The Mammoth Hunters - Jean M. Auel [272]
“I was hoping I’d find you alone, Ayla. I’d like to talk to you, if you don’t mind,” Jondalar said, in a strangely subdued voice.
“No, I don’t mind,” she said.
He was shaved, his light hair pulled back neatly and tied at the nape of his neck, and he was wearing one of his new outfits from Tulie. He looked so good to her—handsome was the word Deegie used—he almost took her breath away, and her voice caught in her throat. But it was more than his appearance that moved Ayla. Even when he was wearing Talut’s hand-me-downs, he looked good to her. His presence filled the space around him and touched her, as though he were a glowing ember that warmed her, even standing apart. It was a warmth that was not heat, but larger, more filling, and she wanted to touch that warmth, ached to feel it enfold her, and swayed toward him. But something in his eyes held her back, something ineffably sad that she had not seen there before. She stood quietly, waiting for him to speak.
He closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his thoughts, not sure how to begin. “Do you remember, when we were together in your valley, before you could speak very well, you wanted to tell me something once that was important, but you didn’t know the words for it? You began to speak to me in signs—I remember thinking your movements were beautiful, almost like a dance.”
She remembered only too well. She had been trying to tell him then what she wished she could tell him now: how she felt about him, how he filled her with a feeling that she still had no words for. Even to say she loved him was not enough.
“I’m not sure there are words to say what I need to say. ‘Sorry’ is just a sound that comes out of my mouth, but I don’t know how else to say it. I’m sorry, Ayla, more than I can say. I had no right to force you, but I can’t take back what has already been done. I can only say it won’t ever happen again. I’ll be leaving soon, as soon as Talut thinks it’s safe to travel. This is your home. People here care about you … love you. You are Ayla of the Mamutoi. I am Jondalar of the Zelandonii. It’s time for me to go home.”
Ayla couldn’t speak. She looked down, trying to hide the tears she couldn’t hold back, then turned around and began to rub down Whinney, unable to look at Jondalar. He was leaving. He was going home and he hadn’t asked her to go with him. He didn’t want her. He didn’t love her. She swallowed her sobs as she rubbed the brush over the horse. Not since she’d lived with the Clan had she fought so hard to hold back tears, struggled not to show them.
Jondalar stood there, staring at her back. She doesn’t care, he thought. I should have left a long time ago. She had turned her back on him; he wanted to turn around and leave her to her horses, but the silent body language of her motions signaled a message that he couldn’t put into words. It was only a sense, a feeling that something wasn’t right, but it made him reluctant to go.
“Ayla …?”
“Yes,” she said, keeping her back turned and struggling to keep her voice from cracking.
“Is there … anything I can do before I leave?”
She didn’t answer immediately. She wanted to say something that would change his mind, and tried frantically to think of a way to bring him closer to her, to keep him interested. The horses, he liked Racer. He liked riding him.
“Yes, there is,” she finally said, fighting to sound normal.
He had turned to go when she didn’t answer, but turned back quickly.
“You could help me train Racer … as long as you’re here. I don’t have as much time to take him out as I should.” She allowed herself to turn around and face him again.
Did he imagine that she looked pale, that she was trembling? “I don’t know how long I’ll be here,” he said, “but I’ll do what I can.” He started to say more, he wanted to tell her he loved her and that he was leaving because she deserved more. She deserved someone who would love her without reservation, someone like Ranec. He looked down while he searched for the right words.
Ayla was afraid she wouldn’t be able to hold back the