think I can forgive her I remember that she chose the most dramatic way possible to demonstrate her so-called love. A love that didn’t include me.’
* * *
Ana swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump of pain that had taken root there since Bastien had started speaking. Her heart ached for him. The thought of the toll his mother’s action had taken on him tore at her insides.
‘Did you...were you the one who found her?’
He frowned down at her. ‘No. Don’t you remember?’
Puzzled, Ana shook her head. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t think so...’
‘You don’t the remember the chaos after my father and Lily returned a few hours later?’
‘Yes, I do, but—’ Shock stopped her breath. ‘Are you saying that’s when your mother tried to...?’
Bitterness twisted his lips. ‘And she almost succeeded. The doctors said another half an hour and she’d have been dead.’
‘But how?’
Ana remembered the sad, broken figure of Solange Heidecker. Ana had been in one of the guest rooms, hiding after the screams had lapsed into an eerie silence, when the door had opened. Solange had walked in, looked around, and immediately turned to leave. At the last moment she’d seen Ana and slowly approached. Even at her young age the melancholy surrounding Bastien’s mother had struck her.
‘Which is your mother’s room, mon enfant? Come and show me.’ She’d held out her hand.
Ana had shown her, had stood in the doorway as she’d inspected every item of clothing, every shoe, every trinket in the room. Finally she’d sunk onto the bed, tears coursing down her face. Ana remembered her own sadness, remembered feeling in some way responsible for the woman’s pain.
She’d watched Solange take her shoes off slowly and lie back on the bed. ‘I’m not feeling very well, cherie.’ She’d smiled another sad, heartbreaking smile. ‘Please ask the housekeeper to bring me something for my headache, would you?’
Icy fingers of dread clamped around Ana’s heart. Her vision clouded, a dizzying faintness overcoming her.
No! No, no—
‘Ana!’ Bastien’s voice came from a far distance, from beyond the vacuum closing around her.
Oh, please God, no...
Her whole body had gone numb and her heart was beating dully, as if preparing to stop beating altogether. Bastien’s hands gripped her shoulders, but even his firm shake couldn’t force Ana from the dark fog of the past.
What had she done? Dear God, what had she done?
‘Ana, talk to me. What is it?’
The urgency in his voice finally scraped the edges of her consciousness. Slowly his face swam into view. Her heart ached at its perfect beauty, at the hard, impassive edge he portrayed to the world, at the concern he couldn’t help but feel—because deep down Bastien was just a man whose heart ached for love, just as hers did.
Most of all her heart was ripped open at the knowledge that she was the cause of his pain. That she had helped shape him into the hardened cynic he was today.
Tears blistered the back of her eyes. ‘I’m so sorry, Bastien. Oh God, I...I’m so sorry.’ Her voice broke and a sob dredged from the very depths of her pulverised soul erupted through her lips.
‘For what?’
‘Your mother. She took pills, didn’t she?’ The words scraped her throat, as if rebelling against being aired.
A frown slowly gathered on his brow. ‘Yes, but how...?’
‘She... Oh, God, Bastien... She didn’t try to commit suicide. I think she overdosed by accident. And I...I gave her the pills.’
BASTIEN’S FACE, NORMALLY a vibrant, masculine hue, paled. It was almost as if he’d turned to stone, so statue-still he became. His eyes reflected shock. Horrified, disbelieving shock.
‘Non, il n’est pas possible!’
His lips barely moved with the denial, but his fingers tightened painfully on her shoulders.
‘That is not possible, Ana. She came to Verbier with the express purpose of...’ His words trailed off and he swallowed, his eyes darkening with remembered pain.
Ana’s heart twisted. ‘You weren’t there, Bastien. You were in the gazebo. She asked me to get pills from the housekeeper for her headache. Lily always kept a bottle of pills on her bedside table. She...she told me they were for her headaches. Oh, God, I didn’t...couldn’t read the label. I...I gave them to your mother—’
‘How many did she take?’
‘I don’t remember—’
He thrust her away from him, surged to his feet. He stalked to the window, his movements stiff, wooden. For several seconds he said nothing, then he whirled to face her. ‘Mon Dieu!’ The hand he shoved through his hair shook badly.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered brokenly.
‘And all this time I’ve believed—’ He stopped, fists clenched at his sides.
A deep shudder raked through his frame and her heart twisted anew.
‘I’m so sorry... Oh, God!’
He crossed the room and caught her arms. ‘Stop apologising, Ana. You were eight years old and you couldn’t read. You are not to blame for this!’
‘But if I’d called someone instead of just handing her the pills...’ She clamped her hand over her lips, racked with horror. ‘The repercussions of that day have shaped your life, Bastien. What I did has coloured the way you see your mother for the last sixteen years...’
He shook her once, the act almost one of desperation. ‘No, it hasn’t. Don’t forget the things she said before she took the pills. You had nothing to do with that. That was her...all her.’ Renewed pain threaded his voice.
Ana wanted to offer something, anything to soothe his pain. Except she was the cause of his pain.
‘Let me go, Bastien.’
‘No, you wanted to talk, so we’ll talk about this.’
‘There’s nothing left to talk about. I ruined your life—’
‘No, dammit, listen to me.’
‘There’s nothing you can say that’ll make me forgive myself, Bastien. Nothing.’ She pulled away and ran to the door.
Thankfully, he didn’t follow.
Her
