Read Online No Greater Joy by Rosemary Carter - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rosemary Carter
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views, while each acknowledged that the points the other made were good ones.
Alison was laughing when they finally agreed to call a truce. 'Not that we settled that one.'
'But we had a good time disagreeing, didn't we?' Clint's eyes sparkled at her over the candlelight.
'Oh, we did! A marvellous time. I remember coming out of that movie with Raymond, and feeling I wanted to talk about it.'
'Didn't you?'
Alison tightened, but only briefly. 'Well, no... There would have been no point to it, really. We'd have had the same opinion.'
'How could you know that without testing it?' Clint was watching her.
'Because we always thought the same way.'
'About everything?'
'Most things. Our likes, our dislikes, everything was the same. We always knew what the other was thinking.' She paused a moment. 'Oh, don't look at me like that, Clint. There's nothing wrong with two people being so similar.'
'Except that the similarity could get boring eventually.'
'You'll be saying next that we didn't really love each other,' she said crossly.
'Did you?' he asked quietly.
'Of course we did!' she came back, a little too quickly. 'I can't remember a time when I didn't love Raymond. I thought you understood that.'
'I believe that you loved him.' His voice was very soft now. 'But were you in love with him?'
She stared at him. In the glow of the candlelight, her eyes were smudged with shock. Clint's eyes held hers, not wavering even when her lips began to tremble.
Alison was the first to shift her gaze away. 'I feel like dancing,' she said.
They went to the dance-floor, and Clint took her in his arms; neither of them referred to the fact that Alison had not answered his question. They danced till the band took a break, and then they went back to their table and had dessert and coffee and more wine, and the discussion turned to horses. The one topic they didn't touch on again was Raymond.
It was late when they got back to the camp. At the door of Alison's cabin they stopped, and she looked up at Clint.
'You're safe,' he smiled down at her. 'I'm not going to force my way in.''Just as well.' She was smiling back at him. Yet, inside her, belying the words and the smile, was a most contradictory frisson of disappointment.
'Not that I wouldn't like to,' he said lightly. 'I'm determined to live in hope, Alison.'
'It's getting late, Clint. Thank you for a very lovely evening.'
'I'm the one to thank you,' he said softly.
He reached towards her, cupped her face in those large hands of his, and kissed her. It was a gentle kiss, and it lasted just a few seconds.
Without a word, he released her then, and disappeared into the fragrant darkness.
Alison closed the door. She did not switch on the light, but went instead to the window. For a few minutes she just stood there, resting her hot face against the cool glass pane, and trying to calm a mind that was surprisingly agitated.
It was a few minutes before she felt calm enough to close the curtains and get ready for bed. But in the moments before she finally slept a question burned in her mind. The question which Clint had asked her, and which she had not answered.
'I believe you loved Raymond,' he had said. 'But were you in love with him?'
The camp counsellors arrived a day later. Clint drove the camp van to the station, some ten miles away, to pick them up. They piled out of the van half an hour later, laughing, vocal, still catching up on the news that had taken place in the last year, all wearing jeans and T-shirts, and dragging an assortment of cases and tote- bags behind them.
All of them were young, Alison saw, as they were introduced. Early twenties, about the same as her own age of twenty-two. Gary and Brian, who would be supervising the boys, as well as organising canoeing and rafting. Mary, Wendy and Laurie, who would be looking after the girls, in addition to organising various sporting activities. Patricia, the girl who looked after the office work, had arrived too, apologising
Alison was laughing when they finally agreed to call a truce. 'Not that we settled that one.'
'But we had a good time disagreeing, didn't we?' Clint's eyes sparkled at her over the candlelight.
'Oh, we did! A marvellous time. I remember coming out of that movie with Raymond, and feeling I wanted to talk about it.'
'Didn't you?'
Alison tightened, but only briefly. 'Well, no... There would have been no point to it, really. We'd have had the same opinion.'
'How could you know that without testing it?' Clint was watching her.
'Because we always thought the same way.'
'About everything?'
'Most things. Our likes, our dislikes, everything was the same. We always knew what the other was thinking.' She paused a moment. 'Oh, don't look at me like that, Clint. There's nothing wrong with two people being so similar.'
'Except that the similarity could get boring eventually.'
'You'll be saying next that we didn't really love each other,' she said crossly.
'Did you?' he asked quietly.
'Of course we did!' she came back, a little too quickly. 'I can't remember a time when I didn't love Raymond. I thought you understood that.'
'I believe that you loved him.' His voice was very soft now. 'But were you in love with him?'
She stared at him. In the glow of the candlelight, her eyes were smudged with shock. Clint's eyes held hers, not wavering even when her lips began to tremble.
Alison was the first to shift her gaze away. 'I feel like dancing,' she said.
They went to the dance-floor, and Clint took her in his arms; neither of them referred to the fact that Alison had not answered his question. They danced till the band took a break, and then they went back to their table and had dessert and coffee and more wine, and the discussion turned to horses. The one topic they didn't touch on again was Raymond.
It was late when they got back to the camp. At the door of Alison's cabin they stopped, and she looked up at Clint.
'You're safe,' he smiled down at her. 'I'm not going to force my way in.''Just as well.' She was smiling back at him. Yet, inside her, belying the words and the smile, was a most contradictory frisson of disappointment.
'Not that I wouldn't like to,' he said lightly. 'I'm determined to live in hope, Alison.'
'It's getting late, Clint. Thank you for a very lovely evening.'
'I'm the one to thank you,' he said softly.
He reached towards her, cupped her face in those large hands of his, and kissed her. It was a gentle kiss, and it lasted just a few seconds.
Without a word, he released her then, and disappeared into the fragrant darkness.
Alison closed the door. She did not switch on the light, but went instead to the window. For a few minutes she just stood there, resting her hot face against the cool glass pane, and trying to calm a mind that was surprisingly agitated.
It was a few minutes before she felt calm enough to close the curtains and get ready for bed. But in the moments before she finally slept a question burned in her mind. The question which Clint had asked her, and which she had not answered.
'I believe you loved Raymond,' he had said. 'But were you in love with him?'
The camp counsellors arrived a day later. Clint drove the camp van to the station, some ten miles away, to pick them up. They piled out of the van half an hour later, laughing, vocal, still catching up on the news that had taken place in the last year, all wearing jeans and T-shirts, and dragging an assortment of cases and tote- bags behind them.
All of them were young, Alison saw, as they were introduced. Early twenties, about the same as her own age of twenty-two. Gary and Brian, who would be supervising the boys, as well as organising canoeing and rafting. Mary, Wendy and Laurie, who would be looking after the girls, in addition to organising various sporting activities. Patricia, the girl who looked after the office work, had arrived too, apologising
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