Marge chuckled sympathetically, looking directly at Zoe with an onward-and-upward determination that would have impressed a general. “Zoe, when Rafe leaves next week, are you staying here with the children? Or-”
“We haven’t discussed that either, Mom. But we’ll work it out.” For Rafe, the discussion of the subject was now ended.
“Of course you will, of course you will. It’s all so complicated, with your jobs and all. I was just wondering…”
“Mother-”
Matched sets of blue eyes were snapping at each other. All Zoe could think of was that she wasn’t ready-maybe she’d never be ready to face the impending talk with Rafe. But now was no worse than any other time, and she wouldn’t have mother and son bickering when she could prevent it with a few words. “Naturally, you mother is curious about our plans,” she scolded Rafe gently, and then directed a deliberate smile at his mother. “I’m taking the children, Marge.”
It was an excellent argument-stopper. Rafe stiffened in total silence like a poker beside her. And Marge’s lips stopped moving for the first time in half an hour; her knitting needles even stopped clicking. Zoe definitely had the floor.
Her palms dampened, and a huge ball of sadness swelled in her throat. Her voice stayed calm and quietly assured only because she demanded that of herself. “As Rafe said, we haven’t worked out all the details,” she told Marjorie, and admitted frankly, “He’s going to argue with me. You’ve got a wonderful son, Marge. I can’t tell you how warm and loving he’s been with the kids. He’d take on total responsibility for them in a minute, but I’m not about to let him do that.”
“Dammit, Zoe-”
Gently, she raised her voice, her eyes focused only on his mother. “His work is important to him, and occasionally he’s had to travel because of it, which would be almost impossible with two children. And in Montana, I can’t imagine where he’d find day care. So much that he needs and wants in his life would be complicated by children. From the very beginning, I knew it was more logical for me to take them. My job hours are more flexible, and my work is more settled.”
Marge stopped rocking altogether. “Yes, but my dear, I thought you two-I was so sure that-”
“Mom, you’re tired,” Rafe announced.
If mother and son occasionally bickered, it was rather obvious their wavelengths were also finely tuned to each other. “Good heavens, I certainly am.” Marge shoved her yarn back into the knitting bag and stood up. “I’m absolutely exhausted. Can’t imagine what I was thinking of, talking this late. It’s after ten, and I’ve got a flight to catch in the morning. Now, you two just finish this nice pot of tea. Don’t bother about me…”
A good fairy couldn’t have disappeared faster, only Zoe touched her fingers wearily to her temples, not certain she wouldn’t have been happier if the good fairy had stayed. Rafe had lurched to his feet and was standing with his hands on his hips, a glowering frown beamed directly at her. She saw a thousand things in his eyes. Frustration and love. Anxiety and irritation. Mostly she saw a man damn close to exploding, but his voice ladled out the surprise of gentleness. “Zoe, you’re so tired you can’t see straight. I’m going to get you a brandy. Just sit there, would you? Just stay right there.”
She nodded, but the minute he was out of sight she dashed for the bathroom.
Hands trembling, she closed the bathroom door, turned on the light and flicked on the cold-water tap, so that the noise of the water would muffle the harsh low sound that escaped from her throat. Tears made rainbows in her eyes.
Crying was foolish. Her decision to take the children alone was best, and the only one she could make. She felt good about it. Wonderful. Ecstatic, in fact, and pressing a cool washcloth firmly to her eyes, she willed herself not to cry.
She was afraid he was going to argue, that he was going to try to talk her into a foursome. Being Rafe, he’d do that out of a sense of responsibility. She couldn’t let him do that. Over the long weeks, Rafe had given her an incomparable gift. Herself. She was Zoe again, the strong woman she’d forgotten how to believe in since her hysterectomy. She had only one gift to give him of equal measure-a sensitivity to his real feelings, as he’d been sensitive to hers.
In so many ways, he’d tried to tell her he didn’t want the responsibility of children. She hadn’t listened, but the weekend in Oregon had told her what he wanted and needed in his life: a woman who was free to dash off on a whim. The adventure of a one-on-one relationship with no strings attached. Freedom and privacy and spontaneity. He wanted a woman to climb mountains with; she’d always known it.
Rafe wanted her, she knew. And she also knew that he loved her, but in time he was bound to feel resentful if the lifestyle he really wanted wasn’t possible. He’d find another woman, someone to whom he alone mattered, a relationship in which he wasn’t roped down by years of sticky fingers and interrupted dinners and night-walking little ones with colds.
She was really very happy she’d come up with a solution that worked for all of them. Any minute now…any minute now…she was going to feel incredibly happy.
When the doorknob turned, she straightened instantly. Then, bending her head, she wrung out the washcloth. “I was just coming out,” she said brightly.
Rafe came in and quietly closed the door behind him.
“Really. I was just coming back out…”
He reached around her to turn off the faucet. The silly thing was still running, and in the mirror her complexion looked somewhere past chalk and halfway to gray. Two strong hands cinched her waist, turned her around and lifted her to the vanity. His fists came down like jail bars on either side of her. Her lungs suddenly had a hard time finding air, and she couldn’t seem to look past the third button on his shirt.
“I was-”
“No, you weren’t, Zoe. I don’t know how long you were planning to hide out here, but my guess is two or three years.”
She took a breath. “Your mother’s still awake.”
“My mother is entitled to stay up all night if she likes. She’s a grown woman. She can make that kind of decision all by herself.”
“She’ll think there’s something funny if we don’t-”
“Probably. I really don’t care. Put your arms around my neck, honey.”
“That won’t-” she took a huge breath “-change anything.”
“Certainly it will. It’ll make me feel a hell of a lot better.” He raised one limp arm and curled it around his neck, then the other. One look at her face and a shudder had wrenched his heart. If the damn woman ever tried to hide tears from him again, she was going to get the worst scolding she’d ever heard in her life…or maybe not. He’d never managed to stay angry with Zoe for longer than two seconds at a time, and anger was distinctly the last emotion he felt for her now.
He nudged her forehead with his, well aware she was fiercely fighting to control her emotions. “One of us is slightly on the selfish side, Snookums.” He meant to make his tone light and soothing, but somehow it escaped like the scrape of a tire on gravel.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t know, dammit. You think it’s you.”
“But it is, Rafe. I’m the selfish one.” She tilted her face up. “I’ve spent six weeks thinking of me, of what I was afraid of, of what I could handle, of what I wanted and needed. You must have thought I never heard what you said about your own feelings. Liking kids isn’t the same thing as wanting them. You’ve tried to tell me in a dozen ways that kids weren’t important to you.”
“I worked damned hard to give you that impression, but I never guessed it would backfire like this. I want the monsters, Zoe. Did you think I didn’t?”