impatiently over her eyelids. The midnight-blue car shot past her as her vision cleared. Startled, Karen sniffed and frowned as the right rear turn signal on the blue car began to pulse. Without conscious thought, she followed the larger vehicle off the road and into the parking lot of a small, rustic-looking restaurant.
Paul stepped out of his car as she parked alongside his vehicle. “Time for a break,” he said, opening her door for her.
Gathering the remnants of her emotional control, Karen nodded and suppressed a sigh. It was not time for a break; it was time for them to go their separate ways. They were within an hour of the school and her boys. And, she realized, taking note of their location, they were minutes from the interstate exchange. Paul would change direction at the interstate. She would go on to—Karen blinked rapidly, fighting a fresh surge of tears.
She had spent the morning deliberately not thinking of the night before, and she couldn’t afford to think about it now. Raising her chin, Karen stared off into the distance and felt a sharp pang in the center of her chest. Farther north, in Maine, the terrain lay barren and ready for winter. But here, a little farther south in New Hampshire, autumn clung to the landscape with a fading glory. Even muted, the colors were beautiful and an affront to her senses. Karen wasn’t aware that she had come to a stop to stare resentfully at nature’s display until Paul voiced a quiet observation.
“The blaze must have been fantastic a short time ago.”
His low-pitched voice jolted through her, leaving a hollow sensation in the pit of her being. He was referring to the colors of the panoramic landscape, but Karen applied his comment to the scene they had acted out the night before. And the blaze had indeed been fantastic. Glancing up at him, she suddenly felt as empty and barren as the Maine coast.
“I’m hungry.” Her voice was rough, but Karen didn’t care. She hurt. Dragging her gaze from his somber face and avoiding the insult of the surrounding color, she rammed her hands into the side pockets of her soft wool slacks and strode toward the entrance of the restaurant. She told herself that she didn’t care whether or not Paul followed her. She almost believed it, but then she was becoming adept at lying to herself.
“Karen?”
Paul was at her heels—like a well-trained pet, Karen thought, fighting the insidious spread of pain. But she knew this man was no pet, no sleek, well-schooled tabby. Not Paul. No, hidden behind this man’s facade of elegance and sophistication a tiger crouched, ready to spring and devour when aroused. Karen’s soul bore the scars of his teeth and claws.
Her silent analogy induced a shiver deep inside her that threatened to release scrupulously buried memories. Terrified she’d drown should the flow escape, Karen yanked open the door and entered the restaurant. The smile she offered the hostess was much too bright and hurt like fury.
“Two?” The hostess was middle-aged and had a pleasant face; her smile was practiced yet attractive.
“Yes, please.”
“At a window,” Paul inserted in an authoritative tone. “We want to enjoy what’s left of the foliage.”
The smile he offered the hostess transformed the older woman’s from plastic to the genuine article.
Watching the woman bloom beneath the warmth of Paul’s exceptional good looks and charm, Karen experienced a thrill of vindication; she wasn't the only woman to feel an immediate attraction to him. Small consolation perhaps, but when one was desperate, one clung to even tiny shreds of pride.
The table was placed directly before a wide, undraped window that afforded a spectacular view of the gently rolling countryside. Red, orange, rust and splashes of green dazzled the eyes of any and all beholders. Karen lowered her gaze to the linen-covered tabletop.
“We must talk.”
Karen’s fingers clenched on the small luncheon menu the hostess had placed in
Paul stepped out of his car as she parked alongside his vehicle. “Time for a break,” he said, opening her door for her.
Gathering the remnants of her emotional control, Karen nodded and suppressed a sigh. It was not time for a break; it was time for them to go their separate ways. They were within an hour of the school and her boys. And, she realized, taking note of their location, they were minutes from the interstate exchange. Paul would change direction at the interstate. She would go on to—Karen blinked rapidly, fighting a fresh surge of tears.
She had spent the morning deliberately not thinking of the night before, and she couldn’t afford to think about it now. Raising her chin, Karen stared off into the distance and felt a sharp pang in the center of her chest. Farther north, in Maine, the terrain lay barren and ready for winter. But here, a little farther south in New Hampshire, autumn clung to the landscape with a fading glory. Even muted, the colors were beautiful and an affront to her senses. Karen wasn’t aware that she had come to a stop to stare resentfully at nature’s display until Paul voiced a quiet observation.
“The blaze must have been fantastic a short time ago.”
His low-pitched voice jolted through her, leaving a hollow sensation in the pit of her being. He was referring to the colors of the panoramic landscape, but Karen applied his comment to the scene they had acted out the night before. And the blaze had indeed been fantastic. Glancing up at him, she suddenly felt as empty and barren as the Maine coast.
“I’m hungry.” Her voice was rough, but Karen didn’t care. She hurt. Dragging her gaze from his somber face and avoiding the insult of the surrounding color, she rammed her hands into the side pockets of her soft wool slacks and strode toward the entrance of the restaurant. She told herself that she didn’t care whether or not Paul followed her. She almost believed it, but then she was becoming adept at lying to herself.
“Karen?”
Paul was at her heels—like a well-trained pet, Karen thought, fighting the insidious spread of pain. But she knew this man was no pet, no sleek, well-schooled tabby. Not Paul. No, hidden behind this man’s facade of elegance and sophistication a tiger crouched, ready to spring and devour when aroused. Karen’s soul bore the scars of his teeth and claws.
Her silent analogy induced a shiver deep inside her that threatened to release scrupulously buried memories. Terrified she’d drown should the flow escape, Karen yanked open the door and entered the restaurant. The smile she offered the hostess was much too bright and hurt like fury.
“Two?” The hostess was middle-aged and had a pleasant face; her smile was practiced yet attractive.
“Yes, please.”
“At a window,” Paul inserted in an authoritative tone. “We want to enjoy what’s left of the foliage.”
The smile he offered the hostess transformed the older woman’s from plastic to the genuine article.
Watching the woman bloom beneath the warmth of Paul’s exceptional good looks and charm, Karen experienced a thrill of vindication; she wasn't the only woman to feel an immediate attraction to him. Small consolation perhaps, but when one was desperate, one clung to even tiny shreds of pride.
The table was placed directly before a wide, undraped window that afforded a spectacular view of the gently rolling countryside. Red, orange, rust and splashes of green dazzled the eyes of any and all beholders. Karen lowered her gaze to the linen-covered tabletop.
“We must talk.”
Karen’s fingers clenched on the small luncheon menu the hostess had placed in
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