It was obviously an effort for Declan to get his words out too. ‘I haven’t worked on commercial games until Estella. Instead I’ve worked on non-profit educational games to help train surgeons, to help save lives. There’s also work for government defence departments on games that simulate terrorist attacks to help train the military.’
‘Th... That’s very noble of you.’ She hadn’t been expecting that. He was a good person—had proved himself to be kind and generous to her. Why couldn’t he be good to himself?
‘Not noble,’ he said with that wry twist of his mouth. ‘Trying to give back. To make amends.’
‘To assuage the guilt you heaped upon yourself.’ For something that was not his fault.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘But also because I have more money than I need and I want to contribute not just with dollars but also with my skills.’
‘So what happens to Princess Estella?’
‘She could be the next commercial big thing for me. Estella has a strong environmental focus, which is timely.’
Shelley shook her head. ‘I don’t get all this, though I like her green message and...and her green boots. But what I do get is I thought we had something special happening between us. I don’t mind arriving second in your life after Lisa—she was your first love and I respect that. But I won’t be second best for you. And I certainly won’t compete with...with her—a cartoon character.’ She couldn’t help her voice from rising.
He looked as grim as she had seen him. ‘I should have told you about Estella.’
‘You’re darn right you should have. I would have posed for you, you know. Not in that...that body stocking. But it could have been fun.’ Her voice diminished to barely a whisper. ‘Something for us to share.’
Those impossible hopes of a life with him had started to feel possible but now they slipped away like the water draining from the cracks in the old fountain.
‘You still could,’ he said, his voice low and urgent. ‘We could develop Estella together.’
She shook her head. Her voice still came out as a half-choked whisper. ‘Too late. Too late for you and me, Declan. I could never trust you again—and trust is vital to me. You were dishonest with me—from the word go, it appears.’
He groaned. ‘Shelley, I—’
She spoke across him. ‘I don’t just mean about Estella. I guess she’s the way you earn a buck—or two or a billion. You probably couldn’t help yourself from...from using me.’
‘You’ve got it so wrong,’ he said through clenched teeth.
‘I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘What’s worse is that you’ve been dishonest with yourself. You’re not ready for me or for any other woman. You’re lying to yourself if you think you are.’ And she couldn’t deal with it.
‘That’s not true,’ he said, his face dark and contorted with anguish. ‘I care for you, Shelley.’ He took a step towards her, went to take her in his arms but she quickly sidestepped him. How could she bear to be close to him when she knew it would be for the last time? She had to guard her heart.
Slowly she shook her head. ‘But not enough. Not enough to truly step out into the sunshine with me. You seem to need the shadows. I can’t exist without the light.’
Her heart ached as though it were being torn in two, broken and bleeding. She took a final look around the grey room where this man she had come to care for so much had locked himself away and didn’t seem to be able to free himself—despite her best efforts.
The warrior princess Estella would probably never give up on the battlefield. But she, Shelley Fairhill, humble gardener and heartbroken woman, conceded defeat.
She’d thought she could slash through the overgrown forest and scale the fortress Declan had erected around his heart but she’d scarcely breached the outer walls. To keep on fighting would be futile and only lead to further devastation.
With willpower she dragged from some deep, inner resource she refused to let tears fall, forced her voice to be firm. ‘I’m going, Declan.’
He took a step towards her but she put up her hand in a wavering halt sign. ‘Don’t follow me. Please.’
She picked up her shoes. Somehow she stumbled down the two flights of stairs, holding on to the railings for support, and did not break down until she got to the privacy of the apartment.
* * *
Declan had a tormented, sleepless night high up in his solitary bedroom in the turret. Looking back at the way he had behaved since Shelley had come into his life, he realised he had made mistake upon mistake.
Especially the Estella thing. No wonder Shelley had found what had seemed like gross deception impossible to forgive.
In the grey light of early morning, he stumbled down the stairs to his studio and stood in front of the painting that had caused so much trouble. He picked up a palette knife intending to slash the canvas to shreds. But he couldn’t do it. Estella had too much of Shelley in her. He could not hurt even her image. Had never wanted to hurt her.
How bitterly he regretted all the hours he’d spent up here creating Estella instead of spending more time with Shelley. His creation had become a barrier between him and the real woman he was falling for. Had the memory of Lisa become a barrier, too, long after he should have let his memories rest?
He hated to admit it, but his mother had been right. If he was to survive, it was time for him to move on. He would never forget Lisa or their baby. But Shelley had to come first now if he wanted a future with her. When she had told him he made her feel second best it was as if he’d been kicked in the gut. How could he have hurt her like that?
He could not lose her from his life.
He paced the floor of the studio, back and forth, back and forth, raking his hair with his fingers, working through possible solutions. Shelley was right. He didn’t know how to get out from under the shadow that was blighting his life.
Professional help. It was an avenue he hadn’t tried. He burrowed in his desk drawer for the card with the name of the counsellor his mother had suggested he see after Lisa’s death. He hated the idea of revealing himself to a stranger. But if he wanted Shelley it would have to be done. And he would have to finally leave this house to find that help.
He had to make amends to Shelley. Tell her what she’d come to mean to him. Seek her out in her apartment. Admit she was right, he couldn’t climb out of the shadows on his own. Ask her to wait for him.
But when he got downstairs it was to the shock of finding her key to the apartment on his kitchen countertop. And a note in her bold handwriting. He picked it up, dreading what it might contain.
Don’t try to find me, Declan, because I don’t want to be found. There are a few boxes of my possessions in the shed that I couldn’t fit into the 4x4. Could you please give access to Lynne when she comes around to collect them for me?
I’ve arranged for Mark Brown to finish the last work on the garden—it’s nearly done. I suggest you hire him for ongoing maintenance. It would be a tragedy to let the garden go again.
I could have loved you, Declan. I hope your heart can heal enough for you to find love again one day.
Shelley
He stared at the words in utter disbelief, then crumpled up the piece of paper and threw it on the floor with a massive roar of pain that echoed through his empty, lonely house. For a long time he stood, focusing on the forlorn piece of