Free What the Waves Bring by Barbara Delinsky Page A

vulnerability that she beheld. Mercifully Heath demanded no verbal response but drew her against him, burying her face against the warm haven of his chest and rocking her gently for several moments before setting her back. Though the issue would remain a major one for them both, there was unspoken accord that it should not be pushed.
    â€œAside from the ugly experience with Michaels,” he began softly, “you’ve painted a very satisfactory picture of your life. I still don’t understand why you left New York. It would seem much more convenient, with your work and all, to have remained in the middle of everything.”
    â€œPerhaps,” she sniffled, blotting the last of the moisture from her eyes with the backs of her hands. “But the city lost its appeal for me, I guess. Oh,” she added quickly, “the fiasco with Shane was merely the straw that broke the camel’s back.” She regarded him sheepishly. “An old expression—I’ m sure your alter ego is familiar with it.” With a deep breath she went on. “I had been increasingly disenchanted with my so-called ‘group’ in New York for some time. I’m sure much of it had to do with my work. Work isn’t something that most of my friends took kindly to. We seemed to grow in different directions. After a while I got tired of making excuses to avoid a party here or a weekend there. They bored me. And I’d had it with apologizing for my work. I enjoy it. It’s rewarding and self-supporting. No one can take it away from me, and I refuse to stick around while they try.”
    â€œSo you ran.”
    Her head flew up with such swiftness that the wine splashed from her glass. “I wouldn’t call it that.”
    â€œWhat, then? Wasn’t it possible to stand on your own back there in New York?”
    Fury filled her, fueled by hurt at his lack of understanding. “For some people, yes. For me, no.” The gold flecks in her eyes sparked dangerously. “I was one of them,
trying to break from the mold. It took me twenty-nine years to get up the courage, and I thought I’d done pretty well setting myself up here.”
    â€œYou can’t stay here forever.”
    â€œWhy not?” she countered indignantly.
    â€œApril,” he chided softly, “you were born and bred into society. Can you just withdraw … like that?” He snapped his fingers in audible illustration.
    â€œI’m sure as hell trying!”
    Sensing the extent of her anger, he let it ride, turning to feed the fire and refill their wineglasses. They sat in silence, each occupied in his own mind-world. As April slowly calmed from her outburst, she realized that there had been some truth to his accusation. She had run from New York, unable to make the break while still in viewing distance of the crowd. But was that wrong? Wasn’t it most important that the break be made?
    Whatever Heath’s thoughts were, she felt removed from them. When he rose and disappeared, she made no move to question him, but merely let the flames of the fire carry on their hypnotic peacemaking effort. It was the warm aroma of something very tempting that finally broke through her trance.
    â€œDinner is served,” Heath announced, presenting her, to her astonishment, with a fireside banquet of steak, broccoli in cheese sauce, and scalloped potatoes. “Your freezer has quite a store of these goodies. I only hope we can eat them as fast as they thaw—if this electricity doesn’t come on!”
    It was his peace offering, this attractive and appetizing meal, much as the wine had been hers earlier. Against her will, April felt the last of her anger waft off into the night chill. “This is a feast, Heath! I haven’t eaten this much at one time since … since last Thanksgiving!” She grinned. “You must have been a chef. That’s it. A chef!” With a
sigh of satisfaction, she