“The doctor says you can leave in the morning.” He finally urged her to face the future. “I’m going to pick you up at around ten, then I’ll take you home and nurse you for the day.”
The suggestion brought an unbidden smile to her sober face. “You don’t have to do that—”
“I know. But I want to. It’s nice to have someone … special … to take care of.”
She clasped his hand as tightly as her siphoned strength would allow. “Whatyouneed, my brother, is a wife and children.”
“I’ve got time,” he retorted with a mischievous smile. “After all, I’m notquiteas old as you.”
His words were meant in jest, yet she looked up with pitiful sorrow at him. “I’m feeling very old right now. I know it’s ridiculous—I’m only twenty-nine. But I’m not sure what I want anymore. And it’s very disconcerting.”
“It’s been a bad day for you. Get some sleep,” he urged softly, leaning forward to kiss her strawberry-blond crown, “and we’ll talk more about it tomorrow.”
True to his word, Tony had cleared his day of all commitments, and after seeing Justine comfortably settled and covered on the couch in her living room, he brewed some hot tea and joined her, folding his ample build into the armchair opposite. “There,” he declared with satisfaction, combing his fingers through the auburn hair that had fallen across his forehead in the course of his ministrations, “you look better now. Comfortable?”
“Comfortable.” Her hand was steadier as she sipped her tea, then looked across at the young man whose features were so very similar to those she had looked at every morning of her life. The comfort of his presence was new to her; instinctively, she wondered about his feelings on the matter. “What are you thinking?” His frown was enigmatic.
“I was thinking how much I would like to see you smile. You look as though you have nothing in life to look forward to … and I know for a fact that that isn’t true.”
The smile she tried to produce was meek. Her night had been filled with thoughts of loneliness and desolation, of remorse and self-doubt, of Sloane and the child she’d lost. “Things look very bleak right about now,” she murmured, looking down at the whiteness of her hands against the hunter green of her quilt. “I suppose … in time …”
“You have todo ityourself, Justine. For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve never been one to sit back and wait for things to happen. You have to decide what you want … then go after it.” He hesitated, calculating her strength, then made his judgment. “What about Sloane?”
Nonchalance was impossible; her head shot up. “What about him?”
“Do you still love him?”
“Yes.”
“Thenheshould be here with you, not me. Why didn’t you have Susan call him from the hospital?”
“He never knew about the baby. I saw no point …” Her voice died off as she sought diversion. But it wouldn’t come. All thoughts led to Sloane.
“He loves you?” She nodded. “He wants to marry you?”
“He did,” she whispered, her gaze searching the room, seeing nothing at all. “I believe he’s given up on me now.” Tears pricked her lids. “It’s for the best. I could never marry him.”
“I’ve asked you this before, Justine,” he began, leaning forward in earnestness, “and I’m going to ask you again. Why not?”
“Because … it wouldn’t work. Marriage doesn’t work. If I am temporarily unhappy now, it would be that much worse … once the honeymoon was over. It would be like … jumping from the frying pan into the fire.”
Tony shook his head vigorously. “You’re all wrong. You’ve decided beforehand what it might be like—you’ve decided beforehand what life, for that matter, is going to be like. You see what you want, Justine. You have selected for viewing only that which reinforces your own beliefs. And you’re dead wrong!”
He had her undivided attention, was the recipient of the stunned gaze she held on him. “How can you say that, Tony?You,of all people? Weren’t you at all affected by yourownchildhood experience?”
“You know very little about that, Justine.” With utter solemnity he sat back in his chair, his eyes never leaving hers. “You know, since the first time we met, when my father told me to look you up—remember? You were a junior at Sarah Lawrence; I was a lowly high school sophomore visiting the east for the first time.” He smiled wanly at the memory. “From that first time you never asked me about details. I always wondered why.”
Sensing that he was on the verge of the truth, she offered her own explanation. “It was none of my business. It wasn’t my place to question you.”
“No, no, Justine. That was an excuse. You must have wondered. It would have been only natural. Well”—he softened his tone to allow for compassion—“I think you were always afraid to learn that I may have had a very pleasant childhood.” He held a hand out to stem her protest. “I don’t mean criticism, Justine. I would have done the same myself. It would have been easier to believe that your father—our father—was a bastard.”
Her breath came more quickly as Justine listened. She knew it all had to come out, and she hadn’t the strength to resist Tony’s stark determination. Apprehension held her speechless; unbidden curiosity held her captive of his every word.
“Well, he wasn’t. He was—is—a very wonderful person.”
“You’re prejudiced.”
“Yes.” He nodded, and she wondered whether Tony was a younger version of that very man under discussion. “But the fact remains that he is a warm and generous and loving man.”
