Sarah's Child (2 page)

Still, the summer when shed invited Diane to the company picnic she hadnt expected him to take one look at Dianes vibrant beauty and claim her for his own. But it had happened, and Diane and Rome had married five months later. Three months after their first anniversary Justin had been born, and two years later Shane. Two beautiful little boys, with their mothers looks and their fathers determination, and Sarah had loved them because they were Romes children.

Shed remained as close to Diane as before, but shed always been careful not to infringe on the time Rome spent with his family. He traveled a great deal, and Sarah limited her visits to the days he was out of town. She couldnt say just why, but she sensed that Rome disapproved of her close friendship with Diane, though to her knowledge hed never said anything. Perhaps it was that he simply didnt like her, though shed never done anything to earn it. Shed tried to stay out of his way, and shed never, never told Diane anything about how she felt. There was no point in it; it would only have distressed Diane, and hurt their friendship.

Sarah had dated, and still did, but only casually. It wouldnt have been fair to some other man to encourage a closer relationship when there was no way shed be able to return any love offered to her. Everyone who asked, teasingly, when she was going to marry, had received the same reply: She loved her work too much to wash dirty socks for some man. It had been a lighthearted, stock answer, and it had served the purpose of protecting her vulnerable heart, but it had been a he. Shed never wanted a career, but it was all she had left, so shed given it her best. The charade had fooled everyone but herself.

Rome had been devoted to Diane and the boys. The free-way accident, almost two years before, had almost destroyed him. It had destroyed the laughter in him, the fierce-burning fire in his eyes. Diane had been driving the boys to school, and a drunk weaving his way home in the early-morning traffic had crossed out of his lane and hit them head-on. If he hadnt been killed immediately, Sarah felt that Rome would have choked the man with his bare hands, hed been so insane with grief when hed been told. Justin had been killed on impact; Shane had died two days later. Two weeks after the accident Diane had died without ever regaining consciousness or knowing that her sons were gone. During those two weeks, Sarah had spent as much time as she could at her friends bedside, holding the limp hand and trying to will her to live, but fearing that Diane wouldnt want to wake up from her death sleep. Rome had been a permanent fixture on the other side of the bed, holding the hand that bore his ring, his face gray and drawn, locked inside himself. Diane had been his only hope, his only remaining bit of sunshine, and her frail light had flickered and gone out, leaving him in darkness.

Gently Sarah went through all of the snapshots, seeing herself and Diane in various stages of their childhood and adolescence, mixed in with photographs of the boys as babies, toddlers, and rowdy little boys. Rome was in some of those pictures, romping with the boys, washing the car, mowing the grass, doing all of the normal things that fathers and husbands do. Sarah lingered over a picture of him lying on his back in the grass, wearing only a brief pair of denim shorts, holding Justin dangling over his head. His strong brown arms were steady as he held the toddler up, and it was evident that the child felt secure in his fathers hands. Justin had been shrieking with laughter. On the grass beside them, Shane had been trying to climb to his baby feet, and one tiny plump hand had clutched the hair on Romes chest in an effort to pull himself up.

See anything you want?

The question startled her, and she jumped, dropping the picture back into the box. She realized that he was asking in general and hadnt noticed her staring at his picture with sick longing, but her shadowy green eyes were wide and wary as she scrambled to her feet, smoothing her skirt.

Yes. Ill take the box. There are a lot of pictures in here of Diane and the boysif you dont

Take them, he said curtly, walking into the room. He stopped in the middle of the floor and stood looking around, as if hed never been there before, but his eyes were bleak, and his mouth looked as if it would never smile again. He did sometimes smile, Sarah realized, after a fashion, but it was merely a polite movement of his lips rather than an expression of humor. Certainly the smile never reached his eyes and lit the dark fires that had once smoldered there.

He jammed his hands into his pockets, as if he had to do something to keep them from knotting into fists. His shoulders were tense, braced against the impact of memories that this room must bring to him. Hed slept in that bed with Diane, made love to her, wrestled with the boys on early Saturday mornings when they came running in to wake him up. Quickly Sarah leaned down to pick up the box, turning her gaze away from him to keep from witnessing his anguish.

The anguish was as much in her as it was in him. She loved him enough to wish Diane back for him, so he could smile again. He would always be Dianes anyway, because her death hadnt stopped his love for her. He was still grieving for her, still hurting from her loss.

Im finished in the boys room, he said remotely. Everythings packed up. II Suddenly his voice broke, and Sarahs heart broke with it. He drew a ragged breath, his chest heaving with the effort it took to control himself.

Suddenly his face twisted with rage, and he whirled to slam his fist against the dresser, rattling the bottles of perfume and cosmetics that still littered the top. Dammit, it was such a waste! He cursed violently, then groped for the dresser as his body sagged under the weight of his anger and grief. Hed never known defeat until his family had been taken from him. Death was final, permanent, striking without warning and destroying the life hed built for himself.

In some ways, losing the boys was worse than losing Diane, he said in a muffled tone. They were so young; they hadnt had a chance at life. They never knew what it was like to play high-school sports, or go to college, or kiss their girlfriends for the first time. They hadnt made love, or seen their own children born. They never had a chance.

Sarah clutched the box to her breast. Justin kissed his girlfriend, she said shakily, a tiny smile breaking through in spite of the pain. Her name was Jennifer. There were four Jennifers in his class, but he told me very firmly that his Jennifer was the pretty one. He kissed her right on the mouth and asked her to marry him, but she got scared and ran away. He told me that he spected she just wasnt ready for marriage yet, but hed keep his eye on her. Thats practically verbatim, she added, laughing a little. Shed imitated Justins way of talking, drawling and tough for a seven-year-old, and Romes mouth twitched. He glanced at her, and suddenly his dark brown-black eyes were dancing with golden lights. He made a choking sound, then he was laughing, throwing back his dark head on the deep healthy sound.

My God, he was a tough little nut, he chuckled. Poor Jennifer wouldnt have had a chance.

Neither had poor Sarah. Justin had received all of his tough charm straight from his father.

Her heart jolted at his laugh, the first genuine laugh shed heard from him in two years. He hadnt talked about the boys, or Diane, since the accident. Hed bottled up all of his memories with the pain, as if he had to keep them locked away in order for him to function on even a basic level.

She shifted, still clutching the box. These pictures if you ever want any of them, theyre yours.

Thanks. He shrugged his wide shoulders, as if trying to ease the tension in them. This is rougher than I thought it would be. Its still almost more than I can handle.

Sarah ducked her head, unable to answer or look at him without crying. This was so traumatic for her that she was beginning to doubt her ability to get through it, but she couldnt do anything to make it any harder for him. If he started to cry, shed probably die on the spot. Part of the agony shed felt after the accident had been for Rome, knowing how he was suffering. She hadnt even been able to put her arms around him at any of the services; hed held himself stiffly erect, his face utterly white and withdrawn, sealed off by his grief from everyone around him. Rome had been alone, unable to share his pain.

When she looked up again, Rome was sitting on the bed where hed slept with Diane, her silk nightgown in his strong hands. His head was bent, and he pulled the silk through his fingers over and over again.

Rome She stopped, not knowing what to say to him. What could she say?

I still wake up at night and reach for her, he said in a rough tone. This is the nightgown she wore the last night we spent together, the last time I made love to her. I cant get used to her not being there. Its an empty pain that wont go away, no matter how many women I take.

Sarah gasped, her Nile-green eyes widening and becoming shuttered; he glanced up, his eyes bitter. Does that shock you, Sarah? That Ive had other women? I was faithful to Diane for eight years, never even kissing another woman, though sometimes when I was on a trip Id lie awake all night, wanting a woman so much that I hurt all over. But no one else would do; it had to be her. So Id wait until I came home; then we wouldnt sleep that entire night.

Sarahs throat tightened, and she retreated from him as an unexpectedly savage pain slashed at her. She didnt want to hear this. Shed always tried not to think of him in bed with I Diane, trying not to envy her friend, eternally striving to keep jealousy from ruining their friendship. Shed succeeded while Diane was alive, but now Romes words were tearing at her, forcing images into her head that she didnt want to see. She turned away from him, her face averted as she tried to avoid hearing his words. The bed squeaked as he left it; then suddenly his hands were gripping her arms with a hard grip, jerk-ing her around to face him. His face was white and full of rage, a muscle jerking in his temple. Whats wrong, Saint Sarah? Are you so buried in that mental convent of yours that you cant stand hearing about normal people who enjoy the sinful activity of sex? He was snarling at her, and Sarah was frozen in his grasp, stunned by the anger that had erupted in him. Dimly she realized that he wasnt angry at her as much as he was angry at the fate that had taken his wife from him and left him with only emptiness in his arms, but still, Rome in a temper was a man to fear.

He shook her, as if he wanted to punish her for being a warm, living woman, when Diane was forever gone. I still cant sleep with another woman, he rasped in a voice harsh with pain. I dont mean sex. I had sex with another woman only two months after Diane died, and I hated myself for it the next morninghell, as soon as it was finished! It felt as if Id been unfaithful to her, and I felt so guilty that I went back to my hotel room and threw up. I didnt even particularly enjoy it, but I did it again the next night, so Id feel guilty again. I tried to make myself suffer, to make myself pay for being alive when she was dead. Thereve been a lot of women since then; every time Ineed sex, theres always a woman whos willing to lie down with me. I need sex and Ive been taking it, but I cant sleep with them. When its over, I have to leave. In my mind, Im still Dianes husband, and I cant sleep with any woman but her.

Sarah felt suffocated, suspended in time by his hard grip on her arms, his hot breath on her cheek, and his enraged face so close to hers. She wrenched away from him, her hands tightened into fists. She couldnt hear about his intimacies with another woman, with any number of other women. She gave Rome a wild, desperate look, but he didnt notice. With a groan, he sank to his knees on the floor, burying his face in his hands, and his shoulders shook.

There wasnt enough oxygen in the room; she gasped at it, feeling her restricted lungs strain in an effort to drag enough air into her body. Her senses whirled, as if she might faint, but she didnt. Somehow she found herself on her knees beside him, and she put her arms around him as she had longed to do so many times. Instantly his strong arms locked around her, holding her in a grip that threatened to crack all of her ribs. He buried his face against her soft breasts and cried, harsh sobs that tore out of his body in great shudders. Sarah held him, stroking his hair, letting him cry; he was entitled to it, and hed gone for too long without letting someone else share in his grief. Her own face was wet, but she didnt notice the hot tears that blurred her vision. All that mattered was him, and she rocked him gently back and forth, with no words, but only her presence to shield him from the bitter loneliness that had turned his heart into a winter land of desolation.

Gradually he quieted, and he moved closer to her, his hands moving up her back. She felt the deep breaths he was taking as they expanded his chest, then the warmth of the expelled air on her breasts. Her nipples tightened in automatic, shameful response, hidden beneath her silk shirt and lacy bra, and she clenched her fingers in his hair in a movement that was beyond her control.

He lifted his head, his eyes still damp, and the darkness of his pupils had become so total that there was no brown in them at all. He stared at her, then reached out and tenderly wiped the moisture from her cheeks with his thumb. Sarah, he said on a whispering sigh, and touched his mouth to hers.

She went still, all breath suspended in her body, as thousands of her prayers were answered in that light touch of his lips. Her hands moved to his shoulders, the nails digging into the layers of muscle that corded his frame. It was just a simple kiss of thanks, but the bottom dropped out of her stomach and the blood rushed from her head, so intense was the pleasure that assailed her. She sank against him, her soft body melding to his from shoulder to thigh, as they knelt there on the floor. Automatically he supported her, his hard arms around the female curves of her body, holding her to him.