Unfinished Business (18 page)

“I need to trust myself first.” She took a bracing breath. “I leave for Cordina next week.”

His hand slid away from her arm. “Cordina?”

“Princess Gabriella's annual benefit.”

“I've heard of it.”

“I've agreed to give a performance.”

“I see.” Because he needed to do something, he opened a cupboard and took out a glass. “And when did you agree?”

“I signed almost two weeks ago.”

His fingers tensed on the glass. “And didn't mention it.”

“No, I didn't mention it.” She wiped her hands on her thighs. “With everything that was happening between us, I wasn't sure how you would react.”

“Were you going to wait until you were leaving for the airport, or were you just going to send me a postcard when you got there? Damn it, Van.” He barely controlled the urge to smash the glass against the wall. “What the hell kind of games have you been playing with me? Was all this just killing time, lighting up an old flame?”

She went pale, but her voice was strong. “You know better.”

“All I know is that you're leaving.”

“It's only a single performance, a few days.”

“And then?”

She turned to look out the window. “I don't know. Frank, my manager, is anxious to put a tour together. That's in addition to some special performances I've been asked to do.”

“In addition,” he repeated. “You came here with an ulcer because you could barely make yourself go out on stage, because you pushed yourself too far too often. And you're already talking about going back and doing it again.”

“It's something I have to work out for myself.”

“Your father—”

“Is dead,” she cut in. “He can't influence me to perform. I hope you won't try to influence me not to.” She took a calming breath, but it didn't help. “I don't believe I pushed myself too far. I did what I needed to do. All I want is the chance to decide what that is.”

As the war inside him continued, Brady wondered if there could be a victor. Or if there would only be victims. “You've been thinking about going back, starting with Cordina, but you never talked to me about it.”

“No. However selfish it sounds, Brady, this is something I needed to decide for myself. I realize it's unfair for me to ask you to wait. So I won't.” She closed her eyes tight, then opened them again. “Whatever happens, I want you to know that the last few weeks, with you, have meant everything to me.”

“The hell with that.” It was too much like a goodbye. He yanked her against him. “You can go to Cordina, you can go anywhere, but you won't forget me. You won't forget this.”

There was fury in the kiss. And desperation. She fought neither. How could she when their mirror images raged within her? She thought that if her life was to end that instant, she would have known nothing but this wild wanting.

“Brady.” She brought her hands to his face. When her brow rested against his, she drew a deep breath. “There has to be more than this. For both of us.”

“There is more.” With his thumbs under her jaw, he tilted her head back. “You know there is.”

“I made a promise to myself today. That I would take the time to think over my life, every year of it, every moment that I remembered that seemed important. And when I had done that, I would make the right decision. No more hesitations or excuses or doubts. But for now you have to let me go.”

“I let you go once before.” Before she could shake her head, he tightened his grip. “You listen to me. If you leave, like this, I won't spend the rest of my life wishing for you. I'll be damned if you'll break my heart a second time.”

As they stood close, their eyes locked on each other's, Joanie strolled into the room.

“Well, some baby-sitters.” With a laugh, she plucked Lara up and hugged her. “I can't believe I actually missed this monster. Sorry it took so long.” She smiled at Lara and kept babbling as she fought her way through the layers of tension.
“There was a line a mile long at the grocery.” She glanced down at the scattered pots and canned goods. “It looks like she kept you busy.”

“She was fine,” Vanessa managed. “She ate about half a box of crackers.”

“I thought she'd gained a couple pounds. Hi, Brady. Good timing.” His one-word comment had her rolling her eyes. “I meant I'm glad you're here. Look who I ran into outside.” She turned just as Ham and Loretta walked in, arm in arm. “Don't they look great?” Joanie wanted to know. “So tanned. I know tans aren't supposed to be healthy, but they look so good.”

“Welcome back.” Vanessa smiled, but stayed where she was. “Did you have a good time?”

“It was wonderful.” Loretta set a huge straw bag down on the table. There was warm color on her cheeks, on her bare arms. And, Vanessa noted, that same quiet happiness in her eyes. “It has to be the most beautiful place on earth, all that white sand and clear water. We even went snorkeling.”

“Never seen so many fish,” Ham said as he dropped yet another straw bag on the table.

“Ha!” Loretta gave him a telling look. “He was looking at all those pretty legs under water. Some of those women down there wear next to nothing.” Then she grinned. “The men, too. I stopped looking the other way after the first day or two.”

“Hour or two,” Ham corrected.

She only laughed and dug into her bag. “Look here, Lara. We brought you a puppet.” She dangled the colorful dancer from its strings.

“Among a few dozen other things,” Ham put in. “Wait until you see the pictures. I even rented one of those underwater cameras and got shots of the, ah, fish.”

“It's going to take us weeks to unpack it all. I can't even
think about it.” With a sigh, Loretta sat down at the table. “Oh, and the silver jewelry. I suppose I went a little wild with it.”

“Very wild,” Ham added with a wink.

“I want you both to pick out the pieces you like best,” she said to Vanessa and Joanie. “Once we find them. Brady, is that lemonade?”

“Right the first time.” He poured her a glass. “Welcome home.”

“Wait until you see your sombrero.”

“My sombrero?”

“It's red and silver—about ten feet across.” She grinned over at Ham. “I couldn't talk him out of it. Oh, it's good to be home.” She glanced at the counter. “What's all this?”

“I was…” Vanessa sent a helpless look at the mess she'd made. “I was going to try to fix some dinner. I…I thought you might not want to fuss with cooking your first night back.”

“Good old American food.” Ham took the puppet to dangle it for the giggling Lara. “Nothing would hit the spot better right now.”

“I haven't exactly—”

Catching her drift, Joanie moved over to the counter. “Looks like you were just getting started. Why don't I give you a hand?”

Vanessa stepped back, bumped into Brady, then moved away again. “I'll be back in a minute.”

She hurried out and took the stairs at a dash. In her room, she sat on the bed and wondered if she was losing her mind. Surely it was a close thing when a tuna casserole nearly brought her to tears.

“Van.” Loretta stood with her hand on the knob. “May I come in a minute?”

“I was coming back down. I just—” She started to rise, then sat again. “I'm sorry. I don't want to spoil your homecoming.”

“You haven't. You couldn't.” After a moment, she took a chance. Closing the door, she walked over to sit on the bed beside her daughter. “I could tell you were upset when we came in. I thought it was just because…well, because of me.”

“No. No, not entirely.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

She hesitated so long that Loretta was afraid she wouldn't speak at all.

“It's Brady. No, it's me,” Vanessa corrected, impatient with herself. “He wants me to marry him, and I can't. There are so many reasons, and he can't understand.
Won't
understand. I can't cook a meal or do laundry or any of the things that Joanie just breezes right through.”

“Joanie's a wonderful woman,” Loretta said carefully. “But she's different from you.”

“I'm the one who's different, from Joanie, from you, from everyone.”

Lightly, afraid to go too far, Loretta touched her hair. “It's not a crime or an abnormality not to know how to cook.”

“I know.” But that only made her feel more foolish. “It's simply that I wanted to feel self-sufficient and ended up feeling inadequate.”

“I never taught you how to cook, or how to run a household. Part of that was because you were so involved with your music, and there wasn't really time. But another reason, maybe the true one, is that I didn't want to. I wanted to have that all to myself. The house, the running of it, was all I really had to fulfill me.” She gave a little sigh as she touched Vanessa's rigid arm. “But we're not really talking about casseroles and laundry, are we?”

“No. I feel pressured, by what Brady wants. Maybe by who he wants. Marriage, it sounds so lovely. But—”

“But you grew up in a household where it wasn't.” With a nod, Loretta took Vanessa's hand. “It's funny how blind we can be. All the time you were growing up, I never thought what was going on between your father and me affected you. And of course it did.”

“It was your life.”

“It was our lives,” Loretta told her. “Van, while we were away, Ham and I talked about all of this. He wanted me to explain everything to you. I didn't agree with him until right now.”

“Everyone's downstairs.”

“There have been enough excuses.” She couldn't sit, so she walked over to the window. The marigolds were blooming, a brilliant orange and yellow against the smug-faced pansies.

“I was very young when I married your father. Eighteen.” She gave a little shake of her head. “Lord, it seems like a lifetime ago. And certainly like I was another person. How he swept me off my feet! He was almost thirty then, and had just come back after being in Paris, London, New York, all those exciting places.”

“His career had floundered,” Vanessa said quietly. “He'd never talk about it, but I've read—and, of course, there were others who loved to talk about his failures.”

“He was a brilliant musician. No one could take that away from him.” Loretta turned. There was a sadness in her eyes now, lingering. “But he took it away from himself. When his career didn't reach the potential he expected, he turned his back on it. When he came back home, he was troubled, moody, impatient.”

She took a moment to gather her courage, hoping she was doing the right thing. “I was a very simple girl, Van. I had led a very simple life. Perhaps that was what appealed to him at first. His sophistication—his, well, worldliness—appealed to
me. Dazzled me. We made a mistake—as much mine as his. I was overwhelmed by him, flattered, infatuated. And I got pregnant.”

Shock robbed Vanessa of speech as she stared at her mother. With an effort, she rose. “Me? You married because of me?”

“We married because we looked at each other and saw only what we wanted to see. You were the result of that. I want you to know that when you were conceived, you were conceived in what we both desperately believed was love. Maybe, because we did believe it, it was love. It was certainly affection and caring and need.”

“You were pregnant,” Vanessa said quietly. “You didn't have a choice.”

“There is always a choice.” Loretta stepped forward, drawing Vanessa's gaze to hers. “You were not a mistake or an inconvenience or an excuse. You were the best parts of us, and we both knew it. There were no scenes or recriminations. I was thrilled to be carrying his child, and he was just as happy. The first year we were married, it was good. In many ways, it was even beautiful.”

“I don't know what to say. I don't know what to feel.”

“You were the best thing that ever happened to me, or to your father. The tragedy was that we were the worst thing that ever happened to each other. You weren't responsible for that. We were. Whatever happened afterward, having you made all the difference.”

“What did happen?”

“My parents died, and we moved into this house. The house I had grown up in, the house that belonged to me. I didn't understand then how bitterly he resented that. I'm not sure he did, either. You were three then. Your father was rest
less. He resented being here, and couldn't bring himself to face the possibility of failure if he tried to pick up his career again. He began to teach you, and almost overnight it seemed that all of the passion, all of the energy he had had, went into making you into the musician, the performer, the star he felt he would never be again.”

Blindly she turned to the window again. “I never stopped him. I never tried. You seemed so happy at the piano. The more promise you showed the more bitter he became. Not toward you, never toward you. But toward the situation, and, of course, toward me. And I toward him. You were the one good thing we had ever done together, the one thing we could both love completely. But it wasn't enough to make us love each other. Can you understand that?”

“Why did you stay together?”

“I'm not really sure. Habit. Fear. The small hope that somehow we would find out we really did love each other. There were too many fights. Oh, I know how they used to upset you. When you were older, a teenager, you used to run from the house just to get away from the arguing. We failed you, Van. Both of us. And, though I know he did things that were selfish, even unforgivable, I failed you more, because I closed my eyes to them. Instead of making things right, I looked for an escape. And I found it with another man.”

She found the courage to face her daughter again. “There is no excuse. Your father and I were no longer intimate, were barely even civil, but there were other alternatives open to me. I had thought about divorce, but that takes courage, and I was a coward. Suddenly there was someone who was kind to me, someone who found me attractive and desirable. Because it was forbidden, because it was wrong, it was exciting.”