Beloved. Diana Palmer
glanced at him, scowling. “What do you mean?”
Corrigan looked at his brother and tried to speak. Finally he just smiled faintly and turned away. “Forget it.”
The door to Tira’s room opened a minute later and Dr. Gaines came out. He spotted the two men down the hall and joined them.
“Don’t go back in there,” he told Simon flatly. “She’s too close to the edge already. She doesn’t need you to push her the rest of the way.”
“I didn’t do a damned thing,” Simon shot back, and now he looked dangerous, “except walk in the door!”
Dr. Gaines’s lips thinned. He glanced at Corrigan, who only shrugged and shook his head.
“I’m going to try to get her to go to a friend of mine, a therapist. She could use some counseling,” Gaines added.
“She’s not a nutcase,” Simon said, affronted.
Dr. Gaines looked into that cold, unaware face and frowned. “You were state attorney general for four years,” he said. “You’re still a well-known trial lawyer, an intelligent man. How can you be this stupid?”
“Will someone just tell me what’s going on?” Simon demanded.
Dr. Gaines looked at Corrigan, who held out a hand, palm up, inviting the doctor to do the dirty work.
“She’ll kill us both if she finds out we told him,” Gaines remarked to Corrigan.
“It’s better than letting her die.”
“Amen.” He looked at Simon, who was torn between puzzlement and fury. “Simon, she’s been in love with you for years,” Dr. Gaines said in a hushed, reluctant tone. “I tried to get her to give up the ranch and all that fundraising mania years ago, because they were only a way for her to keep near you. She wore herself out at it, hoping against hope that if you were in close contact, you might begin to feel something for her, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen. All I had to do was see you together to realize she didn’t have a chance. Am I right?” he asked Corrigan, who nodded.
Simon leaned back against the wall. He felt as if someone had put a knife right through him. He couldn’t even speak.
“What you said to her was a kindness, although I don’t imagine you see it that way now,” Dr. Gaines continued doggedly. “She had to be made to see that she couldn’t go on living a lie, and the changes in her life recently are proof that she’s realized how you feel about her. She’ll accept it, in time, and get on with her life. It will be the very best thing for her. She’s trying to be all things to all people, until she was worn to a nub. She’s been headed for a nervous breakdown for weeks, the way she’s pushed herself, with this one-woman art show added to the load she was already carrying. But she’ll be all right.” He put a sympathetic hand on Simon’s good arm. “It’s not your fault. She’s levelheaded about everything except you. But if you want to help her, for old time’s sake, stay away from her. She’s got enough on her plate right now.”
He nodded politely to Corrigan and went on down the hall.
Simon still hadn’t moved, or spoken. He was pale and drawn, half crazy from the doctor’s revelation.
Corrigan got on the other side of him and took his arm, drawing him along. “We’ll get a cup of coffee somewhere on the way back to your office,” he told his older brother.
Simon allowed himself to be pulled out the door. He wasn’t sure he remembered how to walk. He felt shattered.
Minutes later, he was sitting in a small café with his brother, drinking strong coffee.
“She tried to kill herself over me,” Simon said finally.
“She missed. She won’t try again. They’ll make sure of it.” He leaned forward. “Simon, she’s been overextending for years, you know that. No one woman could have done as much as she has without risking her health, if not her sanity. If it hadn’t been what you said to her, it would have been something else…maybe even this showing at the gallery that she was working night and day to get ready for.”
Simon forced himself to breathe normally. He still couldn’t quite believe it all. He sipped his coffee and stared into space.
“Did you know how she felt?” he asked Corrigan.
“She didn’t tell me, if that’s what you mean,” his brother said. “But it was fairly obvious, the way she talked about you. I felt sorry for her. We all knew how much you loved Melia, that you’ve never let yourself get close to another woman since the wreck. Tira had to know that there was no hope in that direction.”
The coffee in Simon’s cup sloshed a little as he put it down. “It seems so clear now,” he remarked absently. “She was always around, even when there didn’t seem a reason for it. She worked on committees for organizations I belonged to, she did charity work for businesses where I was a trustee.” He shook his head. “But I never noticed.”
“I know.”
He looked up. “John knew,” he said suddenly.
Corrigan hesitated. Then he nodded.
Simon sucked in a harsh breath. “Good God, I broke up their marriage!”
“Maybe. I don’t know. Tira never talks about John.” His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “But haven’t you ever noticed that she and John’s father are still friends? He doesn’t blame her for his son’s death. Shouldn’t he, if it was all Tira’s fault?”
Simon didn’t want to think about it. He was sick to his stomach. “I pushed her at John,” he recalled.
“I remember. They seemed to have a lot in common.”
“They had me in common.” Simon laughed bitterly. “She loved me…” He took a long sip of coffee and burned his mouth. The pain was welcome; it took his mind off his conscience.
“She can’t ever know that we told you that,” Corrigan said firmly, looking as formidable as his brother. “She’s entitled to salvage a little of her pride. The newspapers got hold of the story, Simon. It’s in the morning edition. The headline’s really something—local socialite in suicide attempt. She’s going to have hell living it down. I don’t imagine they’ll let her see a newspaper, but someone will tell her, just the same.” His voice was harsh. “Some people love rubbing salt in wounds.”
Simon rested his forehead against his one hand. He was so drained that he could barely function. It had been the worst day of his life; in some ways, worse than the wreck that had cost him everything.
For years, Tira’s eyes had warmed at his approach, her mouth had smiled her welcome. She’d become radiant just because he was near her, and he hadn’t known how she felt, with all those blatant signs.
Now, this morning, she’d looked at him with such hatred that he still felt sick from the violence of it. Her eyes had flashed fire, her face had burned with rage. He’d never seen her like that.
Corrigan searched his brother’s worn face. “Don’t take it so hard, Simon. None of this is your fault. She put too much pressure on herself and now she’s paying the consequences. She’ll be all right.”
“She loved me,” he said again, speaking the words harshly, as if he still couldn’t believe them.
“You can’t make people love you back,” his brother replied. “Funny, Dorie and I saw her in the grocery store a few weeks ago, and she said that same thing. She had no illusions about the way you felt, regardless of how it looks.”
Simon’s eyes burned with anguish. “You don’t know what I said to her, though. I accused her of killing John, of being so unconcerned about his happiness that she let him go into a dangerous job that he didn’t have the experience to handle.” His face twisted. “I said that she was shallow and cold and selfish, that I had nothing but contempt