The Passion Play Page 3

  "Whoa! Hang on." Caroline gripped the arm of her seat. "That's huge. Are you . . . I mean . . . with whom?"

  "I don't know. It's not like I've got a candidate. I was married this morning." She stared out the window, not seeing the lawn and trees beyond it. Seeing instead all those imagined moments of parenthood she had kept locked away inside her head, forbidden to herself, for long years. They tumbled out one after another, like a montage of joy and fulfillment. Catching a running child up in her arms. Tucking them into bed. Sharing a pillow and a storybook. Playing catch and dolls and brushing hair and baking together-

  A hundred things, that could be hers.

  "No, of course not. Right." Caroline looked at her as if she were crazy. "But how?"

  Felicity staggered over the thought. "The usual way, I suppose."

  "Like, just by a stranger?"

  "I don't know." Felicity shook her head, her hands clenched into fists. "That's not important. I don't even know for certain I'm fertile. I'll have to get checked out."

  Caroline puckered her face doubtfully. "Honey, there are good reasons for waiting until you've found someone to be a dad. Single parenting is difficult."

  "Motherhood was my top goal. Then I set it aside for my marriage. Now I've got nothing to show for it. I've got this big, empty house and the giant garden and savings in the bank and I'm alone. Who knows if I'll meet someone else, or want to get married again? I can't even imagine it. I hate even the idea of it. I'm not waiting anymore."

  The kettle clicked off and the sound of boiling water died away. Felicity stood and walked to the cupboard that held three different designs of teacups, arranged in tidy rows. She poured boiling water into two and set them precisely onto saucers on a small tray, and snuggled a teabag onto each saucer. "Plenty of women go ahead and have babies without a dad involved." A delicate slice of lemon went into each cup. "Women with less life experience, less knowledge than me. They manage. They do it. I just . . . I'm so sick to death of trying to get it all right, you know?" She put the tray down on the coffee table. "I've done everything I was supposed to. I found a really impressive man I loved and respected. We married; we have a nice home with the mortgage paid off. We tried to have kids. We failed. It's not like I was happy about it but I'd accepted it. I did my absolute best and-"

  "You'll find someone else. There's no need to rush into anything."

  "I don't want someone else." She threw her teabag into the hot water, picked up a spoon and stirred it fretfully. "I don't want to be married again. I don't even want to date."

  "Give it a few weeks. You'll feel differently when some time's gone by."

  "I don't want to date. There's no way I'm going to get emotionally involved with someone."

  "Well everyone needs sex. Eventually start to feel like it's worth pursuing some-"

  Felicity laughed wildly. "Eventually? Dan and I haven't had sex for more than a year now. Don't talk to me about eventually. Yes, sex would be great, but it comes with so many complications.” She shook her head in wonder as she heard her own words. “How can I even say that? How can I think about having sex with someone else? Dan broke up with me only this morning. There is something so wrong with me.”

  "Oh my God. A year?" Caroline's eyes were wide with horror. "How did you survive? Why are you even still married? You can't go a whole year without having sex! How did this happen? How did you not leave him?"

  "Dan and I kept different schedules this last – oh, ages. He's too busy at work. He'd get home at two or three in the morning. I almost never saw him, and when he was home he was never in the mood. One only has to be turned down a few times before one decides he can make the moves when he's damned well ready."

  "Oh. My. God. That's not marriage. That's purgatory! I can't believe you didn't thump him," said Caroline, miming the action.

  "I'd never be violent," Felicity said, though she could not help picturing it.

  "Hell, honey, neither am I. But that's a special case if ever I saw it. What was the man thinking? A year. That's just unnatural. Okay, it's clear this is an emergency case. Get yourself some sex and just . . . don't do anything hasty about babies, will you?"

  "I'm not promising anything," she said darkly. "I am not feeling sensible. I feel like I want to break something." She picked up the day planner from the side table and threw it straight across the room. The leather-bound square hit one of the windows with a sharp crack and a web of lines appeared around the impact point. The clasp on the planner flew open and it fell to the floor and landed open in a crooked pyramid, two loose pages beside it.

  "Ooookay," said Caroline dubiously, her gaze flicking between the window and Felicity. "Possibly not the best state of mind to make life-altering decisions."

  "Do you ever get sick of being good? Do you ever get sick of following every rule till you just want to scream?"

  "Moderation is good. And giving yourself breathing space. You'll be ready for a relationship with time, and-"

  "I can't do marriage." Felicity buried her face in her hands, her elbows propped on her knees. "I failed. I don't even know what I did wrong; when he made the decision, or even why. And now I'm thinking I was an idiot not to realize how empty it all was. When your husband says he's leaving and you realize you're happy to see the back of him, that's a wake-up call. I've refused to listen to my instincts. I chose a path and stuck to it even though it was wrong. I'm not an idiot. I just . . . doesn't everyone live with compromise? People don't turn out the way you thought they would. You don't know when you meet this great guy who's all charismatic and lovely that he picks his nose and tells lies. You don't know one day he's going to get over you and all the flowers and compliments will go away. And then he says 'we don't have long conversations because you never talk about anything interesting, Floss,' and he never has time for you because, 'you know work has to be a priority'. I mean, when does it cross the line? When do you go from acceptably civil to just plain worthless? But you stick at it. Marriage is supposed to be forever. When I made those promises I meant them."

  Caroline shuffled forward and rescued Felicity's tea bag from the cup of darkened water, put it on the saucer, then rested a hand on Felicity's knee. "I know you did. I know. You don't have to tell me."

  "He trained me." She was disgusted by the idea. "He used to say such nice things every time I did stuff for him. I was 'so loving' and 'so nurturing' and he adored how I took care of him. He called me his angel. Then after awhile all that stopped and it was like it was normal that I did everything."

  "You were like a maid. Every time Mark and I come over here and he watches you run around fetching stuff for Dan and tidying up after him he starts giving me these speculative looks like he's wondering how to get me to do that."

  "I don't even feel like a woman anymore. No kids, no sex, no attention, nothing. I've just been a servant, telling myself at least I was being nurturing. That's womanly, right? I like to take care of people. But I'm just so- Unh!" She made a gesture as if she was tearing her hair out by the roots, her fingers stopping just short of her chignon.

  "There's nothing wrong with that if they take care of you too. But let's face it, Dan was a leech. He took what you gave him and virtually ignored you. I hated to watch it."

  "Did you? Why did you never say anything?"

  "What could I say? It wouldn't have suited me of course, but you always seemed cheerful enough, running around with all your projects and your house to tidy and decorate. And at least he took you out on dates. I have a hard time just scraping Mark off the couch for long enough to put his pants back on, let alone getting him out of the house and into a restaurant."

  Felicity smiled, bitter and humorless. "Make a standing reservation at the restaurant and give him plenty of warning. If he's not ready to leave on time, go by yourself, invite a friend and pay for her out of your joint account. That's how I got Dan to start going."

  "Cunning."

  "It didn't achieve anything. It just let him be complacent we wer
e having our couple time so then he could avoid time with me otherwise. At least Mark talks to you when he's sitting on the couch in his underpants."

  "He does." Caroline's face softened in remembrance. "Just last night he said-" She broke off self-consciously. "Actually you probably don't want to hear that soppy stuff right now."

  "No. I don't. I am so over love. A sperm donor is what I need."

  Caroline's eyes widened. "You wouldn't. Can you imagine what your folks would say? They'd go nuts. They'd cut you off completely."

  "So? Let them. I'm not going to live my life for anyone else but me, anymore."

  "Look, I could get behind you having a wild time, clubbing, meeting men and living a little. It's not like you had any of that before. Even when I first met you you were this buttoned down, obedient little girl. I'll go with you even, if you need the moral support. You know I'd be the first one to stand on the sidelines and cheer you on. Given you're using protection and not actually trying to get pregnant with every hot man you drag home."

  Felicity leaned back into the couch cushions, looked up at the ceiling and breathed a deep sigh. She missed sex. Yes, she did. The heat and passion and pleasure of it. Being without it had her feeling old and dried up, past her best. It had been such a blow when Dan lost interest, but she had suppressed that hurt too, driven it down deep inside and denied the poignancy of her loneliness. "I can't imagine dragging someone home."

  "It's not that hard. I mean, I'm out of practice but I do remember a thing or two. Most of them come willingly. And you're so pretty you'll have no trouble. Just bat your eyelashes and they'll be dragging you home."

  "I've never actually had sex with someone I wasn't in love with." Was that self-pity? It did not feel like pride. More that she had set a false value on her own constancy.

  "Aw, man," Caroline groaned. "Now I feel guilty for leading you astray. Ignore me. You go out and fall in love again."

  "No. I'm not setting myself up like that. Maybe sex. Sometime. Sometime far in the future." Or perhaps sooner if she had enough courage to be powerfully sexual, to take what her body wanted and not wait for the permission granted by deeper feelings and a solid relationship. A relationship she had no intention of starting.

  "For the good of your own health and mental wellbeing." Caroline's tone was dry.

  "Yeah, that."

  "We're not made to be alone, honey. We need love, and that means physical love too. You even more than most, maybe. Human touch. Companionship."

  "I won't be alone."

  Caroline's face fell into grave lines. "The baby?"

  "Yes," said Felicity, her voice soft as a whisper, and her heart full of dreams.

  CHAPTER THREE

  This was a crazy idea. Inspired by another lonely night in a dead-silent house.

  It had seemed rational to test herself, to find the limits of her courage in this most minor way: could she form a connection with a man – a stranger – and be casual about it? Mainstream promiscuity. Not love. Just sex, as Caroline said. A release for her body. Perhaps even find her own sperm donor, once she had the results of the tests back. Was it even possible for her?

  She could have turned on her own music or the radio to kill the sound of solitude, or phoned a friend. Stayed locked up in her safe little box at home, not venturing out.

  This was not fun.

  What passed for music here was grindingly loud. It had her hunched over at the bar as if the beat were a physical weight. She resisted the urge to cover her ears. Four times now she had been approached – what she would have judged as a wild success by anyone's standards –– and for all she knew those men were sterling guys with wonderful characters, and terrifically attractive.

  How she was supposed to discern that was a mystery, at this volume, in the semi-darkness.

  She tried with the first of them. Really tried. He had a great smile, all straight white teeth lit up unnaturally in the ultra-violet strobe. It looked so macabre. She felt her own smile become a fixed grimace, and her shaking head in response to everything he said – because she could not hear him – had apparently discouraged him. After awhile he shrugged and sidled back into the crowd.

  The next man was short. Really short. She hated to be shallow but she lived for years around a pack of football players and a giant of a husband. As long as conversation was impossible it was all down to what he looked like, and she could not ignore his height. She was certain he was smaller than her. She gave him a kind smile and shook her head with more purpose.

  Number three repelled because his eyes slid over her body when he thought she was not looking: hungry and acquisitive. For all she had come thinking this might be the night of her first one-night-stand – a vague, dim flicker of possibility but one she admitted, buying condoms on her way here – it was not going to happen with this guy. Ew no. Just . . . no.

  He got no smile at all. Just a flat out refusal and a hard stare after she caught that assessing gaze sizing up her assets.

  Number four was still with her, putting up with her hunching and wincing about the sound and her refusal to let him buy her a second sticky-sweet drink – a dialog carried out in hand gestures. Now he suggested they dance.

  This might not be the ideal club, but since she was here she was going to jump all the hurdles and get them out of the way. Dressing up, going out, finding a place with a queue to indicate popularity, getting inside and looking available. Handling advances by strange men and now dancing. If she got really wild maybe she would try a kiss and a grope on the dance floor.

  She had missed kissing. Dan was a good kisser when he put his mind to it. Which he hadn't in-

  She was not thinking about him. Tonight was all about her and – currently – the big, beefy guy with the sheepish smile and a way of ducking his head she found quite appealing. He was clean shaved and had a decent pair of lips on him.

  She nodded 'yes' about the dancing, and slid off the bar stool. He was quick to take her hand in his vaguely moist one and tug her after him. She followed in his wake, squeezing between squirming bodies, a sensation that was unexpectedly stimulating. Alien as the experience was, she felt alive under the onslaught: painful eardrums and wriggling people and the prospect of a kiss from a stranger. How many years since a night had so many unusual events packed into it? Too long. She found herself grinning, and tried to sink into the music, to find some way to enjoy the beat of it like everyone else, to set herself free to move with it rather than fight it.

  -----

  It wasn't her.

  No way that woman could be Felicity King.

  Not a chance.

  Felicity had too much class to come trawling a nightclub looking for . . . what? A hook up? Even just a dance? Not likely.

  The resemblance was strong though. So strong Luke Barrett found it hard to keep his eyes off the woman. Not that one could depend on the light in here. He squinted against the strobes.

  It wasn't just her face. It was the way she moved too, like a dancer held in check, all graceful restraint. She wore figure-hugging jeans like Felicity never did, high-heeled boots and a glitzy shirt that covered her skin but followed her shape real close. A good shape. A great shape, small and delicately curved. He liked that shape.

  Luke wrapped a hand around his single beer, warmed now to room temperature. A prop he had been ready to abandon when he first spotted the woman. Carlos had just left with an excited girl his own age, and Luke considered his work done for the evening. The sight of the Mrs King lookalike stopped him like a jerk on a leash. Instantly he wanted to go say hello, take a closer look and see if the illusion was as solid close up. It probably wasn't honorable to approach a woman just because she reminded him of someone else but, hell, a wise man recognized an strong impulse and acted on it before he did something even more stupid.

  Still, he wrestled with his conscience a good twenty minutes, watching her.

  Watching the men who swarmed her as she sat temptingly on that barstool, pale blond hair in loo
se waves around her face.

  Those lips of hers were the same shape as Felicity's, for sure. It was impossible to see if they were as pink too, by this light. Even as he thought about them she pinched them up and frowned like something bothered her. The music maybe. It was loud tonight. They were probably trying out a new DJ, who didn't yet have a feel for the place.

  He didn't think it was the man talking to her that made her frown. She didn't seem to mind him. She hadn't liked the other ones. Sent them away with nothing. Now number four was making more of an impression.

  Damn, she was looking up at the guy through her lashes, all serious like Felicity King did. Mrs King knew how to listen, she surely did, so the person talking to her would swear she was drinking in every word. He found he didn't like this woman sharing that expression with this other guy. Luke should have made a move when she sat alone, should have ignored chivalry and gone up to her, invited her to go someplace less noisy to find out if she'd look at him under her eyelashes like that, listen like Felicity King did.

  Instead he sat now, watched, and begrudged the way her eyes lit up and she smiled at the stranger and nodded. The woman he didn't know saying yes to the man she didn't know.

  She got down from her seat at the same time as the other guy, and the two of them disappeared into the crowd.

  Luke swore under his breath. He'd missed his chance, hesitating too long while hastier men than he tried their luck with the lady. He craned his head to see if the two of them had left. He couldn't see her but her partner was clear as day, standing almost a head above the crowd, probably as tall as Luke, or near enough.

  The guy was looking downward – presumably at her – and trying to dance. Not very well, by Luke's estimation. Off the beat and awkward. If he knew anything about women he could guess she wasn't impressed. It confounded him that more men didn't learn how to dance properly. Women loved it beyond all reason if a guy could dance. It seemed to him an essential skill for any red-blooded man. He considered himself lucky this hadn't occurred to the majority of the male population.