Page 96 of The Promise
"Are you saying you don't love me?"
"No." She swung around, her eyes meeting his, begging him to understand. "I care about you. I do. It's just that isn't always enough."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" The words exploded from him, his anger reflected in his tone.
"I can't afford to love anyone. Don't you understand? Every time I believe in someone, every time I love them, I wind up getting hurt. I loved my parents, I loved my grandfather, I even loved Adrian. But they all left me anyway. Even you left me, Michael."
"Adrian was a fool. And your family didn't leave you on purpose, Cara. They died. And I certainly had no control over our situation."
"But that's just the point, isn't it? None of us has any control. Everything you love can be wiped out in an instant without the slightest bit of warning. And when it happens, your heart is ripped out and torn to shreds." She pushed her fist against her chest, physically trying to hold in her emotions, to protect her heart. "Don't you see, Michael? I can't go through that again. I just can't."
"Cara, you're not making sense." His face was a wash of emotion, pain and frustration warring with compassion and love. "None of us knows what's going to happen from one moment to the next. That's part of life. You can't just sequester yourself from caring."
"I can try." She paused, searching for the right words, trying to make him understand. "You make me feel things I haven't felt in years and it scares the hell out of me. Every day that goes by I care a little more. I don't think I could survive the pain of losing you, Michael. And the truth is, one way or the other, whether it's today or tomorrow, Iwilllose you."
"But isn't a little time together better than no time at all?"
"No. The price is too high." She blew out a breath, her eyes meeting his, her gaze steady. "I'll stay until we've seen this through. Until I know that you'll be okay, but then I have try and find my way home."
"What if you're home now, Cara?" His words were soft, the expression in his eyes breaking her heart.
"This can't be my home, Michael. I'd always be looking over my shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting to wake up and find you gone again."
"So for peace of mind, you're willing to give up all that's between us?" His fists were clenched at his sides, his fury washing over her.
"I have to." She deliberately turned away, fighting her tears, cringing as the door behind her slammed shut.
It was the only way. She didn't belong here. Didn't belong with him. No matter what her heart said, she had to listen to reason and logic. They were from different worlds, and no matter how much she wanted him, she was better off letting him go.
Loralee stoodat the window looking out at the moon, her thoughts filled with a jumble of emotions. Memories of Zach and their days together danced through her head. She could still hearhis laughter, see the crooked slant of his smile. She'd loved him with all her heart. And when he'd abandoned her, she'd shoved those feelings so deep inside, she'd never thought to see them again. But here they were crowding into her heart, reminding her all over again of all that she'd lost.
Tears filled her eyes, joy warring with grief. She'd meant what she'd told Michael. Zachhadloved her. And he'd loved Mary. And part of her truly believed that he'd never have deserted them willingly, but another part of her, the contrary part, had believed the story about him and Rose. Even secretly hoped it was true. Because, even if it meant he'd up and left her, it also meant that he was still alive.
She sighed, watching the grass waving silver in the moonlight. But if the Macpherson's were to be believed, he was dead. He'd loved her. But he was dead. And it was almost as if he'd disappeared all over again. She looked up at the star-filled night and wondered if she'd ever be able to let him go. He was so much a part of her. So much a part of Mary. In truth, part of the reason she'd sent her daughter away was because seeing her every day had been too painful a reminder.
Shame washed through her, and Loralee tightened her fingers around the soft cotton of the curtains. She loved Mary with her whole heart, but what kind of mother could she possibly be? What kind of life did she have to offer her?
Loralee turned resolutely from the window, putting the moonlight firmly behind her. Moonlight was for dreamers, like Duncan—and Patrick. He was more like his father than he knew. He had the same charming manner. And she suspected, like his father, when he loved a woman, it would be forever.
She wondered, just for a moment, what it would be like to be that woman, and then pushed the thought away. She'd already lost one man. And truthfully, she didn't know if she could stand to lose another. She sat down on the cot and leaned back againstthe wall, closing her eyes, a picture of Zach filling her head, his crooked grin a reflection of the love in his dark eyes.
And then, without so much as a by your leave, he faded away, his brown eyes turning green, his face turning into Patrick's. And Loralee realized it was already too late to decide not to care about Patrick Macpherson. Her heart had always had a mind of its own. Loralee smothered a sob, burying her face in the pillow.
No sense waking the rest of the household with her tears.
Patrick saton the edge of the bed, listening to Loralee's soft crying. He wanted to go to her, to hold her—to somehow make her believe it was going to be all right. For the first time in his life he wanted to make things right for someone else, and the thought amazed him.
And shamed him.
Before his mother died, life had just been one long picnic. Someone was always there to clean up his messes and make sure he had what he needed. His mother and father, Michael, even Owen, had all treated him like a little king. Whatever Patrick wanted, Patrick got.
And, then, when his mother disappeared, his kingdom had collapsed—everyone lost in their own grief. Owen had tried to insulate things, to preserve Patrick's fairytale existence, but there was too much gone. He stared out the window at the pale silver of the moon.
He'd been angry at them all. Angry because his mother had run out on them. Angry because his father and Michael hadn't gone to get her, even angry with Owen, because he tried to pretend that nothing had changed. But the truth was, he'd beenangriest at himself. Angry for not being enough to make her want to stay.
He sighed, looking again at the closed door. It was quiet now. Maybe Loralee was sleeping. Or maybe she was lost in her memories, too. He pictured her sweet face and wondered what it would feel like to hold her in his arms, to be the kind of man she deserved.
He grimaced, knowing that she'd had more men than he could possibly imagine, and that, in many ways, he was no different than they were. What did he have to offer her? He had nothing to call his own. Nothing that wasn't a part of Michael or Owen.
