Chapter 12
The end of Noah’s stay came much too quickly for Sheila. The fact that he hadn’t been clear about his decision concerning the status of the winery worried her. She knew that he wanted to rebuild the west wing—the construction crew that had been razing the old structure was proof enough of that—but still he was hesitant. It was as if he were keeping something from her. She could feel his reluctance whenever she would broach the subject of the fall harvest. As far as she could tell, it had to be something to do with the fire.
It was morning on Noah’s final day at Cascade Valley when Sheila summoned the courage to bring up the fire and Anthony Simmons’s report. Over the past week Noah had managed to dodge the issue, but this morning Sheila told herself she had to have answers—straight ones.
The first rays of dawn filtered through the terrace doors to bathe Sheila’s room in a golden aura of dim morning light. Dewdrops clung to the underside of the green leaves of the clematis that grew against the glass doors, and the chill of the mountain night hadn’t disappeared.
Noah was still asleep, his face pressed against the pillow. Sheila slowly extracted herself from his embrace, and while still lying near to him on the antique bed, stared at his sleeping form. The dark profile of his face, etched in relief against the ice blue sheets, seemed innocent in slumber. The powerful muscles were relaxed, the corners of his eyes soft. His near-black hair was unruly and would seem almost boyish if it hadn’t been for the contrast of his shadowy beard.
Sheila felt her throat tighten at the sight of him sleeping, oblivious to any of the anxieties that aged his face. He seemed incredibly vulnerable, and it touched the deepest, most feminine part of her. She wanted to smooth back his hair and comfort him. I love him, she thought to herself. I love him too much. This is the kind of blind love that can be dangerous, the kind of self-sacrificing, unreturned love that can only cause pain. It’s a love that causes dependency and inspires jealousy, like a drug addiction. More than anything else in the world, I want to be with this man, to be a part of him. I want my life to blend with his, my family to be one with his, my blood to run in his body.
She bent over and kissed him softly on the forehead. I know he cares for me—he says he loves me—but I know that he is hiding something from me. He won’t let himself trust me.
She drew herself away from him and got out of the bed. After snuggling into the downy folds of a cream-colored velour bathrobe, she once again sat on the edge of the bed, content to watch the even rise and fall of Noah’s chest as he lay entwined in the sheets. Why won’t you tell me, she wondered. Why won’t you tell me everything about the fire? What are you hiding from me?
Noah rolled over onto his back and raised an exploratory eyelid against the invading morning sunlight. His dimpled smile slowly emerged as his gaze focused on her. “God, you look incredible,” he growled as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her down beside him on the bed.
“Noah,” she whispered, trying to ignore the deliciously warm feel of his lips against her throat. “We have to talk.”
“Later.” His fingers found the zipper on her bathrobe and slowly lowered it.
Against the yearnings of her body, she put her hand over his to impede the zipper’s progress. “Now.”
“Let’s not waste time with talk,” he grumbled as he kissed the exposed tops of her breasts. The zipper slid lower, and the downy robe parted. “This is my last morning here,” he murmured against her bared skin. Sheila felt her pulse jump and the blood begin to heat in her veins.
She attempted to clutch the robe together. “Precisely why we have to talk now.” She tossed her hair away from her face and looked him steadily in the eye as she disentangled herself from his persuasive grip. Her breath was uneven as she eased her body off the bed.
After somewhat shakily taking a seat in one of the chairs near the terrace, she nervously ran her fingers over the open neckline of her robe. Noah propped himself on one elbow, raked his fingers through his dark hair and stared at her with amused, but smoldering, blue eyes. The sheet was draped across his body, exposing the hard muscles of his chest and leaving his lower torso covered. “All right, Sheila, out with it.”
“What?” She really didn’t know where to begin.
“The inquisition.”
“You’re expecting one?” She was surprised.
“I’d have to be a fool not to know that before I went back to Seattle, you and I would have a showdown about the fire. That is what this is all about, isn’t it?”
Sheila’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, and her fingers stopped toying with the collar of her robe. “I just want to know why you’ve been avoiding the issue of the fire and the rebuilding of the west wing.”
“Because I hadn’t made a decision.” His honest blue eyes begged her understanding and patience.
“But you have now?”
“I think so.”
“Well?”
The corners of Noah’s eyes twitched. “I’m going to transfer a quarter of a million dollars into an escrow account from Wilder Investments when I get back to Seattle. The money will be in escrow for the express purpose of rebuilding Cascade Valley.”
Sheila’s smile froze on her face as she read the hesitation in his gaze. “But what about the insurance companycand that report by Anthony Simmons?”
Noah waved off her questions as if they were bothersome insects. “Don’t worry about that end of it; that’s my problem.”
Sheila held back a million questions, but the one nagging doubt in her mind refused to die. Her voice was hoarse. “But what about my father’s name? Will you be able to clear it?” she asked cautiously. The look of sincere concern in her light gray eyes pierced him to the soul, and he found his deception entrapping him. He had decided not to tell her anything about the fire or Simmons’s report, knowing full well that what he would have to disclose to her would only cause her more pain. In his mind she had borne more than her share. He couldn’t add to it.
“I hope so,” he whispered, damning himself for his duplicity.
She sighed with relief and closed her eyes.
“We do have another problem to consider.”
She smiled wryly and opened her eyes to study him. “Only one?” she asked sarcastically.
He laughed aloud. How long had it been since he’d laughed in the dawn? The thought of leaving Sheila sobered him, and he realized it was an impossible task. She sat across the room from him, her toes peeking out from the folds of creamy fabric, her hair beautiful in its coppery disarray. And her eyes, a warm gray, the color of liquid silver, surrounded by thick, sexy black lashes, watched his every movement. “Maybe we have two problems,” he acquiesced with a slow smile. “The first is simple. If construction of the west wing is incomplete by harvest time, I’ll lease a facility nearby and we’ll still bottle under the Cascade label. It will be expensive, but better than selling our crop to the competition.”
Sheila thoughtfully nodded her silent agreement.
“So that brings us to our next dilemma.”
“If you come up with another blockbuster solution, like you did for the first problem, I doubt that there will be any dilemma at all,” she quipped, smiling radiantly. At last she knew for certain that the winery would reopen. She couldn’t help but smile.
Noah rubbed the edge of his chin before he tossed off the sheet, stood up and strode over to the chair in which she was sitting. Positioning his hands on either arm of the chair, he imprisoned her against the peach-colored cushions. “The solution depends entirely on you.”
The corners of her mouth twitched, and a light of interest danced in her eyes. She cocked her head coquettishly and let the chestnut sheen of her hair fall over one cheek. “On me? How?”
His voice was low and serious, his gaze intent as it probed her eyes. “Sheila, I want you to marry me. Will you?”
Her playful smile disappeared as the meaning of his words sunk in. An overwhelming sense of ecstasy overtook her as her heart flipped over. “You want to get married?” she repeated, her voice filled with raw emotion.
“As quickly as possible.”
Her self-assurance wavered. “Of coursecI mean, I’d love toc” She shook her head. “This is coming out all wrong. I guess I just don’t understand what’s going on here.”
“What’s to understand?” His lean muscles entrapped her, and his lips nuzzled softly behind her ear. When he spoke, she could feel his warm breath against her hair. “Because I love you, Sheila. Haven’t you been listening to what I’ve been saying to you for the better part of the week?”
“Butcmarried?” she stammered. Visions of her first marriage filled her mind. She remembered the hope and the love, a gorgeous ivory lace gown that had yellowed with the lies and the faded dreams. She had rushed into marriage once, and though she loved Noah with all her heart, she was wary of making the same mistake again. The thought of losing him was too agonizing to her. “IcI don’t know,” she said, and the confusion she felt was reflected in the gray depths of her eyes.
The muscles of his arms tensed as he gripped the chair more savagely. “Why not?”
There were probably more than a dozen reasons, but Sheila couldn’t think of them. Memories of Jeff closing the door in her face kept closing in on her. “Have you thought about the kids? How is this going to affect them?” She was grasping at straws, and they both knew it. He provided the perfect response.
“Can you honestly think of any better arrangement for Sean or Emily?”
“But that’s no reason to get marriedcto provide another parent for your child.”
“Of course it isn’t. Think of it as a fringe benefit,” he suggested. His hand had been touching the collar of her robe, gently rubbing the delicate bones surrounding her neck. Suddenly he stopped touching her and took a step backward. “Are you trying to find a polite way of telling me no?” he challenged, his features growing hard.
Sheila shook he head, tears of happiness welling in her eyes. He misread them.
“Then what is it? Certainly you’re not satisfied with a casual affair?”
“No, no, of course not.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, his blue eyes intent on hers. “Has this got something to do with Coleridge? Damn it! I knew he was still in your blood.”
“He isn’tc. It’s just that I’m overwhelmed, Noah. I didn’t expect any of thisc. I don’t know what to say.”
“A simple yes or no will do.”
“If only it were simple.” She wrapped her arms around herself as if protecting her body from a sudden chill. “I’d love to marry youc”
“But?”
“But I think it’s all a little sudden.” Why was she making up excuses? Why couldn’t she just accept his vow of love?
As she looked into Noah’s brooding eyes and honest, angular face, Sheila’s doubts fled. If she knew nothing else, she realized that Noah Wilder wasn’t the kind of man who would stoop to deceit. She shook her head as if shaking out the cobwebs of unclear thought that had confused her. “I’m sorry,” she apologized shakily as she touched her fingertips to the solid wall of his chest. “It’s just that you surprised me. The truth is that I love you and I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than spend the rest of my life with you.”
“Thank God,” he declared prayerfully. He folded her into the strength of his arms and pressed his hungry lips to hers. A warm glow of happiness began to spread through her as her lips parted to accept the promise of his love. She closed her eyes and sighed against his mouth as she felt the robe slip off her shoulders and the chill of morning touch her skin when Noah guided her to the bed.
“Woman,” he groaned against her skin, “I need you so desperately.” She shivered in anticipation as she fell against the cool sheets and was warmed only by the gentle touch of the man she loved.
* * *
Sheila’s life became a whirlwind. Between scanning blueprints submitted by architects, attempting to organize the interior designers sent by Wilder Investments and working with Dave Jansen on the fall harvest, Sheila had little time to dwell on the distance that kept her apart from Noah. She fell into bed exhausted each night and was up at the crack of dawn each morning. One hot summer day bled into another as June flowed into July.
Though Sheila was working herself to the bone, it was worth it. Everything seemed to be going her way. Jeff had called earlier in the week, and when Sheila had explained that Emily had reservations about visiting with him in Spokane, Jeff didn’t press the issue. In fact, he had almost sounded relieved that he wouldn’t have to entertain his child until later in the summer.
Emily missed Sean, but Sheila took that as a positive sign. She prayed that the two children would continue to get along after the marriage, whenever that was. Noah had been pressing Sheila for a date, even had gone so far as to suggest eloping. Sheila admitted to herself that running off to get married might be the best solution for all involved. She had once been married in an elaborate ceremony; it hadn’t guaranteed success.
Perhaps this weekend, she mused to herself as she pressed her foot more heavily on the throttle of the car. The auto responded and climbed the Cascade Mountains more quickly. For the first time in four weeks, there had been a break in the work. The interior of the château was nearly completely restored to its original regal design. Only a few details remained unfinished. The fabric for the draperies was woven in Europe, hence the delay. But the walls had been resurfaced and painted, new wallpaper hung and the old stained burgundy carpet replaced by a new, elegant champagne-colored pile.
Emily was spending the weekend with her grandmother, and Sheila decided to visit Noah. He would be surprised, no doubt, as he hadn’t expected to see her until all of the legal papers surrounding the refurbishing of the winery were complete, but when she hadn’t been able to reach him by telephone, Sheila had thrown caution to the wind, packed a few clothes and jumped in her car.
It was a beautiful summer day, the mountain air fresh with the scent of wildflowers and pine trees, and Sheila had the confident feeling that nothing could ruin the feeling of exhilaration that claimed her. The prospect of spending a quiet weekend alone with Noah made her smile to herself and hum along to the pop music coming from the radio.
Nothing can possibly go wrong, she thought to herself as she turned up the circular drive of the Wilder estate. This weekend is going to be perfect. She smiled when she saw the familiar silver Volvo sitting hear the garage. At least she had caught Noah at home.
She knocked on the door and waited for it to be answered. The mysterious smile that had spread across her face froze in place when the door was opened by a well-mannered, gray-haired man of near fifty. He was dressed in formal livery and displayed not one shred of emotion as he inquired as to the nature of her call.
A butler, Sheila thought wildly, not really understanding. Noah employed a butler? He hadn’t mentioned hiring any servants in his telephone conversations. An uneasy feeling began to grip Sheila. Something was wrong.
“I’m here to see Mr. Wilder,” Sheila explained to the outwardly skeptical butler.
“Is he expecting you?”
“No. You see, this is kind of a surprise.”
The butler cocked a dubious gray eyebrow and his lips pressed into a thin, firm line. “You do know that Mr. Wilder isn’t well. He isn’t seeing visitors.”
Sheila’s eyes widened, and her heart leapt to her throat. What was this man saying? “What’s wrong with him?” she demanded, fear claiming her emotions.
“Pardon me?”
Sheila forgot all sense of civility. “What’s wrong with Noah? Was he hurt in an accident?” Her hands were shaking. “What happened?” How could this character out of Upstairs Downstairs take Noah’s health so casually? She looked past the butler into the stone house, her eyes searching for some evidence that Noah was all right.
“Miss, if you will calm down! I wasn’t speaking of Noah Wilder, but his father.”
Sheila’s eyes flew back to the butler. “Ben? Ben’s here?”
The man in the doorway raised his nose a bit higher, but Sheila sensed kindliness in his sparkling hazel eyes. “Would you kindly state your name and business?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Sheila Lindstrom,” she replied rapidly. Thank God Noah was safe. Her breath released slowly. “I’mca friend of Noah’s. Iscis he in?”
“Yes, of course, Miss Lindstrom. This way please.” The butler seemed pleased that he had finally made sense of her appearance. He turned on a well-polished heel and escorted her into a formal living room.
It was a cold room, not at all like the warm den where she had met Noah. It was decorated in flat tones of silver and white, with only a sprinkling of blue pillows on the expensive, modern furniture. White walls, icy gray carpet and tall, unadorned windows. In the middle of it all, sitting near the unlit flagstone fireplace, was a man Sheila guessed to be Ben Wilder. He didn’t bother to rise when she entered the room, and his smile looked forced, as cold as the early morning fog that settled upon Lake Washington.
“Miss Lindstrom,” the butler announced quietly. “She’s here to see your son.”
At the mention of her name, Ben’s interest surfaced. His faded eyes looked over her appraisingly, as if she were a thoroughbred at auction. Sheila felt an uncomfortable chill.
“Pleased to meet you, Miss Lindstrom. I’m Noah’s father.”
“I thought so. I think I met you once, years agoc”
Ben was thoughtful for a moment. “I suppose you did. I came to the winery to see Oliver—by the way, please accept my condolences.”
“Thank you.” Sheila anxiously fingered the clasp on her purse. Where was Noah? The man sitting in the snowy chair was not anything she had expected. When she had met Ben Wilder he was robust and bursting with energy. Though it had only been nine years, Ben Wilder had aged nearly thirty. The pallor of his skin was gray, and his hair had thinned. He still appeared tall, but there was a gauntness to his flesh that added years to his body. Ben Wilder was gravely ill.
“Did I hear someone at the door?” a female voice asked. Sheila turned to see a woman, younger than Ben by several years, walk into the room. She was graceful, and the smile that warmed her face seemed sincere.
“This is Sheila Lindstrom,” Ben said. “My wife, Katharine.”
Katharine’s smile wavered slightly. “Noah’s mentioned you,” she stated vaguely. “Would you care to have a seat?”
“Thank you, but I really did come to see Noah.”
“Of course you did. He was outside with Sean. I think George has gone to find him.”
Thank God, Sheila thought to herself as she settled onto the uncomfortable white couch. Katharine attempted to make conversation. “I was sorry to hear about your father, Sheila.” Sheila nodded a polite response. “But I hear from Noah that you’ve made marvelous strides toward rebuilding the entire operation.”
“We’re getting there,” Sheila replied uncomfortably.
“A big job for a young woman,” Ben observed dryly.
Sheila managed a brave smile and turned the course of the conversation away from Cascade Valley. “I didn’t know that you had come back from Mexico,” she explained. “I should have called and let Noah know that I was planning to visit him here.”
The silence was awkward, and Katharine fidgeted with the circle of diamonds around her thin neck while she studied the young woman in whom her son had shown such an avid interest. An interest that had taken him away from his duties of managing the business. Sheila Lindstrom was pretty, she thought to herself with amusement, but beautiful women had held no interest for her only son. What was so special about this one? She heard herself responding hollowly to Sheila’s vague apology. “Don’t worry about that,” Katharine stated with a dismissive wave of her slim, fine-boned hand. “Noah’s fond of you. Therefore, you’re welcome anytime. No invitation is necessary.”
“Did Noah tell you all the details that Anthony Simmons dug up on the fire?” Ben asked, bored with social amenities. It was time to get down to business. He reached for a cigar and rotated it gently in his fleshless hand.
Sheila felt her spine stiffen. “Only that the report was inconclusive,” she replied, meeting his gaze squarely.
Ben smiled, still watching her over the cigar. He reached for a match, but was halted by his wife’s warning glare. “I figured as much.”
“Pardon me?” Sheila inquired, pressing the issue.
“I didn’t think he told you everythingc.”
“Ben!” Katharine’s smooth voice held a steely note of caution. She lowered it slightly. “Let’s not bore Miss Lindstrom with all this talk about business. Sheila, would you like to stay for dinner? It really would be no impositionc.”
Her voice faded as the sound of heavy, quick footsteps caught her attention. A wavering smile broadened her lips. “Noah, guess who dropped by?” she asked.
“What are you doing here?” Noah asked fiercely. Sheila turned to see if his question was intended for her. It was. His face was hard, set in rigid lines. A muscle near his jaw pulsed.
“I wanted to surprise you.”
“You did!”
Sheila felt something wither inside her under his uncomfortable stare. He appeared more gaunt than the last time she had been with him. The circles under his blue eyes gave his face a harsh, angular appearance. His inflamed gaze moved from her face to that of his father’s. Ben’s old lips twisted with private irony. “What have you been telling her?” he demanded, advancing upon his father.
“Noah, pleasec” Katharine interjected.
“I asked you a simple question,” Noah said through tightly clenched teeth. “If you won’t answer it, then fine. I’d like to talk to hercalone.” He looked away from his father to meet Sheila’s confused gaze. For a moment his face softened, and the defeat in his eyes seemed to fade. “Let’s go into the den and talk,” he suggested softly.
Sheila understood. He had changed his mind about her and the winery and the marriage. He was going to tell her that all of her dreams had turned to dust. A sinking sensation of doom, like that of falling into a bottomless black hole, enveloped her. Noah’s persuasive hand was on her shoulder, encouraging her to her feet. Slowly, she rose. She felt dizzy, sick.
“No reason to shuffle her out of here, son,” Ben said with sarcastic familiarity. “One way or another, she’s got to know.”
“I’ll handle it,” Noah spat. The pressure on Sheila’s back increased as he tried to guide her out of the sterile living room.
“I’m sure you will, my boy,” Ben agreed with a mirthless laugh.
“What’s he talking about?” Sheila asked impatiently.
“Tell her,” Ben demanded.
“Benclet Noah handle this his own way,” his wife whispered.
The pressure in Sheila’s head got to her. She stopped her exit from the long living room with the cold carpet and announced in a calm, hushed voice. “Don’t talk as if I can’t hear you, because I can. What’s this all about?”
She had to know, had to hear his words of rejection, waited with head held high for the final blow. Noah’s lips compressed into a thin, uncompromising line. “I’ll tell you everything, but it will be best if we’re alone.”
“Oh, hell, boy! Stop p-ssyfootin’ around, for God’s sake.” The old man rose shakily from his chair and rubbed his freckled scalp. “What Noah is trying to tell you, honey, is that your father started that damned fire and it cost the company one helluva lot of money, let me tell you. The insurance company hasn’t paid us a dime; there’s a doubt that they ever will!”
Sheila’s face turned ashen, her stomach lurched and she thought she might faint. She turned her eyes to Noah’s and read the guilt and remorse in his look. He had known. From the time that Anthony Simmons had turned in his preliminary report Noah Wilder had known about her father and the fire.
“No!” she attempted to shout. But no sound escaped from her constricted throat. His deceit was too much for her to accept.
Ben enjoyed the scene. It was hard for an old man with a heart condition to get many thrills out of life. He enjoyed the intrigue of passions and deceit. It didn’t matter that it was his own son. The sanctimonious heir had been looking down his nose at his father’s morals for the last sixteen years—even to the point of refusing to work for the company, until he was forced to by Ben’s most recent attack. It did old Ben’s failing heart good to see the tables turned for once.
“Sheila,” Noah said softly, touching her chin. She drew away, repelled by his touch. “Things aren’t exactly what they seem.”
“But you knew about Dad!” she accused.
“Yes,” he admitted loudly.
“And you didn’t tell me!”
“I thought I could prove the report wrongcI was convinced that with a little time, I could sort things out, and the results would be different.”
“But you knew!” Her heart sank to the blackest depths of despair. “And you wouldn’t tell mec.”
“I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“So you lied to me?”
His response was quick. “I’ve never lied to you.”
“Just omitted the facts, avoided the issuesc.”
“Tried to stop your pain.”
“I don’t want a man to protect me from the truth. I don’t want anyone who can’t trust mec.” The ugliness of the situation became blindingly apparent to her, and another wave of nausea took all of the color from her pale face. “You thought I was involved, didn’t you?”
“No.”
“Didn’t you?”
“No!” he screamed. He shook his head, and his blue eyes pleaded with her to understand him. “Not after I met you. I couldn’t.”
“Oh, Noah,” she whispered, shaking her head, running her fingers through her long, chestnut hair. “What has happened to us?”
She had forgotten there were other people in the room. When she looked up, she met Katharine’s sorrowed gaze. “I’m sorry,” Katharine murmured. “Come on, Ben, let’s leave them alone.” She tried to help her husband out of the living room, but he refused.
Ben yanked his arm out of Katharine’s grasp. “I think you should understand something, Miss Lindstrom.” Sheila raised her head to meet his cool, laughing eyes. It was as if he were enjoying some private joke at her expense. “I’m a businessman, and I can’t let you continue to operate the winery.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that I’m not prepared to invest the money Noah promised you to rebuild the winery.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Noah interjected. “I’ll handle it.”
Ben continued, unruffled by his son’s visible anger. “The most prudent thing for you to do, Sheila, would be to sell out your portion of Cascade Valley to Wilder Investments.”
“I can’t do thatc. I won’t.”
Ben’s toothy smile slowly turned into a frown. “I don’t think you’ll have much of a choice, considering the information in Mr. Simmons’s report—”
“Stop it!” Noah shouted, taking Sheila by the arm and nearly dragging her out of the living room. “Don’t listen to himcdon’t pay any attention to any of his suggestions.”
She pulled what little shreds of dignity she could find and turned her cold eyes on Noah. “I won’t,” she assured him coolly, while extracting her arm out of his fingers. Her eyes burned, her throat ached, her heart bled, but she held her face as impassive as possible. “Nothing you or your father can say will convince me to sell my father’s winery.”
“I know that,” he admitted softly.
“But you were the first one to suggest that I sell.”
“At that time I thought it would be best.”
The unhappy smile that twisted on her lips was filled with self-defeat. “And now you expect me to believe that you don’t?”
“You know that, Sheila.” His fingers reached out to cup her chin, and they trembled as he sought to rub his thumb along her jawline. She had to turn away from him; she was too numb to feel the tenderness in his caress.
“Leave me alone, Noah,” she whispered tonelessly. “I’m tired.”
“Don’t go,” he begged, his hand dropping impotently to his side. The pain in his eyes wasn’t hidden as he watched her move slowly toward the door. “Don’t let the old man get to you.”
“The ‘old man’ isn’t the one that got to me.”
“Sheila!” He reached for the bend of her elbow, clutching at her arm and twisting her to him. He held her so savagely that she wondered for a moment if she could breathecor if she really cared. The tears that had slid over her lips to warm them with drops of salt told her she was crying, but she couldn’t feel them. She didn’t feel anything. Empty. Hollow. It was as if the spirit she had once owned had been broken.
“Let go of me,” she said through her sobs.
“You can’t go. You don’t understandc.”
“I understand perfectly! You may have been able to get what you wanted from Marilyn by paying her off, but you can’t buy me, Noah Wilder! No man can. I’ll go bankrupt before I’ll sell you one bottle of my cheapest wine!” She wrenched free of his hold on her and backed toward the door.
He watched her leave, not moving from the foyer where he had held her in his arms. They felt strangely empty as his eyes followed the path of her flight. The door slammed shut, closing her out of his life. He fought the vain urge to follow her and tried to convince himself that everything was for the best. If she trusted him so little, he was better off without her.