Her smile faded. “D-d-did I forget s-something?” she asked haltingly, feeling somewhat alarmed. She so hated disappointing Reverend DeYoung.
Then he broke into a smile, beaming at her like the sun upon Noah’s ark after forty days of rain, and Serena sighed with relief. She hadn’t failed him. No, not this time. She was glad, for she couldn’t bear it when she displeased him.
Hallie observed the exchange uncomfortably. Although she attended church faithfully and tried to do the right thing, she wasn’t altogether sure that she approved of such religious zeal. Especially where her patient was concerned. Hallie studied Marius for a moment.
He was an attractive man in his late thirties, with a halo of fair curls and deep blue eyes. Although he was of only average height, there was something about him that commanded attention, making him seem larger than life. And he had a way about him that seemed to inspire trust in people. Why, just look at the easy way Serena was babbling to him, even going so far as to tug at his sleeve in her excitement. It was a miracle, considering Serena’s apparent distaste for men.
Hallie signed with resignation. So the man was a bit of a zealot. What did she know about that, anyway? Reverend DeYoung was a friend of the Parrishes’ and had been ministering to them for years. Undoubtedly he knew what he was about, for Serena always seemed much calmer after his visits.
Serena abruptly cut into Hallie’s thoughts as she began to hum and then burst out chanting in a loud, singsong voice. “There was a crooked man, who walked a crooked mile—”
Hallie jerked her head to follow Serena’s gaze. She saw Jake freeze in his tracks and stare coldly at his wife.
Rising to her knees, Serena jabbed her finger in his direction, repeating, “There was a crooked man, who walked a crooked mile—Gimpy Jake! Gimpy Jake!”
“Hush, Serena,” chided Hallie, giving Jake an apologetic smile. “You’re being unkind, and I’m sure Reverend DeYoung doesn’t approve of such behavior any more than I do.”
Serena narrowed her eyes, considering Hallie’s words and studying Jake as he paused briefly to shake hands with Marius.
“Reverend DeYoung taught me that lying is a sin,” Serena replied with a crafty half-smile. “And the truth is, my husband is an impotent gimp.”
“Serena!” chorused Hallie, Marius, and Davinia in embarrassed unison. Only Jake remained silent, simply returning his wife’s gaze, his face set in rigid lines.
But Serena ignored them all. She bobbed her head up and down, smirking cruelly. “Not a man—Jake. Couldn’t rise for me, couldn’t be a man. Nothing but a pathetic cripple.”
With that taunt, Hallie had heard enough. Roughly, she jerked Serena to her feet and gave the woman a shake that made her teeth clatter. Pulling her charge close enough to whisper in her ear, Hallie warned, “You will cease this disgraceful behavior now. Do you hear me, Serena?” She administered another sharp shake. “I refuse to tolerate such misconduct, and if you can’t behave like a lady, I’ll be forced to confine you to your room. Do I make myself clear?”
Serena stared at Hallie uncomprehendingly for a second, almost if she wasn’t quite sure what she had done wrong. Then, she nodded slowly.
“Good. I—” But Hallie had lost Serena’s attention again.
With a crow of delight, the woman spied her abandoned doll, which was lying at their feet in a grotesque sprawl. Swooping down, she seized the toy and fiercely hugged it to her breast, acting as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
Hallie glared warningly at Serena for several seconds, but the woman was blithely unaware of her displeasure. Sighing with exasperation, she glanced up at Jake and was relieved to see that he had apparently chosen to ignore the whole incident.
With quiet dignity, he took Davinia’s hand in his and murmured something that made her smile. Then he shook Marius’s hand, once again speaking in a low voice. Marius nodded and clapped Jake on the back jovially. Without further comment, Jake swung around and began to make his way across the lawn, completely ignoring Hallie and Serena.
As Hallie watched him leave, she noted that even with his painfully awkward gait, he somehow managed to look formidable. Everything about Jake Parrish proclaimed him a success, a man to be reckoned with, the Young Midas. But it wasn’t his air of decisiveness or the quiet strength that surrounded him like a warrior’s armor that struck her so forcefully—it was the ruined grace of his movements.
Hallie’s breath caught in her throat as she felt a strange sense of loss. Once upon a time, Jake Parrish must have run with the fluid beauty of a racehorse and danced as lightly as a fallen leaf on an October wind. She could still see vestiges of his once elegant carriage in the ungainly motion of his retreating figure. Yet, though he walked as straight as a general in a victory parade, there was something self-conscious about the proud set of his shoulders that tugged at her heart.
“Davinia, would you …?” Hallie nodded toward Serena.
Davinia smiled with understanding and nodded her assent.
Muttering a hasty excuse to Reverend DeYoung, Hallie rushed after Jake.
“Jake?”
He made no sign of acknowledgment as she moved to his side.
“I’m sorry. I had no idea your wife would behave in such an appalling manner.”
Still, he gave no response to indicate that he had heard her apology.
“Please,” Hallie entreated again, hating the grim look that masked his features. “She didn’t understand what she was saying. I know she didn’t mean it.”
Jake stopped abruptly and stared into her face, his eyes narrowing in a way that made Hallie curl her toes uncomfortably. When he finally answered, his voice was soft. Dangerously soft.
“Good try, Doctor. But we both know Serena understood exactly what she was saying, and she meant every damn word of it.”
Hallie clutched at his arm desperately, wanting nothing more than to find the words that would melt the wall of ice that had frozen up between them. “Davinia and Marius know how Serena can be. I’m sure they took her words for the nonsense they were.”
His gaze slid from hers to stare pointedly at her restraining hand on his arm and then back up into her eyes. With his face utterly devoid of emotion, he turned away.
Wordlessly she dropped her hand to her side.
“Jake.”
He paused, but didn’t look back.
“I promise it won’t happen again,” she whispered brokenly, sensing the depth of his anger and humiliation, yet at a loss as to how to help him.
At that he turned, his face darkly sardonic. He even smiled, but in an awful, humorless way.
“You can be sure as hell of that, Doctor Gardiner,” he snapped in an uncompromising tone. “I intend to see that it never happens again!”
It would never happen again, he vowed to himself, standing motionless in the shadowy rose garden bower. Never again would she make her vile accusations. Never again would she remind him of his failure as a man.
He drew in a hissing breath as the disturbing scene from the previous afternoon flashed through his mind. For the first time since her suicide attempt, Serena had shown signs of rousing from her witless state. True, her lucidity had lasted only a few moments, but in that brief instant she had remembered the very things he’d prayed she would forget.
Like a vicious, half-witted child, she had taunted him with those memories—memories damaging enough to strip away his proud facade and expose the vile weakness he had fought so hard to conceal, memories that could ruin his reputation as a community leader.
He clenched his hands into fists, digging his fingernails painfully into his palms. To his shame, she had remembered every depraved detail of their sexual exploits, laughing as she reminded him of his humiliating inability to satisfy his carnal urges in the conventional manner.
Uttering a tortured moan, he dug his nails deeper. But Ser
ena had known how to take care of his special needs. She had been talented in ways that would have shocked polite society to its shallow core. Just thinking of the way she had pleasured him made him harden with rampant lust.
Sobbing raggedly, he unclenched his fists and snaked his hand down to touch the source of his shame. The ache was more than he could bear.
God help him! How he hated his uncontrollable urges. Loathed them with a vehemence that burned like a fever in his soul. They clouded his mind and possessed his body, driving him to perform acts of unspeakable degradation.
Tears of remorse rolled down his cheeks as he succumbed to the carnal urging of his flesh. As much as he detested himself for his pathetic actions, he was powerless to cease them.
Just as he tottered on the brink of release, he heard Serena approach. In a whisper of fine silk, she appeared, the hem of her diaphanous nightgown trailing behind her like a bridal veil. She was carrying her ugly doll, and she was humming in that strange, toneless way he’d always found so unnerving.
His hand stilled. So he had been right—she was regaining her senses. Just the fact that she had remembered to meet him this morning bore out his suspicions. It also meant she had become a danger to him.
It was time to silence Serena once and for all.
Smiling with a thrill greater than any he’d ever experienced between a woman’s thighs, he yanked his hand out of his trousers.
It was all Serena’s fault, his disgraceful lapse of control. It was the bitch’s inflammatory reminders of his weakness that had driven him to these shameful new depths.
Mentally cursing the woman before him, he stepped out of the concealing shadows of the bower. It would never happen again.
Forcing a welcoming smile to his lips, he softly called her name.
She started at the sound of his voice, and when she whirled around to face him, her features were rigid with wariness. To his sardonic glee, she was trembling.
Yet despite her apparent apprehension, she had worn the glove. That well-worn glove, made of red silk and adorned with glittering mock-diamond buttons, was proof positive that she remembered.
He nodded once.
She relaxed visibly and spared him a tiny smile.
Slowly he held out his arms, his deceptively tender gaze coaxing her into the deadly trap of his embrace.
Like a lamb to the slaughter, she followed his lead.
Hallie had always loved this time of day best, when the rising sun peeked into her windows and beckoned her to enjoy its peace, half promising and half teasing her with the unhatched secrets of the coming day.
Like a cat on sun-warmed pavement, she stretched, thoroughly enjoying the luxury of the silence. Serena was an early riser, and it was seldom that she allowed her companion a few private moments before beginning her barrage of ceaseless demands.
Hallie frowned to herself. Where was Serena, anyway? She reached for her watch pin and peered at the time. Five-forty. Her charge had usually awakened her by now.
Shrugging one shoulder, she returned her watch to the bedside table. It was little wonder that Serena was late in rising this morning; she had been unusually restless the night before.
Restless? Hallie snickered at her own understatement. “Combative” would be a more accurate description of Serena’s behavior. Not only had she refused to eat her supper and take a bath, she’d thrown a terrible temper tantrum when Hallie had tried to put her to bed. It had been a long night for everyone in the house. After all, when Serena didn’t sleep, nobody slept.
Hallie flopped back down against the mattress and pulled the blankets up over her head to shut out the light. Well, it was fine with her if her patient wanted to be a lazybones. She buried her face in her pillow and closed her eyes. She could certainly use an hour or two of extra sleep herself.
Yet, for all her exhaustion, Hallie couldn’t fall asleep again. Her patient’s hysterical behavior the night before had left her with an uneasy feeling. She had never known Serena to throw a tantrum without reason … as silly or slight as those reasons might be, and Serena had certainly never been shy about voicing her complaints.
Until last night. The woman had been positively taciturn when questioned about her discontent. And try as she might, Hallie had been unable to figure out what had provoked Serena’s violent outburst.
Wide awake now, Hallie shoved the covers away from her face and squinted into the blinding morning light. She replayed the previous day’s events over and over again in her mind, but to no avail. Aside from the disconcerting scene in the garden, the day had passed pleasantly enough. There had even been moments during the afternoon when Serena had appeared rational and had conversed in a coherent manner. To Hallie’s satisfaction, her patient had been experiencing more and more such episodes of lucidity lately.
No. There was absolutely no explanation for Serena’s hysteria. And as a doctor Hallie had learned to be wary of anything that couldn’t be explained away by science or logic.
With that troubling thought in mind, she propped herself up on her elbows and listened for sounds of stirring on the other side of the connecting door.
There was only silence.
Hallie sighed. Perhaps she should check on Serena … just to make sure she was all right. Not that anything could possibly be wrong, she added to herself hastily, sliding from her bed.
After pulling a worn yellow-print wrapper over her voluminous nightgown, she crept to the door. Carefully, she eased it open, a frown creasing her forehead as the hinges made a low squeal of protest. The last thing she wanted was to disturb her patient’s slumber.
As covertly as a child intent on catching Santa stuffing her stocking on Christmas Eve, she slipped through the door. Only a faint shaft of pale morning light spilled around the edges of the drapes, forcing her to blink several times to adjust her eyes to the semidarkness of the room.
After several moments her gaze found the bed, and she cautiously tiptoed toward her patient. As she came to a stop next to the bed, she narrowed her eyes slightly, trying to make out the woman’s tiny form beneath the enormous mound of blankets.
Not a skein of hair nor an inch of frilly gown spilled from the warm-looking cocoon. But that didn’t surprise Hallie, for the night had been cold and Serena so hated the damp chill of the San Francisco fog that it had become her habit to sleep tightly curled beneath her covers. Hallie paused to draw a deep breath. Then she carefully lifted the edge of the blankets.
The bed was empty.
“Serena?” Hallie whispered, ripping back the blankets to confirm her fears. The woman was truly gone.
She called Serena again, this time more insistently, as she went to check the necessary room.
No one was there.
Growing breathless with alarm, her heart drumming with hectic percussion, she tried the bedroom door.
It was still locked, just like it had been the night before. Her hand flew to her throat, searching for the narrow length of red ribbon that held the key to the lock; desperately hoping, but not really expecting to find it still in place.
It was gone.
Double damn! Serena had somehow managed to steal the key while her keeper slept and had escaped, slyly locking the door behind her. The jailer was now the prisoner.
With fear blossoming into a full-blown case of panic, Hallie hurled herself against the door in a frenzy, shouting for help. Over and over again she struck, flesh against wood, until the pain from the repeated impact began to fade into numbness. The din in the small room was deafening, and she prayed the noise would be loud enough to bring somebody with the liberating key.
Just when Hallie was sure she would collapse from exhaustion, she heard a rattling at the lock.
“Lawdy! Ain’t neva heard such a ruckus in all my born days!” It was Mammy Celine braced in the hall, staring at Hallie with round shoe-button eyes.
&n
bsp; Hallie grasped the woman’s arm with urgency. “Celine! Have you seen Serena!”
“Ain’t seen no one, ’cepts you.” She frowned fiercely as the meaning of Hallie’s words sank in. “You be tellin’ me Miz Parrish be lost?”
“Not lost. I’m sure she hasn’t gone far.”
Celine nodded. “Miz Parrish niwer leaves the house ’fore she drunk her mornin’ chocolate. I ’member when—”
But Hallie didn’t stop to listen. She was already halfway down the hall, her bare feet flapping against the wooden floor as she ran toward the stairs.
“Celine!” she shouted over her shoulder. “You search the house. I’ll look outside.” She didn’t wait for a reply but ran through the maze of hallways, bounding down the back stairs and out the servants’ door. She stopped just outside, panting. Clutching at the stitch in her side, she caught her breath in ragged heaves, remaining motionless until the burning in her lungs had subsided.
Still struggling for air, Hallie resumed her search. Calling Serena’s name, she anxiously scanned the lawn. But her only reply was the whisper of the eucalyptus trees as they awakened to the caress of an early-morning breeze.
“Serena!” With a sickening rush of horror wrenching at her belly, an awful possibility entered Hallie’s mind: what if Serena had somehow managed to escape the grounds and was now wandering the streets in her filmy nightclothes? Hallie shuddered convulsively. The consequences would be unthinkable.
“Serena!” she screamed, skirting the wall-like hedges of the rose garden. In her haste, she slipped on the dewy grass and tumbled heavily to the ground. She quickly bounded to her feet, barely noticing the dampness soaking her robe or the grass stains marring her white gown. As she entered beneath the flowering arch of the garden, she stopped short, sobbing her relief.
“Oh, Jake!” she expelled, overjoyed to see the figure crouching in front of the same bower where she had sat with Davinia. Except for a slight tensing of his broad shoulders, he didn’t move at the sound of her voice.
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