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"He's stealing Lavender Industries from me," her father said.
Georgia and Jack both turned to look at her father, who stood and crossed the living
room with slow, carefully modulated strides. He looked so old, she thought, a
feeling of utter helplessness washing over her. So old and weak. He should have
someone caring for him, someone here with him to make sure he didn't fall or take ill.
He shouldn't be alone at this point in his life. And as well as she knew all that, she
also knew she couldn't be the one to care for him. Not only was she confident he
would never welcome her presence in such a capacity, there were just too many
conflicting emotions about him tearing her up inside.
But she still couldn't turn her back on him completely. He was her father.
"He's taking everything," he said when he halted his progress a few feet before
reaching Georgia. "He's taking the business, the stock, the equipment, the
inventory...he's even taking the house."
She turned to Jack, silently demanding verification. She willed him to tell her that her
father's charges were all unfounded. But he said not a word in his own defense.
"Is that true?" she finally asked. "You're even taking the house?"
His jaw clenched tight, Jack nodded once.
"You're going to force my father out of his home?"
This time Jack nodded more forcefully. "You're damned right I am. The way he
forced you out twenty years ago."
Even though she had known he would admit to it, hearing Jack confirm her fears hit
Georgia like a blow from a sledgehammer. "Oh, Jack," she said, barely able to voice
the words aloud. "This is the surprise you were telling me about? The way you're
repaying the debt you think you owe me? You're stealing my father's life? How can
you do such a thing?"
He gaped at her, clearly unable to believe her response. "How can I? It's easy, Geo.
All I have to do is remember the way he treated you when we were kids, replay in my
mind all the vicious things he said to you. All I have to do is remember the way you
looked every time you tried to please him, only to have him belittle you at every
turn."
"All I have to do," he interrupted, his voice ruthless now, relentless, "is remember
that he always came first with you."
Well, that certainly brought her up short. "What?" she asked, certain she couldn't
possibly have heard him correctly. "What are you talking about?"
"You always wanted to please him," Jack said, his voice sounding tired now,
downtrodden. "It was always your father. Never me. You never worried about me
the way you worried about him."
She opened her mouth to deny the charge, but no words emerged. He was being
ridiculous, of course. Jack had always mattered more to her than anything. Didn't he
realize that? How could he even begin to think he'd meant less to her than her father
had? She'd always loved him above everything else in her life. Even her father. How
could he not know that?
"Jack," she tried again, "that's not true..."
But evidently he didn't want to hear any explanations from her. "What I'm doing in
Carlisle," he said, "I'm doing for us, Geo. Yes, I'm taking your father's house and
everything else he holds dear. Because I want him to know what it feels like to have
nothing. The way he took everything from you."
Georgia looked at Jack, really looked at him, for the first time since seeing him again,
and finally she understood the source of the uneasiness that had been present
between them since their reunion. Simply put, the Jack who had returned to Carlisle
two days before wasn't the same Jack who had left twenty-three years ago. The man
she had given herself to that afternoon, the man she had fancied herself in love with,
was nothing but a stranger.
And she realized then that she didn't love this man at all. She loved the boy he had
been. The angry young man who had still been able to give something of himself,
who instead of lashing out at those who wronged him, had sought to improve both
himself and his lot in life. That Jack had never blamed anyone, had never wanted
revenge. He'd simply wanted to escape from everything that had ever gone sour in
his life. The boy had just wanted to be happy. The man wanted to be avenged.
The Jack who had returned to Carlisle wouldn't be satisfied with simply leaving the
past behind. This Jack wanted retribution for the wrongs committed against him and
those he cared about. This Jack was an unforgiving man who had room in his heart
for only one thing payback. And there was no way Georgia could love a man like
that.
"You're not doing this for us," she said softly. "You're doing this for yourself. I
never wanted revenge. Back then, you didn't, either. I don't know why you've
changed in that respect, but I haven't. All I ever wanted was to live as good a life as I
could. I still do. And I thought that was what you wanted, too. Obviously, I was
wrong."
"Georgia, it's not that simple," he began.
But she held up a hand to stop him. "Yes, it is. It is that simple. You're just too
blinded by this misplaced need for vengeance to see it."
"We need to talk about this," he insisted again.
She shook her head and pushed past him, out into the cold night, oblivious to the
chilly air that wrapped around her. "I don't think there's anything else to say," she
told him.
He took a step toward her, then stopped. "There's plenty more to say."
"Then say it to my father," she told him, taking a step backward to compensate for
his. "Whatever all this is about, it's between the two of you." Her voice sank a little
when she added, "Evidently, it always has been. Certainly neither of you has ever
considered my feelings in the matter."
"How can you say that?" Jack asked her, his own voice dropping in volume, though
whether because he was having trouble getting his words out or because he didn't
want her father to hear, Georgia couldn't have said. "You've always been what's
mattered most to me. Always."
She felt tears welling up in her eyes, and willed them back. She was not going to cry,
she promised herself. Not yet. Not while her father and the stranger who had once
been her love could see her. "I haven't been what's mattered to you," she said. "Not
if the way you're acting now is any indication."
"Geo..."
She hesitated, then turned to him once more. "You know, Jack, you may be right
about your family."
He shook his head, obviously confused by the sudden change of subject. "What do
you mean?"
"You said last night that you were afraid they might not approve of what you've
become. And you're right. They probably wouldn't. They'd probably be shocked
that someone who once cared so much for them could only care about himself
now."
"Geo..." He tried again.
"Good night, Jack."
As an afterthought, she remembered her father, then turned to him, as well. "Daddy,"
she said by way of a farewell. Because there was nothing more she had to say to
him. Not now. Maybe not ever again.
His response to her was another odd smile, a combination of torment and triumph.
She wasn't quite sure what to make of it, and discovered that, at the moment, she
didn't much care to try. She was tired and numb and just wanted to go home. So
without looking back, she headed for her car and took refuge inside it. But it wasn't
until she had rounded the corner at the end of her father's street that she allowed
herself to cry.
* * *
Jack watched as Georgia made her way slowly down the lawn and folded herself into
her car, noting that her steps never faltered and she never once turned her head to [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
