Cross My Heart (16 page)

Elyse had an almost uncontrollable urge to put her hands
over her ears. She didn't want to hear anymore. "Clint, don't,
please—"

He continued as if he hadn't heard her, and she was sure
he hadn't. "We made the announcement, attended the prenuptial parties
and started planning the wedding. Everything, that is, but the date.
Dinah still refused to set one."

"For several more months she kept me in a purgatory of
uncertainty. I wanted her, needed her for my wife, but she was content
to go on as we were, seeing each other when we could, grabbing a couple
of hours here, a day there, sometimes a whole weekend. I felt I'd been
put on hold, and I resented it more and more as time passed."

The more he talked the more impassioned his voice became,
and Elyse realized he was actually feeling the frustration all over
again. Once more she tried to stop him, but he'd retreated into the
past where she couldn't reach him.

"I tried to understand and be patient, but eventually I
reached the end of my endurance and blew up. I said things I didn't
mean, made accusations that weren't true. I yelled… she
cried—"

His voice broke and he turned away again, but Elyse was on
her feet and stumbling toward him. She wrapped her arms around his
waist and pressed herself against his back, her cheek against his
shoulder. "Oh, Clint, don't do this to yourself," she wailed. "It's not
necessary. You've told me more than enough already."

He turned in her arms and clasped her to him, and she
realized he was trembling. This dredging up of old wounds had been a
monstrous strain. She never should have asked it of him.

They stood holding each other for several minutes until
the trembling slowed and then stopped and his breathing became less
labored.

He kissed the top of her head where his face had been
resting. "I need a drink," he said. "How about you?"

She nodded, not sure she could speak, and he let go of her
and walked over to the bar.

As he had last night, he poured brandy into two snifters
and brought one to her. "Come sit on the couch with me," he said, and
put his arm around her waist.

They sat down close together, and Clint leaned his head
back and closed his eyes. "I didn't mean to get so…so
emotional," he said. "Forgive me."

Elyse knew what she had to do, but she clutched eagerly at
any excuse to put if off for a little while. She swallowed some of the
brandy. "I'm the one who should ask forgiveness. I shouldn't have put
you through that. I'm so sorry."

He took her hand and held it. "I don't want your sympathy,
Elyse. I just want you to try to understand why I still find it
difficult to talk about the experience."

Difficult
was a classic
understatement, Elyse thought. Recounting his affair with Dinah had
nearly torn him apart.

He drained his brandy and placed the snifter on the
thickly carpeted floor. "After the quarrel," Clint began, picking up
his story again, "when we'd finally calmed down and could discuss
things rationally, Dinah begged me to agree to our just living
together. She still couldn't bring herself to marry another
politician—"

"Clint, no," Elyse interrupted. "You don't need to tell me
anymore."

"Yes, I do." He sounded weary but determined. "I want you
to know everything, just the way it happened."

She wanted to protest, but knew it would do no good.
Besides, maybe talking it out to the bitter end would help him.

"A live-in lover wasn't what I wanted. I needed a
respectable marriage with a wife and children and a lifetime
commitment. I told her so, and she said that was the one thing she
couldn't give me. She knew she was being unreasonable, but she honestly
couldn't help it. She'd been so traumatized by the political
assassination of her husband that she'd been psychologically damaged."

He sat up straight, but kept her hand in his. "I even
offered to give up my career and go back to practicing law, but she
wouldn't hear of it. We'd reached an impasse, and there was nowhere
else to go."

"She gave me back the diamond I'd given her, and I took it
with only a nominal protest. By then I was used up, emotionally
battered. I'd run out of arguments. Nothing I said could counteract the
terror she felt that I'd be killed, too, and she'd have to go through
the whole damn ordeal all over again. I knew she had no control over
her fear, but I also knew I could no longer beg and still keep my
self-respect."

The volume of his voice had gotten lower until he was
almost whispering. "She left and I never saw or heard from her again."

He'd loosened his hold on her hand, and she pulled it
gently from his. It was time to bring this to a close. She couldn't
bear to watch him suffer.

"You're still in love with her, aren't you?" she said
gently.

He just stared ahead and didn't answer. His silence was
all the confirmation she needed, and she stood and walked to the
bedroom, where she gathered up her purse and overnight case.

When she got back to the great room he was still sitting
where she'd left him. He looked so alone and lonely, and she hated
Dinah Jefferson with a passion that was frightening. She hoped Dinah
had hurt herself every bit as much as she'd hurt Clint.

Elyse walked over to the couch and touched him on the
shoulder. "Clint, are you all right?"

"Yes," he said, then looked up and saw that she carried
her purse and bag. "You're leaving?" He blinked with surprise.

"Yes," she said unsteadily.

"Please don't."

She knelt in front of him and put her hands on either side
of his pinched face. "I have to." Her voice quivered. "Much as I love
you, I can't marry you when you're in love with another woman."

He ran a finger across her trembling lips. "That was a
long time ago."

She closed her eyes to blink back the tears that welled in
them. "I guess for some of us love really is forever."

She reached up and kissed him tenderly. "Do you want me to
call Paul to come and be with you?"

He shook his head. "No, if you won't stay I'd rather be
alone for a while. Will you still be my friend?"

She felt a lone tear roll slowly down her cheek. "Of
course. We'll even be related if Liz and Paul decide to get married."

Another tear fell, and then another, and she got hastily
to her feet. Clint rose, too, and reached for her bag, but she was
quicker. "No, please don't come to the car with me."

He nodded, then reached into his pocket and handed her a
key. "You'll need it to open the door," he said. "Take it with you, and
feel free to use it anytime."

She took it and hurried away, hoping she'd be gone before
the sobs that were choking her escaped.

For days Elyse determinedly battled the depression that
drifted like a fog into the recesses of her mind. She told herself she
didn't have time for despair—she had a daughter to care for,
a business to run, a life to live. But the fog settled in and left her
days gray and her nights black without the hope of stars.

She recognized grief. She'd experienced its cloying
debility before and was well acquainted with its capacity to undermine
and disable. For Janey's sake as well as her own she couldn't let that
happen.

When she'd come home on Saturday morning with tears still
streaming down her face, Liz had taken her in her arms, and the whole
story of her glorious conquest and her agonizing rejection had come
pouring out. Her sister had held her and comforted her and encouraged
her to cry until there were no tears left.

When Paul had arrived a few hours later, Elyse had been
able to give him a coherent account of what had happened between her
and Clint. She'd asked Paul to stop in to see his brother that evening
and make sure he really was all right. She knew Paul had done as she
asked, but though she'd seen him briefly since, they hadn't discussed
what had taken place between the brothers.

Meanwhile she worked hard to dispel her gloom and the
constant ache of sorrow that accompanied it. She sketched the design
for a new doll, Little Red Riding Hood, and the wolf that was a
companion piece. A tame, nonthreatening wolf that would never frighten
a child or make an adult uneasy. There was enough misery in the world
already.

She and Janey spent one day on the road, taking
replacement stock to the two outlets that sold her dolls on
consignment: a toy store in Sacramento and another in Berkeley. In the
evenings she and Liz relaxed in the family room while she sewed the
intricate costumes that made her dolls so appealing and Liz prepared
lessons for her classes the following day. Elyse carefully avoided the
subject of Clint, and Liz didn't press her.

On Friday, just one week after she'd won then lost Clint
all within a few hours, Paul and Liz tried to get Elyse to bring Janey
and spend the weekend in San Francisco with them. "You need to get
away," Liz argued, "and there's a lot to do with a small child in the
city. Remember the fabulous zoo? The beach front? And Golden Gate Park
is a great place for an active little girl to run around and let off
steam. Say you'll come, honey. It'll do you both good."

Elyse sighed and shook her head. "It's sweet of you to ask
us, but you two don't need a moody sister and a four-year-old child
around. You have too little time to yourselves as it is. Go ahead and
have fun. Janey and I will be fine. Maybe we'll drive up to Pollock
Pines after church on Sunday and have a picnic at Jenkinson Lake."

They argued, but Elyse wouldn't be persuaded.

The next two days were lonely ones for Elyse, and to make
matters worse she inadvertently caught Clint's latest political
advertisement on television. She'd been carefully avoiding the station
she knew carried his messages, but on Saturday she was making a costume
pattern for the Little Red Riding Hood doll while Janey watched
cartoons. Elyse was absorbed in what she was doing and didn't notice
when the program ended and her daughter wandered out of the room
without turning off the set.

Suddenly without warning a familiar baritone voice
captured her attention. "Hello, I'm State Senator Clinton Sterling, and
I'd like to tell you about the ease with which handguns can be bought
in our state."

Elyse dropped the scissors as her head jerked up and she
turned in the direction of the screen. There was Clint, looking right
at her with those extraordinary green eyes.

The muscles in her stomach knotted, and for a moment she
had trouble breathing. He was sitting at a desk with a view of Capitol
Park through the picture window behind him. The ad had apparently been
filmed at his office.

He was dressed in a gray business suit with a crisp white
shirt and maroon tie, and he looked like a movie star portraying a
senator. Real-life politicians just weren't that handsome, but she knew
for a fact that this one not only had almost perfect facial features
but was flawless over every inch of his six-foot body.

She had a wholly irrational desire to reach out and touch
him there on the screen, and had actually raised her hand before she
caught herself and lowered it again. The picture blurred, and she
blinked away the mist in her eyes that had made her vision fuzzy. He
looked happy and relaxed and self-assured.

She felt a sharp stab of disappointment. He obviously
hadn't been much affected by their breakup. It was several moments
before she realized the message would have been taped well before their
quarrel. By then Clint's image had disappeared and the newscaster was
telling about a bank robbery.

When Elyse reached down to pick up her scissors she
noticed her hands were shaking.

Paul and Liz arrived home Sunday evening positively
beaming, and before they said a word Liz held out her left hand to show
Elyse the glittering diamond ring on the fourth finger. Elyse threw her
arms around her sister and squealed. "You're getting married!"

Liz nodded, too overcome to speak, and Elyse released her
and hugged Paul. "Oh, I'm so happy for you."

He hugged her back. "So am I," he said, and his voice was
thick with emotion.

Elyse again put her arm around Liz as they headed for the
back of the house. "I want to hear all about it," she babbled
excitedly. "You two go on into the family room. I'll get that bottle of
champagne we've been saving for a special occasion. Nothing could be
more special than this."

When they were settled in the living room with the good
crystal stemware glasses filled with bubbling wine, Elyse prodded, "Now
tell me everything. When is this big event going to take place?"

Liz laughed. "Actually, it's going to be a very small
event. Neither of us wants a big wedding, so we're going to Lake Tahoe
next weekend."

Elyse was truly delighted for her sister, but it was a
bittersweet happiness mixed with might-have-beens. If she'd taken
Clint's proposal at face value and accepted it, she'd be planning a
wedding now, too. Or maybe she'd already be his wife.

Had she made a dreadful mistake? Could she have made Clint
forget about Dinah Jefferson? Wouldn't almost anything have been better
than the wretchedness she'd been feeling ever since she'd walked out on
him?

Elyse forced a wide smile and looked at Paul, who was
sitting on the sofa with Liz wrapped tightly in his arms. "How did you
finally get her to say yes?" she asked.

Paul looked down at Liz and his expression sobered.
"Actually, Elyse, I didn't do anything new or spectacular. It was you
who made up her mind for her."

Elyse gasped. "Me?"

Liz looked up at Paul and frowned, but he ignored her
obvious warning. "Liz has seen you go through two heartbreaking
experiences, first when your fiancé died, and now with my brother and
his stubborn insistence on clinging to the past—"

"No, Paul," Elyse half rose from her chair as she
interrupted. "It's not Clint's fault he can't forget Dinah."