stay in that poky apartment and wait until you deigned to return? For seven years? Get real."

For some reason, Zach had thought almost exactly that. In his mind, Stacey had been in stasis, not changing, not moving away. Not altering the adoration she had for him. But that had been fantasy. He'd known when she hadn't replied to his letters their marriage was over.

He wanted a chance now to change things.

"I thought you'd wait for me." It did sound dumb, when he put it in words. She'd been too vibrant to meekly await his return.

"As soon as I could scratch together enough money, I left for San Francisco. At least here no one knew I'd been married and abandoned in a short time."

"Scratch together enough money? How much did you need? What about the money I sent?"

Chapter Eight


"What money?" Stacey asked. Talking with Zach had been long overdue. She was learning things she never imagined.

"I sent you money every chance I got. I worked on a pit crew until I got my chance to drive. When I started making some money in racing, I sent it to you."

She shook her head. "I don't know what you're talking about. Same P.O. box?"

"No, I deposited money directly to the bank — to our joint account."

Stacey felt the world tilt a little. "I never did anything with that account. I assumed it was empty after you left. I still had the one I opened in my name; it was easier to use that one until I moved here. Didn't the bank statements show I never used the money?"

"The address was the P.O. Box. I never read the statements. What do you mean easier to use your old account?"

"I never changed my last name. You were gone before I could do so." She shrugged, remembering. "After you left, I didn't bother."
"So you still go by Stacey Jerome?"

She nodded. There was no reason to feel a prick of guilt. A woman married for a short time didn't really need to change her name.

He leaned back, pushed his dish away.

"You haven't finished," she commented, hoping he wouldn't make the same remark about her almost full plate.

"I'm having a hard time getting all this. No wonder you hate me, if you thought I abandoned you and left you to your own devices all these years."

"I don't hate you," she said, realizing with a start that it was true. Hate required more emotions that she was able to give. She didn't want to be around him, to be reminded of their past, to put herself in any danger of falling for him again. But she didn't hate him.
"You don't love me, either," he said.

"No more than you love me."

"Not then."

"Not ever. If you are finished, I need to get back to work. Thanks for lunch." And the enlightening information. She wanted to think over what she'd learned. Maybe he wasn't the black-hearted creature she'd thought him. Would that change her feelings?

She looked at him. "Is there really money in the bank account? Wouldn't the bank have tried to find one or the other of us if the account was still active? It was seven months after you left before I did. Surely some attempt would have been made to locate me. Carson Valley isn't that large a town."

"Come with me to Carson Valley and let's find out what happened."

Stacey looked at him, the refusal trembling on her lips. She didn't want to go back. Her parents were not happy with her. Her in-laws had never liked her. She knew the gossip that had run rampant when Zach had left. How could he ask her to face all that?

Yet, how much of the situation did he know?

Stacey was no longer the devastated young woman who had fled looking for sanctuary in the anonymity of a large city. She had proved herself to herself. Who else mattered?

For a moment the thought of her baby came to mind. She had done all she could to make sure if her child had known her, she would have been proud of her mother.

Would the baby have been proud of Zach? Beyond his departure, he'd set out a goal and achieved it.

"Are you happy?" she blurted out. "Was it worth it, Zach? Did you find your dream?"

Chapter Nine


"Let's get out of here," Zach said, summoning their waiter. "We can walk along the embarcadero or something while we talk."

Stacey shook her head. "I have to get back. This is a busy time for Rainbow Weddings and I can't leave all the work to my assistants." She didn't want to explore how tempting his offer was.

He paid the check and escorted her outside.

"Have dinner with me," he said, making no effort to flag down a cab.

"I don't think so." Stacey had to watch out or she'd believe his tale and start to soften. She needed to remember how he'd let her down. She didn't want that kind of heartache again.

"Dreams change," he said, glancing over the water. The breeze played with his hair, whipping Stacey's around her face. She reached up to pull it back, but he beat her to it, brushing back the strands with gentle fingers. His eyes looked deep into hers. "I apologize for leaving you so long. For leaving you to deal with the loss of the baby alone. Racing kept me focused and helped to deal with the grief. I truly thought you'd come join me."

"You never came back," she said.

"I did. I'm here."

"Seven years after the fact. That's so long — a lifetime. I'm not the girl you knew."

"And I'm not that young man who left. Give me a chance, Stacey. Get to know me today, see who I am now before judging.
"
Her heart raced. Why was he asking her to do that?

"For what purpose? I have my life, you have yours. I can't imagine you giving up racing, and I won't give up what I've worked hard to attain." Not to mention the peace of mind she worked hard to achieve. Sometimes she was lonely, but it beat the sorrow of the past.

"Can't we look for a compromise? I don't race every week; you don't have weddings every day. Take a break and come with me. See my world."

"Are you willing to see mine?" she asked. The images he provoked were daring. How would it feel to be in the stands with avid fans, watching the exotic cars in their race against time and each other? Hear the cheering, smell the exhaust, feel the fear at every turn, every time someone tried to pass?

"I'm not good at the wedding thing," he said.

"And I'm not good at watching as men defy death." Impasse.

"Then come with me to Carson Valley. Let's clear everything up, and if you want to go on your way, I won't stop you. I want to see my folks. Make peace with yours. Revisit old places and see old friends."

"Are you on a pilgrimage or something?" she asked, wondering when the nostalgia bug had bitten him. When she'd known him, the last thing he wanted was to be in Carson Valley.

"You could say that. Will you come with me?"

"I don't understand any of this," she said. "What do you really want?"

He cupped her chin with his hand, leaning closer. "You're my wife. I want you."

thank you so much
iam waiting
please continue
iam fond of the english novels
espacially
romantic ones