“God, Olivia, I’m sorry.”
“It left scars. It made me…apprehensive about sex, and I didn’t make love until I was twenty-seven. That’s when I met Paul.”
“There was no one in all those years you felt safe enough with?”
She laughed. “I didn’t exactly have to fight men off with a stick. I was a very nerdy adolescent, and not much better as an adult. I avoided the whole issue of men and dating by focusing on my studies or my work.”
“I can’t picture you nerdy. You’re so attractive and self-confident.”
“In the ER, maybe, but it’s not that easy for me to feel good about myself in the real world. Confidence is something I’ve always had to work at, and being dumped by my husband for a woman who is practically a figment of his imagination hasn’t helped.”
“I’m sorry I dredged up bad memories for you.”
“You didn’t. They’re always there in one form or another.”
“What did you parents do about the rape? Did you prosecute the guy?”
Olivia stared up at the dark ceiling. “My father was dead, and my mother was very sick—an alcoholic, actually —and she wasn’t capable of much by then. I didn’t tell anyone about it until I met Paul. You’re only the second person I’ve told.” She pulled Sylvie closer, until the cat’s soft head was against her cheek. “Anyhow, I left home after it happened and moved in with one of my teachers.”
“I had no idea you had such a difficult past.”
“Well, I owe a lot to Paul.” She had been able to tell Paul the entire story of her past, of the rape. She’d dated him for several months before she dared let him know the truth about her background, and during that time she’d seen him cry at sad movies and listened to him read poetry he’d written about her. She knew she could tell him anything.
He’d responded to her story with the compassion she’d expected. He was the gentlest of lovers, his patience infinite. He did as much as any man could to heal the scars of that day so long ago. In the process, he awakened something in her.
But now he’d told her that he’d made love to Annie, a woman with twenty-five years’ worth of lovemaking experience behind her. She was so
“Alec,” Olivia said, “I need to get off.”
“I’ve upset you.”
“No, it just makes me remember what a caring husband I used to have.”
“I don’t understand his problem, Olivia. I feel like calling him up and telling him he has a beautiful wife who loves him and needs him and…”
She sat up. “Alec, you wouldn’t.”
“I think he’s out of his mind. He doesn’t know what he’s got and how quickly he could lose it.”
“Alec, listen to me. You only know my side of the story. You don’t know what our marriage was like from Paul’s perspective. It wasn’t right for him or enough for him or—I’m not sure what. But, please, please, don’t try to interfere.”
“Relax. I’m not going to do anything.” Alec was quiet for a moment before he spoke again. “When Paul finally gets his wits about him and comes back to you, do you think he’d mind if you talked to me from your bed every once in a while?”
Olivia lay back on her pillow again, smiling. “I hope I have that problem to worry about one of these days.”
“I hope you do, too.”
“I’d better get off.”
“Olivia?”
“Yes?”
“Nothing. I just like saying your name.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
He hung up the phone after talking with Olivia, knowing he would not be able to sleep. He got out of bed and pulled on the blue shorts he’d worn that day, zipping them up as he walked from the bedroom out to the second-story deck. He sat down on the glider, pumping gently with his bare feet, making the glider coast a little. The sound was dark. The water lapped gently against the beach in his back yard, and a damp breeze brushed over his chest and arms.
He needed to get Olivia and Paul back together again, quickly, before he told her anything more loaded than he liked the sound of her name. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was doing something wrong, something inappropriate, just by talking to her from his bed. But he knew the reason for his guilt.
The call had come on a Sunday morning, a couple of years ago. He’d been sitting out here on the glider, reading the paper and drinking coffee from a mug when he heard Annie answer the telephone in the bedroom. She spoke quietly into the phone, her voice unusually subdued, which made him turn his lead to listen, but he couldn’t make out her words and he returned his concentration to the paper. After a few minutes she came out onto the deck and sat down next to him on the glider.
“That was the bone marrow registry,” she said. “I’m a perfect match for a little girl in Chicago.”
She had registered as a donor several years earlier and Alec had thought little of it at the time. Just another one of Annie’s good deeds. He had never expected it to amount to anything. From what he’d heard, it was extremely rare to find a match for bone marrow outside of one’s own family. Apparently, though, it was not impossible.
