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I didn’t marry you because I had to…
She closed her eyes, her hand creeping to her rocky stomach. Her rocky, flat stomach. Though her hips were wider than she would have liked, she could never remember carrying any extra padding around the front of her tummy.
Except…
Oh, God…oh, God…oh, God…
Her consciousness blinked on and off in time to the chant, a kaleidoscope of confusing images tumbling through her head.
Oh, God…oh, God…oh, God…
More images began to take shape, past blending with present until she didn’t know which was which.
Ryan’s finger tracing the thready silver lines on her skin after they’d made love…
Ryan massaging her swollen belly.
Ryan handing her Zorro—a tiny, warm, living bundle to cradle against her breast…
No, not Zorro…
Oh, no…oh, no…oh, no…
A sharp agony lanced her skull and the light snapped off inside her mind, abruptly shutting down the flow of mental images. Her eyes flew open, and she looked down again at the subtly damning photo.
This time, her conscious intelligence subverted her subconscious attempt to manipulate the evidence of her eyes.
That fashionable, multilayered look had hidden a multitude of sins. Specifically hers and Ryan’s.
The bride had been pregnant!
Still in the first trimester, but far enough along to show a body ripening into motherhood, and a special glow to her eyes and skin that had nothing to do with the excitement of the day.
Ryan had only asked her to marry him after she had told him that she was pregnant.
If it hadn’t been for the baby, he mightn’t have even married her at all.
The baby…
Nina put the photographs away and clenched her hands in her lap, deliberately censoring her thoughts. She couldn’t go back now. The wall had collapsed with a vengeance. Pandora’s box was wide open, and not all the will in the world was going to put the evil safely back inside. With the traumatic return of her memory, all her other memories had returned. Now the most she could do was try to keep the pain at a manageable level until she reached her destination. It was more important now than ever that she not flinch from the task ahead: her journey home.
But, unlike before, this time her repression of harrowing memories took a concentrated effort that exhausted her store of strength. So when it came time to get off the ferry, Nina just allowed herself to be carried along with the rest of the morning commuters, ignoring the cheery apology of the crewman by the gangplank that it must be the fault of the following wind and the captain’s desire to outrun the rain squalls that they were ten minutes earlier than the scheduled time of arrival.
It had been so long since she’d been in the city that she was immediately assailed on all sides by the sounds, sights and smells of teeming humanity. The wind blowing in off the harbour was almost rain and a light dusting of moisture pearled on Nina’s green woollen sweater and soaked into her slim-fitting black pants. It was rush hour and consequently taxis were in short supply, so Nina struggled across the road and up the block in order to lurk under the canopy of an up-market hotel and snaffle one as it disgorged a passenger, doing it right under the nose of the supercilious doorman.
Each tick of the meter that brought her nearer her goal made her heart beat faster until she was afraid it was going to leap out of her chest. She wanted to scream at the driver to go faster at the same time as she longed to beg him to slow down. When the taxi finally turned into the long, sweeping, tree-lined driveway of the sprawling white house, Nina was almost faint with apprehension, stepping out on jellied legs as the driver unloaded her bags and, seeing how pale she was looking, actually condescended to carry them up the white marble steps and set them down by the imposing front door.
‘You okay, luv?’ he asked as she counted out the dollars with shaking hands. ‘Looking pretty peaky—not pregnant, are you?’ he added with the cheerful insensitivity of a man who made his living chatting to strangers.
‘No.’
Nina didn’t think it was possible that she could feel any fainter than she already did, but suddenly she did.
Oh, God, how did she know that she wasn’t pregnant? If Ryan had been carrying any condoms with him, he certainly hadn’t produced them, and she had been so deep in her state of denial she hadn’t even thought about birth control when they were making love.
