Jennifer Taylor - Rachel's Child

The place had echoed with the sound of their footsteps, the dust and dirt lying thickly everywhere. Yet despite its condition there had been a beauty about the old house which even the grime and decay couldn’t detract from.

They had examined each of the rooms in turn, then made love in one of the empty bedrooms, the sunlight spilling through the dusty window falling on their two bodies as they lay entwined in each other’s arms. And afterwards, as Rachel had bent and kissed him, her eyes adoring, she had whispered, ‘If we ever have a house then this is the one I want, Stephen. This one...no other...’

‘Ready, Rachel?’

The sound of her own voice receded into the past. Rachel stared at Stephen, the shock still rippling through her body, the questions pounding inside her head. Why had Stephen bought this house when he could have had his pick? Had he...had he been influenced by the memory of what had happened here that day?

Her brain spun as she tried to make sense of something which made so little, yet which filled her with a breathless kind of hope. Maybe, just maybe that was the answer...?

‘Are you coming in, Rachel, or do you intend to sit there all day?’

Stephen’s voice was full of impatience and nothing more. Rachel searched his face for one long moment as the world seemed to hold its breath, waiting, then slowly she got out of the car and walked past him, and the fragile bud of hope died a painful death.

Stephen watched her go, his hand tightening around the keys he held until they bit into his palm. He was glad of the pain. Slowly he eased his grip, felt the tension which had beset him seep away to leave him oddly deflated.

What had he hoped for in bringing Rachel here?

He could tell himself that he’d had little choice, that they could hardly discuss what needed to be discussed in the street—especially in the state Rachel had been in before—that taking Rachel back to the office would have aroused the kind of speculation he preferred to avoid! All that made sense enough but it wasn’t the truth, not the whole truth, Stephen knew.

Had he chosen to bring Rachel to this house today so that she would recall what had happened here all those years ago? And if she remembered, what then? Exactly what had he been hoping for?

Stephen slammed the car door, his mouth twisting with self-mockery as he shot another look at Rachel’s rigid back, at the child standing by her side. What he and Rachel had shared was long past; the boy was all the proof he needed of that. Frankly, that was the only thing either of them needed to remember!

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