Ashley wasn't inside. She called for him and walked through each room, her heart racing as the stillness of the house swept over her. Aside from the hum of the refrigerator, the tick of the clock, the soft whir of the air-conditioning system, the house was silent. Empty. Her footsteps rang out against the tile and wood floor, then were muffled when she crossed carpeting.

His crutches were missing, but as she threw open his closet, she saw his clothes; all neatly pressed and hanging where they had been. So, he hadn't been foolish enough to move out, but where was he? His car, a green Jaguar, was still in the garage. The truck he'd taken to the sawmill had burned in the fire.

She walked back to the den, searched for a note, some clue, when she looked out the window in the back and found him leaning against a rock in the shade of a walnut tree near the lake he'd had dug the second summer they lived in the house.

He'd only been home a day, was still on pain medications, and though he could walk with crutches, he was--for the most part--dependent upon her, and he hated it. Each time she talked to him, she saw the anger in his good eye; the silent fury that seemed to radiate from him. There had been other emotions as well, hot and simmering under the surface--an electric current that neither one of them wanted to examine too closely.

The sun was beginning to set and he looked more at ease than he had since returning home. She thought about leaving him be, starting dinner and waiting for him, but decided instead to join him. Maybe it was time to heal some old wounds.

The argument they'd had before the fire still clamored in her ears.

---

"You never loved me," she'd accused, tears building behind her eyes. "You married me just to be a part of this... this empire of my father's."

"And you married me because I was the closest thing to Andy."

"That's a lie."

"Is it?" he snarled, a big hand curling over the lapels of her jacket.

"I married you because I thought I loved you, because I wanted to settle down and have children, but all you wanted was to come back here and make a name for yourself. Prove that you were as good as the people with money--show how smart you are. Well, you've made your point, Ashley, and you've got what you've always wanted--a pile of money and a piece of the Bale fortune."

"And one of the richest women in the county for my wife."

"That was it, wasn't it? All along. It wasn't me you wanted," she said, her fists curling in frustration while she strove to keep her composure. "It was my name and social status."

"You'd understand if you hadn't been born with more money than you could ever spend in a lifetime. If you'd had to work two jobs to help support your nutcase of a mother; if you had to hold your head high even though your ears burned with the gossip that the town was whispering about, about your brother, about a father who had just walked out one day."

His anger seeped away and he'd stared at her with pained eyes. "So you want a divorce."

"I want us to have a life. You don't have to work eighty-hour weeks. You don't have to leave town on business trips that last for days. You don't have to prove anything to me or the rest of the damned town."

"Why? So I can be home more nights? So we can start a family?"

"Yes, I think--"

"It would be a mistake, Lindsay. I don't want children. I've never wanted kids."

Her heart had cracked at that point. "I thought you changed your mind. You said that it was possible-"

"Stop twisting my words around. Kids ruined my mother's life. Kids ruined my father's life. Kids are only trouble."

"And joy."

"Not enough," he said with feeling, and as she'd stared into his blue eyes, she'd finally understood.

"You won't be happy until you have it all, will you? The company. The subsidiaries. The property."

"The respect, damn it! Don't you understand? That's all I want, all I've ever wanted. I'd sell it all if it bought me on iota of respect."

"And you thought it could be bought by marrying the right woman or owning the right things..."

"I know it can."

All her dreams shattered. The illusions she'd held so dear, so foolishly, were instantly destroyed.

"Then, I want a divorce, Ashley."

"Over my dead body."

"But-"

"Listen, Lindsay," he'd threatened, a vein throbbing at his temple. "Listen hard and good. I'll never let you divorce me, and if you try, I'll do everything and anything to force you to stop. I'll hire lawyers, private investigators, whatever it takes, and I'll be sure that if you do finally get rid of me, you'll end up without a dime."

She'd recoiled at the thought, her face twisted in pain. "Why?"

A vein ticked angrily in his forehead. "Because, whether you believe it or not, I love you and I'd rather die than lose you." The fire in his eyes had frightened her but made her believe him.

---

...and now he wanted a divorce, and was willing to sell his shares of the company. A complete turnaround. Because of what he'd been through? Because of the fire? Because he'd finally faced the truth that they could never make their marriage work? Just when she was willing to try again. Ironic, wasn't it? They never seemed to put out the effort at the same time.

She walked outside--past hanging pots of fuchsias with their dripping petals, and heavy-bloomed roses--following a brick and cement path to long grass and wildflowers that grew near the water's edge. When he'd dug out the lake, he'd refused to have it landscaped, insisted that the old walnut tree be left standing and let nature decide what would grow on the sandy shores.

Hearing her approach, he lifted his head. Slowly, his bruised face was becoming more recognizable, but not enough to see much of him underneath.

"You worried me," she said, sitting down on the beach near the tall grass and staring across the smooth water. "When I couldn't find you in the house."

"Can't stand being cooped up."

"I know."

Shoving off her shoe, she dug a bare toe into the white sand he'd had trucked in from the beach years ago. She'd always thought she would watch her children build sand castles, splash and swim in the clear water, fish and hunt for crawdads and periwinkles where the water lapped beneath the trees. But she'd been a fool. A silly, hopelessly romantic fool.

"You should have told me about Max as soon as you found out."

"Probably. I was trying to-"

"Protect me?" he mocked, his words and voice still muffled from the wires. "I don't need you to save me from the truth."

"Do you need me at all?"

He didn't answer, just picked up a flat rock with his good hand and, flipping his wrist, sent the stone sailing over the water, making it skip four times, causing rippling circles to play on the grassy surface of the lake.

"Look, I've been thinking..." She gazed across the water to the horizon where the smoky ridge of the Cascades met the sky. "Maybe we should try harder."

"To what?"

"Save our marriage."

His jaw worked and his eye trained over the water seemed even more distant. Geese flew across the sky, reminding her that summer would soon end. A breeze ruffled the drying leaves in the walnut tree and teased at her hair.

"Why?"

Why. "Because it was good once."

"Was it?"

"In the beginning," she reminded him. "Once we'd settled the past, it was good. Even after we moved her, for a while..." She let her voice trail off.

Geese honked in the distance and the scent of dying roses perfumed in the air. Somewhere far away a tractor's engine rumbled, and high in the sky the wake of a jet billowed fluffy white against the blue sky.

"You don't have to feel obligated. Just because of what I said about not letting you divorce me-"

"I don't. Well maybe I do a little, but not because of what you said, but because I want it, Ashley. I want it to work for us."

He considered, his eye narrowing at some inner vision. "And if we fail?"

"We're no worse off." She reached for his hand and his reaction was swift.

Drawing away, he turned and glared at her. "I don't want your pity, L."

"I don't pity you."

"And I don't want you to feel duty-bound to a crippled, half-blind man. You don't have to pretend you love me."

"I would never-"

"Of course you would. You already have. Don't lie, L. Whatever you do, don't lie to me."

The words seemed to reach back to another time and place--a distant, fuzzy place she couldn't remember.

"Look, Ashley, I don't fake feelings, and most importantly, I don't lie." She stared him straight in that ugly, healing eye. "I just want to start from square one--a clean slate, okay? Neither one of us will pretend anything. Everything's on the up and up. We'll try to work this out together, and if things fall apart, then we'll talk."

He snorted, as if the outcome had already been determined.

"Just tell me you'll try, Ashley."

"If it makes you happy."

"Say it."

She stood and her skirt whipped around her legs with the breeze that blew sand over the tops of her feet and caused the branches overhead to sigh.

"Say it."

He hesitated for a second, then lifted a shoulder. "Okay. Fine. I'll try."

"Good."

Relief washed over her. There was a chance they could put together their lives again, find what they'd lost.

"But I think we should keep things on an even keel, so I'll be staying in one of the guest rooms, for now. " He must've seen the pain in her eyes, and his throat worked as he dragged his gaze away from him again. "Considering the circumstances, it would be best."

"This is temporary?" she asked, remembering his aversion to touching her. Since the fire, he'd not reached for her once, wanted not physical contact whatsoever, insisted that she keep her distance from him.

"Yes." He took a long breath. "Just until we see which way the wind blows."

"Meaning you don't trust me."

He planted his crutches into the sand and stood, staring down at her. "Meaning that neither one of us really trusts the other."

---

They ate together, though most of what Ashley could put down was blended and sucked through a straw. Fortunately, the wires holding his jaw together were scheduled to come off in a couple days. He was still on pain medication and he wasn't much interested in thin mashed potatoes and pureed meat.

"Feel like a damn baby," he complained.

"Things'll get better."

"Will they?" he asked from his chair near the window, and she knew he wasn't talking about the food. Behind in, in the fading sunlight, a hummingbird hovered near a feeder.

"Sure. You'll be in physical therapy starting tomorrow, the wires off in a few days, your casts will be off before you know it and-"

"And we'll still be here. In limbo."

She picked up the dishes and carried them to the sink. She'd planned to come home and have it out with him, demand answers, ask him questions he'd refused to answer, but she'd backed down. Why? Because she was afraid of the truth?

"There's no reason to rush things, is there?" he asked.

She nearly dropped a plate because he was so wrong. Ever since the fire, she'd felt that time was running out, like sand passing through the neck of an hourglass, slipping away forever. As it had for Andy. Her heart squeezed.

Ashley settled back in his chair, his leg stretched out to the side of the table, his eye regarding her silently.

"I thought you wanted out so badly."

Frowning, she set dirty plates and bowls in the dishwasher. "I didn't want to go on treading water," she admitted. "I know that you said you loved me the night of the fire, but before that... well, you remember. We drifted apart."

"And you had an affair," he said quietly.

She shook her head. "Never. I've never cheated on you, Ashley, and I never will. As long as we're married, I'll be faithful."

She slammed the dishwasher door shut, turned and, resting her hips against the counter, wiped her hands on a towel.

"I expect the same from you. If you can't trust me, then you'd better let me know now."

He muttered something under his breath as the phone rang. They looked at each other and let the answering machine pick up in the den. Reporters had been calling and Lindsay hadn't been interested in dealing with them. She would listen to the messages later, and together they would decide whom they could call back.

"Tomorrow," Ashley said, straightening, "I'll need to talk with the insurance people, Alex and the cops. The mill's been shut down too long. Those men need to get back to work, the records are going to have to be reconstructed, a new--temporary office found near the mill, or maybe we can have one of those modular things brought in."

He rubbed his eye, then stood and stared out the window as if he were searching for something or someone.

"Let Alex handle it," Lindsay advised. "You can't do much now. Until you're on your feet and-"

He swung his crutches under his arms, and stood. "I am on my feet, in complete control of my faculties, and as long as I don't take too many of these horse pills, I'm reasonably able to function."

"You should rest."

"While Alex runs the company down the tubes?"

"He's not-"

"Your brother is a liar and a cheat, and he's been skimming money from the corporation."

"You have proof?" she asked, not really surprised. Ashley had hinted that Alex was embezzling before, but he'd never pursued it.

"What do you think?" He glared at her and she swallowed hard.

"Is that why you were at the mill that night? To check something?"

When he didn't answer, she let out her breath. "You-you think he started the fire to destroy the records?"

"I don't know what to think. There are copies of everything in the main office, on the computer, unless that's been screwed with. But the books were at the mill."

"I can't believe that Alex would-"

"I'm not saying he did. I'm just not taking any chances with the company. Or my life."

Squinting through the window again, he scowled, then hobbled into the den with Lindsay on his heels. Her mind was spinning ahead to possibilities. What Ashley was suggesting was that Alex may have started the fire to destroy the books... or to kill him. Or both. She remembered how cruel Alex had become as a teenager, but arson? Attempted murder?

She paused at the doorway to the den and watched as Ashley rewound the tape on the recorder. He waited impatiently, then listened as reporter after reporter left a message. There was another one from Kaya, but none from the person he was waiting for. None from his mother.

"Where the hell is she?" he growled as Detective Williams' voice filled the room and he announced that he'd be stopping by later.

Ashley's scowl deepened and he jerked his way out of the room as the tape player clicked off. Great, she thought sarcastically. Just what they needed. Another interrogation from the detective.

Notes

Sneak peek to a future chapter (With Andy ;))

---

"Goodbye, Andy." She shouldered open the door, but he caught her arm.

"No!" Whirling her to face him, he held her fast. "Don't go, L." His throat worked. Emotions from long ago filled his eyes. "I lost you once, I don't want it to happen again."

"But-"

"Oh Jesus. Don't you get it? I love you."

The words ricocheted through the house and reverberated through her mind. Love. How long had she waited to hear him say that he cared? A lifetime.

"You don't even know me," she whispered.