An Engagement in Seattle - Debbie Macomber [41]
Alek drove through the hilly streets that led to their condominium. “How are you feeling?” he asked, when he opened the front door for her.
“Drained.” The emotions seemed to be pressing against her chest. She was mentally and physically exhausted; her fatigue was so great she could barely hold up her head.
Alek guided her into the kitchen. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast, hadn’t thought about food even once. The smells were heavenly, but she had no appetite.
He brought two plates from the oven and set them on the table.
“I’m not hungry,” she told him. “I’m going to take a bath.” She half expected him to argue with her, to insist she needed nourishment. Instead he must have realized she knew what was best for herself right now.
One look in the bathroom mirror confirmed Julia’s worst suspicions. Her eyes were red, puffy, and her cheeks were pale, her makeup long since washed away by her tears. She looked much older than her thirty years. About a hundred years older. She looked and felt as if she’d been hit by a freight train.
Ruth was gone, and other than Jerry she was alone in the world. She was grateful for Alek’s assistance during this traumatic day, but in time he’d leave and then she’d be alone again.
Running her bathwater, she added a package of peach-scented salts and stepped into the hot, soothing water. She leaned against the back of the tub and closed her eyes, letting the heat of the bath comfort her.
Children waiting to be born.
She didn’t know why that phrase edged its way into her mind. There would be no children because there would be no real marriage. She was more determined than ever not to cross that line, especially now, when she was most vulnerable. She’d hurt Alek enough, abused his gentleness, taken advantage of his kindness.
He was standing in the hallway outside the bathroom waiting for her when she finished. “I’m fine, Alek,” she said, wanting to reassure him, even if it wasn’t true.
“You’re exhausted. I turned back the sheets for you.”
“Thank you.”
He ushered her into the bedroom as if she were a child. In other circumstances, Julia would have resented the way he’d taken control of her life, but not then. She felt only gratitude.
She slid beneath the covers, nestled her head against the pillow and closed her eyes. “Alek,” she whispered.
“Yes, my love?”
“Would you sing to me again?”
He complied with a haunting melody in his own language. His voice was clear and strong, and even though she couldn’t understand the words, she found it beautiful and soothing. She wanted to ask him the meaning, but her thoughts drifted in another direction. Toward rest. Toward peace.
Julia woke with a start. She didn’t know what had jarred her awake. The room was dark, although the hall light offered little illumination. The digital clock on the nightstand informed her it was nearly 1:00 a.m. As her eyes adjusted, she realized Alek was sitting beside her in a chair, his legs stretched out before him and his head cocked at an odd, uncomfortable angle.
“Alek?” she whispered, propping herself up on one elbow.
He stirred immediately and straightened. “Julia?”
“What are you doing here?”
“I didn’t want you to be alone.”
“I’m fine,” she said again.
“Do you want me to sing to you?”
Hot, burning tears filled her eyes at his tenderness, his concern. She shook her head. What she needed was to be held.
“Julia, my love,” he whispered, moving from the chair to the edge of the bed. His hand smoothed the hair from her face, his touch as gentle as if she were a child in need of reassurance, which was exactly the way Julia felt.
“Why do you have to be so wonderful?” she sobbed. “Why are you so good to me?”
His lips touched her forehead, but he didn’t answer.
“I’m a rotten wife.”
He laughed. “You haven’t given yourself a chance yet.”
“I’ve treated you terribly. You should hate me.”
“Hate you?” He seemed to find her words amusing. “That would be impossible.”
“Will you lie down with me? Please?” The words were out before she could censor them. It was a