The Other Man. Karen Van Der Zee
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Название: The Other Man
Автор: Karen Van Der Zee
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
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For a while the road followed the rugged coastline, offering dramatic views of the wild sea and jagged rocks on the one side, and the wooded mountains on the other. Angry clouds streaked through the sky and violent waves tormented the rocks and beaches. Gwen shivered, feeling a sense of foreboding slithering through her.
Half an hour later she was home, the scent of Poison greeting her as she entered the living room. Alice was sitting on the sofa, feet up, dressed in old jeans and a T-shirt stretched tight across her ample bosom. She was doing a crossword puzzle and the television was off.
The baby was asleep, and had been all the time Gwen had been gone, Alice said, looking distinctly disappointed. “I’d hoped for a bit of cuddling,” she added, and gave a long-suffering sigh. Coming to her feet, she gathered her purse and half-finished crossword puzzle. “By the way, do you know a country in Asia that starts with a B? Ten letters.”
Gwen’s heart made a painful lurch in her chest. “Bangladesh,” she said promptly.
“Wow, you’re good!” Alice scribbled in the word and frowned. “You didn’t even have to think about it.”
Gwen shrugged lightly. “Just happen to know.”
Alice left, not fazed by the rain, back to her husband of twenty-seven years. The house was silent. Gwen walked aimlessly around, nervous, tense. A big, beautiful, silent house. Marc had de-signed it for them. He’d been a talented, creative architect who’d designed many beautiful houses for private clients all over the state, Utah and California. Homes built with natural materials that fit the landscape and seemed part of it.
Thunder rattled the windows. She heard the baby cry and ran up the stairs to the room, picking her up out of her crib, holding her close. “It’s all right,” she whispered. “I’m here, don’t cry.” She stroked the dark hair, kissed the soft, warm cheeks. The small body squirmed against her, as if fighting a frightening dream. She felt so light, so fragile-much too small for a child of eight months. A lump formed in her throat and she felt overwhelmed by love and tenderness and fear.
She switched on a small light and changed Churi’s diaper. She warmed a bottle of milk and sat in the rocking chair, feeding the baby until she fell back to sleep. She sat there for a long time, cradling the warm body against her breast, while tears ran soundlessly down her cheeks.
“I lied, Aidan,” she whispered. “I lied.”
“YOU LOOK awful,” Alice informed her the next afternoon. “What are you having done? A root canal?” She’d come over to baby-sit Churi while she had her nap so Gwen could go to the dentist. Gwen had planned it that way; she’d be back by the time Churi would be awake again. It made her uneasy to be away when Churi was awake.
“Just a regular cleaning and checkup. I’m fine.” Gwen made a casual gesture. “I just didn’t sleep well.”
Alice grimaced. “That storm was a zinger. The whole house was rattling.”
Gwen grabbed her keys and purse and made for the door before Alice would ask more questions. It had not been the storm outside that had kept her awake, rather the storm inside her head that had prevented her from sleeping.
It was a wonderful sunny June day and she opened the roof of the Porsche and drove away. Signs of the storm’s destruction were everywhere. The sprawling, neatly manicured gardens around the luxury houses located off the wooded road looked disheveled from the storm’s onslaught. Branches and twigs had been ripped off the trees and shrubs and littered the grass. Blooms lay broken and wilted in the flower beds.
Inside Gwen felt as ravished as the gardens. A tight knot of tension in her stomach was growing ever larger. All she’d been able to think about was Aidan, think about that night, twelve years ago, remember the look in his eyes, the sound of his voice, her own.
“Tell me you don’t love me!” Aidan’s hands hard on her upper arms, eyes wild. “Tell me, dammit!”
Anguish searing through her. “All right! All right! I don’t love you!” Tears running down her face. Sobs racking her body. “I don’t love you! I don’t love you!”
She stared blindly ahead of her at the curving road. “Stop it!” she said to herself. “Just stop it!”
It was not good for the baby for her to be so upset. Churi would feel her distress and there’d been enough distress in her short little life. Gwen bit her lip and clamped her hands hard around the steering wheel. She had to resolve this situation, fast, come to terms with the avalanche of memories and emo-tions that threatened to take over. She needed to be calm. For her own sake, for Churi’s sake. She needed to slow down.
She slowed down, realizing she was on the main road out of town, not even knowing how she’d gotten there. Oh, Lord, her dentist appointment! Too late now. Never mind. She was in no shape to sit in a dentist’s chair—quiet, docile, her mouth open, sterile instruments and gloved fingers probing her teeth. She might bite off a finger, or scream. They’d carry her away in a straitjacket. She groaned. A little Valium might not be a bad idea, dentist or no dentist.
It was not a conscious decision to go to the small cove, but an unknown force propelled her there. She parked the car off the road, close to the bushes. The narrow trail was still there, hidden by tangled growth, and muddy from the rains. She clambered down toward the small crescent of deserted beach strewn with debris the waves had tossed up onto the sand the night before. She took off her shoes and dug her toes in the cool sand, wondering why she had come back here now after all these years. Why she was opening herself up to memories that might be better left hidden.
They’d made love on this beach, in the silver light of the moon, with soft breezes cooling their heated bodies. Nights of magic and romance and love.
For a moment she fought the urge to flee, then slowly she lowered herself in the sand and drew up her knees. It was just the way it had been so many years ago: the same sand, the same ocean, the same rocks.
Nothing was the same.
The wind swept her hair back from her face and she closed her eyes, smelling the salty air, hearing the screech of sea gulls. She tried to think of peaceful things. The wind felt good. It came across miles of ocean, from tropical islands with beautiful flowers and palm trees. Hawaii, maybe.
It didn’t work. She wasn’t in some tropical paradise. She was here, in Oregon, a paradise in its own right with its magnificent wild coast, its ma-jestic, rugged mountains and deep, verdant forests.
And Aidan Carmichael. Aidan Carmichael whom she’d loved so passionately a long time ago.
Aidan in the summer house. Just down the road. She should go see him and get the madness out of her system. Maybe this sort of madness was per-fectly normal. After all, he’d been her first true love. He’d been the first man she’d ever made love to and that sort of thing left an impression on a girl’s psyche and soul, or so the books said. Usually a bad one, according to statistics.
But it hadn’t been bad for her. For her it had been magical.
He’d been caring and loving and gentle. She pressed the heels of her hands against СКАЧАТЬ