When Love Is True

“Laundry, cleaning…The usual stuff.” Chloe pressed her fingers into her stomach and felt the muscles that had gone soft with disuse and stretching during her pregnancy. If she was dancing they would soon tighten up again, but she wasn’t going back—at least not right away. They couldn’t afford child care and, anyway, she wanted to be home with Brianna. “The Joffrey Ballet is in town from New York. If my mother can baby-sit, do you want to go?”

Daniel snorted. “Pay all that money to watch a bunch of guys in tights? No, thanks.”

Chloe glanced away, stung by his dismissive tone and remembering the performance she’d attended with Evan, the week before he’d left. Afterward, they’d discussed the story behind the dance and talked about how skillfully the dancers had interpreted it.

Silence descended on the room, the only sound the beating of the rain on the roof and Brianna’s soft babbling. The tot banged her play dog on the carpet, finally eliciting a tiny squeak. Not satisfied with this, however, she twisted around and offered the toy to her father.

Daniel made the dog squeak and Brianna gurgled happily, displaying a gummy grin with two small bottom teeth. Then Daniel growled and tickled Brianna’s tummy with the plaything. She convulsed in a belly laugh, her bright blue gaze darting between Chloe and Daniel as if inviting them both to share in her delight.

“She’s really alert, isn’t she?” Daniel’s voice was full of pride.

Chloe smiled warmly at Daniel, her undercurrent of disappointment forgotten with their mutual adoration of Brianna. “You should have seen her today, picking up blocks and putting them in a bucket. She wore a little frown of concentration, so serious and so cute.”

Brianna spied a ball behind the couch and hoisted herself onto her hands and knees, rocking back and forth as if getting ready to launch herself across the room.

Daniel grabbed the ball and placed it a foot away. Brianna edged forward. “Chloe, look, she’s crawling. That’s my girl!”

Chloe chuckled as Brianna reached for the ball and collapsed on her tummy. Noting the pride and pleasure on Daniel’s face, she thought about his choice of words—“that’s my girl.” “We could get a DNA test,” she said, broaching the delicate subject, which Daniel always seemed to want to avoid. “Then you’d know for sure if she was yours.”

“She already is mine.”

“I know, but…”

“I don’t need proof,” Daniel insisted. “I couldn’t love her any more if I’d given birth to her myself.”

Chloe smiled, relieved. “Okay.”

Daniel placed a hand on Chloe’s outstretched leg and began to massage her calf with his rough calloused fingers. For a moment Chloe just thought about how good it felt. But then she saw his dark eyes heat and she tensed and looked away, not wanting to encourage him. Daniel’s smile faded as he withdrew his hand. The warmth that had built between them over Brianna suddenly cooled.

Chloe felt sick at the hurt and anger she could see in Daniel’s eyes, but she couldn’t help her feelings. Before Brianna was born she’d responded to Daniel’s lovemaking as warmly as she could, considering how she still felt about Evan. Recovering from the birth had given her a brief reprieve, but now Daniel clearly wanted to resume their previous intimacy. At night in bed she sensed his need—as he moved restlessly in his sleep beside her and awoke each morning with an erection. She could see his frustration as he’d turn his naked body away from her and head to the bathroom for a long shower.

Chloe wanted to be a good wife to Daniel. Sex was part of that, but it was hard for her when she wasn’t in love with him. She liked being cuddled and she enjoyed the warmth and safety of being wrapped in his strong arms. Daniel had been her friend before he became her husband, and she appreciated it. But now it seemed they were losing even that.

Chloe got to her feet and went to the window. The rain still poured down steadily, shrouding them in a silver curtain. If only she could take Brianna for a walk—anything to get out of the house. But the weather wasn’t going to lift.

She watched the red mail truck slowly progress up the street, making frequent stops at the closely set houses. Outside their gate the driver jumped out in his raincoat and boots and leaned across a big puddle to push an envelope and flyers though the slot in the box.

Chloe caught a glimpse of blue—an airmail letter? Her heart leaped wildly. She’d told Evan not to write; there was no point now that she was married. But she didn’t know anyone else who would send her a letter from overseas. “Mail’s here.”

“I’ll go.” Daniel started to get up. “You stay here where it’s dry.”

“No!” she said, quickly adding, “I need to get out of the house. For some fresh air.”

Before he could protest, she threw on her raincoat and boots and splashed down the path to the front gate. Putting her body between the letterbox and the window, she leafed through the flyers for the pale blue envelope. Evan’s handwriting jumped out at her, as did the Sudanese stamp and Arabic script. Stifling the impulse to pirouette in her rubber boots, she bounced on her toes and grinned foolishly. Raindrops were soaking the thin paper, so she quickly folded the letter and shoved it into the front pocket of her jeans.

Hurrying back inside, Chloe was torn between wanting to run to the bathroom to read Evan’s message and knowing she had to go back to the living room and talk to Daniel as if nothing had happened.

“Any mail?” Daniel called.

Chloe stood in the doorway. “Just some flyers.”

“Let’s see.” As she walked across to hand him the flyers, his gaze dropped to her pocket.

She glanced down involuntarily. Damp splotches darkened the faded denim. Swiftly she picked up Brianna and started to move away.

“Nothing else?” Daniel’s voice was deceptively casual.

Her back to him, Chloe surprised herself when she was able to answer lightly, “No.”

It was the first time she’d ever lied to Daniel—a stupid lie since he’d already caught her out. The letter from Evan in her pocket made her feel as if she had a scarlet A emblazoned on her forehead. She knew she was wrong to cling to the memory of Evan but between Daniel and Brianna, she had no life of her own any more. Couldn’t she have this one reminder of her old life?

“Chloe?” Daniel said softly.

“I’m going to put Brianna down for her nap,” she said, ignoring his unspoken plea. “Then I’ll have a bath.”

She tucked in Brianna and left the little girl murmuring softly to herself, then went to run a bath. Lavender-scented bath oil mingled with the stream of gushing water, filling the room with fragrant steam. Her blood humming in her veins, Chloe locked the door and stripped off her clothes.

She slit open the letter with a nail file, then eased herself into the tub, taking care not to get water on the flimsy writing paper. Banging erupted in the kitchen, followed by Daniel’s muttered cursing. Chloe frowned at the closed door, worried the outburst would wake Brianna. She waited, tense and listening, until the noise abated.

Darling Chloe, she read, as she sank a little lower in the hot scented water. I’m writing this by flashlight, as the generators have been turned off for the night. I know you told me not to write, but I can’t help myself. Your photo is among my few personal possessions on the wooden crate next to the army cot that is my bed.

You must have had your baby by now. Did your labor go all right? Does the baby look like you? Girl or boy? Not a day goes by that I don’t berate myself for being halfway around the world when you needed me.

We’re working sixteen-hour days in the most appalling conditions. The only thing that makes life bearable is the human contact. Jumma, the young Darfur boy who runs errands between the operating tent and the doctor’s quarters, regularly has us in stitches…. Evan went on to relate a series of anecdotes that had Chloe alternately smiling and shaking her head. The world he described, while unimaginably dreadful, also contained glimpses of humor and humanity. It took her far away from her mundane round of diapers and 2:00 a.m. feedings and the daily routine of making dinner for a husband who, although kind and loving, didn’t know Nureyev from Nabokov.

Finally, Evan concluded, Remember how we talked all night and made love at dawn? I still get excited just thinking of you. I’m consumed with jealousy, knowing that someone else has his hands on your lovely body. Someday, somehow, I swear we’ll be together again. Till then, thoughts of you dance like a butterfly upon my heart. Adieu, sweet Chloe. Forever yours, Evan.

Chloe lay back in the water, the hand holding the letter dangling over the edge of the tub. Oh, Evan. She shut her eyes and could taste again his mouth on hers, feel his hands, sensitive and sure, touching her, arousing her. The letter slipped to the floor as she lost herself in memories of his lithe, strong body, like a god, like an angel. His laughter, his golden hair glinting in the sun, the sun-warmed scent of his skin…The images and feelings she created in her mind were so real that she never wanted to open her eyes.

Gradually the water cooled and reality intruded. Chloe sat up, blinking against the light, noticing the cracks in the green tiles, the black mold in the grout, the damp under-the-sink smell that never went away no matter how frequently she cleaned. Suddenly she felt weak and depressed.

Wearily she pulled herself up and looked around for the soap and a washcloth. Lathering soap onto the cloth, she started scrubbing. Tears rolled down her cheeks and fell onto her swollen breasts.

“Chloe?” Daniel’s voice was right outside the door. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she choked out. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“I’m going to get some plywood,” he said and started to open the door. “I need to wash my hands.”

“Wait!” Panicking, Chloe reached for Evan’s letter. Water dripped onto the tile floor and she spoke loudly to cover the rustle of paper. “Can’t you do that in the kitchen?”

“We’re out of soap there.” He paused before curtly adding, “May I come in?”

“Just a second.” Chloe shoved the letter into a drawer in the vanity. Submerging herself in the sloshing bathwater, she wrapped her arms around her bent knees. “Okay.”

Daniel glanced at the puddle on the floor and then looked at Chloe in the mirror. “You should come out if you’re cold.”

“I will soon.” Halfheartedly she splashed lukewarm water over her shoulders.

He searched the bottom cupboard. “I can’t find the soap. Did you put it in a drawer?”

“It’s in the cabinet,” Chloe said quickly. “I’m positive.”

Daniel glanced over his shoulder at her anxious tone, then moved a package of toilet paper. “You’re right. Here it is.” Carefully he unwrapped a bar of soap and put the paper in the trash. Even then he didn’t leave.

“What is it?” Chloe asked, ready to scream.

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Of course,” she said. “Why do you keep asking that?”

His dark eyes searched her face. He shrugged and said simply, “I’ll be back soon.”

She waited until she heard his truck pull out, then got out of the tub. Wrapped in a towel, she removed Evan’s letter from the drawer and tucked it inside a box of sanitary napkins. It was only when she was dressed and combing out her hair that she looked at the reflection of herself and saw her red-rimmed eyes.

Daniel wasn’t stupid. He must have guessed she was crying over a letter from Evan. If only she could talk things over with Daniel, the way she had when they’d met. He’d been so understanding, so compassionate, counseling her not to count on a man who had gone away without making up after they’d fought. What would he advise her to do now?

How do I stop loving the man who’s my kindred spirit? she imagined herself asking Daniel. How do I start loving my husband when we have nothing in common but our child? Was I wrong to marry one man when I love another?

But she could no longer talk to Daniel about Evan. She’d made her choice and it wasn’t fair to have second thoughts. Neither could she rid her heart of Evan, even if she’d wanted to. That was her real crime—she didn’t want to stop loving Evan.

Chloe layered on a woolen undershirt and one of Daniel’s thick flannel workshirts, drew on her heavy corduroy pants and buried her feet in socks and slippers, trying to get warm. She just had time to throw a stew together and get it simmering on the stove before Daniel returned from the building-supply outlet with sheets of plywood.

His handheld electric saw whirred, drowning out the radio Chloe’d turned on, and piece by piece he replaced the flooring. Chloe sat in the living room knitting a blanket for Brianna’s crib, shutting out her thoughts with the rhythmic clicking of the needles. After Daniel finished repairing the floor, he spent the rest of the day digging a trench down one side of the house and laying drainage tiles. He worked in the pouring rain until the light was gone, before coming in soaking wet, his nose dripping and his reddened hands like ice.

“I’ll run you a hot bath to warm up,” Chloe said, putting down her knitting to hang up his sodden rain jacket.

Daniel gave her an oblique glance. “No, thanks.”

Later she lay in bed in the dark, worrying, while she listened to Daniel brushing his teeth. A thin line of yellow light glowed around the closed bathroom door. She should have moved the letter to a safer place. She should have destroyed it. She should have…

The water stopped. The toothbrush clattered softly in the metal holder. Chloe caught her breath, her ears straining in the silence. She heard a drawer slide open slowly. More silence. Then the drawer was shut and another opened.

Daniel glanced through the contents of the drawer—hairdryer, bottles of shampoo and conditioner, a box of sanitary napkins, hairbrush. He picked up the half-empty box of napkins. If she thought he was too squeamish to look in here, she didn’t know him very well. Breath held, he pushed his hand inside…Bingo.

Daniel withdrew the envelope and studied the address. He was an expert on Evan’s bold, elegant handwriting, having seen the various cards he’d given Chloe, all of which she’d saved. There’d been a birthday card, cards with funny pictures and cards with romantic scenes, all overflowing with Evan’s witty observations, references to shared experiences or poetic allusions that Daniel didn’t begin to understand.

Daniel picked up the envelope and tested the solid thickness of several sheets of paper. Rage and despair flooded him as he thought about the sheer unfairness of having to compete with Evan, who used words so easily he could fill pages and pages with them. Daniel’s hand started to tighten around the envelope. Hastily he stuffed it back into the box before he ended up crumpling it into a ball. Quietly, carefully, he shut the drawer. He didn’t need to read the letter to know Evan had once again seduced Chloe.

Daniel had hoped that when they were married and Evan was gone again that part of Chloe’s life would be over. Now he realized it would never be over, as long as Evan continued to occupy a place in her mind and her heart. Daniel had married Chloe because he wanted to do right by her and the baby and because, God help him, he loved her.

Had they made a terrible mistake? He couldn’t say. All he knew was that, where Brianna was concerned, he’d done the only thing he could have done. Right or wrong became irrelevant when weighed against the bone-deep love he felt for the child. The only thing that gave him hope was the knowledge that Chloe felt the same about their daughter.

Daniel put his dirty clothes in the wicker hamper and folded his towel on the rack. Then, so he wouldn’t wake Chloe, he turned out the light and went to bed in the dark, feeling his way along the wall until his knee bumped the bedside table.

Once under the covers he was tormented by the warmth and scent of the woman in his bed. Usually he kept his distance, huddled on his side so he wouldn’t accidentally touch her thigh or brush against her breast and end up tossing and turning all night. Tonight repressed desire made him reach for her, and he wanted to possess her. He felt her tense, but he shifted closer to kiss her neck. “Chloe.”

She started to squirm away. “Daniel, I…”

He took her mouth before she could tell him to stop, plunging his tongue inside with a ruthlessness that further inflamed him. His hand found her breast and the blood roared in his ears. She started to kiss him back and her pelvis pressed against him so that he groaned aloud. At last. She wanted him, too.

“You’re beautiful, like a…a goddess,” he muttered clumsily, struggling to be the kind of man she longed for. “I want you more than a flower wants the sun, more than…” More than he could say, he thought disparagingly. He gave up and pressed his lips to her cheek and along her nose to her soft fluttering eyelashes. There he encountered moisture and tasted salt. Damn. She was crying.

“I’m s-sorry, Daniel,” she stuttered. “I…I can’t.”

His taut skin strained with a physical pain and his fingers dug into the soft flesh of her upper arm. A single word exploded from him. “When?”

She shrank back. “I don’t know.”

Daniel threw himself onto his back and flung an arm over his eyes, rigid in a red haze of thwarted desire. After a moment he became aware of her sharply drawn breaths and irregular hiccups. “Come here,” he said gruffly and pulled her into his arms.

She went with a soft sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“Never mind,” he said heavily, smoothing her hair away from her face. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Maybe I could do it if…”

Hope surged and was quickly checked. Cautiously, he asked, “If what?”

“If you didn’t want me so much.”

At first he was confused. She didn’t want him to want her? How could they make love if he wasn’t aroused? Then he realized—she didn’t want him to need her emotionally. No words of love, no adoration or expectations. Just animals fulfilling their physical needs.

“I told you when I proposed, that I wouldn’t ask for more than you can give, and I stand by it,” he said quietly. He hadn’t realized at the time that not being able to express his love would be the price he was going to pay for her hand in marriage.

“Okay, then.” She turned to him awkwardly, a little shyly, and put her arms around his neck.

Daniel kissed her tentatively, trying not to pour all the bittersweet love he felt in his heart into a deep embrace that would make her withdraw again. Beneath her flannelette nightgown her skin was smooth and satiny, her muscles sleek and firm. Soon he forgot everything but the need to sink himself into her softness. He tugged the fabric up past her waist and over her head, gazing down at her. He could just make out the faint shine of her eyes. Don’t cry, babe.

Chloe bit her lip as she gazed up at him. “Please don’t be upset if I don’t come.” Quickly, she added, “It’s not that you’re not attractive or a good lover, it’s just that…”

Daniel pressed his fingers to her lips, silencing her. “Just don’t talk for a while.” He’d taken enough blows to his pride for one day.

He used a condom, even though she was breast-feeding and even though it was like locking the barn door after the horse had bolted. The last thing they needed was another accident. He was as tender as he could be and drew out the lovemaking as long as he could manage. But he’d wanted Chloe so badly and for so long that he came more quickly than he’d have wished. Just as she’d predicted, she didn’t climax.

When he’d recovered sufficiently, he lifted himself onto his elbows and kissed her damp eyelids. “Do you want me to…”

“No,” she said swiftly. “Thank you.”

Stung by her politeness as much as her rejection, Daniel drew himself out of her and rolled onto his back. Well, he’d known what the score was, because she’d told him. When was he going to figure it out? She didn’t want him. Didn’t need him. Didn’t damn well love him.

“Daniel?” She slipped one arm over his chest and snuggled into his side. “Let’s just hold each other.”

Daniel fought back his disappointment to savor having her in his arms, because just holding her satisfied another need as deep as sex. And who knew, tomorrow she might regret this intimacy and insist they go back to being husband and wife in name only.

After a few minutes’ silence, he said, “There’s a piece of waterfront property out past Sooke being subdivided.”

“Oh?” she replied, yawning sleepily.

“I’m building a house for the developer.” He stroked her hair, thinking how soft it was, like…like…“I want to buy one of the lots. The developer will do a straight trade, if I build his house for cost. After that, I’ll build a house for us. I’ve worked out the finances and it’s a stretch, but I think we can just manage.”

She’d been half-asleep in his arms, but suddenly there was a wakeful alertness to her. “A house for us?”

“It’s isolated,” he said quickly, “but I know you miss your view of the water and I’ve always loved the ocean. When we’re a bit more secure financially, we’ll get a second car for you. It would be good to have our own place.”

She was quiet for such a long time that he thought she’d fallen asleep, but when he turned to look, her eyes were wide open staring at the ceiling. He didn’t even want to ask what she was thinking. “Sleep on it,” he suggested.

“No, let’s just do it.” She spoke quietly but with a kind of grim determination.

Perhaps her lack of enthusiasm ought to have discouraged him, but instead the flickering flame of hope flared back to life. He kissed her temple and said, “I’ll call the owner in the morning.”

Someday, he vowed, she was going to love him as much as he loved her. As his eyes closed, a more sobering thought filtered through. Before that day came, how many times would she have to consciously choose him before he believed she intended to stay?

Chapter 3

The weight of the water pulled Daniel down. Sixty, then eighty feet; deeper than he’d ever gone before. The pressure glued his wet suit to his skin and sucked his mask against his face. It was cold and dark and eerily silent.

Evan left the rocks that marked the shoreline and moved out over the flat muddy sand of the ocean floor. Daniel forced himself to follow across the featureless landscape as visibility faded into murky darkness. The bottom sloped gently down. Every now and then one of Evan’s fins kicked up a cloud of silt, obscuring Daniel’s view of him.

Where were the other divers? Daniel twisted awkwardly in his bulky suit and constraining scuba gear, but he couldn’t see anyone else. He and Evan might be the only two people left on the planet. Wouldn’t that be fine? Trapped in a twilight zone of gloom with the one man in his life he could truly say he hated.

Damn Evan. He was swimming too fast, getting too far ahead. He was just a dim shape, a blur of blue neoprene against the dark sepia tones of the deep. How convenient if he “lost” Daniel down here. He’d be sure to comfort the poor widow. Would she grieve or would she secretly be glad?

Daniel checked his depth gauge—100 feet. This place gave him the creeps. For two cents, he’d surface right now. Except that Chloe would look at him with that sympathetic glance of hers, the one she used when she was trying to be comforting. She wouldn’t blame him for aborting the dive, but that was no consolation. Didn’t she know that a man didn’t want pity from his woman? He wanted respect, admiration, adoration. All the things he had always seen in her eyes when she looked at Evan.

Well, he wouldn’t beg for her love. That was one thing he’d decided on early in their marriage. She either loved him or she didn’t, but he would never demean himself by pleading for her affection.

Evan was completely out of sight now. Daniel fumbled for his flashlight, his fingers clumsy in the thick three-fingered mitts. Finally he felt the recessed button respond and a yellow beam illuminated an unexpected scene.