The Dream (Crosslyn Rise Trilogy)

by Barbara Delinsky

  For a time, they walked on without talking. The crackle of the leaves became interspersed with small, vague sounds that consolidated into quacks when they approached the duck pond. Emerging from the path into the open, Jessica stopped. The surface of the pond and its shores were dotted with iridescent blue, green and purple heads. The ducks were in their glory, waiting for spring to burst forth.

  “There would have to be some houses here, assuming care was taken to protect the ducks. It’s too special a setting to waste.”

  Carter agreed. “You mentioned cluster housing the other day. Do you mean houses that are physically separate from one another but clustered by twos and threes here and in other spots? Or clusters of town houses that are physically connected to one another?”

  “I’m not sure.” She didn’t look at him. It was easier that way, she found. The bobbing heads of the ducks on the pond were a more serene sight. But her voice held the curiosity her eyes might have. “What do you think?”

  “Off the top of my head, I like the town house idea. I can picture town houses clustered together in a variation on the Georgian theme.”

  “Wouldn’t that be easier to do with single homes?”

  “Easier, but not as interesting.” He flashed her a self-mocking smile, which, unwittingly looking his way, she caught. “And not as challenging for me. But I’d recommend the town house concept for economic reasons, as well. Take this duck pond. If you build single homes into the setting, you wouldn’t want to do more than two or three, and they’d have to be in the million-plus range. On the other hand, you could build three town house clusters, each with two or three town houses, and scatter them around. Since they could be marketed for five or five-fifty, they’d be easier to sell and you’d still come out ahead.”

  She remembered when Gordon had spoken of profit. Her response was the same now as it was then, a sick kind of feeling at the pit of her stomach. “Money isn’t the major issue.”

  “Maybe not to you—”

  “Is it to you?” she cut in, eyeing him sharply.

  He held his ground. “It’s one of the issues, not necessarily the major one. But I can guarantee you that it will be the major issue for the people Gordon lines up to become part of his consortium. You and I have personal feelings for Crosslyn Rise. The others won’t. They may be captivated by the place and committed to preserving as much of the natural contour as possible, but they won’t have an emotional attachment. They’ll enter into this as a financial venture. That’s all.”

  “Must you be so blunt?” she asked, annoyed because she knew he was right, yet the words stung.

  “I thought you’d want the truth.”

  “You don’t have to be so blunt.” She turned abruptly and, ignoring the quacks that seemed stirred by the movement, headed back toward the path.

  “You want sugarcoating?” He took off after her. “Where are you going now?”

  “The meadow,” she called over her shoulder.

  With a minimum of effort, he was by her side. “Y’know, Jessica, if you’re going ahead with this project, you ought to face facts. Either you finance the whole thing yourself—”

  “If I had that kind of money, there wouldn’t be any project!”

  “Okay, so you don’t have the money.” He paused, irked enough by the huffy manner in which she’d walked away from him to be reckless. “Why don’t you have the money? I keep asking myself that. Where did it go? The Crosslyn family is loaded.”

  “Was loaded.”

  “Where did it go?”

  “How do I know where it went?” She whirled around to face him. “I never needed it. It was something my father had that he was supposedly doing something brilliant with. I never asked about it. I never cared about it. So what do I know?” She threw up a hand. “I’ve got my head stuck in that ivory tower of mine. What do I know about the money that’s supposed to be there but isn’t?”

  He caught her hand before it quite returned to her side. “I’m not blaming you. Take it easy.”

  “Take it easy?” she cried. “The single most stable thing in my life is on the verge of being bulldozed—by my decision, no less—and you tell me to take it easy? Let go of my hand.”

  But he didn’t. His long fingers wound through hers. “Changing Crosslyn Rise may be upsetting, but it’s not the end of the world. It’s just a house, for heaven’s sake.”

  “It’s my family’s history.”

  “So now it’s time to write a new chapter. Crosslyn Rise will always be Crosslyn Rise. It’s not going away. It’s just getting a face-lift. Wouldn’t you rather have it done now, when you can be there to supervise, than have it done when you die? It’s not like you have a horde of children to leave the place to.”

  Of all the things he’d said, that hurt the most. The issue of having a family, of passing something of the Crosslyn genes to another generation had always been a sensitive issue for Jessica. Her friends didn’t raise it with her. Not even Gordon had made reference to it during their discussion of Crosslyn Rise. The fact that Carter Malloy was the one to twist the knife was too much to bear.

  “Let me go,” she murmured, lowering both her head and her voice as she struggled to free her hand from his.

  “No.”

  She twisted her hand, even used her other one to try to pry his fingers free. Her teeth were clenched. “I want you to let me go.”

  “I won’t. You’re too upset.”

  “And you’re not helping.” She lifted her eyes then, uncaring that he saw the tears there. “Why do you have to say things that hurt so much?” she said softly. “Why do you do it, Carter? You could always find the one thing that would hurt me most, and that was the thing you’d harp on. You say you’ve changed, but you’re still hurting me. Why? Why can’t you just do your job and leave me alone?”

  Seconds after she’d said it, Carter asked himself the same question. It should have been an easy matter to approach this job as he would another. But he was emotionally involved—as much with Jessica as with Crosslyn Rise—which was why, without pausing to analyze the details of that emotional involvement, he reached out, drew Jessica close and wrapped her in his arms.

  4

  When Carter had been a kid, he’d imagined that Jessica Crosslyn was made of nails. He’d found a hint of give when he’d touched her earlier, but only when he held her fully against him, as he did now, did he realize that she was surprisingly soft. Just as surprising was the tenderness he felt. He guessed it had to do with the tears he’d seen in her eyes. She was fighting them still, he knew. He could feel it in her body.

  Lowering his head so that his mouth wasn’t far from her ear, he said in a voice only loud enough to surmount the whispering breeze, “Let it out, Jessica. It’s all right. No one will think less of you, and you’ll feel a whole lot better.”

  But she couldn’t. She’d been too weak in front of Carter already. Crying would be the last straw. “I’m all right,” she said, but she didn’t pull away. It had been a long time since someone had held her. She wasn’t yet ready to have it end, particularly since she was still in the grip of the empty feeling brought on by his words.

  “I don’t do it intentionally,” he murmured in the same deeply male, low-to-the-ear voice. “Maybe I did when we were kids, but not now. I don’t intentionally hurt you, but I blurt out things without thinking.” Which totally avoided the issue of whether the things he blurted out were true, but that was for another time. For now there were more immediate explanations to be offered. “I’m sorry for that, Jessica. I’m sorry if I hurt you, and I know I ought to be able to do my job and leave you alone, but I can’t. Maybe it’s because I knew you back then, so there’s a bond. Maybe it’s because your parents are gone and you’re alone. Maybe it’s because I owe you for all I put you through.”

  “But you’re putting me through more,” came the meek voice from the area of his shirt collar.

  “Unintentionally,” he said. His hands flexed, lightly stroking her bac
k. “I know you’re going through a hard time, and I want to help. If I could loan you the money to keep Crosslyn Rise, I’d do it, but I don’t have anywhere near enough. Gordon says you’ve got loans on top of loans.”

  “See?” The reminder was an unwelcome one. “You’re doing it again.”

  “No, I’m explaining why I can’t help out more. I’ve come a long way, but I’m not wealthy. I couldn’t afford to own a place like Crosslyn Rise myself. I have a condo in the city, and it’s in a luxury building, but it’s small.”

  “I’m not asking—”

  “I know that, but I want to do something. I want to help you through this, maybe make things easier. I guess what I’m saying is that I want us to be friends.”

  Friends? Carter Malloy, her childhood nemesis, a friend? It sounded bizarre. But then, the fact that she was leaning against him, taking comfort from his strength was no less bizarre. She hadn’t imagined she’d ever want to touch him, much less feel the strength of his body. And he was strong, she realized—physically and, to her chagrin, emotionally. She could use some of that strength.

  “I’m also thinking,” he went on, “that I’d like to know more about you. When we were kids, I used to say awful things to you. I assumed you were too stuck-up to be bothered by them.”

  “I was bothered. They hurt.”

  “And if I’d known it then,” he acknowledged honestly, “I’d probably have done it even more. But I don’t want to do that now. So if I know what you’re thinking, if I know what your sore spots are, I can avoid hitting them. Maybe I can even help them heal.” He liked that idea. “Sounds lofty, but if you don’t aim high, you don’t get nowhere.”

  “Anywhere,” she corrected, and raised her head. There was no sarcasm, only curiosity in her voice. “When did you become a philosopher?”

  He looked down into her eyes, dove gray behind her glasses. “When I was in Vietnam. A good many of the things I am now I became then.” At her startled look, he was bemused himself. “Didn’t you guess? Didn’t you wonder what it was that brought about the change?”

  She gave a head shake so tiny it was almost imperceptible. “I was too busy trying to deny it.”

  “Deny it all you want, but it’s true. I’ll prove it to you if you let me, but I can’t do it if you jump all over me every time I say something dumb.” When she opened her mouth to argue, he put a finger to her lips. “I can learn, Jessica. Talk to me. Reason with me. Explain things to me. I’m not going to turn around and walk away. I’ll listen.”

  Her fingers tightened on the crisp fabric of his shirt just above his belt, and her eyes went rounder behind her glasses. “And then what?” she asked, still without sarcasm. In place of her earlier curiosity, though, was fear. “Will you take what I’ve told you and turn it on me? If you wanted revenge, that would be one way to get it.”

  “Revenge?”

  “You’ve always hated what I stood for.”

  He shook his head slowly, his eyes never once leaving hers. “I thought I hated it, but it was me I hated. That was one of the things I learned a while back. For lots of reasons, some of which became self-perpetuating, I was an unhappy kid. And I’m not saying that all changed overnight. I spent four years in the army. That gave me lots of time to think about lots of things. I was still thinking about them when I got back.” His hands moved lightly just above her waist. “That last time when I saw you I was still pretty unsettled. You remember. You were sixteen.”

  The memory was a weight, bowing her head, and the next thing she knew she felt Carter’s jaw against her crown, and he was saying very softly, “I treated you poorly then, too.”

  “That time was the worst. I was so unsure of myself anyway, and what you said—”

  “Unsure of yourself?” His hands went still. “You weren’t.”

  “I was.”

  “You didn’t look it.”

  “I felt it. It was the second date I’d ever had.” The words began to flow and wouldn’t stop. “I didn’t like the boy, and I didn’t really want to go, but it was so important to me to be like my friends. They dated, so I wanted to date. We were going to a prom at his school, and I had to wear a formal dress. My mother had picked it out in the store, and it looked wonderful on her, but awful on me. I didn’t have her face or her body or her coloring. But I put on the dress and the stockings and the matching shoes, and I let her do my hair and face. Then I stood on the front porch looking at my reflection in the window, trying to pull the dress higher and make it look better … and you came around the corner of the house. You told me that I could pull forever and it wouldn’t do any good, because there was nothing there worth covering. You said—”

  “Don’t, Jessica—”

  “You said that any man worth beans would be able to see that right off, but you told me that I probably didn’t have anything to worry about, because you doubted anyone who would ask me out was worth beans. But that was no problem, either, you told me—”

  “Please—”

  “Because, you said, I was an uptight nobody, and the only thing I’d ever have to offer a man would be money. I could buy someone, you said. Money was power, you said, and then—”

  “Jessica, don’t—”

  “And then you reached into your pocket, pulled out a dollar bill and stuffed it into my dress, and you said that I should try bribing my date and maybe he’d kiss me.”

  She went quiet, slightly appalled that she’d spilled the whole thing and more than a little humiliated even seventeen years after the fact. But she couldn’t have taken back the words if she’d wanted to, and she didn’t have time to consider the damage she’d done before Carter took her face in his hands and turned it up.

  “Did he kiss you?”

  She shook her head as much as his hold would allow.

  “Then I owe you for that, too,” he whispered, and before she could begin to imagine what he had in mind, his mouth touched hers. She tired to pull back, but he held her, brushing his mouth back and forth over her lips until their stiffness eased, then taking them in a light kiss.

  It didn’t last long, but it left her stunned. Her breath came in shallow gasps, and for a minute she couldn’t think. That was the minute when she might have identified what she felt as pleasure, but when her heart began to thud again and her mind started to clear, she felt only disbelief. “Why did you do that?” she whispered, and lowered her eyes when disbelief gave way to embarrassment.

  “I don’t know.” He certainly hadn’t planned it. “I guess I wanted to. It felt right.”

  “You shouldn’t have,” she said, and exerted pressure to lever herself away. He let her go. Immediately she felt the loss of his body heat and drew her blazer closer around her. Mustering shreds of dignity, she pushed her glasses up on her nose and raised her eyes to his. “I think we’d better get going. There’s a lot to cover.”

  She didn’t wait for an answer, but moved off, walking steadily along the path that circled the rear of the house. She kept her head high and her shoulders straight, looking far more confident than she felt. Instinct told her that it was critical to pretend the kiss hadn’t happened. She couldn’t give it credence, couldn’t let on she thought twice about it, or Carter would have a field day. She could just imagine the smug look on his face even now, which was why she didn’t turn. She knew he was following, could hear the crunch of dried leaves under his shoes. No doubt he was thinking about what a lousy kisser she was.

  Because he sure wasn’t. He was an incredible kisser, if those few seconds were any indication of his skill. Not that she’d liked it. She couldn’t possibly like Carter Malloy’s kiss. But she’d been vulnerable at that moment. Her mind had been muddled. She was definitely going to have to get it together unless she wanted to make an utter fool of herself.

  How to get it together, though, was a problem. She was walking through land that she loved and that, a year from then, wouldn’t be hers, and she was being followed by a demon from her past who had materialized in
the here and now as a gorgeous hunk of man. She had to think business, she decided. For all intents and purposes, in her dealings with Carter she was a businesswoman. That was all.

  They walked silently on until the path opened into a clearing. Though the grass was just beginning to green up after the winter’s freeze, the lushness of the spot as it would be in full spring or high summer was lost on neither of them. They had the memories to fill in where reality lay half-dormant.

  Jessica stopped at the meadow’s mouth. When Carter reached her side, she said, “Another grouping of homes should go here. It’s so pretty, and it’s already open. That means fewer trees destroyed. I want to disturb as little of the natural environment as possible.”

  “I understand,” Carter said, and walked on past her into the meadow. He was glad he understood something. He sure didn’t understand why he’d kissed her—or why he’d found it strangely sweet. Unable to analyze it just then, though, he strode along one side of the four-acre oval, stopping several times along the way to look around him from a particular spot. After standing for a time in deep concentration at the far end, he crossed back through the center.

  And all the while, with nothing else to do and no excuse not to, Jessica studied him. Gorgeous hunk of man? Oh, yes. His clothes—heathery blazer, slate-colored slacks, crisp white shirt—were of fine quality and fitted to perfection, but the clothes didn’t make him a gorgeous hunk. What made him that was the body beneath. He was broad shouldered, lean of hip and long limbed, but even then he wouldn’t have been as spectacular if those features hadn’t all worked together. His body flowed. His stride was smooth and confident, the proud set of his head perfectly comfortable on those broad shoulders, his expression male in a dark and mysterious way.

  If he felt her scrutiny, it obviously didn’t affect him at all. But then, she mused, he was probably used to the scrutiny of women. He was the type to turn heads.