Sarah's Child Read online

  Again he lifted a sardonic eyebrow, leaning against the checkout counter. “About the store, or Derek?”

  “Well…both.”

  “I’m surprised as hell,” he said bluntly. “By both Derek and the store. I was expecting a lot of bare space, not this permanent, been-here-for-centuries feeling. The handmade stuff is really something; where do you find it?”

  “People bring it here. I sell it on commission. People will pay dearly for handmade quilts and pottery.”

  “So I saw from the prices on those quilts,” he murmured. “Derek is something else too, isn’t he? Are you sure he’s only fifteen?”

  “Marcie swears he is, and she should know. He’ll have a birthday next month.”

  “Sixteen doesn’t sound that much better. The kid’s a rock.”

  “I’ve hired him to help me in the afternoons and on weekends. He was working in a grocery store, but one of the cashiers was chasing him, so Marcie asked me if I’d hire him. I snapped him up.”

  “He’s young to be working like that.”

  “He’s saving for college. If he wasn’t working here, he’d be working somewhere else, whether Marcie liked it or not. I get the feeling that once he’s decided on his course of action, a stick of dynamite couldn’t blow him off it.”

  Their conversation was interrupted when the bell jangled again, as a young mother entered with a toddler in her arms and a boy of about five right on her heels. Rome glanced at her; then he saw the two children and something congealed in his eyes. He went still, a blank mask taking all the life from his face. He moved back, and Sarah gave him a helpless glance as she walked over to offer her assistance to her new customer. The young woman smiled and expressed interest in a collection of clowns with stuffed bodies and china heads and limbs. Her mother collected clowns and was having a birthday soon. As the woman examined the selection, she put the toddler on the floor; the older boy hung over the counter, staring wide-eyed at the clowns.

  It was a moment before either Sarah or the young mother noticed that the baby had strayed. “Justin, come back here!”

  The baby giggled and toddled around the end of the counter, heading straight for Rome. A spear of pain had gone through Sarah at the mention of the baby’s name, and she almost cried out when she saw the chalky look on Rome’s face. He stepped aside, avoiding the baby, not even looking down at it. “I’ll wait in the car,” he said in a harsh, strained voice that didn’t sound like his, and he walked out, his back stiff. The young woman hadn’t noticed Rome’s reaction; she scooped up her errant off-spring, tickling his stomach and making him laugh. “I guess I’ll just have to hold you, you big lug!”

  She bought two of the clowns, and as soon as she’d left, Sarah flipped the sign to CLOSED and began locking up. Her heart was pounding heavily, and she wanted to go to Rome. Peering out the window, she saw him sitting in his car, parked just a few parking spaces down the street, staring straight ahead.

  Deciding it was better to give him a few minutes alone, she finished securing the store for the night, then went out back to her own car. When she drove out of the back alley onto the street, Rome’s car nosed in behind her.

  He was completely silent on the elevator going up to the apartment, his jaw set, his eyes bleak. Sarah said “Rome?” hesitantly, but he didn’t look at her or indicate that he heard her.

  She waited until the door was closed behind them in the apartment; then she put her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. I know how you feel—”

  “You damned well don’t know how I feel,” he said harshly, throwing off her touch. “Let me know when dinner’s ready.”

  Sarah stood in the foyer for a moment after he’d turned his back and walked off, feeling as if he’d slapped her. Moving as if in shock, she took off her coat and hung it up, then went into her bedroom to change into older clothes before starting their dinner. Her face in the mirror was pale and taut, her eyes darkened with hurt. She set her mouth and deliberately blanked her expression. She’d overstepped his boundaries and been coldly rebuffed for it. He wanted a distinct emotional distance between them, and she had to remember that.

  She didn’t allow herself to hide in her bedroom, though she felt a need to lick her own wounds. She went out to the kitchen and began calmly preparing the meal she’d already planned, not letting herself think about his absence from the kitchen. He usually helped, and she was accustomed to having his tall form taking up a lot of space, to talking to him while they worked.

  She called him to the table, her manner carefully free of reproach or hurt. He didn’t initiate any conversation, so she didn’t either. When they were finished, he lingered for a moment at the table, as if searching for something to say. Not wanting him to feel uncomfortable, Sarah kept herself busy clearing the table and cleaning up the kitchen, even humming quietly to herself as she worked, though she couldn’t have identified what tune she was humming. Then she said casually, “I’m going to take a shower and make an early night of it, since this is a chance to catch up on my sleep.”

  He didn’t reply but watched her narrowly as she went to her room.

  She didn’t tell him good night after she’d taken her shower and put on a nightgown; there was a limit to her self-control. She simply turned out the light and went to bed, then lay curled on her side, staring at the wall, unable to fill the emptiness inside her.

  Much later she was still awake, listening to him in his own room, hearing his shower running. The water stopped, and she heard no other sounds. When her door was opened, she jumped, startled, and rolled over onto her back.

  He was a darker outline against the night. He pulled the covers back and bent over her, pulling the nightgown over her head and dropping it to the floor. Sarah felt his hands on her breasts and thighs; then his heavy weight came down on her and his mouth closed fiercely over hers. A shudder of relief shook her, and she put her arms around his neck, letting him part her legs and take her.

  “All of me,” he demanded harshly, as she lifted her hips up to him. “Take all of me. More. More! Yes, like that. Just like that!”

  He was silent then, taking her with barely controlled violence. Sarah gave herself up without a struggle to the tumultuous responses he demanded of her, knowing that the comfort of her body was the only comfort he’d accept from her. She quickly reached her pleasure, and he slowed then, forcibly bringing himself to an easier rhythm and a lighter touch. When she began to move under him again, telling him without words that the tension was building in her once more, he unleashed his strength and drove into her with a power that took her breath and shattered her senses, sending her spiraling over the edge of pleasure again. Never before had he taken her like that, with such raw, unbridled need, holding her so tightly that she felt crushed. But when it was over, he began moving away from her, and panic seized her.

  Before she could stop herself, she reached out for him. “Please,” she whispered tightly. “Hold me, just for a little while.”

  He hesitated, then stretched out on the bed and pulled her up against him, settling her head on his shoulder. Sarah clenched her fingers in the hair on his chest, as if she could hold him in place during the night. She melted against him, her soft body flowing to meet the contours of his, adjusting and fitting. Suddenly she felt herself going to sleep, as her body relaxed and a sigh of contentment escaped her.

  Several minutes later she was almost asleep when she was awakened by the feel of him moving away from her, cautiously disengaging their limbs. He eased himself out of the bed, obviously trying not to awaken her, and she forced herself to lie still, her eyes closed until she heard him leave the room and close the door behind him. Then her eyes flared open, hot and bright with unshed tears. She curled into a tight little ball and thrust her hand against her mouth to stifle the sound of the sobs that couldn’t be controlled.

  Over breakfast the next morning he said abruptly, “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings last night.”

  Reminding herself not to overreact and