“I don’t understand, Holly,” he said in a quiet, controlled voice. “Why did you feel you needed to get away from me?”
It was now or never. The pain in his voice was like a double-edged razor, slashing at her heart in both directions with every word he uttered.
“Let’s... let’s go for a walk,” she said impulsively, as the dark, drab walls of the small entry closed in around them. She took a tentative step forward, and when he didn’t move, she said, “Please, Oliver, I need some air.”
She brushed past him, and half-ran through the door and out into the cool January air like a prisoner escaping his guard, waiting to get shot in the back.
He followed quietly, glancing at her frequently and making a heroic effort to be patient with her.
“Oliver,” she said, slowing and stopping on the sidewalk in front of the building. She turned to him. “I don’t know how to say or do this tactfully, or without hurting you, so I...”
She couldn’t do it. She loved him too much.
She had to do it. She loved him too much not to.
“I... I’ll just say it straight out. I can’t see you anymore.”
“Why?” he asked quickly, as if it were the question he had prepared no matter what she’d said.
“We’re too different. We want different things. And I feel as if you’re smothering me.”
“Smothering you?”
“Yes. I need time and space,” she said, speaking directly to the buttons on his shirt. “I work all day, and when I come home I need space to think, time to be alone and recollect myself, put myself back together. I love what I do, but you have no idea what a drain it is on me. I give away little pieces of me all day, and then I come home and give more of myself to you and... and you deserve that, someone who can give you everything you want and need. But I get so tapped out, there just doesn’t seem to be anything left of me, for me.”
She took a peek at his face, and it was more than she could stand. She turned away and took several steps before his words stopped her.
“I don’t mean to be dense, but just so I understand, are you choosing your job over our love?”
“Do you really think it’s love, Oliver?” she asked, her eyes closed tightly.
“Yes.”
She went on as if she hadn’t heard him.
“I did some thinking about that, too, while I was gone. I mean, how do people know if they’re in love or in serious lust? I wanted to go to bed with you the first time I saw you. Before I knew anything about you. What if all that’s between us is just great sex?”
He grabbed her suddenly and spun her around so fast, her thoughts spun first in one direction, then in another.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his dark eyes nearly black with high emotions. He didn’t mean to, but he was trembling so badly, he shook her. “Why are you doing this? What’s happened?”
“Nothing’s happened. Except that I suddenly felt lost, as if I’d wandered off the path I’d taken with my life and I couldn’t find my way back. Then I realized that it was you. You were taking me in this new direction and... and...” She glanced up at his face. “Oh gawd, Oliver, I can’t do this,” she cried, tears spilling from her eyes as she lowered her head to his chest. “I can’t. I’m selfish. I love you and I can’t do this.”
Now he was off the path, and he hadn’t been too sure where it was leading him in the first place.
“Do what? What can’t you do?”
“I can’t send you away. I can’t keep hurting you this way,” she said, sobbing into the front of his ski jacket. “I’m sorry about all those people. I’m sorry about your family. I’m sorry I’m so selfish, but I can’t do this. I love you. I can’t even imagine what my life would be like without you. I... I don’t want to imagine it. Oh, Oliver, I’m so, so sorry.”
“Holly, honey,” he stammered, beside himself with her tears and strange words. “You don’t have to send me away. And you don’t have to be sorry you love me. What is this?”
“I do. I do. I can’t. But I should.”
He pulled her away from him, realizing she was hysterical. He was tempted to slap her, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead he shook her and shouted in her face.
“Holly! Stop this! Stop it now and tell me what’s happened.”
Her fists came up defensively, fearfully, between them. She blinked several times as she stared at him without seeing him.
“Oh, Oliver,” she said, opening her hands to press the palms to his chest, as if to make sure he was really there, still there after all the horrible things she’d said to him. “Oliver, I didn’t know what to do. I thought this was right but... it isn’t. I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I don’t want to give you up either.”
“You don’t have to,” he said emphatically. He was afraid to let go of her, but the tears on her cheeks were too compelling. He gently rubbed at them with the soft pad of his thumb. “Where is all this coming from?”
“Your aunt,” she said, regretting the two words that would seal the woman’s fate. She didn’t like her, but she didn’t wish her ill either. Furthermore, she knew that what she was about to say would hurt Oliver as well. “It was her idea.”
“Elizabeth?”
She nodded. “I know you don’t have much to do with the grants from the foundation, that you leave things pretty much to your aunt and the trustees. But you should know that both the clinic and St. Augustine’s operate off large grants from the Carey Foundation.”
“I know that,” he said, taking his turn to nod, even though he was still puzzled.
“You knew?”
“Sure. Phil Rosenthal told me about St. Augustine’s the night of the costume party. And, of course, I checked on the clinic before I made the personal donation before Christmas. What made you think I didn’t know about the grants?”
“I asked you. The night we made love, the night you were angry. I asked if you gave the money to the clinic because of me, and you said I was the one who’d drawn your attention to it.”
“And you were. I wouldn’t have checked on the grants otherwise.”
“But the review notice came the same day as your donation. I couldn’t imagine that you’d be giving us money and trying to take it away at the same time.”
“I wasn’t. I was just making a contribution. Elizabeth initiated the review.”
“Well, that’s what I thought. I knew she didn’t like me much, and I was afraid she’d refuse to renew it if she knew I was connected with the clinic, and then when Jo—”
“But Elizabeth did know you were connected with the clinic,” he said, cutting off the end of her sentence. “She came to me and asked if I knew about it, and when I said I did, she suggested a fifteen percent increase in the grant.”
“She did?”
“Yes. And she told me that she’d suggested the review to the committee and that it was very clear to everyone that the clinic needed more funding.”
“She did?”
“Yes. I was there when she called her secretary and told her to start the paperwork for the new grant and to schedule a hearing to present it the clinic and to tell you and your friend Joan Ellerbey in person how pleased they were with your efforts.”
“Really? When was this?”
He shrugged and tried to think of the exact date.
“I don’t remember. Sometime after Christmas. She felt awful that she hadn’t connected your name to the clinic until then and wondered if you’d been offended that she hadn’t.”
“But...” She stopped, glancing up to the windows of her apartment and then down the street as new questions began to burn in her brain.
“But what?”
“Does Johanna have any connection with the Carey Foundation?”
“Johanna? No. What’s she got to do with this?”
“I don’t know. She’s been coming to see me. To warn me about your aunt.”
“She’s been coming here?” His cousin was strictly an uptow
n girl; imagining her in Oakland was almost impossible for him. “Are you telling me that all this was Johanna’s idea? She told you to dump me?”
“Yes,” she said slowly. “But I thought it was coming from your aunt.”
Briefly, she told him everything Johanna had said and done in her presence since the Christmas party at his home, including their conversation in the powder room that night.
“I don’t understand,” he said, shaking his head. “Why would she want to do this?” He was thoughtful for a moment. “She was always kind of a mean kid, I know. She used to come home from school and con me into taking her someplace, and then she’d steal things, break stuff, pick fights with guys that I’d have to finish for her. Then she’d invariably blame everything on me so she wouldn’t get into trouble and get shipped back to school early or off to some summer camp.” He shrugged. “And I’d never bother to deny it, because no one would have believed me anyway, with my record, and I... I always felt sort of sorry for her, in a way. I mean, I think I understood that she had her problems, too, in those days.”
“So, this was just one of Johanna’s pranks?”
“Pretty sick for a prank, don’t you think?” he asked. “I think it’s really sick. Disturbed even.”
She glanced up at her apartment windows again, remembering the woman she’d left up there. Sweet, gentle, friendly, caring Johanna.
Oliver followed her gaze to the windows.
“Is she up there now? Is she waiting for you to come back?”
He was halfway to the door before she could stop him.
“No. She’s gone. She was here when I got home. She came to warn me that you knew I’d been lying about going to L.A. and that you were on your way over here. I told her to go out the back way once I got you out of the building and to go home. I’m sure she did. She was terrified that you’d catch her here.” She hesitated. “Oliver, she wanted me to tell you the whole story. She wanted me to tell you what your aunt was planning. Are you sure it was Johanna playing the tricks and not your aunt?”
“I’m sure,” he said. “People like you are easy targets for people like her. She could read you like a book. She knew you’d be too proud to tell me at first, that you’d want to fight your own battle with my aunt rather than ask me to intervene for you. If she knew about Carolann and how you felt about Marie, she’d also know the high value you give to family. She knew you’d never tell me.”
“But why? Why the elaborate plan? Why would she want to hurt us so much?”
“Who knows? I never could guess what went on in her head.”
“What do you suppose’ll happen when she finds out it didn’t work this time? What’ll she do when she finds out I couldn’t go through with it?”
“We’re not waiting to find out what she’s going to do,” he said, taking hold of her shoulders. “I want you to go back upstairs, lock your door, and try to get some sleep before you walk out in the middle of traffic and get yourself killed. You look awful, sweetheart.”
“That’s what Johanna said.” Her smile was a weak one. “What are you going to do?”
“Catch up with her and get to the bottom of all this,” he said. He pushed a few wayward hairs out of her face with gentle fingers. “Then I’ll kill her for putting you through this.”
“Bring her back and I’ll kill her myself,” she said, knowing they were speaking in the abstract. She walked him to his car and returned his quick kiss, then watched as he let a car pass by before moving around to the driver’s side.
“Oliver?”
He looked over the top of the car at her.
“Can you forgive me? For what I just put you through? I let her influence me. I know... that I hurt you. I’m as much to blame as she is for that.”
He smiled, and she saw the forgiveness in his eyes, even as he said, “I’m not sure yet. You and I are going to have a really long discussion later, about trust and being too damned independent. We’ll see how repentant you are then.”
She grinned her never-fail grin. “I was raised with Catholics, remember? I have penance down to a fine art.”
He laughed and declared that he’d be doing the judging in this case. He took a few seconds to enjoy the sound of her laughter, then got in his car and drove away. She watched him take the corner at the end of the block and vanish, then turned back toward her apartment building.
Twelve
THIS TIME SHE TOOK THE stairs two at a time. She felt jet propelled. Life was good. She’d just won the lottery, and the grand prize was happily ever after. Yes, Holly, there is a Santa Claus, she decided, feeling giddy and whimsical as she topped the stairs and crossed to her apartment door. A Santa Claus, an Easter Bunny, a tooth fairy, and a...
...boogeyman. She stopped short just inside the door, her blood running hot and then cold and then hot again.
“Johanna,” she said, forcing a smile to her lips as she struggled to keep her eyes off the small, nasty-looking gun in the woman’s hand. She recognized the silencer on it from television.
In the split second it had taken her to identify the deadly weapon, she’d noticed for the first time that Johanna’s hands were small with long, elegant fingers. The observation was somehow just as unsettling as finding her still in the apartment and holding a gun.
“Hi. I’m glad you’re still here,” she said, hoping her voice sounded as calm and unperturbed as Johanna looked. She needed time to think, and stepping behind an illusion of normalcy was her only chance. “I was afraid you’d already left.”
“Were you?” One carefully plucked brow lifted in mild surprise.
“Uh-huh. I’m afraid I was rude earlier, and I wanted a chance to apologize—and to thank you for all your help.”
“You were rude,” she agreed passively. “You snapped at me.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” she said, gauging the distance between them, wondering if she could overpower her—or would it be wiser to turn and make a run for it through the open door behind her? “I was tired and upset, but that’s no excuse for biting your head off.”
“I forgive you,” she said, her smile charming and friendly.
“Thanks. Would you like that coffee now? Or tea? We can sit and talk.”
She took a step toward the kitchen, but Johanna stopped her with her words.
“Did you tell him?”
Holly glanced from Johanna to the window with the sudden realization that she had been watching.
“Of course I did. You watched. You saw how hurt and angry he was, didn’t you?”
A frown of confusion furrowed her pretty face. Her gaze darted to the window, hit the floor, then bounced back to Holly.
“I saw that, but then you started to cry and he wasn’t angry anymore. What else did you tell him?”
“I couldn’t help crying, it wasn’t easy for me,” she said, hoping she was showing enough shame and pain in her eyes to be convincing. “And... and I didn’t think Oliver would believe me if I was coldhearted and brutal about it. So when I started to cry, it seemed only natural to try to convince him that we could still be friends if he wanted, but that was all I could give him. And... and you could see he wasn’t real keen on that, so then we talked some more. I told him he was suffocating me and that I had a plan for my life that...” serendipitously, tears came to her eyes with the recollection, “...that didn’t involve him.”
“And that convinced him?” Johanna didn’t look wholly convinced herself.
“Well, I said other things; I can’t remember all of it,” she said, wiping the tears from her eyes. “But, yes, I think in the end, he could see that it was over for us.”
“He wasn’t angry when he left.”
“No. Bewildered and trying to hang on to his pride, but not angry,” she said, sounding a little testy herself. “Not yet, anyway. I think it happened so suddenly that it shocked him. The angry part won’t hit him till later. I need a drink. You want one?”
Johanna allowed her to walk into the kitchen, which amaz
ed Holly. She was frightened and horrified, but not yet terrified to the point of nonthinking. Instantly she started looking for a weapon of her own.
“What if he comes back?” she heard her ask. “What will you do then?”
“I’ll send him away. I don’t need the kind of trouble your mother can give me.”
“What about after you have the grant? Will you take him back?”
Quietly opening and closing drawers and cupboards, all she’d been able to come up with were knives—not much use against a gun unless she could get close enough.
“Did you want a drink?”
“No. What about after you get the grant? Will you take him back?”
She sloshed red wine into a glass and hurriedly returned to the living room with it—the biggest knife in her arsenal tucked carefully into the back of her jeans.
“Why would he want to come back?” she asked morosely, leaning against a wall. “He’s a proud man. He won’t come back to where he’s not wanted. Not when he can have any woman he wants, who wants him in return.”
Johanna seemed to be thinking this over, then she smiled and agreed, “Like me, for instance?”
“You?”
“Don’t look so surprised, Holly.” There was a sharp edge to her voice, even though her facial expression remained sweet and angelic. “Oliver and I were always meant to be together. As a matter of fact, that’s why my mother had to die, my real mother. She had to die so that Daddy could marry Elizabeth and then I could be with Oliver, forever.”
“I... I didn’t know Elizabeth wasn’t your birth mother.”
“Yes you did. I told you we were related only by marriage, that I was as much a candidate for Oliver’s affections as anyone else.”
Holly shook her head. She could vaguely recall the words now, but she hadn’t made the connection at the time.
“And Elizabeth was never any kind of mother to me,” she went on. “She made Daddy send me away to school. And if I got into any kind of trouble at all when I came home, she made him send me away again. To my aunt Corrinne’s in Southampton or to visit my mother’s sister, Jessica, in South Carolina. She never wanted me around. She was always afraid that Oliver would fall in love with me and make his father unhappy.”
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