Chapter five
Luke wanted to find words to reassure Susanna. In an ideal world he would have put his arm around her and told her to stop talking nonsense. Told her that, of course, he loved her. That their marriage wasn't a mistake.
But …
She wanted him to know that she knew. Simple. Dignified. Just as Susanna always was.
She smiled, her eyes honest and brave. "We'd better go back in. Are you coming?"
He swallowed. "I-In a moment."
For a second he thought she was going to say something else, but she nodded and turned away.
His wife.
His.
The woman who said she knew he'd never loved her.
Luke's eyes clouded over as he thought about that. He'd been married to Susanna for fifteen months and he'd never known she'd nearly not told him about Eleanor.
He didn't even know why she'd decided to sleep with him that night. The need to be close to someone? Anyone?
He didn't know.
How was it possible you could share your life with someone and know so little about them? Why hadn't he asked those questions?
He'd blithely assumed this was his life. He'd resented it, but he'd never really questioned it. And, there'd seemed to be so much time.
Luke glanced up at the third story window where Susanna and Eleanor were. It was all changing now.
Eleanor was dying, and Susanna…
What?
Susanna had chosen the difficult path. She always did.
She'd chosen to keep their baby when many other women would have terminated the pregnancy without anyone knowing. She'd brought Eleanor home and given her five special weeks. She'd [محذوف][محذوف][محذوف][محذوف]ved the final year of her degree to care for their baby.
She'd told him she knew he didn't love her…
Who was she, this woman he'd married?
Luke stood up and twisted the wedding ring on the third finger of his left hand. There was so much he wanted to know.
How did she feel about him?
In the beginning there'd been moments when he'd wondered if she loved him. If she had, he'd done nothing to foster it.
And suddenly it mattered. He had to know what he'd thrown away so carelessly.
* * *
Veronica Lewis, the photographer, knew what she was doing. She waited until Eleanor was sleeping and positioned the small pink teddy bear so its face peaked out of the hospital blanket.
"Mrs Bennett, if you would look down at Eleanor. Perhaps, rest your chin on your hands?"
Susanna leaned forward on the hospital chair and overlapped her hands. It was all so orchestrated and artificial. Luke hated it.
"Can you think about how Eleanor might be feeling now?"
He wanted to shove the photographer aside for such a crass remark. He watched the flicker of pain pass over Susanna's face as she schooled her features to give what was wanted.
Her chin rested next to the narrow wedding band he'd given her. No engagement ring. There hadn't been time.
And he hadn't thought.
Had she wanted one? Had she dreamed of a large white wedding with a four-piece band?
"That's beautiful. Thank you." Veronica Lewis straightened and looked across at her colleague. "I have everything I need."
Brian Hartman nodded and smiled at Luke. "That's it. We'll try and get the pictures in the paper this weekend."
"Thank you."
"No guarantees, of course, but a human interest story…anything we can do to help," he said, stretching out his hand.
Luke went through the motions. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Susanna stand up, her fingers stroking lightly across Eleanor's bare chest. Almost an apology.
He saw the dark smudges beneath his wife's eyes, the exhaustion that hung about her frame.
Veronica packed away her camera and turned to Susanna. "I hope your little girl pulls through."
Susanna's smile wavered, the tears she'd kept back until then slowly formed in her eyes and softly tumbled over.
Luke moved. His hand snaked around her waist and he held her tight against his body.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice muffled.
"You did great." He felt her shudder and heard the first heartrending sob. Luke gathered her closer.
He saw Veronica wave a hand in goodbye, but he kept his arms tightly around his wife. There was nothing more important than this.
Her fingers clutched at his shirt and her tears wet the thin cotton fabric. There was nothing he could do but hold her.
Every sob, every heartrending gulp, tore into him. He felt so helpless, so…impotent…to do anything. His hand moved through her hair feeling the long blond silkiness and he closed his eyes and prayed. He hadn't prayed since he was a child, but everything seemed so overwhelming.
Gradually, her sobs quietened and she stood exhausted in the circle of his arms. Her cheek lay warm against his chest and he felt how right it was she should be there.
It had always felt right. The first time, in his parents' home…
An amazing, sexy night. Beyond anything he'd ever experienced before. It had felt…cosmic. As though the heavens had shifted and, suddenly, everything was right in his world.
Luke rested his chin on the top of her head. What would it have been like if he hadn't left for New York the weekend after? If he'd rung her up and they'd gone out to dinner? Talked?
What if…
Her body felt warm and soft. He let his fingers move across her back, hoping that she would understand what he was trying to convey, even though he wasn't sure of what it was himself.
Susanna sighed and then pulled away, her fingers wiping at her eyes. "I'm sorry to cry all over you."
"It's been a long time since you have." Her eyes flicked up to his and back to Eleanor. Luke moved closer, his hand resting lightly on Eleanor's crib. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why did you stop crying in front of me?"
Susanna looked up, her eyes enormous in her white face. "It was all I was doing."
It wasn't the real answer — and she knew it.
Luke reached down and stroked the top of Eleanor's head. "I love her, too."
She didn't doubt that. Had never doubted it. "I know that."
"Then why, Susanna? Why couldn't we have cried together?"
She looked up into his face. Luke's eyes were a murky blue, like a troubled sea.
He really didn't know.
That seemed unbelievable to her. There were so many reasons, but, perhaps, the main one was the shuttered look on his face when he walked through the front door. A masklike control.
And she'd never felt so lonely. She'd poured over photographs of Eleanor and ached for her little girl. She'd suffered with each and every operation her daughter had undergone.
If Luke had loved her, perhaps, they'd have drawn closer. Instead, she'd been alone. Isolated.
"We began wrong," she said gently, aware of the nurse sitting quietly in the corner
04-08-07, 08:28 PM
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