Obligation To Love

‘There,’ he said simply, snapping the belt closed with firm finality. Hayley winced at his tone; it was bereft of the smoky warmth she had heard earlier. He had already tossed aside the coffee-cup and re-sited her folding table out of the way.

‘You’ll be all right,’ he reassured her.

Suddenly Hayley looked very much like a child. Her hand shot to her mouth to stifle a scream as the aircraft dived. She wasn’t alone in her fear; a collective scream sounded around the plane as it began to plummet to the ground. Hayley sank her teeth into her hand, unaware of her actions, but determined not to scream. She heard Alex mumble a curse in his own tongue, as he pulled her hand away and clasped it tightly in his.

‘Look at me!’ he commanded, pulling her closer to him, his grip tightening around her wrist and biting into her soft flesh. Hayley’s head shot up, fear etched on every feature.

‘I’m frightened,’ she confessed in a whisper, unable to stand it any longer. Her voice was choked, full of all her unspoken fears and memories. Alex drew her even closer.

‘I know.’ His voice seemed to crackle with intensity. ‘But we will be all right,’ he reassured her, satisfying her. Hayley tried to respond, but her mouth was dry and her head hot and dizzy. She could sense anger in him, and it bewildered her. He had every right to be angry, she thought, though still slightly puzzled. Who wanted to be stuck next to an hysterical woman? She forgot the immediate danger as she was mesmerised by the fiery and unyielding determination stamped on his face. She swallowed the dry, painful lump in her throat. Suddenly she wasn’t sure what was more frightening: Alex’s latent anger, or the impending plane crash. The craft unexpectedly dipped dra-matically again and Hayley shut her eyes tightly, blocking out the horror of the situation. She grasped tightly at Alex’s capable hands, unaware that her nails were digging deeply into his flesh.

We’re going to crash! was her only thought.

CHAPTER THREE

FEAR strangled so tightly at Hayley’s throat that she was unable to cry out aloud, but every nerve in her body was shrieking. She felt sick with terror as the thought of impending disaster loomed in her mind. The aircraft seemed to fall for an eternity, then the bumps began. Hayley’s eyes shot open and she was confronted with Alex’s dark midnight gaze. She stared numbly.

‘What’s happening?’ she breathed through thin lips.

‘Absolutely nothing,’ he replied, shaking his head dismissively. ‘I think we hit a storm, so we descended, and now we’re going through a series of air pockets,’ he explained patiently. Suddenly aware that she had kept hold of his hand, Hayley began to release her grip. Then the plane took another dive and she immediately panicked. She tensed immediately, squeezing Alex’s hand again for support, but not before she had registered his laughter. A few more minutes passed, each one seeming like an eternity. Hayley had never experienced anything like this before. At last the serene voice of the captain reassured everyone that everything was fine. Hayley listened attentively, and the captain gave the same explanation as Alex had already given her. The flight resumed its normal height and she gave a huge sigh of relief, her heart-rate decreasing. She sank back in her chair.

‘Thank God,’ she breathed to herself, a wave of relief flooding over her.

‘Does this mean I can have my hand back?’ enquired Alex drily. Hayley dropped his hand, noting with some embarrassment the deep imprints left by her nails.

‘I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t realise...’ she began, totally flustered.

‘I was only too glad to be of assistance,’ he interrupted her, with a velvet teasing quality, and his eyes dancing with unconcealed delight. Hayley tried to shrug off the incident with the same amount of nonchalance, but she knew how frightened she’d been, and how reassured when she’d had hold of his hand. She had depended on his strength and the steady grip of his hand around hers, warm and hard.

Somehow she had felt safe and secure. Instinctively she knew that, while he was there, all would be well. Hayley felt a trickle of bad memories in her mind, causing her to shudder. Then a vivid picture suddenly flashed before her eyes: she was stuck in a tree, it seemed so high off the ground, and yet, when her father had stretched up his arms, she had leapt into them, confident she would be caught. She remembered the thrill of his arms wrapped around her tiny waist, and she knew for the second time in her life she had experienced that emotion again. The thought made her head spin. She had been loved in that moment, safe and secure in her father’s arms; yet it had been a fleeting one: she was soon placed firmly on the floor while Melissa demanded attention.

‘I hope the rest of the flight passes without incident,’ she said lightly, trying to dismiss such thoughts from her mind. She had never been dependent on anyone and the idea worried her.

‘I should imagine so,’ Alex said, ‘and, if not, I am always here for you,’ he reassured her playfully. Hayley tried to smile, but it died on her lips at his remark. She was not used to this coquettish game and was quite sure he was a master at it.

‘I have embarrassed you, yes?’ he asked, a trace of concern apparent in his accent. Hayley shook her head and flicked her hair over her shoulders, a habit of hers when she was agitated.

‘No, not at all,’ she answered too quickly, the speed of her reply revealing her true feelings. He nodded sagely at her, holding her in his hypnotic gaze.

‘Tell me, what exactly is your job?’ he asked conversationally, and Hayley was grateful for his neutral line. She responded, unaware of the rapt attention he was giving her...

‘My job in the gallery is selling art works,’ she said modestly, never admitting to the important role she played; her lack of confidence made her unaware of her true skills and talents.

‘You like this work—it is interesting?’ His voice was warmly persuasive, and Hayley, who loved her work and enjoyed talking about it, failed to see the flicker of curiosity on his usually guarded features.

‘Oh, yes indeed. The gallery specialises in antique works but we also hold several exhibitions each year for new talent,’ she told him, sparkling as she recalled her past achievements.

‘And your preferred artists?’ Alex asked almost cautiously, as if not wanting to be disappointed by her choice.

‘I have a very general taste. At the moment, there is a growing interest in religious art. Many churches are closing and they contain some marvellous artistic pieces. Many undiscovered sculptures by famous men are appearing at auction, so at the moment I’m spending time researching into all aspects of religious art.’

‘This gallery—you own it?’ he asked gently, feigning casual interest as he brushed imaginary fluff from his trousers. Hayley gave a hoot of delight.

‘No, I couldn’t possibly afford to own a gallery!’ she replied, shaking her head till her thick fringe swayed, drawing attention to the natural beauty of her face.

‘That’s very honest of you,’ he remarked.

‘Why should I lie to you?’ Hayley was puzzled by his cynical observation.

He pushed his fingers roughly through his hair, an action that made him look slightly boyish before he replied. ‘Why indeed?’ he said heavily, and she knew that he was laughing at her, a joke which she was part of but didn’t under-stand. A shadow of disappointment crossed her face.

‘You clearly love your work, but you feel you are no expert?’ Alex asked, as if trying to draw her back to easy conversation.

‘I’m no expert,’ agreed Hayley, omitting to tell him how qualified she was, as it might appear boastful and crude.

‘You told me your visit to Greece is not a holiday. Do I presume business, then? Art works to view?’ he queried.

‘No, not really, but if I saw anything very good I could not ignore such an opportunity to ask the owner to perhaps consider an exhibition. This is my card,’ she said in her most professional manner, passing Alex the gallery’s small buff-coloured card. He scanned over it with interest before fixing back on her.

‘So, if it is not business,’ he continued, as he tucked her card neatly in his chest pocket, ‘then what brings you to Greece?’

Hayley gave a low groan; how could one possibly describe the situation she was in? ‘My sister is hoping to get married and I’m going to meet the family.’

‘Indeed? How fascinating.’ She detected the hidden edge in his voice and was worried by it. ‘And will you be able to cope?’

Hayley paused before she answered, as a mental image of her parents flashed before her. She had always coped, always had to cope alone, while Melissa had demanded attention.

‘I’ve always coped,’ she replied, trying to keep the sorrow from her voice which she knew was ever-present when she thought about her childhood. He nodded briefly, catching the hidden pain in her eyes.

‘So it is you who must make all the arrangements?’ he pursued, his voice warming and gentle, yet there was a teasing, almost mocking ring to his enquiries, making her nervous.

‘I’m afraid so, and, though for my sister’s sake I must do my best, it’s not going to be easy.’

‘Why do you say that about people you haven’t even met?’ he queried keenly.

‘I’m not sure, but the family don’t appear at all keen on the idea, to be honest,’ Hayley confessed with lightness, as if it was of no real consequence. She was trying hard not to feel intimidated, but the thought of meeting Dimitri’s family played on the back of her mind. She noted the concern that suddenly creased Alex’s brow, and when he spoke his voice was jagged.

‘Why not?’ he snapped, looking stormy. Hayley felt pleased that he seemed as perturbed as she about their objections. It reassured her that perhaps not all Greeks were as old-fashioned as Mr Christos.

‘It’s the old man—’ she began, but she was interrupted immediately by Alex.

‘The old man?’ he echoed incredulously, and the sudden glint in his eyes unnerved her.

‘Yes—Dimitri’s cousin,’ she explained. ‘I’ve only spoken to him on the phone, but he was far from friendly,’ she said, a little embarrassed by the admission. She remembered Mr Christos’s tone and felt angry again.

‘Why?’ he asked.

‘I’m not sure, but I think it’s because it would be a mixed marriage; he sounds awfully traditional and set in his ways.’