After the Affair(43)

They stopped before the front door, its white panels looking much the worse for wear. Dan stretched out his hand towards the door-knob.

'Maybe it's locked,' Cassie suggested, hoping the ridiculous hope that it was.

'It's not,' came his reply, just before his hand connected.

'How do you know?' she practically accused.

He swung a puzzled face around. 'What?' He turned fully to grip her upper arms. 'My God, Cassie, you look sick. What's wrong?'

'I...I don't want to go in there,' she cried, her deep concerns bursting into words. 'I don't want anything to happen...to spoil things between us.'

His frown dissolved into a look of such tender understanding that Cassie almost burst into tears. 'Oh, Cassie.' He enfolded her into his arms, cradling her head into his chest. 'My poor love...so brave...so fine... Do you think I would ever do anything to hurt you again?'

He drew back, his eyes soothing her. 'There's nothing to worry about in there. Nothing. This is a very special place, a place where all our memories are good.'

'But I thought you hated it,' she choked out.

'Hate it? Now why would you think...? Oh, yes, I remember... The other morning on the bridge. You silly ninny,' he whispered, wiping her brimming eyes with soft fingertips. 'I couldn't bear to think about the studio then because it represented everything I'd had once but which I thought I'd never have again. I was certain you'd never love me, no matter what you said and did. I thought your turn-around was all for Jason. Nothing more. The way you looked at me sometimes... It was so different from...' He hesitated. 'Come inside, I have something to show you.'

The studio was exactly as she remembered. One large room with a fireplace at the southern end, in front of which stretched a deeply piled brown rug and an old flowered divan. Around the walls stood a variety of furniture: book-cases, cabinets, a table and chairs, an ancient refrigerator. A general air of disuse hung over the whole place, despite its having been recently cleaned.

Dan took her hand, leading her over and settling her on the divan before turning to stride across the rug towards an old sideboard in the corner. Cassie watched, puzzled, as he opened one section, but when he pulled out a rectangular-shaped object wrapped in a red felt cloth she knew instantly what it was...

Her throat grew dry as he removed the cover and placed it on the mantelpiece.

He stared at it for a few seconds, then took several slow steps backwards. Finally he turned, as though reluctantly, to face her. 'This is how I remembered you,' he said.

She stood up and walked towards her portrait, her mind marvelling at Dan's skill, her heart hating it at the same time. It was too good, too clear, too telling...

'I finished it after I left,' he was saying, 'from memory.'

It made Cassie remember, too. And the memory was unexpectedly painful.

Two big blue eyes looked out at her from the canvas. They were the eyes of a girl in love, deeply in love, blindly in love—the eyes of a girl who would ask no questions, expect no answers, who would give and give without any thought of self. A girl such as she could never be again. If Dan was waiting for her to look at him like this, she thought wretchedly, he would wait forever.

He moved to stand beside her. 'I used to get it out occasionally. Mostly when I'd had a drink or two. And I'd gaze at it for hours.' He let out a ragged sigh. 'You had Jason, Cassie. I had this.'

Cassie turned slowly to face Dan, a dreadful empty feeling in the pit of her stomach. Was this what Dan still loved? she agonised. This fantasy? Was this why he'd come back to Strath-haven— to try to bring the portrait to life?

Dan had told her at the hospital, as they'd sat with a sleeping Jason, the circumstances of his return. He'd found out that the island was on the market quite by accident, months after Roberta had died, ages after he'd given up hope of ever seeing Cassie again. Too long had passed, he reasoned, for her not to be married.

But once he'd heard about the island he'd been compelled to find out. He'd made enquiries at the register of marriages, found no record of a marriage, then looked up the electoral roll to see if she was still registered locally. It seemed impossible that she wouldn't be involved with someone else, but still he had bought Strath-haven and come back, hoping.

Hoping for what? Cassie frowned.

'Dan... This isn't me...I'm not her any more.'

His hand reached out to smooth her wrinkled brow. 'Yes, you are. You're still my darling girl...' His expression became glazed, as though he was a long way away. Nine years away...

Dismay rolled over her heart.

He must have seen her reaction, for suddenly his face cleared to show a spark of anxiety. 'What is it, Cassie? What have I said?' He grabbed her arms, his sudden movement making the jacket slip from her shoulders. Both of them ignored it as it fell to the floor. He stared down at her, his alarm growing with each second.