Sweet Lies

‘Darrow Maine,’ Megan answered abruptly, a rasp burning the back of her throat as she struggled to keep her emotions under control. ‘An old friend,’ she added, hopeful that that piece of information would be all he required.

‘I see,’ he mumbled, too engrossed in the papers to notice the fearful glance his mother flicked to him as she caught the undercurrent in his tone. Megan felt herself forced to say more. It was inevitable that they would bump into Darrow and she wanted their meetings to be as uneventful as possible.

‘He owns the hotel and complex,’ she explained as she craned her neck to see the names that were painted on small posts along the roadside. She carefully steered the car into the space next to their lodge, flicking off the engine with a weary sigh.

‘Does he?’ Luke asked with interest as he opened the car door. ‘He must be loaded.’

‘Does everything nowadays have to be valued on monetary worth?’ Megan retorted, exasperated by her son’s apparent obsession with material wealth and desperately wondering if she had failed him in some way. They seemed slowly to be drifting apart, and Megan was determined to stop the slow deterioration of their relationship. She had struggled too hard for too long on her own to let it just fade away. It had been one long struggle bringing up a child alone, trying to make ends meet on the meagre amount she managed to earn. She pulled their luggage from the boot, offering him the cases which he accepted with a grin.

‘What other type of value is there?’ he asked, ducking as Megan took a friendly swoop at his head. ‘Come on we’d best unpack something, even if it’s only something for tonight.’ He laughed as Megan locked the car.

‘Tonight?’ Megan asked, a frisson of alarm racing down her spine as she caught the excitement in his tone.

‘Yes, had you not been so engrossed in conversation you would have seen the posters,’ he informed her as they entered their lodge. He dropped the luggage immediately, racing over to the patio doors and pulling them open with enthusiasm. ‘Hey, get a look at this view,’ he called, his eyes scanning over the flat mirror of water and the range of mountains that rose up as a backdrop.

‘What posters?’ Megan asked anxiously as she joined him on the patio, leaning on the wall and soaking in the beautiful scene that eased her troubled soul. She wrapped a protective arm over his shoulders and he leant against her.

Megan’s heart filled with emotion. This holiday was so important after the strain of this last year. It was a chance for them to be together again without the distractions of work, and Megan was determined that it would help to heal the rift that was growing between them. He needed to build up his confidence again as it had taken such a bad knock since his illness.

‘It’s all there.’ Luke jerked his head to the disarray of papers that he had dropped to the floor, scattering them everywhere. ‘Party-time starts at eight o’clock prompt, and I get the impression that Darrow Maine would not like to be kept waiting,’ he concluded, moving back into the large lounge with Megan following with a sinking heart.

‘You want to go, do you?’ she asked, forcing a brighter tone into her voice and suffocating her sense of desperation. She picked up the papers and pushed them back into a neat pile, her heart already thudding out a death-knell at his anticipated answer.

‘Dead right I do,’ he answered quickly. ‘They’re going to tell us what’s on offer and I want to know,’ he said, snatching up his own cases. ‘It’s about time I took up sport seriously again. I’m not even on the first team any more. Don’t you want to go?’ he asked, stopping to await her answer. A frown of disappointment was forming over his bright eyes.

‘Of course,’ she replied brightly, flashing him a smile and forcing her personal doubts from her mind. She couldn’t bear to disappoint Luke. They depended on one another so much, their relationship all the more intense because they had only ever had each other. Megan had had a couple of boyfriends, but no one could ever match Darrow or come between her and Luke. This was their holiday, a much deserved rest, and she knew how much he wanted to get back on the school’s first team, and no one, not even Darrow Maine, was going to spoil his chance of that.

Megan’s eyes quickly darted around the room. It was filled with a mixture of people, young and old, sporty types and the more sedate, but thankfully there was no trace of Darrow. She sank gratefully into a Victorian tub chair that had been carefully restored and reupholstered in a tartan fabric that matched the heavy curtains and swags decorating the expansive windows which gave a unique view of the rolling hills and the lake below. Luke had disappeared immediately after collecting her a glass of the delicate sparkling wine that was being offered to all guests.

‘I’ve just found a fantastic computer-room,’ he said, rushing back with a wicked grin, and Megan raised her eyebrows in despair. There was little chance of seeing him again for some time, she thought, taking a sip of her wine and nodding her approval as he disappeared again.

‘Can I tempt you?’ Darrow raised an oval platter of canapés towards Megan, taking her by surprise. Her heart thudded rapidly before settling back into a steady rhythm.

‘I’d love one,’ she agreed, suddenly feeling hungry and delighting in the selection she was being offered. ‘I had no idea you acted as waiter as well,’ she joked lightly, sensing that his gesture was meant as an attempt at goodwill.

‘I don’t normally, but I thought I would make an exception in your case.’ His voice was low and warm and she treasured the sound of it. Megan glanced up and his dark eyes held her.

‘Why?’

‘I’m sorry about before. It just came as a shock—you, married.’

‘I did write and tell you I was considering Karl’s proposal,’ she replied lightly. She had hoped for a different response but he had not even bothered to reply to her letter, which had only served to confirm her fears that he had found someone else.

‘And with a son,’ he continued, unaware of her words. His smile faded slightly and a cold chill swept over her, but she nodded, trying to simplify the hundreds of questions that churned over and over in her mind. She tilted back her chin, not wanting to give the impression that she cared.

‘You never married, then?’ she asked.

Her heart skipped a beat as she waited for his answer, preparing to hear for herself the confirmation that he had betrayed their love.

‘Never.’

It wasn’t the answer she had expected. It was like a sharp slap in the face and shock was quickly replaced by anger.

‘Not married!’ she exclaimed, more angry with herself than him. It was so unfair.

‘I nearly took the plunge,’ he said calmly, unaware of the searing, heated anger that tore through her body. All her noble sacrifices had been a waste, she thought. She was just the first, no doubt, in a long line of foolish women who had thought he was capable of commitment. She tried vainly to appear indifferent to this revelation but she was burning with curiosity and fury. She had been told by his mother, Janet, that he was having a serious relationship. She had told her clearly that marriage was round the corner, and Megan hadn’t had the confidence to question her. She’d felt so foolish. Megan recalled how she had feigned indifference to the news although her heart had been breaking. Had it all been lies? She had to know.

‘Cold feet?’ She tried to keep her voice light and joky, but she had been a victim of his sense of humour and her amusement was hollow. He shrugged.

‘In a way. I just realised it would have been a mistake, so I called it off.’

‘I see.’

Megan didn’t want to probe any deeper. For some reason the thought of him caring for someone else hurt her more deeply than she was prepared to admit, even to herself.

‘Your marriage was happy?’ he commented, his voice strained but cool, and Megan felt the familiar panic that rose in her chest whenever her marriage was mentioned. She kept her lids lowered over her startled eyes to prevent him from seeing the truth she knew would be shining there.

‘Yes, very,’ she told him, hoping, for some reason, that he would be hurt by her words. As she cast a covert glance at his face she saw a flicker of emotion there, but she knew it was pure fantasy to imagine it was jealousy.

‘It must have been very hard to lose someone you loved,’ he said, with such deep understanding that Megan felt a momentary guilt at her deceit.

‘It was,’ she admitted truthfully, but it was not Karl she was thinking of.

‘How did your son react?’ he asked, his voice strangely soft and soothing, and Megan glanced up, surprised by his interest.

‘He never knew his father,’ she said quickly, her eyes darting to his. It wasn’t a lie. She would do everything in her power to ensure that Luke never knew the truth. It would be far too painful for both of them. Megan had never told Luke that Karl was his father—it was one lie she had known she couldn’t live with—but she had not denied it either. Luke had grown up with the idea that his father was dead, and though Megan had longed to tell the truth she was afraid of the emotional damage it might cause.

‘He doesn’t look like you. Does he take after his father?’ he asked, picking up a tiny, delicate blini topped with smoked salmon. It was a casual enough question, but Megan cursed the emotion his query was stirring within her.

‘As he grows older, he looks more like his father,’ she confessed.

She wanted to tell him about his son, longed to tell him, but she knew she couldn’t. The web of lies she had carefully spun for Luke must remain intact. She would not allow her child to feel the pain of rejection she had been subjected to. He reached out, wrapping his strong, warm hand over hers, squeezing it gently.

‘I’m sorry. It must be hard for you.’

‘No, I’m just being silly,’ she said quickly, fully aware of the heat from his hand that was slowly permeating her body. She felt her heart race at his familiar touch and she stared at his hand, looking at the dark mat of hairs that criss-crossed his hand with intensity. She was so sensitive to him that it frightened her. For once, after so many years, she felt alive again, every nerve in her body tingling with anticipation.

‘My Meg, my poor Meg,’ he crooned softly, stroking his slender fingers across her gently trembling hand. Her response was a soft, almost soundless laugh as she withdrew her hand from his. She was afraid of the sharp tug of attraction he was arousing in her and the intimate use of their childhood name for her.

‘Poor!’ She laughed hollowly. ‘No, Darrow, my days of poverty are over.’

His eyes narrowed as he studied her, his expression hardening to granite.

‘You’re still poor Megan. You always will be till you learn true values.’ He bit out the words, his anger spilling out in the bitter blue-blackness of his eyes.

‘I know this, Darrow. It’s easy to appreciate the finer things in life when you don’t have to worry about the basics. I’ve struggled to achieve what I have now, and believe me there is no dignity in poverty. So don’t preach to me about being poor in spirit till you have experienced it for yourself,’ she threw back at him, hating his condescending attitude.

‘What a change. I never saw you as a material girl,’ he jeered, shocked by the change in her. ‘I thought it odd that you were unable to make it to your mother’s funeral. You’re obviously able to come now. No doubt it was the will that brought you back.’