Page 40 of Reasons Of the Heart

'But what's the matter with Ross? Was it the way he asked or something?'

'Or something,' Fran sipped her coffee broodingly. 'And he didn't ask, he assumed.'

'You can't blame him for that,' said Beth uncertainly, 'I mean...he's got a lot to be confident about, don't you think? He loves you, he's disgustingly eligible, he's kind to children and animals, has a terrific respect for your career. What else could you want?' Put like that, it did sound incredible.

'He also likes dangerous sports,' Fran pointed out de­fensively. 'Specifically, jumping out of aeroplanes in mid­air.'

'Nobody's perfect,' Beth joked. Then, seeing Fran was

deadly serious, she protested, 'But, Fran, that accident

was a fluke. Statistically speaking, he's far more likely

to be killed in a car accident. Or die of cancer, but I bet

you wouldn't let that hold you back. If parachuting was

really that dangerous, do you think Ross would encour-

age me to take it up? Yet when I was watching him jump last week he helped me sign up for—'

'He's jumping again?' Fran interrupted blindly, and Beth groaned.

'Oh, hell, me and my big mouth! Three times and text-book perfect every time. It's too late to worry now. What you don't know doesn't hurt you.'

She was wrong. Ignorance was the major cause of Fran's fear. By Ross's side or a thousand miles away, Fran was going to worry. Instead of letting her imagin­ation run riot in the dark she should arm herself to the teeth with knowledge. Knowledge was power, knowledge was strength. Already she had let her insecurities domi­nate her to the point where they were ruling her life.

Beth was right about something else, though. It was more likely that Ross would be hurt in an accident on the road than anywhere else, but because Fran drove and accepted that risk herself her fears were proportion­ately less. An idea, wild and audacious, and worthy of Ross himself, took hold. Why should not the same per­spective apply at a higher level of risk, too?

Ross loved her—enough to offer marriage, enough to offer secret assistance by trying to buy the cabin she had flung on to the market in a fit of defiance when the probate was finally settled. She couldn't even drum up any anger at the attempted manipulation, not when she knew it had been motivated by the sweetest of senti­ments, the same ones that had led her to take the cabin off the market again barely two weeks later, admitting she would rather mortgage herself to the hilt than sever that precious link with love and Ross Tarrant. And if she loved him, didn't she owe him the best? A woman who was his equal, not one who let doubts and anxieties nibble away at the foundations of love until it crumbled into nothingness. Could she do it? Escape her own limi­tations, try her wings, literally, to see how high she could soar?

But when she blurted out her idea to Beth, instead of looking suitably impressed by her courage, the girl had been dubious. 'Do you think that's such a good idea? I mean...it's not really your kind of thing...'

'Is that a polite way of calling me a wimp?' Fran's jaw shot out even as Beth hurriedly denied the calumny. Ross had called her a coward too, once too often! She would do it, and to hell with what they thought!

'When's the next course?' she demanded, adding grimly when she saw Beth bite her lip, 'And don't you go running to Ross about this. I don't want him to know.'

'But then, I don't see the point—'

'No more meddling, Beth. You promised!'

'OK, but I tell you—I think you're crazy!'

That made the verdict unanimous. Christina, too, thought her friend insane.

'I get palpitations when the kids ride their bikes up to the shops, for goodness' sake,' she said, which only served to confirm Fran's theory about perspective. One loves, one fears... it was just necessary to get a proper handle on them, and not impose them constantly on others.

The hardest part, during the two weeks it took for Fran to rack up the required hours of ground-training at the parachute club was resisting the temptation, at Beth's urging, to ring Ross.

'At least give him some hope...tell him you're thinking about it. Please, Fran. He won't ring, you know. A man has his pride, after all, especially when he's just had his love and honour thrown back in his teeth as if they were insults!'

Fran had winced, but she hadn't given in to the emotional blackmail. Besides, Ross wasn't the kind of man to cave in at the first sign of resistance or adversity. If he loved her, he would be back... after his pride had given her the opportunity to stew for a while, by which time she would either have been tempered in her trial by fire or consumed by it. All or nothing, that was what he had demanded and that was what she was going to give him. If she wasn't strong enough to love him, she must be strong enough to reject him. Ironically, accept­ance of her own weakness would require the greatest show of strength.

'OK?' The jumpmaster's voice was suddenly loud in her ear as he helped her into position sitting on the door sill, her legs dangling into a seventy-mile-per-hour slip­stream. She had hardly been aware of the others jumping, but she could see them now, below her, five flowering canopies drifting on the light breeze.

'Go!'

Instantly obeying the command to go had been drilled into them so often that it was second nature. Fran went.

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