True Colors

by Diana Palmer

  Myrna looked at her levelly. "Any suggestions?"

  "I've got one last card to play, if I have to," she replied. "He's been so depressed lately that he doesn't seem like himself."

  "I know. I'm grasping at straws, I suppose, but I wish he could manage more than monosyllables when he talks to me," the older woman said wistfully. "He hasn't backed down an inch. I think sometimes that he hates me for what I've done."

  "He'll get over it," Meredith said. "Give him time. He's had too many shocks in the past few weeksmost of them my fault." She studied her feet. "I came here for vengeance. That's not going to sit well with my board of directors when that comes out. And it will, if I know my brother-in-law," she added. "He wants me out of the corporation."

  "Are you going to let him do that to you?" Myrna asked.

  Meredith smiled. "No. I'm on to him. He doesn't know it yet, but I'm one step behind him all the way. He isn't going to take the reins out of my hands until I give them up. I'm not sure I want to do that, just yet. My hold on Harden Properties may be the only thing that keeps Cy going right now. Every time I mention the takeover, he perks up."

  "Yes, but if Cy doesn't start improving, I'm afraid even that may not be enough to keep him from backsliding."

  Privately, Meredith agreed. Only his mother's obvious unrest stopped her from voicing the rest of her fears. Cy Harden wasn't the kind of man who would be able to take having a woman wrest his company out of his hands. She couldn't back away from her own responsibilities, but how was it going to affect her relationship with Cy if she had to use control of Harden Properties to thwart Don? She and McGee had already been burning up the telephone lines over the proxies, without Don's knowledge. She was getting a majority of the stock. But using it was going to be tricky.

  The exercises were grueling. Cy was sweating as he completed the round of them and staring daggers at Mr. Smith.

  "Go ahead, cuss," Smith said imperturbably. "I know it's uncomfortable, and I know you aren't seeing the results you want to just yet. I'd cuss, too, in your place."

  Cy wiped his forehead and pushed back his sweaty hair. "My God, I don't know why I'm letting you put me through this," he said. "Take Meredith back to Chicago and let's forget the whole thing. She can go back to the life she had before."

  "No, she can't," the older man told him bluntly. "You didn't see her the night they brought you in here, but I did. Taking her away from you now would be no less painful than cutting off one of her arms. Besides that, she wouldn't go. She's no quitter."

  "Meaning that I am?" came the mocking challenge.

  "I don't think you're a quitter," Smith disagreed. "You're just human."

  Cy sank back onto the exercise table with a heavy sigh. He was so tired. Walking was easier by the day, but it took so much work for so little profit. Damn it, he thought furiously, why had this happened to him, now of all times?

  Then he got up without conscious thought or much effort, moving easily for the first time. But Mr. Smith was watching, and he grinned.

  "Do that again," he told Cy abruptly.

  "What?"

  "That," Mr. Smith said, and he actually smiled. "Look. You're walking without a limp, without even shuffling."

  Cy held his breath. He walked around the room, amazed at his own fluidity. It didn't hurt. He didn't flinch. He chuckled softly, his dark eyes gleaming as they met Mr. Smith's.

  "That's more like it!" he said.

  He stood straight, bending at the knee and coming back up again; his back was a little less flexible than before, but the movement was comfortable now. He sighed his relief. All that work hadn't been for nothing after all!

  "You'll do," Smith said with certainty. "Suppose we drift over to the hospital and see the therapist. We're overdue, and it would get you out of the house for a while."

  "Hand me the telephone," Cy said, grinning.

  "Here you go. If you don't mind, I think I'll pass along the news. There are two pretty hang-dog looking women downstairs."

  Cy hesitated. But after a minute, he nodded, and Smith went out of the room.

  Meredith made Smith repeat it twice before she really comprehended it, and Myrna cried like a baby. Cy was going to be all right, she was sure of it now. He might hate both of them, but he was definitely on the mend.

  When the women got to the room, he was just hanging up the telephone.

  "I'm going to see Bryner while I'm at the hospital," he told them. "He thinks I'm making a remarkable recovery," he added smugly.

  Meredith didn't mention how much nagging it had taken, from all of them. She grinned. "Great! Now we can slug it out properly for control of your company."

  He smiled through his fatigue. "I'll win," he said with cool certainty.

  "No, you won't," she returned, feeling newborn, full of life. "Not without those proxies."

  He smiled slowly. "We'll have plenty of time to discuss that little problem once I'm back at work."

  "Discussion won't help," she said confidently.

  "That depends on the kind of discussion we have," he murmured, and the look in his dark eyes made her heart beat faster,

  "Out, while he showers," Mr. Smith said, holding the door open. "We don't want to keep the doctor waiting."

  "Whose side are you on?" Meredith muttered as she walked past him.

  "Yours. His. It's all the same," he chuckled.

  Meredith didn't dare look at Cy, but she heard soft laughter behind her as the door closed.

  They kept Cy for hours, running tests. He was literally cursing when they were through. But the result was worth the irritation, he supposed, because he and Mr. Smith learned that his back was healing beautifully and there was no nerve or muscle damage that wouldn't eventually repair itself. They were given some additional physiotherapy and exercises to do.

  Cy became enthusiastic. No longer dogged by the fear of permanent disability, he worked on his therapy in a methodical way. He knew he had to be whole again before he could act on his plan to keep Meredith and his son with him. Saving the company was almost an afterthought now, because he knew exactly what he wanted. All he had to do was convince Meredith that she wanted it, too. He couldn't afford to let her confuse love with pity. He wanted to be back on his feet completely, so that he could gauge the exact extent of her feelings for him.

  Cy no longer had any doubt about his own feelings. Meredith made the color come back into his drab world. He could look at her and feel his blood quicken, his heart lighten. He needed her, with a hunger that was more than just physical. The problem was how to undo all the damage he'd done in the past, how to convince her that he was no longer uncertain or unwilling about their relationship. To accomplish that, he was going to have to turn up the heat, and fast.

  "You do realize that Dr. Bryner doesn't mean you're going to start skateboarding tomorrow?" Meredith asked hesitantly one morning as Cy was hard at work on exercises to strengthen his back muscles.

  "I know it. If it takes "time, it take times," he said.

  "Excuse me, but are you the same man who was foaming at the mouth to double up on his exercises only four days ago?"

  He chuckled softly, grimacing a little with movement, because he was sore and his muscles were beginning to wake up with a vengeance. "That was before I knew what I had to look forward to," he mused. His dark eyes slid up and down her body in an elegant black silk pantsuit. "Why don't you take off those sexy things and lie down with me?" He patted the thick exercise mat on the bedroom floor beside him.

  "Not yet," she murmured. "And stop saying things like that. What if Blake or your mother walked in?"

  "I don't give a damn what my mother thinks. And Blake is in school."

  She went close to him and reached down to touch his hand. "Revenge is a cold thing," she said. "It's empty and unsatisfying, and it eats you up with guilt eventually. I could write volumes on that subject."

  His fingers wrapped around hers and clasped them warmly. "Does that mean I can have my proxies back?" he
asked with a slow grin.

  "It does not!" she replied. "If you want them, get up and fight for them."

  "At my earliest convenience." He moved his shoulders and grimaced.

  "Need something for muscle spasms?"

  He shook his head. "It's soreness more than that. The nerves are awake, and they want me to know they're still functioning."

  "Is that it?" she asked, smiling.

  His fingers slid in between hers with a sensual pressure. "Come here," he said huskily.

  She sat down beside him and let him pull her down to him. His free hand speared into her soft blond hair, savoring its silkiness.

  "I like it loose," he said quietly.

  "I didn't have time to put it up this morning," she said, feeling faintly defensive.

  "Don't, while you're here," he replied. "I like the way it feels in my hands."

  "Cy"

  "Shhhh." His hand, which slid to the nape of her neck, brought her mouth down to his. Meredith's breath caught at the delicious hard warmth of his mouth, and she closed her eyes and gave in to it.

  He kissed her gently, for a long time. He didn't increase the pressure or yield to the passion that usually fused them together seconds after they touched. His fingers brushed lazily against her throat, her cheeks, and the corner of her mouth while he savored the sweetness of her parted lips.

  When he let her go, she seemed dazed. Her gray eyes were alive, burning, and her mouth was gently swollen.

  "The next time we make love," he whispered, "it's going to be like nothing we've ever experienced. It's going to be just like that kiss, soft and slow and so tender that you're going to cry in my arms when I've had you."

  She trembled. The words aroused her, just as the look in his dark eyes did. He'd never been tender with her. What they experienced together had always been explosive and urgent and almost too passionate. But thisthis was something totally out of her experience.

  She reached down and touched his mouth with just her fingertips. "I don't understand," she whispered, dazed.

  "Don't you, little one?" He brought her palm to his mouth and kissed it with slow, lazy hunger.

  He had her in his spell all over again. She looked at him and loved him. Even if she left Billings, the feeling wouldn't stop. She was going to spend the rest of her life loving him, and it would never be enough. All he had to offer was a blazing affair

  "No." She pulled away and stood up, looking and feeling threatened. "No! I'll be damned if I'll let you do this to me again!"

  He scowled. She actually looked frightened. "Meredith," he said, "it's not what you think."

  "Isn't it?" She laughed bitterly, pushing back her disheveled hair. "You want me. You can't get enough of me. I'm some sort of sexual zombie when I get around you, I don't even have enough pride to say no to you."

  "You don't understand," he began, desperate to make her understand that he wasn't trying to entice her into bed with him for the sake of a little casual sex.

  "Oh, yes, I do," she said shortly. "I have to help get lunch. I'll see you later."

  "Meredith!"

  But she wouldn't answer him. She went out of the room as if her shirt were on fire and didn't come back for the rest of the day, not even when he went to look for her. She locked herself in his study and wouldn't answer the door.

  She did have work to do, she told herself. That was no lie. She had mail piled up, and that had to be dealt with even if she could pretend that she was on some indefinite vacation.

  But she was preoccupied. Even Blake noticed. Yet it was Myrna who cornered her in the dining room the next morning while they were waiting for Mrs. Dougherty to finish fixing breakfast.

  They were sharing a pot of coffee. Mr. Smith and Blake were having their breakfast with Cy.

  "It's a man's world in there, I guess," Myrna said with a rueful sigh. "Not that I expect Cy actually to speak to me, but I didn't think he'd shut you out as well."

  "He hasn't," Meredith said flatly. "I've shut myself out. I won't be used anymore."

  Myrna's eyebrows arched. "What?"

  "He wants me," she said, shrugging. "I'm helping him save himself from me."

  "So that's why he's so explosive lately," Myrna said, and smiled. "Poor Cy."

  "Poor me," Meredith corrected. "I'm not going to be your son's plaything between takeovers and board meetings. I'm not a flighty waitress anymore."

  "No, you aren't. You're a very capable young executive with independence and wealth on your side." She put down her coffee cup. "But it's a lonely life, Meredith. And an empty one."

  "It beats chasing rainbows," she replied. "I've been living in a fool's paradise, enjoying being lazy, spending time with my son, watching Cy recover. I was so relieved that he wasn't going to die. But now he's on the way up again, and he doesn't need me. He did," she added quietly, "just for a little while."

  "He still does," Myrna replied. "I may be banished, but I'm not blind. He doesn't look at you the way he used to. Something's different. Something's changed."

  "It's just because he's been helpless."

  "No." Myrna lifted her cup to her lips. "He looks at you," she mused reminiscently, "the way I used to look at Garson Hathaway."

  Meredith raised her eyebrows to ask a silent question.

  Myrna smiled and nodded. "The man I really loved. He was thirteen years older than I was, but the age difference never mattered. We fell in love, despite all the odds" She grimaced. "About the time I got involved with Garson, my mother was going with a hardware merchant. Hetold her that I was seeing an Indian, and she went wild. She actually locked me in my room." Her eyes had a sad, faraway look as she remembered. "Garson had asked Frank to come around and make sure I was all right. My mother and her sister had a fit over Frank. He was well-to-do even then, and they pushed me at him.

  "I looked at my mother and saw what I could become, without money. I panicked. I started seeing Frank, and I never spoke or wrote to Garson again. When Frank seemed to be losing interest, I let him think he was seducing me. Garson went off to Vietnam hating me. He was killed two weeks later. I was pregnant by then. Frank married me. I never saw my mother again. I couldn't bear anyone to know who or what she was. I spent the rest of my married life devoting myself completely to my son and trying to be a society woman and all that it implied." She put her face in her hands. "Meredith, my whole life is a lie. I wanted respectability more than I wanted food in my stomach. Frank gave me wealth and power, but his behavior disgraced me. I thought that if Cy married well, I could live down the way Frank had humiliated me, that I could cement my place in society." She looked up. "But respectability isn't something you can borrow or buy. You have to earn it."

  "Don't you think you have, in all these years?" Meredith asked. "I've learned a lot about you since I've been here. You sit on half a dozen charitable committees, you donate time to the hospital and the nursing home, you work with the literacy action programyou're a doer, not a figurehead. For heaven's sake, what does it matter who your parents were, or whether or not you were married when you got pregnant? You go to church, just as I do. Can't you believe that God understands how human nature can twist us into making wrong decisions for all the right reasons? He made us human. But you can't accept that you are, can you?"

  "I think I'm learning to," the older woman said. She smiled at Meredith. "Because of you. You've made me look at myself. Truth is painful, but it's cleansing. I feel as if I've let go of my shackles."

  "I'm glad of that. I was sorry about what I'd done, when you fainted at the board meeting," Meredith said. "If anything terrible had happened to you, I couldn't have lived with it. I was so bitter that I couldn't function normally. Maybe I was a little crazy."

  "So was I. But we've come to an understanding, haven't we? And Cy is going to be all right."

  "Yes. Now all we have to do is make him understand that people aren't perfect," Meredith said with a wry smile.

  "I expect he'll come around," Myrna Harden said quietly. "
He knows that I love him. But he blames me for the past, and I can't expect that he wouldn't, Meredith. I've cost him so much."

  "That was a long time ago. Now you have a grandson who loves tea cakes and reading to his father."

  Myrna smiled wistfully. "More than I deserve," she said. "But thank you, for the time I've had with Blake. You can't know how special it's been. Can he write to me when you go home again?"

  "Of course." Meredith didn't want to think about going back to Chicago. She frowned as her position came back to haunt her. She had a company to run, people who depended on her. How much longer could she dodge her responsibilities now that Cy was going to be all right?

  She worried the problem for the rest of the day. It didn't help that Cy didn't ask where she was again. She felt guilty about staying away from him, but she was too vulnerable when she got close to him. She hated being out of control.

  Blake wasn't much help in that department.

  "That man says you won't come and see him," he told her, his dark eyes accusing. "He's sick. Don't you care?"

  She knelt in front of him. "I care very much. But he doesn't really need me. He enjoys your company much more."

  "No, he doesn't. He and Mr. Smith argue all the time. Why does that man look like me?"

  The question kept coming up. She didn't really know how to handle it. But keeping quiet about it wasn't going to work. Blake was smart and curious. He wouldn't stop asking.

  She toyed with a button on his shirt while she tried to decide what to tell him.

  "Henry Tennison wasn't my real father, was he?" he asked suddenly.

  She gasped. "Who told you that?"

  "Mr. Smith. Well, I asked him. Mr. Smith never tells lies."

  Mr. Smith was going to be put in an ice machine and turned into little balls one day, she thought furiously. But now wasn't the time to tackle that matter.

  "That man in bed looks just like me," Blake repeated.

  Meredith ground her teeth together. Intelligent children were trying.