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‘What kind would you like to make?’ Claire asked her. The baby had gone peacefully back to sleep, she noticed as she gently shepherded Tara out of the room.
She and Tara had almost finished their cookie-baking exercise before Mary-Beth and Brad reappeared, and during the half-hour or so that they had been together Claire had learned a good deal about her Mommy and Daddy and how much she loved them both from Tara, who had chattered happily to her as they worked together.
‘It looks like I’m going to have to go back to the States with Mary-Beth. I’ve managed to get us seats on a flight this evening,’ Brad told Claire tersely as he obeyed Tara’s demand that he come and see what she had been making.
‘I’m sorry about all this...’ he added grimly, making a small gesture that included his sister and Tara.
‘It’s all right,’ Claire assured him. ‘I’m just glad that you were able to respond so quickly to my message. I hadn’t expected you to come straight back—’
‘What message?’ Brad asked her, frowning.
Claire stared at him.
‘I rang the office to tell you about Mary-Beth, and when you weren’t there I left a message with Tim for you to ring me.’
If he hadn’t got her message then how had he known to come back? Claire wondered. But before she could say anything Mary-Beth was demanding his attention, wanting to know exactly what time their flight was and worrying about the fact that she had neglected to bring enough baby food for Abe junior with her.
‘You should have thought about that before you left,’ Brad told her sharply.
Whilst he was obviously making every attempt to sort out his sister’s problems for her, he did not appear to be as sympathetic to her plight as Claire had expected him to be, and was certainly nothing like as partisan, refusing to join Mary-Beth in condemning her husband and rather to the contrary suggesting to her that she should have discussed the situation more fully with Abe before walking out and subjecting her two small children to all the stress and bewilderment of a transatlantic flight.
Sensing that Mary-Beth was unhappy with her brother’s response, Claire quickly offered to take her to the local supermarket where she would be able to buy some branded baby food for her little boy.
‘Brad, could you take me?’ Mary-Beth appealed. ‘I just can’t think straight at the moment.’
It was only natural that Mary-Beth should want her brother with her rather than a stranger, Claire told herself firmly, and it was no doubt illogical of her to feel, on the strength of what little they had actually shared, so emotionally bereft and excluded from what was going on.
Several times since he had returned to the house Brad had looked as if he wanted to say something to her, Claire acknowledged, and it was obvious that he was none too pleased with his sister’s disruption of his life. But, in reality, what else could he do other than agree to her demands that he return home with her? Claire acknowledged.
It was plain to her, even without knowing Mary-Beth or having met her husband, that it would need all of Brad’s skilled counsel and wisdom to heal the rift in his sister’s marriage.
‘Claire,’ she heard him saying quietly, his hand touching her arm lightly, as though he wanted to draw her away from Mary-Beth and the children. As though... as though... what? Claire asked herself ruefully. As though he wanted to isolate both of them from his family, as though he wanted to have her to himself. That’s some imagination you’ve got there, she warned herself.
‘I really am sorry,’ he told her in a low voice. ‘If I thought there was any way I could persuade Mary-Beth to go home on her own—’
‘She needs you, Brad,’ Claire interrupted him gently. And so do I, her heart cried silently, but of course she couldn’t allow herself to voice such words and wouldn’t have done no matter what the circumstances; to have done so would have been immature and selfish. ‘She’s obviously very upset about...about her husband,’ Claire felt bound to add.
‘Yes.’ Brad looked rather grim. ‘She always has a tendency to flare up over nothing and I doubt that this will be any exception. Abe’s just not the type to stray from his marriage.’
‘Mary-Beth obviously doesn’t share that view,’ Claire pointed out wryly.
‘No,’ Brad agreed heavily, glancing at his sister, who was trying to soothe the children’s fretting. ‘This couldn’t have happened at a worse time...’ he began to say; his hand was still resting on her arm but now the light grip of his fingers had somehow or other become a gentle stroke.
An automatic reflex action to the feel of her skin beneath them or the tender, soundless reassurance of a lover? Claire wasn’t sure.
‘Brad,’ Mary-Beth called out impatiently, ‘you’re going to have to get to that supermarket.’
Was she imagining the regret she could see in Brad’s eyes as he released her arm and moved away from her? Claire wondered.
‘And so Brad’s gone back to America with his sister?’ Hannah asked as Claire started to unload her dishwasher.
‘Yes, that’s right,’ Claire agreed woodenly.
Hannah had come round half an hour ago, two hours after Brad and Mary-Beth had left with the children. By now, no doubt, they would be airborne and on their way back home.
‘I’m not sure when I’ll be coming back but it should be within the week,’ Brad had told her before he’d left. They had been standing in the hall, Brad frowning down at her, his expression grimly sombre—because he was concerned about his sister or because he was regretting what had happened between them the previous night? Claire had wondered.
She flinched now as she recalled her own brief moment of weakness when she had almost reached out to him and begged him to...
To what? To tell her that their lovemaking had been as earth-shaking, as cataclysmically, emotionally and physically intense for him as it had been for her? That, like her, he had been confronted by a revelation of emotions for her—love for her so strong that he knew his life would never be the same again?
Fortunately, she had been able to stop herself before she had done anything more than stretch out her hand towards him.
Mary-Beth had hugged her warmly before she’d left, thanking her appreciatively for all that she had done, but Brad hadn’t made any move to touch her, Claire had noticed.
‘How long will he be gone for?’ Hannah pressed. ‘You’re going to miss him. There’s something about having a man about the house...’
‘He’s only been here a couple of days, Hannah,’ Claire reminded her neighbour tersely, and was instantly ashamed of herself when she saw the hurt expression in Hannah’s eyes. The trouble was that Hannah was right—or almost...
It wasn’t just a matter of her going to miss Brad, she was already doing so—missing him, aching for him, yearning for him, filled with all manner of insecurities and doubts, wondering if as far as he was concerned his sister’s marital difficulties had occurred most opportunely—contrary to what he had said before he’d left. It was a galling thought and an extremely painful one.
So you went to bed with him and had sex, Claire taunted herself later when Hannah was gone. So what? Why should that have had any deep meaning for him?
Did Brad even remember what had happened between them? she pondered starkly. He had, after all, been in the grip of an extremely strong fever earlier in the evening.
Which was the worst scenario for her? she wondered painfully. For him not to have remembered a single thing about them being together, or for him to have remembered but to have decided that it was something that he simply felt had no real meaning for him?
And, given the choice, which would she have preferred—to have experienced all that she had in his arms, to have discovered her capacity for emotional and physical love and endure all the pain that must surely now follow, or to have remained in celibate obliviousness?
It was a question she didn’t feel she could answer, not with all the long, empty nights ahead of her without Brad beside her.
CHAPTER NIN
