Private Scandals

“All right.”
    She couldn’t sit after all. While he read, Deanna got up to wander around the room, her hands reaching nervously for mementos and knickknacks. She heard the paper rattle in his hands, heard him swear quietly, viciously under his breath, but she didn’t look back.
    “You know,” Finn said at length, “at least they could hire people who can write a decent sentence.” A glance at her rigid back made him sigh. He tossed the paper aside again. He rose, crossing to lay his hands on her shoulders. “Deanna—”
    “Don’t.” She stepped away quickly, shaking her head.
    “For Christ’s sake, you’ve got too much sense to let some sloppy journalism turn you inside out.” He couldn’t stemthe impatience, or the vague disappointment in her reaction. “You’re in the spotlight. You chose to be. Toughen up, Kansas, or go back and stick with the noon news.”
    “Did you believe it?” She whirled around, her arms folded tight across her chest.
    For the life of him he couldn’t figure out how to handle her. He tried for mild amusement. “That you were some sort of nubile nymphomaniac? If you were, how could you have resisted me for so long?”
    He was hoping for a laugh, and would have settled for an angry retort. He got nothing but frozen silence. “It’s not all a lie,” she said at length.
    “You mean you actually went to a couple of parties in college? You popped the top on a few beers and had a fling with a jock?” He shook his head. “Well, I’m shocked and disillusioned. I’m glad I found this out before I asked you to marry me and have my children.”
    Again, his joke didn’t make her laugh. Her eyes went from blank to devastated. And she burst into terrible tears.
    “Oh, Christ. Don’t, baby. Come on, Deanna, don’t do this.” Nothing could have unmanned him more. Awkward, cursing himself, he gathered her close, determined to hold her tight, even when she resisted. “I’m sorry.” For what, he couldn’t say. “I’m sorry, baby.”
    “He raped me!” she shouted, jerking away when his arms went limp. “He raped me,” she repeated, covering her face with her hands as the tears fell hot and burning. “And I didn’t do anything about it. I won’t do anything now. Because it hurts.” Her voice broke on a sob as she rocked back and forth. “It never, never stops hurting.”
    He couldn’t have been more shocked, more horrified. For a moment, everything in him froze and he could only stand and stare as she wept uncontrollably into her hands with the sun at her back and the fire crackling cheerfully beside her.
    Then the ice inside him broke, exploded with a burst of fury so ripe, so raw that his vision hazed. His hands curled into fists, as if there were something tangible he could pummel.
    But there was nothing but Deanna, weeping.
    His arms dropped to his sides again, leaving him feeling helpless and miserable. Relying on instinct, he scooped her up, carried her to the couch, where he could sit, cradled her in his lap until the worst of the tears were spent.
    “I was going to tell you,” she managed. “I spent last night thinking about it. I wanted you to know before we tried—to be together.”
    He had to get past the anger, somehow. But his jaw was clenched and his words sharp. “Did you think it would change anything I feel for you?”
    “I don’t know. But I know it scars you, and no matter how many ways you’re able to go on with your life, it’s always in there. Since it happened . . .” She took the handkerchief he offered and mopped at her face. “I haven’t been able to put it aside far enough, or deep enough, to feel able to make love with a man.”
    The hand that was stroking her hair faltered only a moment. He remembered vividly the way he had plunged in the night before. And the way he would have initiated the physical end of their relationship if something hadn’t restrained him.
    “I’m not cold,” she said in a tight, bitter voice. “I’m not.”
    “Deanna.” He eased her head back so that she would meet his eyes. “You’re the warmest woman I know.”
    “Last night there was nothing there but you; I had no time to think. This morning it didn’t seem fair for you not to know first. Because if things didn’t work, physically, it would be my fault. Not yours.”
    “I think that’s the first really stupid thing I’ve ever heard you say. But we’ll put it aside for now. If you want to talk this through, I’ll