Free A Sudden Change of Heart by Barbara Taylor Bradford Page A

always is. But—” He cut himself off again, sat back drinking his scotch and soda; his eyes were troubled, his shoulders taut with anxiety.
    Laura could see how upset he was, and she waited until he had collected himself before she said slowly, “What do you think is wrong with Claire? You say you think she’s ill, but with what?”
    He lifted his hands in that typical gesture of his and shook his head. “Alas, I do not know, Laura.” He sighed and continued. “I push the worry away, as I did when we were at Jacqueline’s earlier. Yet it creeps back into my mind. Has she … has she confided anything in you?”
    Laura shook her head and answered softly. “She’s still very angry. About her bad marriage, about men, or perhaps one man. It seems to eat her up at times, consume her. Perhaps it’s just that, the anger, the disappointment. Plus working hard, being tired occasionally.” Leaning forward, Laura put one hand on his arm. “Try not to worry so much. I don’t think she’s sick, Hercule, I really don’t.”
    Her words seemed to help him to relax, and the tight lines around his eyes eased slightly. “I hope you are correct. When you love a woman as I love her, it
is
worrying if she seems … well, not herself.”
    Taking the plunge, Laura said, “Why don’t you tell her how you feel, Hercule? Tell her you love her?”
    “Oh, but I could not do that, Laura. Never, never. Claire does not feel the same way about me as I feel about her.
I am afraid.
Yes, I admit that to you, Laura, I am afraid to tell her. I do not want to lose her, you see, and I might, if she … knew how I truly felt. Being her friend and part of her life is so important to me.”
    “You ought to tell her. You might be surprised how she reacts.”
    “Laura, how can you of all people in the world say that to me?
Mon Dieu!
You have just told me that she is angryabout her failed marriage, about
him.
No, there is no room for me in her life, as much as I want there to be.”
    His gently spoken words seemed to strike at Laura, and she flinched inside. She sat back in her chair, thinking how sad it was that Claire was being so cruel to herself, and was, in a way, punishing herself without reason.
No room for me in her life.
She replayed his words of a moment before in her mind, and she knew it was true, and that this was indeed a tragedy. Hercule was much older, but he was a good-looking man, well built, tall, and strong as an ox, and he was a kind and loving human being. He would have looked after Claire, protected her, given her so much.
    He said, “Maybe I worry about nothing. Is that what you are thinking?”
    She shook her head. “No, I was thinking how sad it is that Claire has this attitude about … life.”
    “You do not think she is ill?”
    “No, I do not. In fact, I’m positive she isn’t, at least not in the way you mean. Not physically.”
    “Mentally?” he asked, his voice growing slightly sharper; he stared at her intently.
    “No. I don’t mean that either. She’s very sane, our Claire. But she is a
tormented
woman, Hercule, and I don’t know how to help her. I have tried for years.”
    “Do you think … she still loves her ex-husband?”
    “No. I think she is filled with hatred for him.”
    Hercule was silent for a moment, sat nursing his drink. Eventually he lifted his head and looked into Laura’s eyes, and his own were moist with tears. “What a terrible waste. How tragic that is … to cut yourself off … to deny yourself the possibility of love in that way.”
    “Yes,” Laura said, her voice a whisper.

    L ater that evening, after a light supper in her room, Laura worked on her papers for a while. But for once in her life her concentration was fleeting. Finally, she put down her pen and sat back in her chair.
    She was troubled about Claire.
    Not in the way Hercule was, not about her physical health, but about her mental state. Claire had harbored a dislike of Philippe ever since their breakup, perhaps