in the way and after a while, it
was just too late.”
He leaned toward me, his eyes serious and I realized with
distaste that he was pleading with me, something I would never have thought
possible. It left a sick feeling in my gut.
“I’m sorry, Suzanna. I guess it’s sort of hypocritical of me
to say all this now but—well, I really mean it and no matter what happens, I
want you to know I’ve never meant to hurt you.”
I knew why he was saying all these things and my mind worked
furiously. What sort of desperate situation would make him grovel so? At the
same time, I was surprised how little empathy I felt. I nodded my head, unable
to think of what to say. I felt as if I’d been dumped on stage before a packed
house and forgotten my lines.
Colin didn’t seem to notice my discomfiture but hurried on
as if too long a pause would cut off the words forever. “You of all people know
Leo and I were never close.” He snorted at the understatement. “But I won’t say
he didn’t try. In the beginning, I think he tried too hard. I guess I just
couldn’t forgive him for what he did to Mother. Eventually he gave up, which
was a relief to us both.
“I’ve never been good with money. He was always there to
bail me out. It was sort of a truce we had—I could do what I wanted, as long as
I kept the name clean and stayed out of his hair.” He hesitated and I noticed
that his hands were trembling.
“I always wanted the best for Ali. In the beginning, I would’ve
done anything—and I can tell you, she likes spending money! There were new
cars, acting agents and coaches, wardrobes for every occasion and parties…”
He set the glass ballerina down and began to pace. “I moved
here to try to stop all that. You’re right about having to make our own lives.
It took me a while to realize it but that’s what I wanted to do when I came
back here. Leo bought the marina and set us up. I really wanted to make it work
but…” His voice trailed off and I felt my palms begin to perspire.
“What are you saying, Colin?” I asked, my voice hoarse.
“I’m saying I’m broke and in debt up to my ears,” he said,
almost angrily. He turned on me fiercely. “I’m saying that if you don’t marry
Grant, I’m washed up! Finished! Kaput! Me, Alicia, David, the marina! I don’t
own a cent of it!”
I stared at him in alarm. “But surely…”
He leaned over my chair so his face was inches from mine and
I shrank back at the desperation in his eyes. “I need time, Suzanna. Leo pulled
out too soon! I could’ve done it—still can—but I need more time!”
I didn’t speak. After a moment his desperation ebbed and he
fell back onto the sofa, covering his face with his hands. My mouth was dry.
Guilt flooded me and I tried to block it out—tried to find some escape from the
knowledge that this man’s life was in my hands. At the same time, I was furious
he put me into such a tenuous position by shoving the responsibility for his
poor judgments squarely onto my shoulders.
It was his own fault! Why should I feel responsible? I
looked at him sitting there in abject despair and something melted inside.
Perhaps I still had some compassion left.
He dropped his hands and looked up, drained. “Sorry,” he
muttered. “I just wanted you to know.”
He stood up and straightened his shoulders. “I won’t beg
you, Suzanna. I’ve made my own bed and I won’t blame you if you tell me to lie
in it. But the will does state the marriage need only last one year. No one’s
life has to really change.” He studied me, trying to read my stricken face,
then shrugged. “I just wanted you to know.”
I watched silently as he left the room, more confused than
ever. I hated him for telling me those things and hated myself for wanting to
reach out and help him. I knew it took a lot for him to break down and confide
and I also knew, seeing his predicament, I’d never be able to refuse Leo’s will
without accepting the blame for the
was just too late.”
He leaned toward me, his eyes serious and I realized with
distaste that he was pleading with me, something I would never have thought
possible. It left a sick feeling in my gut.
“I’m sorry, Suzanna. I guess it’s sort of hypocritical of me
to say all this now but—well, I really mean it and no matter what happens, I
want you to know I’ve never meant to hurt you.”
I knew why he was saying all these things and my mind worked
furiously. What sort of desperate situation would make him grovel so? At the
same time, I was surprised how little empathy I felt. I nodded my head, unable
to think of what to say. I felt as if I’d been dumped on stage before a packed
house and forgotten my lines.
Colin didn’t seem to notice my discomfiture but hurried on
as if too long a pause would cut off the words forever. “You of all people know
Leo and I were never close.” He snorted at the understatement. “But I won’t say
he didn’t try. In the beginning, I think he tried too hard. I guess I just
couldn’t forgive him for what he did to Mother. Eventually he gave up, which
was a relief to us both.
“I’ve never been good with money. He was always there to
bail me out. It was sort of a truce we had—I could do what I wanted, as long as
I kept the name clean and stayed out of his hair.” He hesitated and I noticed
that his hands were trembling.
“I always wanted the best for Ali. In the beginning, I would’ve
done anything—and I can tell you, she likes spending money! There were new
cars, acting agents and coaches, wardrobes for every occasion and parties…”
He set the glass ballerina down and began to pace. “I moved
here to try to stop all that. You’re right about having to make our own lives.
It took me a while to realize it but that’s what I wanted to do when I came
back here. Leo bought the marina and set us up. I really wanted to make it work
but…” His voice trailed off and I felt my palms begin to perspire.
“What are you saying, Colin?” I asked, my voice hoarse.
“I’m saying I’m broke and in debt up to my ears,” he said,
almost angrily. He turned on me fiercely. “I’m saying that if you don’t marry
Grant, I’m washed up! Finished! Kaput! Me, Alicia, David, the marina! I don’t
own a cent of it!”
I stared at him in alarm. “But surely…”
He leaned over my chair so his face was inches from mine and
I shrank back at the desperation in his eyes. “I need time, Suzanna. Leo pulled
out too soon! I could’ve done it—still can—but I need more time!”
I didn’t speak. After a moment his desperation ebbed and he
fell back onto the sofa, covering his face with his hands. My mouth was dry.
Guilt flooded me and I tried to block it out—tried to find some escape from the
knowledge that this man’s life was in my hands. At the same time, I was furious
he put me into such a tenuous position by shoving the responsibility for his
poor judgments squarely onto my shoulders.
It was his own fault! Why should I feel responsible? I
looked at him sitting there in abject despair and something melted inside.
Perhaps I still had some compassion left.
He dropped his hands and looked up, drained. “Sorry,” he
muttered. “I just wanted you to know.”
He stood up and straightened his shoulders. “I won’t beg
you, Suzanna. I’ve made my own bed and I won’t blame you if you tell me to lie
in it. But the will does state the marriage need only last one year. No one’s
life has to really change.” He studied me, trying to read my stricken face,
then shrugged. “I just wanted you to know.”
I watched silently as he left the room, more confused than
ever. I hated him for telling me those things and hated myself for wanting to
reach out and help him. I knew it took a lot for him to break down and confide
and I also knew, seeing his predicament, I’d never be able to refuse Leo’s will
without accepting the blame for the
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