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“No! I mean, yes, of course it’s enough. It
’s just that he wants me to live up to my potential.”
“Or Jeff’s.” She tried to move away, but he held her back by her shoulders. “Like that hunting trip to Great Bear Lake.”
“I told you that that was my idea, not Father’s.”
“But why did you feel that it was necessary to go? Why was it your responsibility to uphold the tradition he had shared with Jeff? You only went because you thought it might please your father.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing. If it was strictly a gesture of self-sacrifice, of love. But by going, I think you set out to prove something to him; I think that you wanted your father to see that you’re as marvelous as Jeff was.”
“Well, I failed.”
“That’s my point!” he shouted. “You don’t like hunting and fishing. So what? Why should that make you a failure?”
She managed to wrest herself free. Once she was on her feet, she spun around to face him. “You don’t understand, Cooper.”
“Obviously I don’t. I don’t see why being exactly what you are isn’t enough for your father. Why do you continually have to prove yourself to him? He lost his son: unfortunate; tragic. But he’s still got a daughter. And he’s trying to shape her into something she isn’t. You’re both obsessed with Jeff. Whatever else he did, I’m fairly sure he didn’t walk on water.”
Rusty aimed an accusing finger at him. “You’re a fine one to preach about other people’s obsessions. You nurse your hurt obsessively. You actually take pleasure in your despair.”
“That’s nuts.”
“Precisely. It’s easier for you to sit up there on your mountain than it is to mix with other human beings. Then you might have to open yourself up a little, let people get a peek at the man you are inside. And that terrifies you, doesn’t it? Because you might be found out. Somebody might discover that you’re not the hard, cold, unfeeling bastard you pretend to be. Someone might decide that you’re capable of giving and receiving love.”
“Baby, I gave up on the idea of love a long time ago.”
“Then what was that all about?” She gestured toward the bed.
“Sex.” He made the word sound as dirty as possible.
Rusty recoiled from the ugliness of his tone, but tossed her head back proudly. “Not to me. I love you, Cooper.”
“So you said.”
“I meant it!”
“You were in the throes of passion when you said it. That doesn’t count.”
“You don’t believe that I love you?”
“No. There’s no such thing.”
“Oh, there is.” She played her trump card. “You still love your unborn child.”
“Shut up.”
“You grieve for it still because you loved it. You still love all those men you saw die in that prisoner-of-war camp.”
“Rusty...” He came off the bed and loomed over her threateningly.
“You watched your mother spend her life nursing her anger and bitterness. She thrived on her misfortune. Do you want to waste your life like that?”
“Better that than to live like you, constantly striving to be someone you’re not.”
Hostility crackled between them. It was so strong that at first they didn’t even notice the doorbell. It wasn’t until Bill Carlson called out his daughter’s name that they realized they weren’t alone.
