AllFreeNovel
Share Us
afraid.'
'And a mother's?' he asked broodingly. 'Does Tim cause you to run around in circles?'
'Tim is different; he has his focus, as you do, and he's still very young. I know people who have teenage children and they invariably tell me that daughters are the most difficult—or perhaps it's just their sexist expectations, thinking that girls should be sweet and placid and obedient. Tamara has spirit, you should be glad of that, and she's of an age where most girls start to resist the authority of their mothers. Tamara's training her sights on the next best thing… you. As long as she knows that you love her and won't turn your back on her—'
'You mean I should give in to her?' he said sullenly. Obviously he was not happy with the direction of the conversation. Did he expect her to automatically side with him? Was that the way it usually went when he poured out his troubles into a willing female ear? Did they murmur, 'OK you poor darling,' and fall into his hands like ripe plums?
'No, I mean never give up caring, being angry or stern, or autocratic, all the things that fathers are meant to be. As long as you resist her resistance, she'll know you care.'
'You're very wise.'
He wasn't being sarcastic. The brooding look had been replaced with a wry warmth that made her blush as if he had said something outrageous. She looked quickly away, sternly reminding herself of those ripe plums.
'Here I'm supposed to be learning about you and Tim, and all I've done is talk about myself,' he said softly. 'I'm sorry if I've been boring.'
'Don't be ridiculous,' she said, sure that he was teasing her. David? Boring? He had just given her a fascinating glimpse of the man behind the violin, the very human man. 'You're far more interesting than I am.'
'You think so?'
There was no mistaking the tenor of that murmur. Clare felt her skin heat up all over again, and she fiddled with her glass. 'Of course. You've done much more with your life than I have with mine.'
'What's that got to do with it? The most sophisticated people can also be the most boring. Look at the lake out there—it's quiet, unspoiled, with a natural beauty that makes one ache. It looks empty, but it's teeming with life at all levels. You could live a lifetime here and never know it all. I have the feeling that you're like the lake, Clare: you have a wealth of fascination under that beautifully still exterior. Is there fire beneath the ice, Clare? These beautiful lakes were created out of fire, weren't they?'
'I… I think you'd better go.' Clare set down her glass with a click, feeling unbearably flustered. Was he saying he thought she was beautiful and fascinating, after all the beautiful, fascinating women he must have known? She wouldn't let herself believe the lie.
'Why? Have I embarrassed you? By complimenting you? Why do you treat me so gracelessly? Didn't your husband teach you to accept compliments in the spirit in which they are offered? Didn't he tell you that you were beautiful?'
Clare couldn't bring herself to look at him in case he was laughing at her. Her hands were twisting in her lap. She felt as if she was on a train, rushing towards some unknown destination. 'Yes, but—'
'But what?' he asked, distracted by the new freckles revealed by her charming blush.
'But he wasn't...flirting.'
'He didn't flirt with you?' He frowned disapprovingly.
'Yes—no—you're confusing me,' she said feebly, wishing now that she still had her glass to fiddle with. 'Lee was my husband.'
'And you were a faithful wife?'
'Very,' she said firmly.
'And you still are?' There was a faint question mark at the end of his soft statement, but Clare ignored it. Certainly her thoughts of the last few days hadn't been very faithful to Lee's memory. She got up, suddenly stricken with guilt, but before she could suggest that he leave David changed tack.
'Virginia said that Lee played classical guitar. She said that he had a very bright career ahead of him.'
Clare half turned, so he wouldn't see the quiver of her mouth. She would bet all she had that Virginia hadn't mentioned the other side of the coin, her son's bright career in rock. 'Yes,' she said. 'Everyone agreed he had loads of talent. It's a pity he didn't record more than he did.'
'You mean he made a record!' David's surprise contained a faint suspicion he was being had. Clare looked too sweet and rosy and innocent and amused.
'He made several professional recordings. He wasn't famous by your standards, of course, but within New Zealand he was very well-known.'
'Then why haven't I heard of him? Did he record under another name?' She could see David sifting through his formidable memory.
'No, his own. In fact, I have one of his albums here. Would you like to hear a track?'
'I'd love to,' he said with enthusiasm. Not only would he be able to satisfy his curiosity about Clare's husband, but he would have an excuse to stay in the quiet intimacy of her company for a little longer.
Clare found the Myth album and put it on the turntable, making sure that David didn't get a glimpse of the cover. She adjusted the volume fairly high. The rooms at Moonlight were all insulated and fairly well sound-proofed, and Tim was a solid sleeper.
