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Why are you saying all this, John? she asked silently. Tell him you tried to persuade me to go back and sort it all out. Tell him you were against me hiding like this, especially when I couldn’t give you a good reason for leaving Blade. Tell him—
‘Yes, I was,’ John continued. ‘And I can understand a little better now why she was so terrified and upset when she came to me. What on earth did you do to her, anyway?’
Amy anticipated Blade’s reaction just in time, flinging herself in front of John as Blade moved forward, his eyes murderous. She should have told John the real reason why she left, she thought frantically as she looked up into Blade’s blazing eyes. But she hadn’t wanted his pity or compassion to weaken her and bring on the bouts of self-pity at a time when she needed to be strong. And so she had just said the marriage wasn’t working and John, being John, hadn’t probed. But it had been a mistake. A bad mistake, she realised now as John spoke just behind her.
‘I can look after myself, Amy; get out of the way.’
‘Blade—please.’ She put both hands on Blade’s chest as the black eyes flicked over both of them. ‘Please …’ She didn’t know quite what she was pleading for but the fear in her eyes spoke volumes to the tall, hard man in front of her.
Blade held her glance for a long piercingly taut minute and then, as the stiff body relaxed slightly, she felt faint with relief. ‘To hell with it, with you both,’ he said quietly, a curious lack of expression in his voice. ‘If he is what you want—’
He swung round sharply and walked down the road, pausing only briefly as John called after him, his voice angry, ‘It isn’t what you think, man!’ So John had noticed the crucifying agony in Blade’s eyes that second as he turned away too, Amy thought faintly, as the pain in her heart stopped her breath. What had she done? What had she done?
‘Amy, I don’t understand any of this.’ John had remained standing with her, silent and still in the dark night for long minutes, and now he turned to her, his round pleasant face troubled and flushed. ‘Why did you leave him? Why wasn’t it working? Did he hit you, is that it?’
‘No.’ Amy shook her head weakly as she leant back against the stone wall bordering a front garden. ‘But I can’t talk about it, John. I had to leave. I can’t go back. That’s it.’
‘OK, OK.’ He shook his head slowly. ‘But you sure picked one hell of a guy to tangle with. He’s trouble, Amy, with a capital T. I don’t like him.’
You don’t understand, she thought blindly as she shut her eyes against the concern and worry in John’s face. You couldn’t even begin to understand him. He’s warm and tender and funny and everything any woman could hope for in a man. Trouble? Maybe. But that came with the package—
‘I’ll take you home.’ John’s voice was flat now and as he levered himself back into the car she felt a moment’s deep guilt that she had involved him in all this. He had enough troubles of his own with the painful and exhausting treatment he was undergoing to get back the full use of his legs. That was why he had reacted to Blade’s hostility in the way he had. Normally John was the first one to pour oil on troubled waters; she had never known him to react so violently before.
She climbed in the passenger seat quietly, the guilt rising again as she took in the specially adapted controls of the car. John hated his helplessness, the vulnerability that the confrontation with Blade had exposed in all its rawness. She should never have come here, never have stayed.
As she got ready for bed an hour later she stood for long minutes looking at herself in the full-length mirror on the front of the small wardrobe in her room. Heart-shaped face, large violet-blue heavily lashed eyes, small straight nose and a traditional English ‘peaches and cream’ complexion. She couldn’t be less like Sandra if she had tried, she thought painfully. Her sister’s somewhat square face was framed by thick dark hair that hadn’t the smallest natural kink in it and her dark brown eyes made her the very image of their father. But she wouldn’t think of Sandra now. A flood of churning bitterness seared over her heart. If only she hadn’t thought of her at all, given into that crazy impulse to try and heal the rift between them. Because of that she had broken Blade’s heart and killed everything that was good between them. She couldn’t bear this agony, she couldn’t … Her face was still wet with tears as she drifted, hours later, into a troubled, restless sleep populated with changing nightmarish images that weaved and coiled into her mind over and over again.
