Sweet Lies

Megan was about to protest her innocence, but her words died on her lips. She could not reveal the real reason why she had missed the funeral as just then Luke returned.

‘Hello, Luke. Did you win?’ she asked, realising immediately that she did not have his attention.

‘You do everything, don’t you?’ he asked Darrow with obvious enthusiasm. ‘I’ve been talking to Suzie.’ Megan saw the light of admiration glowing in her son’s eyes and sighed inwardly. The last thing she needed was a bad case of hero-worship; the situation was difficult enough as it was.

‘Whatever do you mean, Luke?’ She laughed as he drew up a chair between them and picked up three different canapés, ignoring Megan’s disapproving frown with customary ease. He popped two immediately in his mouth, nodding in approval and swallowing quickly in order to explain.

‘River-rafting, abseiling, canoeing, skiing.’ He paused to pick up another canapé and Megan gave his hand a sharp tap. Luke flashed Darrow a grin, and the easy bond that seemed to have sprung between them pierced Megan’s heart.

‘You don’t mind, do you?’ he asked, hardly waiting for Darrow to answer.

‘No not all. Help yourself.’

Luke’s grin broadened at his words; he was clearly delighting in the camaraderie.

‘I’d love to try everything. Do you instruct, Mr…?’

‘Darrow. Everyone calls me Darrow.’

‘Darrow,’ repeated Luke, enjoying the adult approach Darrow was taking with him. Megan twisted the stem of her wine glass, trying to remain indifferent to their close proximity and easy conversation. She watched them both with nervous expectation, a chill spiralling down her spine as she caught the close scrutiny Darrow was subjecting Luke to. His dark eyes were assessing Luke very closely indeed, and a tremor of apprehension vibrated through her body.

‘Luke, fetch me another glass of wine, would you?’ she asked. She had sounded abrupt and for a moment Luke looked confused, though he immediately responded by taking up her empty glass.

‘I guess you two want to talk alone,’ he said, making an exaggerated wink as he looked at Darrow, whose face broke out into a wide smile. Megan felt a warm flush of pink cover her cheeks and her eyes darted quickly from Luke to Darrow as a denial leapt swiftly to her lips.

‘No, not at all.’

For a few moments after Luke had left silence fell between them. Megan glanced up, a wave of nausea seeping over her as she watched Darrow’s eyes follow Luke’s disappearing body. At last he had noticed, seen a trace of himself in the boy, and the thought flooded her with a mixture of feelings—delight and despair.

‘I don’t think he’ll be able to do all the activities,’ he informed her crisply, turning his attention back to her, and Megan immediately tensed. Afraid to look at him, Megan stared down at the table, stroking her fingers restlessly over a drip-mat.

‘We are booked in for over a fortnight. Ample time, I would have thought…’ she began, her voice strangely breathless as she awaited his condemnation of her keeping his son to herself.

‘It wasn’t the time factor I was referring to.’

There was a note of challenge in his voice that drew her gaze back to his, and his expression showed a smooth, worldly wisdom.

‘Then what?’ demanded Megan, suddenly defensive, her nerves tensing at his poker-faced expression which warned her that more was to come.

‘He just doesn’t look well enough,’ he said matter-of-factly, but Megan sensed a criticism in his tone and her own feelings of insecurity immediately surfaced. She so desperately wanted him to be well. It was so very difficult being a one-parent family, trying hard to be both mother and father. She had tried to encourage him towards sporting activities but his enforced rest period had left him a little weaker than usual.

‘Looks can be deceptive,’ she retorted, angry with herself that he was evoking in her such a sense of over-protectiveness.

‘I’m not suggesting he doesn’t try some of the activities out, but—’

‘I think I’m the best judge of what my son is capable of,’ Megan cut in, furious by his lack of natural response to his own son, angered that he could not see himself mirrored in Luke’s frame, waiting to grow into a strong, capable man.

‘Oh, God, you’re not one of those pushy mothers who insist on over-compensating for the lack of a father?’ He grinned, unaware of the depth of pain he was causing her or how near the truth he might have touched.

‘It’s not a case of that. I just think you’re making an incorrect judgement merely because of his looks,’ she countered. The tone of conversation was swiftly changing to one of confrontation but she felt as if she was on a roller-coaster, thundering down a track, out of control.

‘Don’t be ridiculous. Why on earth should I do that?’ he demanded, and Megan instantly tensed as his dark eyes narrowed on her. Megan felt her face redden as she realised that it was her own sensitivity to the situation that was causing the problem. She was reading far too much into his words.

‘Look, I’m sure that Luke will be sensible enough to make his own choices,’ she said briefly, hoping to draw a close over that line of conversation. She didn’t want to talk about Luke; it was far too dangerous.

Darrow leant across the table, pushing to one side the half-empty platter of food in a gesture of annoyance. He flexed his shoulders as he drew closer and Megan again caught the teasing scent of his masculine aftershave.

‘How old is he?’ he snapped, staring across the table at her, his expression devoid of emotion.

Megan didn’t answer—couldn’t answer. She felt trapped, as if he had carefully laid the bait and like a fool she had fallen for it. She could hear her heart thudding painfully against her constricting chest and she dropped her gaze, unable to confront the steel in his eyes.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said airily, unaware of the huge sigh of relief that silently escaped Megan’s lips. ‘The fact remains that he has a dull complexion and his eyes look heavy-lidded. He looks unwell…’

Megan’s eyes flew to his, anger flaring in the cool green.

‘That’s not a criticism, Megan, merely an observation,’ he countered immediately, seeing her reaction but refusing to acknowledge it fully. He still wanted to make his point, regardless of how she felt about it. ‘I was scrawny myself at that age, but he looks tired and drawn,’ he admitted, which only served to twist the knife deeper into her unhealed heart. ‘To take on all the activities available would be asking for trouble. One needs to build up stamina over a period of time.’

‘I see,’ Megan replied, too quickly, though she did agree. She could see that what he was saying made sense but she knew Luke’s stubborn determination—a characteristic from his father, she mused. She was not prepared to ruin her chances of strengthening their relationship by refusing to allow him to do exactly what he wanted. It still hurt more deeply than she wanted to admit that she felt Luke was outgrowing her. Besides, she reassured herself, Luke was stronger than he appeared. Even the doctors had agreed with that, amazed at his quick recovery.

‘Do you?’ His voice was cold, cutting into her with icy precision. ‘I doubt that. You’re fit and healthy, busy running a health club, a sick child would hardly be an ideal advertisement.’

‘What do you mean by that?’ Megan shot back.

‘I think you’ve been either too busy to notice or deliberately blind to the fact…’ he began to explain, his voice cold and detached.

‘How dare you?’ stormed Megan, her surprise matched only by her anger at his unfair remarks.

‘I dare for this reason, Megan. I have a one hundred percent accident-free record here and I plan on keeping it that way,’ he snarled, gripping her wrist in a painful clasp. ‘I can’t afford parents who refuse to see their own offspring’s limitations, pushing them beyond their capabilities. It’s dangerous and unforgivable.’

A wave of righteous indignation swept through Megan’s body, heating her blood to boiling point. How dared he make assumptions about her and her relationship with Luke? He had no right, no right at all, she fumed inwardly, and yet knowing he did have some right only annoyed her even more.

‘If you’re suggesting that I’m pushing him you couldn’t be more wrong. Luke wants to take part—he’s very keen.’

‘Is he? He looks worn out to me. An activity holiday is the last thing he needs. Rest and relaxation would do him more good. For God’s sake, Megan, can’t you see it?’ he protested, fixing his eyes on her like a pair a darts.

‘Luke’s OK. He has a slim build but he’s strong,’ Megan countered, resenting his interference.

‘You’re blinkered, Megan. You refuse to see your son as he is,’ he growled at her, furious at her obstinacy.

‘I don’t think you know Luke well enough to make any comment,’ Megan told him in a glacier tone, the look on her face matching her icy voice.

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Megan,’ he said dismissively, ignoring the expression on her face. ‘Your ambition is blinding you. I’m sorry, but he’s not going to live up to some bizarre ideal you have of him—he just hasn’t your physical strength,’ he told her firmly.

‘Well, we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?’ she retorted briskly, confident that Luke would show just how capable he was.

‘There’s no way I’m allowing him to over-stretch himself for your benefit. It could be extremely dangerous,’ he told her, his tone brooking no argument and his jaw set firmly.

‘Well, we wouldn’t want anything upsetting your precious record, would we?’ she goaded him, pain and frustration twisting her stomach. She paid no heed to the darkening of his eyes or the glitter of anger that flickered there. Like a wounded animal she just wanted to hit out, to hurt him as he was hurting her.