love and enduring commitment.
Sometimes she wished he would make it easy for her by just sweeping her into his arms and obliterating all her doubts and fears in a searing outpouring of passion. Yet she knew that was pure and desperate escapism, not an answer to her sense of insecurity about what a future with Dan might mean in terms of real togetherness.
She watched him with Anya, who went everywhere with him. Not even the tricky operation of setting the explosives in the mountains deterred Dan from taking Anya along. For the most part, his role in this work was supervisory, although he stepped in to make corrections whenever the Chinese engineers didn’t quite follow his instructions to the letter.
He talked to the baby as though she took in and understood every word he said. Somehow the communication seemed to work because Anya always responded to him with grave, innocent trust or a burst of baby chatter that Dan interpreted with paternal indulgence.
Why did communication get so difficult as life patterns took on more individual twists and turns?
The wonderful bond Dan and Anya shared was a further torment to Jayne. She couldn’t imagine a better father for the children she wanted herself. Eventually. When the circumstances were right.
Was it possible to strike a happy balance between her needs and Dan’s? Or at least a workable balance? How far would he compromise on a style of life he enjoyed?
A wait-and-see situation. That’s what he had said. No assurances. No guarantees. Wait and see…The words haunted her. It was the kind of thing her father had said when she asked him where he was taking her this time…taking her only to desert her again.
The nights were longer and lonelier than ever before, her sleeping pattern more and more shallow and restless. She awoke with a thumping headache from some formless nightmare one night and couldn’t stand the silent, claustrophobic darkness of her bedroom for another minute.
She leapt out of bed, switched on the light, quickly wrapped herself in a housecoat to ward off the sudden chill of the predawn hour, then hurried out to the kitchen to take some painkillers and make herself a cup of tea. She needed something warm inside her, warm and calming.
She was seated at the table, hunched over a steaming teacup, feeling despairingly bereft of all human comfort when she heard footsteps padding softly down the hallway toward the kitchen. There was nowhere for her to hide. She watched helplessly as Dan filled the doorway, the only exit back to the privacy of her bedroom.
She knew she looked pale and bedraggled. She felt a total mess, mentally, emotionally and physically. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes. She stared fixedly at the deep V of tanned chest left naked by his loosely tied bathrobe. A black bathrobe. Was it the same one she’d given him for his birthday? Would he have kept it, worn it for over two years? It seemed to have the greyish tinge of well-washed age.
‘Are you all right, Jayne?’
The soft, caring words curled into her mind and wound their way down to her heart, squeezing it unmercifully. She dragged her gaze up to his, helplessly imploring answers she knew he wouldn’t—possibly couldn’t—give.
‘Jayne?’
She saw the concern in his eyes flicker uncertainly then recede, swallowed by a dark turbulence that enveloped her with urgent tentacles of need and want. His hand lifted, reaching out. He took a step forward.
‘No,’ she cried, a desperate croak of denial.
He checked himself.
‘I’m not all right.’ The words spilled from a deep chasm of emptiness inside her. ‘I’ve never been all right. For a while, with you, I thought I had everything I’d ever wanted. You gave me so much I had craved, Dan. And I’m sorry…I’m sorry it wasn’t enough. I’m sorry I couldn’t take it anymore. I can’t…I can’t…’
Her throat convulsed. Tears welled into her eyes. Impossible to stem the flow. She struggled to find
Sometimes she wished he would make it easy for her by just sweeping her into his arms and obliterating all her doubts and fears in a searing outpouring of passion. Yet she knew that was pure and desperate escapism, not an answer to her sense of insecurity about what a future with Dan might mean in terms of real togetherness.
She watched him with Anya, who went everywhere with him. Not even the tricky operation of setting the explosives in the mountains deterred Dan from taking Anya along. For the most part, his role in this work was supervisory, although he stepped in to make corrections whenever the Chinese engineers didn’t quite follow his instructions to the letter.
He talked to the baby as though she took in and understood every word he said. Somehow the communication seemed to work because Anya always responded to him with grave, innocent trust or a burst of baby chatter that Dan interpreted with paternal indulgence.
Why did communication get so difficult as life patterns took on more individual twists and turns?
The wonderful bond Dan and Anya shared was a further torment to Jayne. She couldn’t imagine a better father for the children she wanted herself. Eventually. When the circumstances were right.
Was it possible to strike a happy balance between her needs and Dan’s? Or at least a workable balance? How far would he compromise on a style of life he enjoyed?
A wait-and-see situation. That’s what he had said. No assurances. No guarantees. Wait and see…The words haunted her. It was the kind of thing her father had said when she asked him where he was taking her this time…taking her only to desert her again.
The nights were longer and lonelier than ever before, her sleeping pattern more and more shallow and restless. She awoke with a thumping headache from some formless nightmare one night and couldn’t stand the silent, claustrophobic darkness of her bedroom for another minute.
She leapt out of bed, switched on the light, quickly wrapped herself in a housecoat to ward off the sudden chill of the predawn hour, then hurried out to the kitchen to take some painkillers and make herself a cup of tea. She needed something warm inside her, warm and calming.
She was seated at the table, hunched over a steaming teacup, feeling despairingly bereft of all human comfort when she heard footsteps padding softly down the hallway toward the kitchen. There was nowhere for her to hide. She watched helplessly as Dan filled the doorway, the only exit back to the privacy of her bedroom.
She knew she looked pale and bedraggled. She felt a total mess, mentally, emotionally and physically. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes. She stared fixedly at the deep V of tanned chest left naked by his loosely tied bathrobe. A black bathrobe. Was it the same one she’d given him for his birthday? Would he have kept it, worn it for over two years? It seemed to have the greyish tinge of well-washed age.
‘Are you all right, Jayne?’
The soft, caring words curled into her mind and wound their way down to her heart, squeezing it unmercifully. She dragged her gaze up to his, helplessly imploring answers she knew he wouldn’t—possibly couldn’t—give.
‘Jayne?’
She saw the concern in his eyes flicker uncertainly then recede, swallowed by a dark turbulence that enveloped her with urgent tentacles of need and want. His hand lifted, reaching out. He took a step forward.
‘No,’ she cried, a desperate croak of denial.
He checked himself.
‘I’m not all right.’ The words spilled from a deep chasm of emptiness inside her. ‘I’ve never been all right. For a while, with you, I thought I had everything I’d ever wanted. You gave me so much I had craved, Dan. And I’m sorry…I’m sorry it wasn’t enough. I’m sorry I couldn’t take it anymore. I can’t…I can’t…’
Her throat convulsed. Tears welled into her eyes. Impossible to stem the flow. She struggled to find
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