Kitabı oku: «Secrets In The Marriage Bed», sayfa 3

Four

A sound of raw pain ripped out from somewhere deep inside him as he rolled away. “Shit.” He wasn’t going to do this if she was merely enduring the experience. At least before the separation, she’d held on to him as if she’d never let go, allowing him to fool himself into thinking that she wanted him. But this…no more. Something in him had given way, broken. After all this time, he’d hit his own limits.

He heard her move, thought he heard muffled sobs as she got under the sheets. The knife inside him twisted and twisted until he wondered if he was bleeding. Shoving his hands through his hair, he laid on his back and stared at the ceiling, fighting the emotions threatening to take control. He wasn’t sure he could cope with that much pain. After several minutes, he shifted to look at her. She was lying on her side, giving him her back.

He thought about the number of times she’d turned away from him in bed. The broken part of him was suddenly furious. “Why did you marry me if you can’t stand my touch?” That fact had tormented him for years. At first he’d hoped that nothing more than shyness kept her from touching him, but he had slowly realized that it was something far worse.

His wife didn’t want him.

Devastated, he’d tried to limit his earthy sexuality, tried not to burden her with his need. And yet he hadn’t been able to stop himself from reaching for her in the darkness, when his shields were at their lowest and he could no longer fight the hunger. Today she’d ripped those shields completely from him, taunting him with a false hope that things would be different. Why had she done that?

Vicki’s back stiffened and she faced him, something like shock in her eyes. “I love the way you touch me.”

He let out a harsh bark of laughter. “Yeah, right. That’s why when we have sex, you can’t wait for me to finish so you can roll away and pretend you didn’t let me put my hands on you.”

Unable to make her see what she was doing to him, he’d focused the frustrated power of his emotions on his work. Combined with his inherent need to succeed, to prove himself, he’d been unstoppable. In five years he’d achieved more with the firm than many men did in a lifetime. No one knew that his phenomenal success had come at the cost of denying the passion at the core of him.

Vicki shook his shoulder, forcing him to look at her. Her eyes were cloudy with distress. “No, Caleb! That’s not true. I never—I adore making love with you.”

She’d started this but if she wasn’t prepared to admit to the depth of their problems, he could see no way out. He sat up. “I’m going for a drive.” His voice was ragged, his arousal fading under the accumulated weight of years of rejection. Grabbing his shirt, he shoved his arms into the sleeves and started to walk out.

“Caleb, wait!”

Pretending he hadn’t heard, he continued walking away. He couldn’t bear to let her see him like this, vulnerable, wounded and so hurt he could barely find his way out of the room.

Victoria gave up trying to fall asleep sometime around two in the morning. Though Caleb had long since returned, they never did have that dinner she’d dressed up for with such high hopes. Like so many other meals in the past, it had fallen by the wayside. Except this time it wasn’t Caleb’s work at fault but her own cowardice.

Lying on her back, she stared at the darkness of the ceiling through tear-filled eyes and thought about the mess she’d made of her life. It was no use continuing to blame Caleb for the field of broken dreams that had become their marriage, no matter how easy that was. She was as much, if not more, to blame. If only she’d stood up to him at the start and said what was in her heart, he would have never begun to believe that she didn’t want him.

How had he survived?

“Because he’s strong,” she whispered to the darkness. Strong and used to fighting for everything he’d ever gotten from life. But he’d been unable to fight her inhibitions, unable to fight years of Grandmother Ada’s pitiless conditioning.

Why hadn’t he ever told her what she was doing to him? And why hadn’t she ever asked him what he needed, what he wanted in bed? Accustomed to Caleb taking charge, she’d always allowed him to focus on pleasing her. Especially in bed. When had she ever tried to please him?

Never.

Her heart clenched. Her inexperience was no excuse, not when she’d soon realized that Caleb needed something from her that she didn’t know how to give. Instead of asking him, she’d buried her head in the sand and pretended everything was okay, using the coping tactic that had allowed her to survive after her mother had abandoned her on Ada’s doorstep. However, mere survival was no longer enough. She wanted to live.

Pushing aside the blanket, she got up and padded down the wide hallway to the kitchen. The romantic glow of the moonlight streaming through the windows seemed to mock her as she pulled a carton of milk from the fridge. Pouring some into a glass, she replaced the carton and put her cold fingers to her eyelids.

A creaking noise came from the hallway and a second later, Caleb entered the kitchen wearing only a pair of black boxer shorts. “What are you doing up?” His voice was rough, his hair mussed.

“I couldn’t sleep.” She raised her glass in explanation. “Do you want some?” Caleb stood only a few feet from her and yet miles away. She didn’t know if she had the courage to cross the divide.

He merely raised an eyebrow at the offer.

Finishing her drink, she put the glass in the sink and rubbed her hands on the thighs of her flannel pj’s. “Did I wake you?” Was she going to pretend that he hadn’t left her naked and alone in bed? Continue living her life in a fantasy world? Or was she finally going to say what needed to be said?

“No.”

God, he was so beautiful to her and she was so afraid to touch him. Swallowing, she crossed the cool tiles until she was less than an arm’s length away. “I guess you have a busy day tomorrow. You should try to sleep.” Why couldn’t she say what she so desperately wanted to say?

She tried to force the truth out, fighting years of being told that passion and desire were dangerous and destructive. Words bubbled up in her throat but no matter how hard she pushed, fear kept her lips from shaping them into sound.

Something like disappointment flickered in Caleb’s eyes but she couldn’t be sure in the semidarkness of the room. He simply moved to let her pass, then fell in step behind her. She heard him enter the guest bedroom a few seconds after she’d shut the door to the master bedroom and slumped against it.

More tears burned at the back of her eyes, mute evidence of her frustration and anger. What was wrong with her? Was she so cowardly that she couldn’t even take the necessary steps toward saving her marriage? Was she going to settle for this half-life, with her husband thinking she couldn’t bear his touch?

So angry with herself that she wanted to scream, she forced herself to remember each moment of the two months she’d spent alone in this house. Every single day she’d come into this bedroom, crawled into this bed and hungered for Caleb. She’d slept on his side of the mattress, worn his old shirts, spent entire nights dreaming of his loving.

Was she willing to go back to that existence? Because she knew without a doubt that her husband wasn’t going to return to her bed unless she convinced him she needed him desperately. She’d hurt him too much.

It was the thought of Caleb in such pain that straightened her defeated posture. Taking a deep breath, she tucked her hair behind her ears and opened the door.

Caleb’s own door was open and she knew why. Even in his anger, he wanted to be able to hear her if she needed him. It was a good sign, she told herself as she walked in. He was lying on his side facing away, but she knew he heard her come in even though he didn’t move. For the first time in their married life, Caleb had turned his back to her.

Fighting the hot rush of fear, she crossed the endless carpet and sat on the other side of the bed. As soon as she touched the mattress she knew she was making a mistake. There was only one way she could reach Caleb—she had to stop protecting herself. She moved to lie beside him, her head nestled in the hollow of his back, one hand on his waist.

“What are you doing here, Vicki?”

She’d never heard him sound that harsh, that unwelcoming. It shot her confidence to pieces but she was here and if she could come this far, she could keep going. “You walked away without letting me explain.”

“What’s there to explain?”

So much, she thought desperately, that she couldn’t find the words for. “I didn’t know,” she whispered. “I didn’t know you thought I didn’t want you. I swear, I didn’t know.” She’d thought she was doing something wrong and had tried to control her own reactions so as not to offend him, not realizing she was taking the worst possible action.

Caleb didn’t reach out to gather her into his arms as he had so many nights in the past. She ached to be held. But it wasn’t easy for a woman who’d spent a lifetime hiding her emotions to lay them out in the open.

“Now you do.”

And the next step was hers.

The thing was, Vicki didn’t know how to take that next step, didn’t know how to fix this broken bridge between them. She’d never confided in him, never once taken the chance of putting her pride, her heart, her deep insecurities on the line.

“You have to help me,” she whispered. If she was going to lose her husband, it wouldn’t be because she’d been too afraid to chance her heart. “I can’t do this without you.”

At last, he turned. But he didn’t hold her, instead propping himself up on his elbow. “We’ve had enough lies between us. Just tell me the truth. Why?”

Why did you marry me if you can’t stand my touch?

The words he’d spoken in anger earlier whispered around the room, a silent third party to this painful conversation.

“I love your touch,” she repeated her own words. But this time when he began to move away, she grabbed his shoulder. “Don’t. Don’t, Caleb.”

It was the break in Vicki’s voice that halted Caleb. He knew she was fighting tears. No matter how much it hurt him to lie beside her knowing she felt nothing for him when he burned for her, he’d do it if it would stop her from crying. He had no defense against her tears, not when he knew exactly what they cost her.

In the early days of their marriage, she’d once confessed that she didn’t cry because as a child, her tears had been the only thing over which she’d had any control. No matter what she’d said or done, her grandmother had never been able to make Vicki break down.

“I’m here,” he said. “Don’t cry, honey.”

“I’m not crying.” Her voice was raw. “I just need to say this. I’ve been trying for so long.”

“What?” Giving in to his own need, he drew her into his arms. She came without hesitation, spooning her back to his front. The familiarity of the gesture was bittersweet. Vicki didn’t mind his embrace. All those late nights when he’d finally slipped into bed, she’d sleepily scooted nearer so he could tuck her close.

“The way I am in bed…it’s not your fault.”

What was he supposed to make of that?

She took a deep, halting breath. “Grandmother…”

The abrupt change of topic threw him. “What about her?”

Caleb didn’t particularly like Ada Wentworth, even though the old woman had introduced him to Vicki and given her smiling blessing to their union. He’d known that Ada had chosen to overlook his lack of breeding only because of his increasing wealth and connections, but it hadn’t mattered. Despite the ten-year gap in their ages, he’d fallen headlong for Vicki.

She put her hand over the arm he had around her waist. “She said—She said that the reason my father left my mother was because my mother was a s-slut. A w-whore who’d spread her legs for any man who asked.”

Caleb bit off a sharp curse. “How old were you?” He knew she’d been sent to live with Ada at four years of age, soon after her parents, Danica and Gregory Wentworth, had divorced.

“I can’t remember the first time, but I grew up with her voice in my head telling me ‘like mother, like daughter.’ I guess I must have been very young when she started. There was never a time when I didn’t know what Grandmother thought of Mother and what she’d think of me if I ever strayed out of line.”

He was rocked by the viciousness of the wounds Vicki had hidden inside herself.

“And she said,” Vicki continued before he could speak, “that unless I was the perfect model of a wife, you’d leave me, too. She told me that men don’t want their wives to be w-whores. If I wanted to keep you, I had better make sure I always acted like a lady, not a slut.”

She was killing him. “Vicki—”

“When I was ten, my father married Claire. She’s so perfect, sometimes I don’t think she’s real. It’s as if she has ice running in her veins. I’ve never seen her show any powerful emotion. Grandmother used to tell me, ‘Look at Claire and now look at Danica. Men sleep with sluts, but they marry women of breeding.’ I believed her.”

Caleb wanted to strangle Ada. “I married you,” he said, trying to cut through her pain. “I never asked you to be anything other than the woman you were.”

“That’s just it, Caleb.” Haunting sadness laced her tone. “You were so proud to be marrying the woman Grandmother had made me into, the woman I was when we met. So proud of the way I talked and acted. I wanted you to love me so I tried hard to continue to be that woman even though she wasn’t really me.

“And all the time, I knew I wasn’t giving you what you needed but I didn’t understand what it was that I was doing wrong. I kept trying harder and harder but no matter what I did, you kept moving further away from me. Then one day I realized that if I tried any harder to be someone I wasn’t, I’d disappear forever.”

Stunned, he put both hands on her shoulders and tugged her onto her back with him braced over her. She tried to avoid his gaze but he put a finger on her jaw and applied gentle pressure until her eyes met his. “You don’t have to act a certain way to prove yourself to me. The only thing I ever wanted was for you to drop your shields and let me in.”

Her eyes widened at his husky words. A hesitant hand rose to touch his cheek and he felt his whiskers scrape her skin. He used to shower and shave before coming to her, wanting to be what he’d thought she needed.

“Really?” Doubt continued to throw shadows over her expression.

Understanding, he stroked the hair off her face. “Don’t you think I could tell what Ada had tried to do to you? What attracted me to you was your spirit, your refusal to be crushed by her. I was so goddamn proud to have you as my wife. You, not the well-bred, elegant doll.”

“And I was proud to have you as my husband.” Vicki’s hand slid to rest on his shoulder. “Proud of what you’d achieved through sheer determination. Did you know I used to brag to the other wives about your successful cases? Sometimes, I’d go sit in the back of the courtroom to watch you work and think, he’s mine.”

Caleb’s whole world changed in that instant. “Vicki,” he whispered. No one had ever been proud of him. His family came to him for money but not one of them had ever said, “Well done, Caleb, well done.” Not one of them had ever come to watch him defend a case. And not one of them had ever been so proud that they’d praised him to others.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head. “I’m as much to blame as you. I pushed and pushed like I always do.” As a child, belligerence had been the only way he’d been able to make his father, Max, “see” him. As often as not, his stubbornness had sparked Max’s temper, but back then Caleb had been desperate enough to value any connection with the man. The experience had scarred him, made him emotionally aggressive when dealing with the people who mattered to him, with Vicki.

“And I let you,” she added, taking a burden that should never have set on her shoulders. “Every time I tried to speak about it, I’d get so nervous and when you began to soothe me and say we could talk about whatever it was later, I’d agree. But later never came.”

Caleb wasn’t going to allow her to let him off the hook so easily. “Honey, I knew you wanted to tell me something…” I just didn’t want to hear it. I thought,” he dropped his head and owned up to his colossal blunder, “that you’d tell me you didn’t want to be in bed with me. So I tried to change your mind each time.” Another assumption, he realized, beginning to see the pattern in his dealings with Vicki.

Her eyes were huge. “What happens next?”

“I want to be married to you, Vicki.” Nothing subtle would work now. “Do you want to be married to me?”

The pause was minuscule. “Yes.” She took a deep breath. “Yes.”

It wasn’t the avowal he’d been looking for. But it was better than her earlier statement that they were still separated. “Then giving up is not an option.” It had never been for him. And despite Vicki’s ambivalence, he didn’t think it had ever been for her, either. If it had, she would have taken his key when she’d kicked him out and refused to see him those times he’d come over or invited her to lunch. But she hadn’t.

“Caleb…” She put a hesitant hand on his upper arm. “Do you want…? We can try again.”

The vulnerability he could see shattered him. He knew that right now, he could ask for anything in bed and she’d try to provide it. But he didn’t want his wife giving in to him because she was laboring under a burden of guilt. He wanted them to bridge this distance in the bright light of day.

“All I want is for you to sleep in my arms.” He dropped a soft kiss on her lips. It was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. Part of him—the part that had been deprived for years—whispered that he should take this chance, that it might never come again, that this emotional woman in his arms would be gone when morning arrived, replaced by the cool, elegant lady he barely dared to touch.

Troubled eyes met his. “Caleb, I can…”

“Hush.” He moved onto his back, pulling her against his chest. “Sleep. This is enough for tonight.” Despite the desperate voices urging him to take what she was trying to offer and not look back, he knew he spoke the truth. His wife was used to keeping her emotions well under control. And yet she’d come to him tonight.

Finally, she’d come to him.

Five

Vicki woke to the sound of Caleb showering. As always, she fantasized about going into the bathroom, stripping off her clothing and joining him in that steamy enclosure. What she’d give to run her hands over his soap-slick skin, to explore his beautiful body as she wished. But as always, she got out of bed and went to put on the coffee instead.

“One day,” she muttered under her breath as she set the coffeemaker. “One day soon.” She’d love to shock Caleb by joining him. He’d never expect that. And he was probably right—she didn’t have the kind of sexual confidence it took to approach a man naked and vulnerable, assured that he’d accept, not reject, her silent invitation.

Getting the bread out of the pantry, she was struck by the appearance of her hands—the oval nails polished a pale nude color, the tasteful wedding band that was her only jewelry. It seemed to her that she was exactly like her hand—well polished, boring and without character. Not a woman who did exciting things like surprise her husband in the shower.

The scent of Caleb’s woodsy aftershave warned her that he’d entered the kitchen. Without thinking about it, she turned and blurted, “Am I boring, Caleb?”

His eyes widened. “You might be a lot of things, honey, but boring isn’t one of them.”

“Tell me one thing I’ve done that’s been out of the ordinary.” She put the bread on the counter and frowned. “One thing I’ve done that you never expected me to do.”

“You asked me for a divorce.” He grabbed a couple of slices of bread and put them in the toaster. “Then you told me to go sleep in the guest bedroom—surprised the hell out of me and not in a good way.”

She breathed in the just-showered scent of him and wanted nothing more than to pull him down by that sedate navy tie and plant a shockingly raw good-morning kiss on his lips. Caleb had always looked good in a suit. “Hmm,” she said, staring at him as he reached up to get mugs from the upper cupboards. “Caleb?”

He put two mugs on the counter. “Yes?”

“Are we going to ignore last night?” She couldn’t bear to pretend anymore. It was as if once she’d ripped open this scar she had to keep pushing at it to see how much it hurt, to check if it had healed any.

He faced her, tall, strong and masculine to the core. When she thought he’d speak, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. She melted into him, clutching at his waist to keep herself upright. Usually Caleb let her control their kisses, but today he was kissing the thoughts right out of her head.

When they came up for air, his eyes were filled with a thousand emotions. “What do you think?”

Barely able to breathe, she pointed to the toaster. “Your toast’s ready.”

For some reason, that made him smile. “I made you a piece, too.” He buttered the toast and put it to her lips. “You’re eating for two now, Mrs. Callaghan.”

The unbearably Caleb statement, care wrapped in action, made her smile. And that was how she sent her husband off to work. For the first time in a long while, they laughed as they kissed each other goodbye, looking forward to the night to come.

Once Caleb had left, Vicki went through some catalogues for the university and a nearby technical college. It had come as a rude shock during the separation to realize that without Caleb, she was a woman who did nothing useful, nothing that made her proud. With no client dinners to organize or cocktail parties to attend, no suits to be dry-cleaned, no husband to mess up the pristine house, she’d been slapped with the fact that part of her anger at Caleb came from her own uninspiring existence.

Her husband was a dynamo in the legal world, respected by colleagues and competitors alike. And what was she? A finishing school-educated woman of twenty-four. She kept up with Caleb by reading business journals voraciously so she could discuss things he was interested in. But how long would that sustain them? How long until it became clear to him that she had nothing original to contribute to their lives?

But her urge to do more wasn’t all about pleasing Caleb. It was about her. Caleb and the baby were her life, her everything. Was that healthy? Would she wake up one day to find her child grown and Caleb buried in work, leaving her alone and adrift? Would she become like her grandmother, convincing herself that jewels and parties could fill the void where her dreams and goals, her self-respect, should have resided?

And what if their marriage failed despite everything? She didn’t have a shred of doubt that Caleb would support her and their child, but she wanted to be able to take care of herself, wanted to be more than she was right now. It would have been one thing if she’d chosen to be a homemaker because it was right for her, but she hadn’t. She’d just drifted into it because it was what Caleb seemed to want.

It was time to make her own choices.

But no matter how much she tried to convince herself that study was a good idea, she couldn’t get past her need to do something. Another two or three years in academic limbo seemed like a life sentence after the years she’d already lost. But what could she do? What was she qualified for?

Nothing.

Even more frustrated than when she’d started, she put away the catalogues and spent the rest of the day pulling non-existent weeds from the back garden. The portable phone beside her rang mid-afternoon. It was her mother.

“Did you get my card? I’ll be flying into Auckland sometime in the next couple of weeks. Coffee?” Danica asked in that voice that had acquired a slight Mediterranean accent over the years.

Vicki agreed, aware that it was more than likely Danica would forget to keep the date. Her mother’s haphazard visits were something Vicki had gotten used to. At least that was what she told herself. “Give me a call when you get in.”

Hanging up after a quick goodbye, she started pulling weeds with too much force, sending dirt flying everywhere. It took her ten minutes to calm down enough to realize she’d pulled out most of the dark purple and yellow pansies she loved. How did her mother always manage to agitate her so much?

Forcing herself to think through the furious buzz of emotion, Vicki apologized to the plants, replanted the ones that weren’t too bedraggled and began to reorganize a border of stones around the garden. After a while, the repetitive physical activity numbed her emotions enough that she felt marginally better, though she knew it was a delaying tactic against not only dealing with her future, but also her chaotic feelings toward Danica.

She was picking up a big stone to reposition it for the seventy-sixth time when Caleb walked around the side of the house. He’d taken the stone from her before she could say a word of welcome. “Where?” he asked, face grim.

She pointed to the right spot. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

He set down the stone and straightened. “I saw my pregnant wife threatening to kill herself hauling stones that didn’t need to be moved.” He was scowling, clearly not amused.

She rolled her eyes. “I was fine.” Then she grinned. “You’re home in time for dinner.”

“I was hoping you’d notice.” He rubbed a smudge of dirt off her nose. “Have you been rolling around in the mud again?”

Laughing, she took off a glove and pushed at him. “Change. Then come help me in the kitchen.” For a second, their camaraderie was like when they’d first married. He’d come home countless times to tease her that she looked like a laborer’s assistant with her broken nails and paint-splattered overalls. Then he’d lift her up in his arms and swing her around, both of them laughing with happiness simply because they were together.

Caleb’s grin faded as she stared at him. “What do you see?” he asked.

“Us. Before we lost each other.” The words came from somewhere deep in her soul where they’d been trapped for what seemed like forever. Under her hand, his heart beat strong and loud, but she wondered if it still beat for her as passionately as it once had.

“We’re not done yet,” he said. “Not by a long shot.” The stubborn set of his jaw was as familiar to her as her own face, and welcome beyond measure. “You have dirt in your hair.” He picked at the strands by her temple.

“I need to shower,” she whispered, her voice husky.

For a moment, she thought he heard what she was trying to say, heard the woman in her attempting to come out of hiding, but then he dropped his hand and the moment was gone. “I’ll let you clean up and meet you in the kitchen.”

She tried not to let her disappointment show. “Okay.”

They were just sitting down to dinner at the kitchen table when the phone rang. Caleb picked up the extension on the wall to answer it as she went to grab a forgotten bottle of salad dressing.

“Yes, I’m listening.”

Her head jerked up at the tone of his voice. Gone was all the humor, sensuality, laughter. Tightly controlled, he sounded almost emotionless and there were only a few people who made him sound that way. “Your family? Lara?” she mouthed.

He gave a sharp nod. “How much?”

Vicki narrowed her eyes, in no doubt as to why Lara had called. It was the same reason why any of his family ever called. She was acquainted with all three members—Caleb had never hidden his roots. Before they’d married, he’d taken her to the run-down neighborhood where he’d grown up and introduced her to his family and friends.

She knew that Max was a sculptor and Caleb’s mother, Carmen, a poet. Unfortunately, neither had achieved professional success. To Victoria, Max and Carmen had always seemed sanctimonious in their assertions that they were sacrificing for their art. What they’d sacrificed was their children’s welfare. Caleb rarely talked about his growing-up years, but from what he had let slip, she’d guessed that he’d sometimes gone hungry.

Unlike Caleb, his sister, Lara, hadn’t left the family fold. A struggling singer with two kids by two different men, she’d never wavered from her belief that her parents’ way—poverty and suffering as the only path to creative genius—was the right way.

“What did she want?” Vicki asked when Caleb hung up the phone and came to stand beside her.

He sighed, staring blindly into space. “What she always wants. Money. Since I sold out to the capitalist regime, the least I can do is help her out now and then.” His tone was flat, as if the call had drained all emotion from him.

Vicki recognized the familiar refrain. She’d heard it enough times from Lara’s own mouth. Previously, Vicki had remained silent, reasoning that she had no business interfering with Caleb and his family. Now, seeing the pain revealed by her husband’s bowed head, she decided it was very much her business.

Turning slightly, she pushed at his chest until he looked at her. “Why do you let them treat you this way?” Instinct told her there was something fundamental she didn’t know. The political rhetoric the Callaghans spewed simply couldn’t explain the antipathy Vicki sometimes felt emanating from them toward Caleb. What wasn’t he telling her?

She knew she didn’t yet have the right to push for that information. They’d barely started talking about repairing the fissures in their marriage. Until those wounds had healed, she had to tread softly. But it didn’t mean she had to remain silent.