Free Window on Yesterday by Joan Hohl Page A

compassion in his tone, and the understanding shadowing his eyes, Alycia shook her head and averted her face by glancing out the window. “I”—she paused to clear her throat of a sudden tightness— “I...” Her voice failed as warm moisture clouded her vision, blurring the scene of snow-laden fir tree branches.
    “Talking about it gives you a feeling of exposure, right?” Sean murmured, filling the moment of silence.
    “Yes.” Alycia swallowed again. “I was as much at fault as he,” she said softly. “I realize that now, but even after all this time, talking about it makes me feel”—she turned to look at him—”like such a failure.”
    Sean stared at her for several seconds; then he sighed. “And you’ve been unable to trust a man, or yourself, ever since.” His tone lacked the inflection necessary to make it a question or a statement.
    Knowing full well that his blandly voiced observation was based on her incoherent remarks of the night before, Alycia didn’t attempt to dissemble. Squaring her shoulders, she gazed directly into his eyes. “Yes. I—ah, haven’t been with a man since, if you know what I mean?” She frowned as his lips began to twitch.
    “Oh, I know exactly what you mean.” The twitch intensified. “And what it means for me is that not only am I chauvinistically thrilled to know there has been no one else, but I have my work cut out for me.” The twitch finally lost to a teasing grin. “Haven’t I?”
    “Sean, you gave me your word,” she said warningly, yet secretly pleased by his underlying note of possessiveness.
    “And I’ll keep it.” His voice was hard with conviction. “But I fully intend to earn your trust, and I hope to teach you to trust yourself as well.”
    Whether Sean realized it or not, he had given her an opening. Alycia didn’t hesitate in taking it. “Is it because of a lack of trust in women that you’ve never married?”‘
    His wry expression told her he understood and appreciated the swiftness with which she had turned the conversational table on him. “Partly,” Sean admitted.
    “Because of your mother’s defection?”
    Cradling his coffee cup in his palms, Sean leaned back in his chair and lifted the cup in silent salute. “Very astute,” he said softly. “But only partly correct.”
    Alycia returned the salute with her cup. “Only partly?”
    “Hmm.” Sean sipped his coffee. “My father adored my mother. Her leaving devastated him. He never fully recovered. Having witnessed the effects of one woman’s rejection on the person I loved most in the world, I grew up hating her and distrusting all females.”
    “But—”
    “But I’m fully grown now,” he went on as if she hadn’t tried to protest. “I have been for some time.” His voice took on a chiding note. “And I’m a student of history. I do understand that trustworthiness is not exclusive to the male of the species.”
    “Then why—” Alycia began, only to be interrupted once more.
    “Up to this point, I simply haven’t met any woman I felt I couldn’t live without.”
    The “up to this point” part of his statement sent a shiver down Alycia’s spine. Still, she needed clarification on the remainder of his remark. “You do mean figuratively couldn’t live without, don’t you?” A strange sensation washed over her when he shook his head.
    “I mean literally couldn’t live without,” Sean said flatly.
    Something tapped at the outermost edges of Alycia’s mind, as if trying to break into her conscious thoughts, some long-ago, long-forgotten memory. She went still, concentrating, mentally reaching out to capture the elusive glimmer, but it was gone, leaving her with an eerie feeling of emptiness and yearning. Made uneasy by the odd feeling, she gave a hollow laugh. “I’m not quite sure I understand.”
    “And I’m quite positive you do.” Sean was watching her, noting every nuance of expression that flicked over her lovely face.
    And she did—although