“I couldn’t say, Nathan, on such general speculation. Do you believe your father committed an unspeakable act?”
“I know he did.” Before Kauffman could speak, Nathan shook his head and rose to pace again. “I can’t—I’m not free to explain it to you. There are others I have to talk to first.”
“Nathan, David Delaney was a loyal friend, a loving husband, and a devoted father. You can rest your mind on that.”
“I haven’t been able to rest my mind on that since the month after he was killed.” Emotions swirled in his eyes, turning them to smoke. “I buried him, Doctor Kauffman, him and my mother. And I’m very tempted to bury the rest. If I could be sure,” he said softly, “that it’s not happening again.”
Kauffman leaned forward. He’d been treating the human condition for half a century and knew there was no healing of the body or the brain without healing of the heart. “Whatever it is you believe he did, you can’t bear the weight of it.”
“Who else can? Who else will? I’m the only one left.”
“Nathan.” Kauffman let out a little sigh. “You were a bright, interesting child, and you have become a talented and intelligent young man. Too often when you were growing up, I saw you shoulder the responsibilities of others. You took on your brother’s far too often for your own good, or for Kyle’s. Don’t make that mistake now over something you can neither change nor repair.”
“I’ve been telling myself that for the last couple of months. ‘Leave it alone, live your own life.’ I’d decided not to dig into the past, to try to concentrate on the present and forge a future. There’s a woman.”
“Ah.” Kauffman relaxed, eased back.
“I’m in love with her.”
“I’m delighted to hear it and would love to meet her. Has she been vacationing on that island you took yourself off to?”
“Not exactly. Her family lives there. She’s spending some time. She’s had . . . difficulties of her own. Actually I met her when we were children. When I saw her again ... well, to simplify, one thing led to another. I could have prevented it.” He moved to the window, to the view of Central Park, which was thick and green with summer. “Perhaps I should have.”
“Why would you deny yourself happiness?”
“There’s something I know that affects her. If I tell her, she’ll despise me. More, I don’t know what it will do to her, emotionally.” Because the park made him think of the forest on Desire, he turned away from it. “Would it be better for her to go on believing something that hurts her but isn’t true, or to know the truth and have to live with pain she might not be able to bear? I’ll lose her if I tell her, and I don’t know if I can live with myself if I don’t.”
“Is she in love with you?”
“She’s beginning to be. If I let things go on as they are, she will be.” A ghost of a smile flitted around his mouth. “She’d hate hearing me say that, as if it were inevitable. As if she had no control over it.”
Kauffman heard the warmth come back into Nathan’s voice. The boy had always been his favorite, he admitted privately. Even among his own grandchildren. “Ah, an independent woman. Always more interesting—and more difficult.”
“She’s fascinating, and she certainly isn’t easy. She’s strong, even when she’s wounded, and she’s been wounded enough. She’s built a shell around herself, and since I’ve seen her again I’ve watched it crack, watched her open up. Maybe I’ve even helped that happen. And inside she’s soft, giving.”
“You haven’t once said what she looks like.” Kauffman found that to be the telling mark. Physical attraction had led him into three hot marriages, followed by three chilly divorces. More was needed for the long, often sweaty, haul.
“She’s beautiful,” Nathan said simply. “She’d prefer to be ordinary, but it’s impossible. Jo doesn’t trust beauty. She trusts competency. And honesty,” Nathan finished, staring down into the brandy he’d barely touched, “I don’t know what to do.”
“Truth is admirable, but it isn’t always the answer. I can’t tell you what choice to make, but I’ve always believed that love, when genuine, holds. Perhaps you should ask yourself which would be more loving, giving her the truth or remaining silent.”
“And if I remain silent, the foundation we build on will already have a crack. Still I’m the only one alive who can tell her, Doctor Kauffman.” Nathan lifted his gaze, and his eyes stormed with emotion. “I’m the only one left.”
***
NATHAN didn’t return to the island the next day, or the day after. By the third day Jo had convinced herself it didn’t matter. She was hardly sitting around waiting for him to sail across the sound and scoop her up like a pirate claiming his booty.
On the fourth day she was weepy, despising herself for wandering down to the ferry twice a day, hoping to catch sight of him.
By the end of a week she was furious, and spent a great deal of her time snapping at anyone who risked speaking to her. In the interest of restoring peace, Kate bearded the lion in Jo’s room, where she had gone to sulk after a hissing match with Lexy.
“What in the world are you doing holed up indoors on such a pretty morning?” Moving briskly, Kate whisked back the curtains Jo had pulled over the windows. Sunlight beamed in.
“Enjoying my privacy. If you’ve come in here to try to convince me to apologize to Lexy, you’re wasting your time.”
“You and Lexy can fight your own battles, just like always, as far as I’m concerned.” Kate put her hands on her hips. “But you’ll mind your tone when you speak to me, young lady.”
“I beg your pardon,” Jo said coolly, “but this is my room.”
