“Researched suicide?” she said calmly. “Twelve. A dangerous age, all those hormones to deal with. A shock to the regimented system. You have to remind yourself that life, however miserable, is all you’ve got, and go on with it. It’s easier to go on with it if you just close up, close off, lock yourself behind books and theories, credentials and degrees. Until you realize that’s just a different kind of suicide.”
She took a long, shuddering breath. “I’m tired,” she murmured, rubbing her hands over her face. “They make me so tired.”
Ulcers, a breakdown. Dear God, suicide. What the hell had they done to her? He wanted to tear them apart. All of them. Any of them who had ignored her heart to get to her mind. He wanted, desperately, to go back in time and find that young girl, to give her everything she’d needed and deserved.
But he could only reach out to the woman.
“Come on.” He went to her, held her, close and gentle, despite the storm raging inside him. She needed his calm, not his fury. “Just lean on me awhile.”
“I’m all right.”
“No, you’re not. But you will be.” He damn well would see to it. “Hold on to me, baby.”
So she did, and it was so easy. “She didn’t do anything wrong, not really. We haven’t seen each other in more than a year. I doubt she or my father would recognize me if we passed on the street. The change would surprise them.”
He rubbed his cheek over her hair. She felt so fragile. Why hadn’t he seen that before? Where hadn’t he looked to see this hurt, vulnerable side of her?
“It doesn’t matter what they think, only what you want.”
“You can’t always have everything you want. Once I wanted them to love me. I’d have done anything if they’d just said they loved me. You know the problem with a memory like mine? You can’t forget things—even when you want to. I remember when they first sent me to boarding school. I was so frightened, so lonely and unhappy. They put me on a plane, didn’t even go with me. I was six years old.”
“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.”
“They could see I had an adult mind, but they never considered the child’s heart. Well, I’m grown-up now. I should handle it better.”
“You’re handling it fine.”
“Not fine, but better.” She eased back a little. “I’m sorry. If you’d come in an hour later, I’d have been over it.”
“I want you to tell me what you feel.” Very gently, he lowered his head and touched his lips to hers. “I want to know who you are, and how you got there. I haven’t been able to figure you out, Rebecca. All those different pieces of you that never quite seem to fit. Now they’re starting to. Do me a favor?”
“What?”
“Don’t call her back. Let her stew.”
She smiled a little. “That’s rude.”
“Yeah. So?”
“She’ll just call again. My father will call. They—” To prove her point, the phone rang. “There you are.”
He tightened his grip before she could move. Nothing was going to put that shattered look back on her face while he was here to protect her. “I don’t hear anything.”
“The phone.”
“We don’t have a phone.” Thinking only to give her peace, he kissed her again. And brought himself some, as well. “And we’re not here, anyway.”
“Where are we?”
He scooped his arm under her knees, picked her up. “Anywhere you want to go.” As the phone continued to shrill, he carried her out of the room. “As long as it takes a real long time to get there.”
When he reached the bedroom, he set her on her feet. The phone had stopped ringing, and he took it off the hook, then set the receiver in a drawer to muffle the buzz.
“That ought to do it.”
“You don’t even have an answering machine. It’ll drive them crazy.”
“Good.” He’d have liked an opportunity to speak to either of her parents himself. But that could wait. At the moment, he had only one priority, and that was erasing the troubled look in Rebecca’s eyes. “So, where do you want to go?”