The Millionaire's Marriage Demand(23)

They were total strangers to her. Had she ever seen them look like that in real life?

No. Never.

Happiness doesn't last, she thought numbly. Neither does desire. Thomas  and Pearl had once been as delighted with each other's company as she  and Travis had been all weekend. While it might be true that not all  relationships head the same way, it could equally be true that she and  Travis could be as doomed as her parents, and the thought made Julie go  cold.

She grabbed for the next picture frame, her hands shaking so badly she  almost dropped it. Her mother and father in a formal pose, Pearl holding  a three-year-old in a pretty pink dress. The child was herself. Thomas  was standing stiffly behind his seated wife, his hand placed on her  shoulder with a rigid correctness; while both he and Pearl were smiling,  the radiance was gone. These were smiles for the camera, not smiles of  spontaneous happiness.

Something had gone wrong by the time she was three. Had it been her fault? Hadn't they wanted her?

With a whimper of distress Julie put the photos back in the box, jammed  the album on top of them and closed the cardboard flaps. Her books were  forgotten. She scrambled to her feet, wiping the dust from her shorts,  and ran downstairs. The driveway was still empty. In such a confused  state of mind that she was frantic to be gone before her parents  returned, she quickly locked the door behind her and hurried down the  street.

There was no sign of her father's car. Nor, when she got back to her  apartment building, was it parked near there; how ironic if they'd been  trying to visit her while she was at their place. She scurried upstairs.  Never had her apartment seemed such a haven. Throwing herself down on  the chesterfield, Julie realized that she was crying. They were slow  tears of despair, loss and deep sadness, all the anxieties she'd locked  away since childhood pouring out.

She was crying for her parents, for the happiness and intimacy that  they'd lost. She was also crying for herself. For, of course, this  confirmed all her fears. Any long-term relationship with Travis was out  of the question. She couldn't bear to experience-the slow erosion of  passion, or the destruction of the intimacy she'd so tentatively  explored in his embrace.                       
       
           



       

It was all too easily lost, leaving nothing but emptiness and bitter memories.

Nothing was to be trusted, happiness least of all.

She mustn't see Travis again.

Julie took this resolve to bed with her, cried herself to sleep, and  woke heavy-eyed in the morning. She was busy all day at the clinic, and  glad to be so; when she got home, there was a message on her machine  from Travis. "Call me as soon as you get in. I'll take you out for  dinner-the contents of my refrigerator look like a bacteriology  experiment gone wrong. But I did change the sheets on the bed. See you  soon."

She mustn't cry. Not again.

She'd better phone him. Get it over with.

All her movements leaden, she picked up the receiver and punched in his number. He picked it up on the first ring. "Julie?"

He sounded so eager. So happy, she thought with a pang of pure agony.  Her voice seemed to have disappeared. "Julie," he repeated sharply, "are  you there?"

"Yes," she croaked.

"What's the matter? You sound terrible."

What was worse, his happiness or his concern, so immediate she could  almost feel it? "I-Travis, I'm not coming over tonight. Or any night. We  mustn't see each other again."

"What did you say?"

"I don't want to see you again," she said more strongly.

"Stay where you are. I'm coming over."

"No, you can't!" But he was gone. Slowly she put the receiver back in its cradle.

She was still in her uniform. But what did it matter? She'd repeat what  she'd already told him and then he'd really be gone. Forever, this time.  The way it had to be.

She went to the bathroom and washed her face in cold water, carefully  applying blusher and lipstick in an effort to make herself presentable.  All too soon, the buzzer rang, loudly and imperatively. A cold lump of  dread lodged somewhere below her heart, Julie went to the door.

Travis walked in, closed the door and took her in his arms. For a moment  she sagged against him, oblivious to everything but the comfort and  security of his embrace, the familiar warmth of his body. Then she  stiffened, pushing him away. He stared down at her, missing, she was  sure, not one detail of her ravaged appearance. "What's up?"

She said rapidly, "I can't go on with this. I don't want to see you again."

"You already told me that. Why, Julie? What's happened between Sunday afternoon and now?"

"Passion, happiness, love-none of them last."

"They last if you want them to. If you work at it."

"You might believe that. I don't."

His eyes narrowed. "You weren't talking this way on Sunday. Have you seen your parents since then?"

"Why can't you just accept what I'm saying?"

"Because it's not good enough. We're lovers, we spent the weekend  together-and now you think you can fob me off With a bunch of  generalizations about happiness?"

"All right, then. Let me tell you what happened." Speaking very fast,  she described what she'd found in the attic and how it had affected her.  "My parents were happy once. Just like us on the weekend. You've never  met them …  but believe me, they're not happy now." Her voice broke. "They  hate each other. But they're too damn polite to say so. So they snipe  at each other continually, until I can't bear to be around them. It was  like that the whole time I was growing up, a thin layer of civility that  hid any honest emotions, so that I never knew what was really going on.  What I could trust."

She was crying again. She swiped at her cheeks, furious with herself.  "There were all kinds of petty rules that I was supposed to obey. All  for my own good, of course. Especially once I reached puberty, because  heaven forbid there should be any straight talk about sex. I don't know  if they even had any sex. They never touched each other and I can't  remember my father ever giving my mother a hug." She jammed her hands in  the pockets of her uniform. "I rebelled against almost all the rules  and left home the summer I graduated from high school." Scowling at him,  she went on, "The one area where I didn't rebel was sex. I was afraid  to, I guess. I think even then I sensed I'd be in real trouble if I did.  And I was right. This weekend proves my point. I'm not going to end up  like my parents, I'd rather be single my whole life. So I want you to go  now. And I don't want to see you again."                       
       
           



       

He took her by the shoulders. "We wouldn't end up like your parents-I know we wouldn't."

She could feel the force of his willpower, unbending as steel, and called on all her reserves to withstand it. "I disagree."

"This is the second time you've pulled this stunt-made love with me, then shown me the door."

"I can't help it! Don't you see, Travis? Now is the time to end this, while it's still just sex between us, while we-"

"Just sex?" he interrupted incredulously. "Is that all I mean to you?"

"We spent the whole weekend in bed. What's that if it's not sex?"

"We made love, Julie."

"That's just an expression. A cover-up-like my parents' politeness. We  had sex, Travis. Great sex. Amazing sex. But don't let's pretend it was  anything else."

"If that's what you think," he said in a hard voice, "then I'm out of  here. I won't be treated as a prize stud. Not by you or anyone else."

Inadvertently she'd found the weapon she needed. "I don't see what the  big deal is," she said coldly. "Sex like we had is probably pretty rare.  But it's still just sex."

"I wasn't even a person to you, was I?" he said with icy control. "And I  thought it was supposed to be men who were guilty of that particular  fault."

She wanted to cry out that He was wrong, that it had been something  about him, specific and impelling, that had broken through her  self-imposed celibacy. But she couldn't tell him. She had to end this  quickly, before she broke down and wept like a baby. "Don't try' to tell  me you're in love with me," she said, "because I won't believe it."

"Whether I am or not is none of your business," he grated. "It's been a  long time since I misread someone so badly …  you'd think I'd know better  by now. Goodbye, Julie. Have a nice life."

Very quietly he shut the door behind him. Moving like an old woman,  Julie snapped the latch and put the chain in its slot. Then she walked  into her bedroom, threw herself across the quilt and began to weep.