Thorne's Way

by Joan Hohl

  Perhaps, after the wedding night they’d had, if they’d been allowed a few short days—Valerie sighed. What use to think of that now? They had not had a few days, and the beginnings of closeness she’d felt while sharing his seat on the plane had been lost the moment they’d stepped off the craft.

  Not one, but two cars had been waiting for them. Valerie had been installed in the one driven by Lyle and dispatched without a backward glance from Jonas. She had, in all ways but one, remained dispatched.

  Valerie shivered in the warm May air. Nothing, nothing that had occurred from the day she met him, had prepared her for the living dynamo Jonas became when he was embroiled in a fight. And his language! Talk about turning the air blue! If she had learned nothing else about him Valerie had learned one thing— Jonas Thorne swore like a seasoned trooper when he was mad. And Jonas had been mad for over three weeks!

  Geared for battle, Jonas went almost nonstop. He was always gone in the morning when she woke, no matter how early that was, and it was always late before he retired. And even then he did not rest right away for, whether she was asleep or not, he always drew her to him. Lord, the man’s appetite was insatiable!

  Had she really ever had doubts? Had she really had moments when she’d wondered if he might lose? In retrospect, it seemed inconceivable that she had, for Jonas was a born winner. Even had he been forced to put a match to his plans, he would have won.

  Valerie had known it was over when he’d come home early two days ago. And before he’d said another word she’d known that he’d won. The lines of strain were gone from his face and he’d favored Marge—who claimed falsely that she’d never had any doubts—with a devastating smile.

  That night, relaxed for the first time in weeks, and victorious, Jonas had made love to her until she was nearly insensible with her need for him. Valerie shuddered now with remembered ecstasy, her whole body growing warm at the images that flashed through her mind. Turning away from the brightness of the light, Valerie let her gaze rest on the bed. Oh, yes, Jonas had won—more than he was as yet aware of. He’d won her admiration, and her respect, and whether he wanted it or not, her love.

  Sighing softly, she walked out of the room. Exactly how little regard Jonas had for her, or her feelings, had been brought forcefully home to her with his cool statement last night.

  At Marge’s insistence they had been making a last minute inspection of Mary Beth’s newly refurbished room, and Marge had stared at Jonas in shocked disbelief.

  “You haven’t told her?” Marge had finally blurted. “But I naturally assumed—Jonas, why didn’t you tell her? It’s unfair, not only to Mary Beth, but to Valerie as well.”

  Unperturbed, Jonas had shrugged. “I was busy here, and she was busy with winding everything up over there.” Turning to the door he gave another, dismissive, shrug. “Anyway, I didn’t want to tell her over the phone or in a letter.”

  “But Valerie told her mother over the phone,” Marge persisted, following him.

  “That’s different,” Jonas had replied smoothly. “Valerie’s mother isn’t coming back to the States. Mary Beth is.”

  Valerie paused halfway down the curving stairway, the conversation of the night before fading as she thought of that phone call to her mother. Why was it, she asked herself, that trouble always seemed to come all at once? It was over three weeks since she’d made that call and shock waves from it were still reverberating through her mind.

  Her mother had taken the news of her marriage quite calmly, then had stunned Valerie with news of her own. She was pregnant! Her mother, at forty-six years of age, was pregnant, and happy about it, as well! And she was due sometime around the end of July!

  Valerie grimaced and continued down the last few steps and along the hall to the kitchen.

  Dorothy Fister, Jonas’s housekeeper for over ten years, was at the stove preparing lunch.

  “Everything under control, Dot?” Valerie asked from the doorway.

  “Of course,” the competent woman replied turning to run her glance over Valerie. “You look lovely, Valerie,” she added quietly. Like so many of Jonas’s other employees, Dot was on a first-name basis with the family. “Don’t be nervous,” she advised shrewdly. “Mary Beth is a nice girl. Things will work out.”

  “I hope so,” Valerie murmured fervently, turning to leave.

  “Oh, I’ve made up the guest room, just as you asked,” Dot added.

  Valerie’s only reply was a sigh. Another problem, she thought tiredly as she wandered into the living room. With the tenuous relationship between her and Jonas, and Mary Beth’s homecoming, the last thing they needed was a houseguest. Yet, they were getting one, at least temporarily. Jonas had calmly informed them only yesterday that Barres’s man would be arriving today, and as a suitable place had not as yet been found for him, he would be staying with them. Stifling a groan, Valerie stared out the front window.

  It was some fifteen minutes later that she saw the gleam of the silver limo as it purred up the driveway. She reached the front door as the Cadillac glided to a smooth stop. Opening it, she felt a thrill of apprehension scurry down her spine at the set expression on Jonas’s face as he alighted from the front passenger seat. Something was very definitely wrong, for although his face revealed nothing, Valerie somehow knew that he was very angry. What in the world now? she wondered silently. Not another problem? Then she felt shock stiffen her spine as not two, but three women got out of the car.

  Marge was the first one out, and Valerie did not miss the anxious glance she shot at her. Behind Marge came a tall, slim, young blonde who anyone at a glance would know was Jonas’s daughter. And after her came an older, equally slim blonde, who anyone would recognize as Mary Beth’s mother!

  Lynn! Disbelief froze Valerie in place.

  Mary Beth’s smiling face, and Lynn’s smug expression, sent a pang of pure panic through Valerie. He hadn’t told them! The truth of her deduction was proved by the curious glances both mother and daughter turned on her as they entered the house. The urge to run, anywhere, was squashed by Jonas’s arm sliding around her waist.

  “Val, I’d like you to meet my daughter, Mary Beth, and her mother, Lynn.” Jonas’s smooth tone revealed none of the anger being transmitted to her by his fingers digging into her waist. “Mary Beth, Lynn,” his pause was infinitesimal, “my wife, Valerie.”

  For one instant there was total silence, and then Mary Beth and Lynn spoke as one.

  “Your wife!”

  Mary Beth was the first to articulate her reaction.

  “Dad,” she cried, looking directly at Valerie. “When did this happen? And why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I just did,” Jonas answered sardonically. “And this happened almost a month ago.”

  “Really, Jonas—” Lynn began angrily, only to be silenced by her mother.

  “Lynn, I don’t think the foyer is the place for this discussion,” Marge cautioned sharply. “I suggest we go into the living room.”

  Held in place by Jonas’s restraining hand, Valerie stood mutely as they entered. After taking a few steps, Mary Beth turned to glance at them over her shoulder.

  “Coming, Dad?”

  “Val and I will be with you in a moment,” Jonas assured her.

  Feeling like an intruder, Valerie watched Mary Beth frown as she turned to follow her mother and grandmother.

  “She’s a lovely girl.” Valerie wasn’t even aware she’d murmured the observation aloud until Jonas agreed softly, “Yes, she is.”

  Glancing up at him quickly, Valerie caught the softening in his eyes, the gentle smile that touched his lips. If he would only look at me that way, just once—Valerie shrugged the wish away, and the hollowness that had followed it.

  “Yes?” Jonas’s prompting made it clear he had not missed her scrutiny of him.

  “Nothing,” she said. Then, at the arching of one disbelieving brow, she temporized, “It sounds strange, hearing Mary Beth call you Dad.” It wasn’t a complete fabri
cation. It had sounded strange to her and had caused a strange, aching feeling as well.

  “It sounds a little strange to me, too,” came his surprising reply. “It’s been so long since I’ve heard it.” Releasing her, he turned as Lyle entered the house loaded down with suitcases. “Put the red cases in Mary Beth’s room,” Jonas instructed. “And drop the white ones here in the foyer for the time being.”

  Valerie eyed the white cases for several seconds after Lyle had retreated before lifting her eyes to Jonas. “Is she staying…here?”

  “She has before,” Jonas said dryly.

  “But that was before…”

  “Dad?” Mary Beth’s soft, but impatient call ended Valerie’s protest.

  “Coming,” Jonas called back. Lowering his voice, he argued, “Her daughter and mother are here, where else would she stay?”

  A hotel? A motel? Home? Valerie didn’t voice her suggestions. Instead, she reminded him, “You have another guest coming today.”

  “I haven’t forgotten, Val,” Jonas assured her smoothly. “Now, shall we join the others?”

  Her resentment flared at the note of command in his tone. Seething with impotent fury, Valerie allowed him to usher her into the room. The sight of Lynn’s elegant body ensconced in Valerie’s favorite chair set her teeth on edge. Damn him, if he’d wanted Lynn in his home why hadn’t he married her? Valerie thought furiously.

  Valerie was excluded from much of the ensuing conversation; whether the exclusion was deliberate or not she didn’t know, and, at the moment, didn’t much care. With cool detachment, she studied Lynn and Mary Beth in turn.

  Janet had not been exaggerating when she had said that Lynn was beautiful. She had to be close to forty, Valerie knew, yet she showed none of the usual signs of aging. Valerie decided she hated her.

  Mary Beth, on the other hand, was a lovely composite of her mother and father. Tall and slim, with the same high cheekbones and determined jaw as Jonas, she had the blue eyes, pert nose and golden skin of her mother. Her hair color was strictly her own, being a shade between Lynn’s gold and Jonas’s ash-blond.

  Her hand sliding over her still flat belly, Valerie wondered how her coloring would combine with Jonas’s in their offspring. Her eyes grew misty as she contemplated a tall, slim youth with a shock of black hair and cool gray eyes. Suddenly she longed to hold the infant version of that youth in her arms.

  “Valerie?”

  The rough edge to Jonas’s tone jerked her out of her pleasant daydreams of the future. “I—I’m sorry.” Valerie blinked at him. “I didn’t hear what you said.”

  “I asked if our guest room was in order?” Jonas frowned.

  “Yes, of course.” A sickening thought sent heat flashing through her. He wouldn’t install Lynn in the room next to theirs, would he? She had to ask. “Why?”

  “That should be obvious,” he rapped. “Our guest room is the only one available for Barres’s man.”

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to go to my room and rest awhile.” Lynn, one slim hand hiding a yawn, fluttered long lashes at Jonas.

  “Of course,” Valerie said crisply, gritting her teeth. “I’ll show you to your room.”

  “Don’t bother,” Lynn purred oversweetly. “I know the way.”

  To a lot of bedrooms, I’ll bet, Valerie thought nastily.

  Rising, Marge reached for Mary Beth’s hand. “Come along, young lady, I have a surprise for you.”

  During the ensuing confusion and chatter, Valerie escaped up the stairs, feeling unloved, unwanted and totally unnoticed.

  Although the third floor contained a kitchen and dining area, Jonas and Valerie had always eaten dinner with Marge in the larger dining room downstairs. That evening dinner was, for Valerie, an ordeal. Lynn kept up a constant stream of chatter, much of which was designed to make Valerie uncomfortable.

  “You replaced Maria Cinelli, didn’t you?” the older woman began. “Tell me, is he as much of a bear at the office as he is at home? He’s always had an awful temper, you know—” casting a sugar smile at Jonas “—swears like a dock worker, too.”

  Tell me about it, Valerie longed to purr cattily. Actually, by the time they left the table she longed to hiss and claw like a cat. Lynn was, she decided, an absolute witch.

  Jonas, seemingly unaware of the battle raging between his past and present wives, was sublimely going about the business of getting reacquainted with his daughter.

  Seating herself in an easy chair as far away from Lynn as possible, Valerie concentrated on the conversation between her husband and his daughter.

  “By the way,” Jonas quizzed Mary Beth, “what happened to your plans to cruise the Aegean this summer?”

  “Well—” Mary Beth began, only to be interrupted by the tinkling sound of Lynn’s laughter.

  “I’m afraid I squashed those plans, Jonas,” Lynn cooed. “We were supposed to go on a yacht that belongs to a friend of mine, but when this friend began talking about a match between his penniless nephew and Mary Beth, I decided I’d better bring her home to Daddy.”

  “Indeed?” Jonas drawled before arching a brow at his daughter. “Do you want to marry this young man?”

  “Heavens no!” Mary Beth choked, roaring with laughter. “I’d probably have to share my allowance with him.”

  “No, you wouldn’t,” Jonas corrected dryly. “If you married a fortune hunter you’d have no allowance to share.”

  That shot sobered Mary Beth. “You mean,” she gasped incredulously, “if I marry a man you don’t approve of, you’ll stop my allowance?”

  “That is exactly what I mean, honey-girl,” Jonas drawled.

  “But—” Mary Beth began.

  “But, Jonas, that’s ridiculous!” Lynn’s shrill voice cut in.

  Jonas’s eyebrows shot up. “Why ridiculous? Strange, I was under the impression a husband was supposed to support his wife—not her father.” His lids narrowed. “I intend to keep what’s mine up till the last minute,” he warned softly.

  “Don’t be silly, Jonas,” Lynn snapped, obviously upset. “Mary Beth will get the majority of it eventually, anyway.”

  “Not the majority of it,” Jonas corrected even more softly. “At least, not if there’s another heir.”

  “Another heir?” Lynn and Mary Beth cried in unison.

  “I see.” Lynn’s blue eyes glittered. “Is that the real reason you married a woman only a few years older than your daughter?”

  Valerie steeled herself for Jonas’s answer, but just as he opened his mouth to speak, the doorbell rang.

  “Ah,” he grinned. “Literally saved by the bell. That will be Barres’s rep. I’ll answer it.” His grin widening, he got to his feet and sauntered out of the room.

  With his departure three pairs of blue eyes were turned on Valerie. Lynn’s in condemnation, Mary Beth’s in confusion, and Marge’s in commiseration. Unwilling to answer questions, or to withstand their stares, Valerie lowered her eyes. When she lifted them again Jonas stood framed in the archway, a man several years younger than he at his side. Hardly daring to believe her eyes, Valerie whispered:

  “Jean-Paul.”

  Then, with a near shout, she jumped out of her chair.

  “Jean-Paul!”

  “Valerie?”

  Jean-Paul was no less surprised than Valerie and as he cried her name he opened his arms.

  Unmindful of the tears that blurred her vision, Valerie ran across the room and into his embrace.

  For several minutes the air was filled with babbling French.

  “Oh, Jean-Paul, it’s so good to see you.”

  “Little one, I’ve been out of my mind with worry about you.”

  “Never would I have dreamed you’d be the rep from Barres.”

  “My sweet girl, why did you leave without a word?”

  “But I wrote to your parents!”

  “They were visiting me in New York, then they went on to visit with maman’s sister in Quebec.”

  “You l
ook fantastic, but you’ve lost a little weight.”

  “You are beautiful as ever, but you’ve gained a little weight.”

  “I see you’ve met my wife, DeBron.” Jonas’s cold English sliced through the noise of their happy reunion.

  “Your wife,” Jean-Paul answered, his eyes darting from Jonas to Valerie then back to Jonas.

  “My wife,” Jonas emphasized.

  Jean-Paul shifted his eyes to gaze questioningly at Valerie.

  “I’ll explain everything later, darling,” Valerie promised, not seeing the way Jonas stiffened at the endearment. “Please, come in.”

  Inside the living room, his voice tight, Jonas made the introductions.

  “Jean-Paul DeBron—my daughter, Mary Beth.”

  “Mademoiselle.”

  “And her grandmother, Mrs. Kowalski.”

  “Madame.”

  “And her mother, Lynn Varga.”

  “Enchan—her mother?” Jean-Paul shot a puzzled look from Lynn to Valerie.

  “Yes, Mary Beth’s mother.” Lynn’s honeyed tone drew Jean-Paul’s eyes back to her. “I’m Jonas’s first wife,” she purred.

  “I assume,” Jonas spoke with deceptive softness, “you met my wife while she was living in France?”

  “But of course,” Jean-Paul replied, still looking puzzled.

  “Jonas,” Valerie said quietly, “Jean-Paul is Etienne’s brother.”

  * * *

  Valerie stood under the shower spray as long as she dared. Jonas was angry. Wrong. He was furious. In fact, he had seemed to be in a black fury for most of the last month, ever since Jean-Paul had arrived, come to think of it. Wasn’t Jean-Paul’s work up to Jonas’s expectations? Was that why he had been constantly on the edge of anger all these weeks? And tonight she had pushed him over the edge.

  Valerie sighed. Why, why had she risen to Lynn’s taunting and allowed herself to ruin Jonas’s birthday dinner by lashing out the way she had? He had seemed so genuinely pleased, too. You’re a fool, she chided herself. But, even a fool can take only so much torment. And Lynn had made sure Valerie got more than her fair share.