The Hidden Years (79 page)

She stared at him. 'They've
what
?
But they
can't
have done. Not at this stage.'

'It was always on the cards,' Daniel told her brusquely.
'But you were so determined to win out against
me
,
to put one over on
me
, that you never seemed to
realise it. You shouldn't take things so personally,' he told her
acidly.

'Daniel, I…'

There was so much she wanted to explain to him. So much
she wanted to share with him. The words trembled on the tip of her
tongue—just one sign of encouragement from him and they would
have come tumbling out… but instead he turned his back on
her and said grimly, 'Well, I'll be on my way. I apologise for
interrupting your wallow in self-pity. Shame that Scott isn't here to
witness it, isn't it? Goodbye, Sage!'

Somehow the way he said it made her body tense as it
recognised something her heart didn't want to know. He was walking out
on her. There would be no other time, no second chance…but
before she could stop him, before she could say anything, Faye came in,
saying quickly, 'Everything's arranged, Sage, they're putting off the
operation for another twenty-four hours…'

Daniel was already in the hall—another moment
and he would be gone. She tried to follow him, but her feet were numb,
she couldn't move and as she tried to stumble after him she heard the
front door opening and closing.

She reached it just as his car started to move down the
drive. She turned and, as Faye looked into her face, her sister-in-law
demanded, appalled, 'Sage, what is it… what's wrong?'

'Nothing,' Sage lied bleakly. 'Nothing at all.'

'I can't
believe it, Scott… even now. And to think all these years
you've known and you've never—'

'I
couldn't
tell you,' Scott
interrupted. 'I promised Dad I wouldn't and, remember, Sage, for all I
knew your mother… our mother… might have told you
and you might not have wanted to get in touch. When Dad told me you'd
been on the phone…'

'My brother…' Sage repeated softly. 'My twin.
That's why I always felt so close to you. So—'

'It's been the same for me,' Scott assured her. 'Better in
some ways because I knew—worse because knowing made me want
to be with you, to share it with you—'

'And you're a father—two boys…my
nephews…' she suddenly realised with laughter that was
closer to tears.

They were all at Cottingdean. Scott and Lewis had arrived
last night, and from the moment of his arrival Lewis had taken charge
of them all, in a way that made Sage realise all too well how easily
her mother would have fallen in love with him.

He was so alive… so very vigorous and male,
even now… he must have been such a contrast to Edward,
Edward who, even as a child, Sage had recognised as being someone who
needed constant care, constant cherishing.

How painful it must have been for her mother to love Lewis
and yet know that she could not leave Edward. She
knew
how painful it had been, how much she had longed to go with Lewis,
to… She must make sure that he had an opportunity to read
the last diary at least, before he left for the hospital—to
understand… Alaric Ferguson had told them that there was
little point in their being at the hospital during the operation, but
Lewis had ignored this advice and was insisting that he was going to be
there, and seeing the anxiety, the fear in his eyes, Sage hadn't had
the heart to demand that they all share that vigil with him.

She sensed that he wanted to be alone with her
mother… that he needed to be there with her.

He was her father, she his daughter, although they were
both still a little wary of that relationship, a little
hesitant… both of them remembering the past.

Three hours before the operation was scheduled to take
place, Lewis McLaren left for the London hospital. Sage watched him go
with mingled feelings. The hours passed slowly and for comfort she
sought out Scott who came to stand close beside her, his arms around
her. She felt so at ease with him… so relaxed. It surprised
her how easily she had accepted their relationship, how complete it
made her feel… how right. Knowing the truth highlighted the
difference between how she felt about Scott and how she felt about
Daniel.

Even in the past she had desired Daniel… had
loved him, probably, but had not been able to recognise that fact, her
perceptions clouded by the intensity of her involvement with Scott.

She told Scott as much, laughing at his astonishment. 'You
love Daniel Cavanagh
! We still keep in touch,
you know. He's a fine guy, but the two of you…'

'Oh, he doesn't love me,' Sage assured him wryly.
'Although—'

'Although what?'

'Although he wants me,' she told Scott mischievously, and
was amused by the sternness of his expression.

'Friend or not, if he thinks I'm going to stand by and let
him sleep with my sister—'

Sage laughed at his outrage.

'I'm a grown woman, Scott,' she reminded him gently. 'Not
a child. But you're right. The way I feel about Daniel is too powerful
to allow me to have a relationship with him that's only sexual. It
would be too painful, too potentially humiliating for me when it was
over. I don't think I'd be able to trust myself to take my rejection
gracefully…I never was very good at accepting rejection,'
she added wryly.

Scott hugged her. 'When I knew the truth, you'll never
know how much I wanted to share it with you, but Dad told me he'd given
your mother his word that you wouldn't be told. It seems that she felt
that even if you were told you wouldn't believe it, that you'd think
she was lying to you to keep us apart—and there was still
Edward…'

'Yes,' Sage agreed quietly, 'she was probably right.'

And then of course later, when she was older, when Edward
was dead, well, she had hardly given her mother the opportunity or the
encouragement to confide in her, had she? And yet now she realised how
much her mother must have always wanted to tell her, to share with her
her own pain and need.

'Does he still love her?' Sage asked him simply.

'Yes. He's never stopped loving her.'

'Then why, when my father…when Edward died, why
didn't he come to her?'

'Pride, I guess… She'd been pretty brutal with
him, telling him she'd never loved him… I guess he told
himself that the next time, if there was to be a next time, she could
do the running. I guess he never allowed himself to believe that she'd
want him to go to her.'

'But he's here now…'

Scott's eyes were sad as he asked emotionally, 'Wouldn't
you be, given the circumstances?'

Both of them were silent, sharing their thoughts, their
emotions.

Had she known Scott all her life, had she shared this
closeness with him, would
she
have been a
different person, a more whole person, a gentler person? Sage wondered,
and then ruefully made herself admit that she probably would not; that
she would all too likely have dominated and bullied him, that she would
have been destructively possessive and jealous with him, and that in
many ways it was perhaps just as well that they had grown to adulthood
separately—that she had learned that it was not possible nor
right that one person should ever wholly possess or dominate another,
even out of love— before she experienced this closeness, this
completeness with another person.

Scott was her brother, her twin, her other half, but he
had other important relationships, with his father, his
wife… their children, and as he talked to her about them and
she heard that love and pride echoing in his voice it underlined her
own aloneness, and traitorously it' was to Daniel that her thoughts
turned. Daniel who infuriated her, aroused her, unnerved
her… Daniel who had turned his back on her and walked out on
her before she could explain, before she could make him understand that
she hadn't been indulging in some foolish reliving of the past, in
daydreaming over Scott.

Daniel… her face grew shadowed as she
acknowledged how much she wanted him to be here, how much she wanted
him to share this special time with her, and emotively she said to
Scott, 'You must be missing your wife…your sons…
You should have brought them with you.'

The surprised, pleased look he gave her warmed her.

'I wanted to bring them,' he admitted, 'but Averil said
that this was a very difficult and special time for the three of
us… Dad, you and me… She sends her love, of
course, and the boys are dying to meet you. Averil knows all about you,
but the boys… Well, as you can imagine, they're thrilled to
discover that they have an aunt…'

'I'm looking forward to meeting them already,' Sage
laughed, her laughter fading as she added abruptly, 'Did
Mother… does Mother… does she know about your
wife, your family…?' She thought how painful it must be for
her mother knowing that she had a son, grandchildren… and
knowing at the same time that she would never be able to get close to
them.

'Yes,' Scott told her simply. 'But she's never met them.
She and Dad…' He shrugged his shoulders. 'Well, there was so
much bitterness there—on Dad's part anyway— that I
felt I owed it to him not to… and then there was you. I felt
I couldn't… We all decided that it was best that things
remain as they were.'

'And between you, the three of you decided that I couldn't
be trusted with the truth,' Sage suggested wryly but without rancour.

What was the point in working herself up into a rage about
something which was in the past, something which could not be altered?
Perhaps their joint decision had been the right one… If she
had been told the truth then, when she had lacked the maturity to see
the sacrifices her mother had made, to be aware of her suffering, she
would probably have turned against her… she would probably
in her possessive and immature intensity have demanded and expected
from her mother and from Scott a far too intense depth of emotional
support. She would have made demands on them which it would have been
impossible for them to meet. Idealistic, impossible demands which in
the end would have destroyed their relationship and maybe her along
with it.

Years ago, when she had accused Daniel of gloating over
Scott's desertion of her, he had told her bluntly— and, she
had thought, cruelly—that she was emotionally immature, that
she was looking to Scott to put right all the perceived wrongs of her
childhood… that she was looking to him to fulfil too many
roles in her life and that the real need she was hiding was her need to
come to terms with herself, to accept herself… to like
herself.

Then she had been furious… Now she knew how
wisely and truthfully he had spoken.

She smiled wryly to herself. Once, had anyone told her
that, alone with Scott, hearing him say how much he loved her and
knowing it was the truth, she would have felt this need…
this ache, this hunger for Daniel's company…well, she would
never have believed them. How little she had known about herself, about
others.

She was more at peace with herself than she had ever
believed possible. She felt only compassion and love for her
mother… respect, too. For her father her feelings were less
certain, less settled… He had believed her mother's denial
of her feelings… He had hurt her… And yet she could see that he had suffered greatly
himself. It was not, after all, for her to question his actions, his
errors, and having seen his face after he had read the last diary she
knew how strongly, how unswervingly he had loved and still loved her
mother.

Yes, she was more at peace with herself than she had ever
been, but she still ached for Daniel. And not just
physically… She ached for him emotionally,
mentally… hungered for him…wept inside for
him…loved him.

Only now did she truly understand what that kind of love
meant. She wondered if in her mother's shoes she would ever have had
the strength to make the same kind of sacrifices, and shivered as she
acknowledged that she most probably would not.

'Someone walk over your grave?' Scott asked her.

She shook her head.

'No, I was just thinking about Mother…
marvelling at her strength of character. She's a wonderful person,
Scott,' she told him urgently. 'She loved our father…
probably still does love him, but she felt that Edward needed her
more…'

'I know,' he told her gently. 'I've read the diaries too,
now, remember?'

'Mm… I wonder when we'll hear something? She
must be out of the operating theatre by now…'

'Not quite yet. They said the operation would take six
hours… There's still another hour to go. I'm glad you found
out the truth before…'

'Before it was too late…' Sage suggested
huskily. 'Oh God, Scott. You don't think she's going to die, do you? I
don't think I could bear it… Not now…there's so
much I want to tell her, so much I want to ask her…'

'If Dad lets you… It seems to me he's got a lot
of catching up to do as well…'

The telephone rang while they were all in the
sitting-room, making a pretence of eating the meal which Jenny had
insisted on preparing for them.

Faye reached it first, snatching up the receiver and
listening.

'It's over,' she told them all quickly. 'Liz came through
the operation very well. She's in recovery now and we can go up and see
her, although Alaric Ferguson says that she'll be very groggy, that she
probably won't even recognise us…'

Scott drove them all to the hospital.

'To be honest I don't feel capable of concentrating on my
driving right now,' Sage admitted to him, 'although we all know what
happened the last time you drove me anywhere…'

The smile he gave her reassured her that she had long ago
been forgiven for that potentially fatal foolishness.