Challenging Andie (12 page)

Andie folded the letter into its envelope. She took another from the little bundle and rested it on her lap, then pushed up the sleeve of her sky blue cotton shirt and glanced at her watch. Past one, and no sign of Ryan.

Chapter Seven

In the spare bedroom, Ryan sat at the small writing table that had been their mother’s and read through the latest news feed on his laptop. Distraction always worked. No matter what the circumstances, pouring all his attention into work had always been a welcome escape, and this time was no different.

His fingers trailed over the desk’s familiar mahogany surface, tracing the dips and curves of the intricate carving at its edge. Everywhere he looked, rescued mementos of their life before the accident jolted him back to childhood. A childhood where he’d been loved, and had loved in return.

Bri had slotted the memory of their mother into her life. In contrast, the pain of loss had ensured he’d done his best to forget. He rubbed his fingers across his closed eyelids in a quick pass. Gazed out of the window, and let his mind drift.

A vision of Andie’s heart shaped face floated into his mind. He breathed in, and fancied he caught a whiff of the light, lemon scent of her hair. The sky outside the window was darkening now, matching the remembered cloud of hurt shadowing the sea blue of her eyes.

She’d held herself tight and stiff as he’d passed on the way upstairs. Her voice was light and even, but he could tell that the change in him had infected her, that she was hurting.

And why wouldn’t she be? The way he’d acted, she must believe that the night before had meant nothing to him, when in fact the polar opposite was true.

The moment she’d announced her attention to watch the DVD of Emily’s reports, he’d had to get away, and had used the excuse of work to snatch up his laptop and climb the stairs two at a time.

He’d always prided himself on his ability to be a dispassionate observer, but his heart was pounding so fast at the thought of seeing Emily’s animated face he hadn’t trusted himself to stay in the same room while Andie watched the recordings. Guilt roiled through him. If he’d been in the hotel instead of Emily, he would be the one dead. Andie needed to know the truth.

Andie’d said there were recordings of some of Ryan’s bulletins too, which probably meant that Joe had copied Ryan’s most famous broadcast on there. Reliving it while he felt so damned raw had seemed impossible. So he’d run. Leaving Andie to face watching her dead mother alone.

With a groan, Ryan closed the laptop. He scrubbed his palms over the rough denim of his thighs, and took in a deep breath. Bekostan could wait. Making things right with Andie couldn’t.

When he silently entered the sitting room, Andie sat on the sofa, hands clutched around a letter. A large cardboard box sat on the sofa beside her, a little stack of similar letters bound by a faded pink ribbon visible inside. She stared off into the middle distance, as though lost in thought, unaware as he entered the room. The look of sadness on her face tugged in some undiscovered inner place. She’d lost her mother. Was locked in a nightmare too.

His feet made no sound on the woven rug as he stepped closer. It was a beautiful, sunny day, but the echoes of pain hung heavy in the air. Being in the cottage was bad for them both. They needed to be outside, let nature take them out of themselves and change both of their moods.

“Hi,” Ryan said softly.

Andie jumped. “I didn’t hear you come in…” A tentative smile flirted at the edges of her mouth, then faded. “I was reading through some old letters.”

“From your mother?”

“From Emily to Gran, ones I found a while ago, but hadn’t read.” She glanced down at the letter in her hand. Stroked a finger over it, then reached into the box to retrieve the stack, and slotted the letter back into place.

When she’d replaced the lid, Ryan picked the box up and placed it on the coffee table so he could take its place on the sofa. He stroked the hair back from her face, fingers lingering on the soft skin of her cheek. Her lips parted a fraction. Soft and pink, inviting. Her eyes remained wary.

Now wasn’t the time to taste. Not while sadness hung in the air between them like fog.

Andie’s fingers played with her necklace. She glanced at the box on the table. “I didn’t know she was so involved with the people in Bekostan. It was a lot more than a job to her, wasn’t it?”

Ryan nodded. “She was keen to help the women trying to rebuild their lives after the bombing. With their houses destroyed, they were forced to live in a makeshift camp with very little in the way of facilities. Emily spent much of her time there, and used her reporting to try and get aid funding. Did you watch any of the DVDs?”

The reports would reveal more than a stack of letters ever could. Emily’s compassion and determination to help the women’s community shone through all of her bulletins. It was one of the reasons why her reports were such compelling viewing. That, and the fact she was so immersed in local culture and so accepted within the community she had gained access into areas out of bounds to other journalists.

“I didn’t have time,” Andie confessed. “To be honest, I feel so shaken by reading the letters I’m not sure I can face them at the moment.”

Relief flooded Ryan. He didn’t feel able to watch Emily, either. Not when guilt twisted in his gut. Watching the woman he should have protected in the presence of her grieving daughter, a woman he’d come to care for, would be torture.

He should have told her last night.

He swallowed and pulled in a ragged breath. “When the call came in to the hotel that Arnat had agreed to the interview, I wasn’t there.”

A parallel groove of lines scored between Andie’s eyes.
She doesn’t understand.

“If I had been, I would have gone, instead of Emily.”

Andie gave a little cry. Pushed a hand against her mouth. “Did you tell her to go?”

Ryan shook his head. “She knew how important the interview was. She didn’t wait…”

He’d thought Andie would shrink away, blame him. Instead, she slid her arms around him. “You can’t blame yourself,” she whispered. “Emily would have been so focused on getting the story she wouldn’t have considered the dangers.”

Even though she spoke the truth, Ryan’s heart ached with the unfairness of events. A woman who had someone to come back to, someone who loved her, had been taken in his stead.

He pushed a hand through his hair. “I think we should go out. Get some lunch, and try something new. Have you ever been in a hot-air balloon?”

Hot-air ballooning was Brianne’s thing really. She’d often driven out to the small county airfield, and climbed aboard the huge wicker basket. It was a constant joke between them that she had a crush on The Captain, the hot-air balloon’s owner. Brianne always bristled at the suggestion that she was attracted to the older man, and in his heart Ryan knew it was the experience that captivated her, rather than the ex-army man with the handlebar moustache. She’d tried to get Ryan to come too, telling him what a fantastic experience it was, but he’d always been too busy; too focused on other things to spend time just doing nothing.

Right now, doing nothing sounded perfect. As long as Andie was at his side.

He half expected a refusal. After all, if she couldn’t face rollercoasters, being suspended high above the earth in a wicker basket beneath a pillar of flame must be terrifying. To his surprise, her mouth curved in a smile.

“That sounds exciting, I’ll get my jacket.”

A fifteen-minute drive through the leafy lanes abutted by crop-filled fields and the airfield was in sight.

Now, as The Captain loosened the guy ropes, and the basket jerked, Andie grasped his arm and smiled the wide smile of a five-year-old on Christmas morning.

The burner roared, pouring hot air upward into the open mouth of the balloon.

“Here goes—hold on,” The Captain shouted above the thunderous noise, and slowly, ponderously, the basket edged high into the air.

The pressure on Ryan’s arm increased.

Her eyes widened.

Below, the earth spread out like a patchwork of varied shades of green and gold. Fields of wheat and bright yellow rapeseed filled in the squares formed by hedgerows and fences. The breeze against Ryan’s face was clean and clear, and his heart lifted with the basket. He looked down into Andie’s rapt face. The air had brought color to her cheeks, and her eyes sparkled like blue sapphires. It was second nature to put his arm around her shoulders, and draw her close. The most natural thing in the world to lower his mouth and kiss those tempting lips.

Her hand at the back of his neck held him close as the kiss intensified. When she finally pulled back and glanced over at The Captain, Ryan accepted with regret this wasn’t the time for another mindless make-out session.

“I’ve never flown before.”

“I didn’t expect you had. I’ve never been in a balloon either.” Brianne had been trying to get him up in the air for years, but he’d always put off the experience, a decision he now regretted keenly.

“No.” Andie’s headful of golden hair lifted and blew around her face as she shook her head. “I’ve never flown before—not ever.”

“Except in a plane…” Ryan leaned closer to hear her reply over the sudden roar of the burner.

“Not ever.” The corners of Andie’s mouth lifted in an angelic smile. “It’s on my list of challenges. I’ve never been in an airplane. Is it like this?”

From the look on her face Ryan knew he must be frowning. Andie glanced away. How could she be telling the truth? He spent a large part of his life in the air. Even when his mother was alive, he and Brianne had been whisked off on family holidays to Europe. It didn’t make any sense that she’d never flown before.

“But your mother, how did you visit her?”

“I didn’t.” There was a note of finality in Andie’s voice. She crossed her arms. Her mouth tightened with compressed lips. “I stayed at home. With Gran.”

“Yes, but surely you visited her…”

“No.”

The Captain added another burst of flame up into the multi-colored silk—forcing heat to the top of Ryan’s head. He ducked away, arm loosening from Andie’s shoulders.

She looked away.

There was a change in the air as their previous closeness loosened and drifted. Emily Harte had done more than leave her daughter at home. She’d effectively built a world into which Andie wasn’t welcomed—and Andie knew it.

*****

It was impossible to recapture the complicated feeling of freedom mixed with closeness. Andie tried, but in the close confines of the basket, there was no way to escape Ryan’s pity. She hadn’t got the strength to try and put a positive spin on the facts unwittingly revealed about the state of her relationship with Emily. Or lack of one.

The bright bubble of joy had burst like a balloon at a children’s party, and even floating above the silent world, her mind wouldn’t shake off the memories

Every time Emily’d climbed into the taxi for the airport, it was as if she was returning to her own private world. A world where the child Andie was powerless to follow. The fact that Ryan found this as incomprehensible as she had, made everything worse. She didn’t want to be an object of pity. Didn’t want to acknowledge the look of concern in his eyes. Deep inside, an ugly desire bloomed to punish him for knowing her secrets.