For Keeps Page 13

She tried to smile. "I guess."

  He turned on the light and Lyn buried her face in a pillow, squeezing her eyes closed again against the glare. The remnants of the nightmare lingered, thick and oily, like a bad taste in the back of her throat. When she felt Casey's light touch on her shoulder she actually jumped. He smiled, but he could not completely disguise the concern in his eyes. "Put this on," he suggested, handing her a T-shirt. "It's a little chilly in here."

  He had pulled on a pair of jeans, the belt and snap unfastened, his feet and chest bare. Lyn slipped the T-shirt over her head and drew the blanket up to her waist. All she wanted to do was lay her face against Casey's strong bare chest, letting his warmth chase away the chill inside her blood. She reached for him. "Come back to bed."

  He sat beside her, drawing her close with one arm around her shoulders. "I'm going to order something to eat in a minute," he said. "Let's talk first."

  She did not want to talk. She wound her arms around his waist and held him tightly.

  "Lyn," he said quietly, "you know there's only one way to get rid of your nightmares, don't you?"

  She would not look at him. "It's just a stupid dream. Everyone has them."

  He said, "You have to go back, and face what you left behind."

  She was already shaking her head. "I don't want to go back."

  He moved a little away from her, taking her chin in his hand and making her look at him. There was no smile in his eyes now, none at all. "You have to. You know that."

  Lyn pulled away from him, drawing her knees up to her chin, focusing her eyes on the opposite wall. "I talked to my supervisor in Philadelphia today," she said tonelessly. "There was a message on the answering machine at home. She offered me a promotion. No more casework. A real career advancement. A chance... to make a difference."

  The silence was long and heavy and endless. Every muscle in her body ached to turn and look at him, but she couldn't. She couldn't make herself move.

  And then he said, in a voice curiously devoid of emotion, "Well. That's it then, isn't it?"

  She whipped her head around to face him. "What do you mean, that's it?"

  He stood up and walked to the window. His gait was easy and his voice showed no signs of strain. "Come on, Lyn, we both knew you had to go back sometime. This was just a vacation for you, it was never meant to be permanent."

  A pain like a hot wire tightened from her throat to her solar plexus. "And you and me? That wasn't meant to be permanent, either?"

  He didn't answer.

  She stood up. "Casey?"

  He turned around. The expression on his face was kind, and resigned, but she could see he was holding himself very tightly, forcing gentleness into his tone. "Lyn," he said, "I'm a rescuer. That's what I do. I can't help myself, if I see something—or someone—is hurt, or needy, I take them in, and guide them, and when I've taught them all I can I send them out to do what they were meant to do. That's my life, Lyn, and letting go is part of what I do. I can't keep pets."

  Her hands tightened at her sides; an awful pressure twisted in her throat, radiating through her muscles. "I never wanted to be your pet," she said lowly, distinctly. "I am not another one of your strays that you can teach a few tricks and send out into the world to make a living. It doesn't work that way for people, Casey. You can't make it work that way with people!"

  For the first time, there was a flicker of pain across his face, and he quickly averted his eyes. He said, "Maybe that's my problem. I'm not accustomed to dealing with people."

  And then he looked at her. "But you are, Lyn. That's your special talent, and there are people back in Philadelphia who need that talent. Don't tell me you don't know that."

  Suddenly she understood. She understood so clearly that the pain of illumination went through her like a knife. He wanted her to go. He was relieved that the moment had finally come. Knowing that she was not destined to be a permanent part of his life had made their affair safe for him, and he had never been afraid that she might leave—only that she might stay.

  She said stiffly, "You used me."

  "No," he answered quietly. "You used me. I knew it, and you knew it, just like we both knew from the very first that you and I had a time limit. Just because we never talked about it doesn't mean it was a secret; we both knew you would be going back someday soon. So all we could do was make the best of what we had."

  Before he finished speaking she was shaking her head. Her hands were clenched tightly at her sides. "No," she said. "It sounds just fine when you say it—so noble and mature and good. But that's not the point, is it? It's not the point at all! It's because of you that I'm even able to consider going back—because you taught me not to be afraid, because you brought me out of hiding, because you showed me it was all right to care again. But you're just as scared as I was, and you're hiding, too, in your own way. You showed me how to let go, Casey," she insisted desperately, "why can't you learn to do the same thing?"

  His eyes shifted away, and she expected him to deny the parallel, or ignore it. Instead he said, "You're right. I guess I understood what was going on in your head so well because I had been there myself. And maybe... maybe it made it easier for me, knowing that you were leaving soon. Knowing that I couldn't lose what I'd never had."

  "You don't have to lose me!" she cried. "Casey, you can't keep holding yourself responsible for things you couldn't control—your parents, your grandmother, your fiancée... they didn't die just because you loved them! Being alive means taking risks, getting involved, caring. Isn't that what you've been trying to tell me all these weeks?"

  Every word she spoke was like a forked knife, clawing and tearing at pieces of his heart. Didn't she know how much he wanted to be different, how close he had come to losing himself in her? And even now, while he was still in control, while he still had a choice, the temptation to beg her to stay was so great he had to clench his jaw to keep the words back. But the point was that he was in control. He did have a choice. And so he said, without looking at her, "What's right for you isn't necessarily what's right for me, Lyn. You need to be involved because that's the way you are. I need to be alone because that's the way I am."

  Everything he said was so reasonable, so true. How could she hate him so much for it, why did the pain that tore through her feel so much like a betrayal? Yes, she had known. She had watched him work his gentle therapy on her and she had submitted to it willingly. She had known this place was not her home, and a lifetime with Casey Carmichael was not a possibility.. .hadn't she? She had walked gladly into his arms and she had known, she must have known somewhere in the back of her mind, that it would tear her heart open when she had to leave him. When had she begun to imagine that she might never have to leave him?

  Her voice was not quite steady as she said, "What if I don't want to go back?"

  His smile was sad and unconvincing. "Are you going to tell me that the woman who wanted to save the world is going to turn her back on a second chance? This is your life, Lyn, what you were meant to do. You want to go back."

  The worst was that she had no argument for that. There was a part of her that started adrenaline pumping when she thought of the challenge, a part of her with too much to prove that couldn't just turn away from the opportunity. She wasn't afraid anymore; she needed to show them she wasn't afraid. Casey knew that. He knew her far, far too well.

  But did he also know about the side of her that couldn't exist apart from him? Did he know that when she thought of life without him it felt like winter winds blowing through her soul? Did he care?

  She felt tired, drained, defeated by all that battered her. And she answered dully, "I don't think I know what I want to do."

  He walked over to her, and touched her arm. But his caress held no magic now; he could have been across the room from her, or across the country. He said, "Let's not talk about it anymore tonight. I'll order some dinner." Then he bent his head, and she could not avoid looking at him. "It'll be all right, Lyn," he said. "Really.
" But there was nothing in his eyes to convince her, and she couldn't meet his gaze for very long.

  There were no more nightmares that night. Lyn lay in bed beside Casey, who was close enough to embrace but as far away as the next planet, and she did not sleep at all. The real nightmare, she was very much afraid, had only begun.

  **************

  NINE

  They arrived at Casey's house around ten the next morning. Looking back, Lyn could not believe that they had passed over twelve hours without talking about anything more significant than the weather. But when she considered her own cowardice, and Casey's natural ability to take control of any situation and manipulate it to his liking, perhaps it was not so surprising after all.

  She felt a little dazed, stripped and raw inside, and yet too numb to really feel the pain. Or perhaps it was simply that she had not yet accepted the loss. She refused to believe that there was not some compromise, some middle ground between what she wanted and what she needed. At that time, she still maintained the illusion that she had some control over her life, and she only knew that she could not lose Casey.

  She could stay here. She could get a job, an apartment ... and start all over as a caseworker investigating child abuse and welfare fraud and late support payments, working long hours for little reward and growing nothing but older. Everything within her recoiled at that. She couldn't go back on the streets again, struggling with futility day after day. At least in Philadelphia there was a chance for her to live up to her potential, to do what she had been trained to do and had dreamed of doing all her life. There was no future for her here, and how could she give up everything when the man who would have made it all worthwhile wouldn't even ask her to stay?

  But I don't want to go back. That one sentence kept repeating itself over and over in her head, against all logic, against all that was reasonable and right. I don't want to go back. She was a different person here, she had everything she wanted here, life was full of possibilities here. How could she go back to the life she had left behind when the only things that mattered were right here before her eyes?

  Casey, she thought. Don't let me do this. Don't let me make another mistake....

  But Casey's smile was absent as he glanced across the car seat at her, his demeanor unconcerned. As far as he was concerned, the matter was already settled.

  When they reached home, Casey went to talk to his kennel boy and check on the animals, and Lyn waited on the front porch. She would have gone inside, made herself something to drink, prolonged the visit. But she didn't want to. She didn't want to wander through the house with its familiar scent of hyacinths and its cozy clutter, to sit at the table where they had shared more than one meal, to gaze upon the bed with its rumpled sheets that were, more likely than not, sprinkled with cat hair, and remember the last time they had made love there. So she stood outside, and waited.

  Montana came up the steps, sat down in front of her, and lifted his paw. Lyn bent to shake his paw, stroking his head absently. "Hiya, fella. Since when did you learn manners?"

  "He's always had them," Casey said. "He just doesn't see the need to use them much of the time."

  Casey had Rabbit on a lead, and the dog was bouncing and leaping and snapping playfully on the leash. For the first time, Casey didn't bother to correct him, and Rabbit's behavior clearly showed the lack of discipline.

  "Here you go," Casey offered the leash to her. "Safe and sound and not much the worse for wear."

  Lyn did not take the leash, and after a moment, Casey bent to loop it around the rail post at the bottom of the steps. "What are you going to do with him, anyway, when you go?" he asked casually. "Take him with you?"

  Lyn's voice was low and shaky. "Ask me to stay, Casey."

  For a moment Casey froze in his movements, his shoulders rigid and his back to her, then he said briefly, "I can't do that."

  He straightened and came up the steps to her, perfectly calm, perfectly in control as he always was. "Look, Lyn," he said, "this is not a big deal. I don't see why you're agonizing over it. It's cut-and-dried. You needed some time to get yourself together and you've done it, but now it's time to go back where you belong and get to work."

  She set her jaw stubbornly against the pain that was gnawing at her, but she was not going to beg him. Damn it, Casey, don't do this.... "Maybe I belong here," she said.

  Frustration flashed across his face and he made an impatient gesture with his wrist. "Doing what? Emptying kitty litter and walking dogs for the rest of your life? You're better than that, Lyn, you deserve better than that. Stop fooling yourself, and stop dragging this out. It's over."

  The words hit her like a blow to the chest, but even more final was the look on his face. It was hard, devoid of emotion or warmth, the face of a stranger. It's over. His eyes were already looking beyond her and toward his next project.

  Her voice sounded choked, lost in the well of pain that was rising inside her as she said, "You don't care, do you? You don't care at all."

  His lips tightened, and this time his eyes were turbulent, anger mixed with impatience and too many other things for her to read. "Damn it, Lyn, what do you want me to say? That I care so much that just looking at you now is tearing me apart inside? That I was a fool to get involved with you in the first place when I knew how it would end? That I'm sorry? Well, I am sorry, sorrier than I've ever been in my life and it's killing me, letting you go. What more do you want from me?"

  "I want you to fight for us!" she cried. Her eyes were hot with tears and her fingernails dug into her palms. "I want you to stop being so damned perfect and noble and right and tell me not to go! I want—I want you to love me!"

  His eyes went swiftly from fire to ice. She thought in that moment that everything would be all right, that he would say the words she needed to hear and he needed so badly to say, and she was so certain, so desperately, hopefully certain, that her breath actually stopped in anticipation.

  But then his eyes went blank, his jaw hardened. And he said simply, "I can't, Lyn. I'm sorry.”

  And that was it. She could not make him love her, she could not insist that he needed her. It was over.

  An errant breeze stirred leafy shadows across the porch, then was still. A dog bayed from the kennel, and a smaller dog took up the chorus. A bird let out a sudden chittering overhead, and in a moment, its mate answered from the distance. There was movement, there was sunlight, the world went on about its business, unaware. But in that moment all the life drained out of Lyn and left her numb.

  She moved past Casey and down the steps. When she reached Rabbit she stopped. Her voice sounded distant and detached, very unlike her own. "Will you take the dog?"

  "No." Casey's response was brief, a bit too sharp. "I don't want him."

  Lyn fumbled with the leash, and somehow managed to release the loop. "Come on, Rabbit."

  Rabbit leaped toward the steps.

  "Come on!" She jerked the leash, and Rabbit looked at her curiously, then lunged toward Casey again.

  "Rabbit, stop it!" To her horror, Lyn felt the threat of a sob in her throat. She grabbed the leash with both hands and pulled. "Come on!"

  Rabbit looked at her, and looked at Casey. He dug in his heels and refused to budge.

  Then Casey stepped forward, and made a sharp gesture with his hand. "Go!" he commanded harshly.

  Rabbit looked up at him, and emitted a single whine. But when Lyn pulled on the leash the next time the dog fell into place beside her, and with only one last look over his shoulder, followed her obediently to the car.

  *******************

  Lyn did not cry. All the way home the tears were blocked up in her chest, a huge dam of pain that strained at the fragile walls of her control, but she couldn't seem to release it. It was almost as though she had forgotten how. Everything seemed distant, unreal, disconnected. Perhaps there were some losses, some shocks, that were too big for tears. Perhaps she was simply afraid that, once she gave way to the agony that was swellin
g and clawing inside her it would devour her.

  Perhaps she thought that she could control it, or ignore it, just as Casey had.

  She didn't remember driving home, or getting out her key, or fumbling with the lock. When she opened the door, Pat was there.

  "Hi." She stood up casually and tossed the magazine she'd been reading on the sofa, looking as though she had never been gone at all. She didn't appear to notice her sister's haggard face, or the dog that lunged and struggled on the other end of the leash.

  "Pat." Somehow, even through the numbness, surprise and confusion penetrated. "What are you doing home?"

  Pat gave an airy wave and a smile. "Oh...I got bored. And I missed you. And—"

  Her voice broke, and her hand fluttered to her lips to suppress a sob. Without another word, the two sisters stumbled into each other's arms.

  *******************

  Lois gave Lyn two more weeks in which to report to work. Lyn knew she could have better used that time by getting herself reoriented in Philadelphia, settling in, and doing some off time studying and reading before she officially took over her new job, but she stayed in Florida. She told herself that, after all Pat had done for her, she really couldn't run off and leave her when her sister was feeling so down, but the truth was that Pat was handling the unhappy ending to her own love affair with typical stoicism and poise.

  "There were just too many problems," Pat told her with a sad little smile when at last she was ready to talk about it. "I mean, I have my house here, and my business—it may not be much, but I love it. A doctor can't just up and move his practice, and.. .1 didn't want to give up what I already had." She lifted her shoulders, and gazed mistily into her glass of iced tea. "He had grown children, an ex-wife and two houses to support. And I had a husband with whom I'm still very much in love. There was just so much excess baggage from the past, for both of us, and it would have been hard to adjust. Maybe it would have been worth it, but it would have been hard. And I think... as you get older, you're not quite as willing to take a chance on change. It was, I don't know, safer for me just to stay with the status quo."