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He took her in his arms but she fought him until she had no more strength left, and then, as he held her close against his chest without saying a word, she began to talk.
‘Jenny was my daughter,’ she whispered chokingly. She felt him stiffen, the hands that had been stroking her back in a warm, comforting caress stopping momentarily before they resumed their steady movement. And she told him it all, from the first numbing shock of seeing the photographs as she pulled them out of the envelope, to the searing, bitter time of the funeral when she had thought she would go mad. Perhaps she had for a time. Perhaps she was still mad.
‘Oh, my darling.’ He had been silent as she had talked, letting her pour out the misery as he had held her tight, but now he moved her and looked down into her face and she saw his eyes were dark with a compassion so intense she could feel it. ‘I don’t know what to say except I love you. I love you so much. I can’t make it all right, I know that, but I’ll spend the rest of my life loving you and there can be other babies if you want that—’
‘No!’ She shrank away from him, anguish tearing through her. ‘No, please don’t. I can’t… I let her down, don’t you see? I should have been strong for her, I was all she had, and I let her die. I let her die and I was her mother.’
‘You let her die?’ He stared at her and she saw his face was wet too. ‘Daisy, you couldn’t have stopped her dying; it was out of your hands. You have to believe that; you have to. I don’t begin to understand why you had to go through that but I do know you would have given your life for her without a moment’s thought if it could have saved her. You didn’t do anything wrong; you were brave and courageous but these things happen and perhaps we’ll never know why in this world—’
‘No.’ She wrenched herself free, panting like a distressed animal. ‘They said it was stress that had caused the miscarriage and I let myself feel that way. I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have, don’t you see? It was me; in the last resort it was me.’
‘What I see is that you are punishing yourself for something that was never in your power to change,’ Slade said softly. He looked into her tragic face, at the pain she had been hiding for so long, and never had he wanted to hurt someone the way he did Ronald McTavish. ‘I don’t know if what happened to Jenny was because of what your husband did to you; it might have happened anyway, it might have been her time to die. We’ll never know. But if there was any blame anywhere it’s all his, Daisy. All of it. You can’t lock yourself away and refuse to come out into the sunlight to punish yourself for the rest of your life. In any tragedy there is always the sense of what if. What if the child who was knocked down by a bus had been ten minutes earlier or later leaving home? That’s what the parents ask. Or what if the college student had gone to a different university? Would they now be dead from a drugs overdose? How many grieving parents ask themselves that?’
‘You don’t understand,’ she whispered brokenly.
‘Or what if the wife and child had been picked up by the
husband instead of him allowing her to drive herself? Would she be dead and the child badly injured?’
‘Oh, Slade.’ She realised what she had said and she closed her eyes, horrified at her insensitivity. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…’
‘And when the husband had never loved the wife, not really, he could drive himself crazy with guilt and remorse,’ Slade finished softly. ‘I’ve been there, Daisy; I do understand. It was a long, hard climb out of the pit but I made it and you can make it too. But not by yourself, and not by not talking about it. It wasn’t your fault—if it takes me the rest of my life I’ll convince you it wasn’t your fault—but you’ve got to talk to me, let it all out, scream, shout, whatever. Do you understand me? Whatever time of the day or night and for however long it takes.’
‘I can’t,’ she whispered, the tears streaming down her cheeks again. ‘I can’t, Slade.’
‘You can.’ He lifted her chin gently, and she wondered how she could ever have considered his eyes cold or hard. ‘You are telling yourself that for you to feel any happiness or to go on with your life, to have other children, is a betrayal of Jenny. You think you have to do penance for the rest of your life for what you see as your mistake, but you did not cause her death. You were innocent. Totally, utterly innocent—as innocent as she was. If you had had counselling when it happened or been able to talk it through with someone you would have understood that by now, but instead of that it has grown bigger and bigger in your mind.’
She wanted to believe him, more than anything else in the whole of her life she wanted it, but how could she? The image of a tiny sweet face swam in front of her and new sobs came unchecked, her cries heart-rending.
Slade let her cry some more until she became calmer, and then, as she continued to shudder with grief, he put her from him a little and wiped her face with his handkerchief before saying, his voice very firm and very soft, ‘I’m not going to let you ruin both our lives, Daisy, and Francesco’s, by running away. And it would be running away. We are going to see this through together.’ He touched her lips with the tip of a finger tenderly.
‘No, no, it’s not fair.’ She shook her throbbing head, willing herself not to cry any more, but suddenly it felt as though there was a never-ending flood of tears. ‘I’m…I’m too frightened to try, Slade. Too scared to think I can trust you, that it’s going to work. I can’t…I can’t believe any more.’ She looked at him with drowning eyes.
‘Then I’ll believe for both of us until you can.’ He kissed her gently on the mouth, his lips warm and firm. ‘I’m not going to let you go, Daisy, not now I’ve found you. I don’t care how long it takes or what I do, but you’re going to be my wife. And we are going to be happy—more happy than you would ever imagine we could be. That’s a promise.’
‘I can’t—’
‘And that’s the last time you say that.’ His voice was suddenly grim. ‘I forbid you to even think in the negative.’
‘I’ll make you miserable,’ she said tremulously.
‘You won’t,’ he assured her softly, ‘but, even if you did, being miserable with you would be more glorious than being happy with someone else.’
‘Oh, Slade.’ The way he had said it made her smile and he caught it with his fingertip, his eyes very dark as he said, ‘That’s how it’s going to be, Daisy; I’m going to make you smile, I’m going to fill your life with laughter and make up for every day you’ve lost.’
He pulled her to him, his voice urgent as he said, ‘Tell me you’ll marry me. Tell me, Daisy; I need to hear it.’
She couldn’t think like this, with the smell and feel of him all about her; it was too sweet, too seductive. She could feel the steady beat of his heart against the palms of her hands where they were pressed against his chest, and more than anything in the world she wanted to relax against him, to rely on his strength, to trust him. So why couldn’t she?
And then, as though in answer to that unspoken question, a bronzed hand lifted her chin and she found herself looking into the dark eyes again. ‘I know you better than you know yourself,’ he said levelly. ‘Trust me on this. You are meant to marry me, you’re meant to find happiness again. It doesn’t mean you love Jenny any less or that you won’t think of her every day of your life; she is part of you, safe in here—’ he touched her forehead gently ‘—and no one can take that away from you. You are too emotionally bruised now to accept all I’m saying, but the healing will come. I promise.’
She stared at him without speaking, her eyes cloudy with self-doubt and pain.
‘And I need you, Daisy.’ The tenor of his voice had changed. ‘I can’t go on without you.’ He heaved an unsteady breath and tried to smile but it was beyond him. ‘The thought of you walking out of my life, the prospect of trying to go on without you, just plain terrifies me. I’ve been waiting for you all of my life.’
She heard the need in his voice and she heard the love and it was in that moment that hope began to flicker again.
‘Do you love me?’ he asked huskily. ‘Do you, Daisy?’
