Free Fragrance of Violets by Paula Martin Page B

personally.”
    “What’s been the most interesting?”
    “Antarctica. I went with a team of scientists who were studying the effects of global warming there.” He hesitated before adding, “That was where I met Rachel.”
    “Rachel?”
    “My fiancée.”
    “Oh. I’m sorry.” Abbey tightened her hand around her lager can. “And I’m sorry about what I said the other day, about driving on a freeway, I mean. That was so thoughtless of me.”
    “It’s okay. I don’t mind talking about her, you know.”
    “All right.” She thought for a moment. “Why was she in Antarctica?”
    “She was doing an article for National Geographic.”
    “She was a journalist, too?”
    He nodded. “Yeah, from California.” He turned to gaze across the lawn. “And it was my fault she was killed.”
    Abbey stared at him. The whole conversation had taken such an unexpected turn she didn’t know what to say.
    Without looking at her, he went on, “Aren’t you going to ask me why?”
    “Do you want to tell me?”
    “Do you want to listen?”
    She nodded. “Jack, years ago, you and I told each other things that we never told anyone else. So yes, let’s put everything else aside. If you want to talk, of course I’ll listen.”
    * * * * *
    Jack leant back against the bench. It would be a relief to unburden himself, but during all the hell he’d gone through, not for one moment had he imagined it would be to Abbey.
    He exhaled deeply before he said something he’d never told anyone else, least of all Rachel’s parents. “About an hour before she died, we had the mother of all fights.”
    “Oh.”
    He shot a sideways glance at her. “Yeah. Exactly.”
    “But it was a freeway pile-up, wasn’t it? An accident?”
    “That’s what all the reports said.”
    “What happened?”
    “Some witnesses said the truck driver lost control and smashed into the side of her car; others said Rachel cut in front of the truck which caused him to swerve. All I know is that she was in a fury when she stormed out of our apartment.”
    “Do you think she was driving recklessly or carelessly?”
    “I’ll never know, will I?”
    “What about the truck driver? Didn’t he say what happened?”
    “He was killed when his truck rolled over. Several other cars rammed into the truck and into Rachel’s car. A couple of other drivers were injured but no one else was killed, thank God.”
    “Jack, you can’t blame yourself.”
    “No? If we hadn’t argued, she wouldn’t have been on the damned freeway on her own. I would have been driving.”
    There was silence for a few moments before Abbey spoke again. “But you’re not responsible for any error Rachel or the truck driver might have made.”
    He thought back to the fight they had that evening. It was a variation of the same fight they’d been having for weeks, but he wasn’t ready to share that with anyone, not even Abbey.
    He took a gulp of his lager. “Enough about me. How about you?”
    * * * * *
    Abbey knew Jack had to find his own way of coming to terms with his guilt. Knew, too, that he’d closed himself off, not wanting to talk about it any longer. When he did that in his teens, she’d usually been able to persuade him to open up but she couldn’t do that now.
    “In what sense?” she asked in response to his question.
    “Are you happy?”
    “I’m enjoying being back up here.”
    “That wasn’t what I asked.”
    “All right, then. Yes, I’m happy.”
    “What about your career?”
    She shrugged in pretended nonchalance. “I’m not sure yet. It depends what comes up.”
    “I thought you’d be besieged with offers after the Jane Eyre series on TV.”
    “I was so lucky to get that role.”
    “Not lucky. Talented. Abigail Barton displays a magical blend of inner strength and heart-breaking vulnerability, exactly what Charlotte Bronte envisaged in her heroine Jane Eyre .”
    “Now you’ve surprised me. Wasn’t that The Times critic?”
    He nodded. “And he was