by Helen Conrad
Carly suddenly remembered the beautiful clothes in Ellen’s closet. “Oh, Joe, I didn’t mean to give her distorted values, believe me. And I don’t think this will. The clothes are a present from me. I just wanted to do something for her, help her...”
His face was as cold as she had ever seen it. “You’re not staying,” he said evenly. “You’ve made that clear from the first. So don’t do things like this. Don’t try to make her love you. I don’t want you to play at being her mother. She can’t lose her mother twice.”
Yes, of course, they had been over this before. Didn’t he get it yet? It was too late to stop love. She already loved these kids. She would never do anything to hurt them. But she wasn’t going to hold back, either. She was an affectionate person who had to express her love. She couldn’t live any other way. If he couldn’t understand that it was because he didn’t want to.
Her own anger began to surface. “So what do you want me to do? Leave right now? Get out of their lives immediately?”
The tortured look was back in his eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t know.” He reached out almost helplessly, touching her face with the back of his hand. His eyes softened, but only to show the pain. “I don’t want you to go. You know damn well I don’t want that. But my kids... I have to think about my kids.”
Jeremy was suddenly in the doorway and he drew away from Carly, changing the subject. “Thanks for the food. I’m going out to check on the avocados.”
She nodded, glancing at him briefly, then turned to smile a welcome to the boy. His eyes were very big as he watched his father leave, then looked questioningly at Carly. What had he heard? she wondered. Or more accurately, what had he surmised from what he saw? But in a moment she was caught up in the rush to make the school bus, and she forgot all about it.
Joe came through the kitchen just as she was handing the children their lunch boxes. He cast her a look as he walked by, and she hurriedly said goodbye to the kids and followed him up the stairs.
“What is it?” she asked him, stopping him with a hand on his arm.
He swung around and stared at her. “I don’t know, Carly. It’s not right, me keeping you here for my own selfish needs, when it’s not good for the kids.”
She felt as though ice water had been shot through her veins. “I think you’re making too much of this,” she protested.
He shook his head slowly, then reached out with both hands and took her face in his grasp. “You’re a dream, Carly,” he said, his voice low and husky. “You make a perfect lover. And I know you would make a perfect mother. But you’re not their mother. And for them to start believing you are...”
She nodded quickly, wanting to get away from him before the tears started. She was crying all the time lately. It probably was time she got herself back to Washington and regained her stable life-style. But if she was going, he was going to have to keep away from her.
She pulled away from his touch, holding her head high, but unable to look him in the eye. “Fine,” she said briskly, hurt anger vivid in her tone. “I’ll pack up and go.”
His arms hung uselessly at his sides, his own anger growing out of frustration more than anything else. “Why don’t you just do that?” he said coldly.
They glared at each other, and then a sound made them both turn. There was Jeremy, watching them, wide-eyed.
Carly knew immediately that he had been shocked by what he’d seen. She gasped and reached for him.
“Jeremy, honey...”
He shook his head, rejecting her, rejecting his father. And then he turned and ran, books in his arms, for the school bus.
Carly looked at Joe, her face worried. “That wasn’t good, for him to see us quarrel that way.”
Joe knew it, too, but he didn’t see what they could do about it at this point, so he shrugged it off. “Don’t worry, he’ll get over it.”
“Will he?” She went to the window and watched the two children trudging along the dirt path to where they caught the school bus. She wasn’t so sure.
“You really care, don’t you?”
She turned to look at him, tears shimmering in her eyes. “I love them, Joe,” she said clearly. “I’m going to miss them. They aren’t the only ones who are going to be hurt by this.”
His face softened and he grimaced. Unable to resist her when she looked so woebegone, he pulled her to him and kissed her firmly, caressing her lips with his, showing her with his touch how much affection he held inside for her. When he drew back, she felt as though she had melted.
“Don’t go yet,” he said softly, his eyes full of pain.
She forced back the tears. “Maybe I should, Joe. We can’t keep going through this...”
He swore and turned, hitting the wall with the flat of his hand. “You’re right,” he said harshly. “Make plans to go. It’s for the best.” He turned and looked into her teary eyes, then turned away again quickly.
“I’ve got to go into town,’’ he said, straightening his shirt. “My mother is sending me on an errand. There’s someone at the cafe she wants me to give a ride to or something. I’m not real clear on what exactly she expects me to do.”
She blinked back tears and forced herself to speak normally. “When will you be back?”
“I’ll be home for lunch. We’ll talk more about this then. Okay?”
She nodded, her gaze moving over him, examining every feature as though she needed to memorize him for a future of loneliness.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
MY BOYFRIEND’S BACK
“Here’s a flash for you, honey. Your boyfriend just hit town.”
It took Carly a moment to put a name to the voice on the phone.
“Oh, hi Doris,” she said as realization struck. “What boyfriend?”
“Mark Something-or-other. He’s here at the cafe and he’s asking around about you. Now I know you wanted to stay incognito, honey, but I think he’s got your number. He’s trying to hire a car right now to get out there to see you.”
Carly’s heart skipped a beat. Mark Cameron had found her. How could this have happened? Hadn’t he gotten her message?
“You’re kidding,” she blurted out. “How did he find me?”
“Well, honey, that I don’t know, but... uh-oh.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone.
“Uh-oh what?” Carly demanded. “Doris, speak to me!”
“Carly honey, brace yourself.” Doris was now speaking in a heavy whisper. “Joe just walked in.”
“What?” Carly’s life flashed before her eyes.
“They’ve seen each other. Joe is walking toward him. What do you think? Pistols at twenty paces?”
Carly’s heart was running ragged, forgetting all about things like rhythm and timing.
“Doris, don’t kid around,” she said breathlessly. “Tell me what’s happening.”
“Ohmigod, you won’t believe this! This looks very odd. They’re shaking hands.”
“Doris! Stop them.”
“I can’t, honey. It’s too late. They’re leaving.”
Her voice returned to its normal tone. “It’s my bet you’re about to have company for lunch, honey. Hope you’re prepared.”
Prepared? How did one prepare for a natural disaster? Carly stood with the phone in her hand, paralyzed, for a good five minutes, thinking hard. It had to be Phyllis, she decided at last. It was Phyllis who had let that Washington reference slip. She’d probably seen the item on television and jotted down Mark’s name. Sure, that was it. Phyllis had contacted Mark, sent for him, sent Joe to pick him up.
Phyllis. If she had time, she would go up and challenge her to a duel. But she had no time.
The place was a mess. The breakfast dishes were still in the sink and morning papers were all over the den. Beth’s ribbon collection had fallen out on the stairs and Jeremy had forgotten to clean up his matchbox cars from the hallway where he’d been racing them. This would never do. So she ran around like crazy, straightening thi
ngs up.
“Wait a minute. What am I doing?” she asked herself at last. “I don’t want to see Mark. I didn’t invite him here. I don’t want him here. I’ve got to get out of here. I’ll hide in the orchards.”
She was actually halfway out the door when the truck came cruising up the driveway. There was no escape now. She stood on the porch and tried to smile, pretending she was just there to greet them both.
“Carly, darling!” The passenger door flew open and a man in an expensive Italian suit stepped out.
Yes, it was Mark, the same old handsome, debonair Mark. She walked out to greet him, trying to smile. But it was Joe’s eyes she was searching for, Joe’s mind she wished she could read. Did he realize who this was? What on earth was he thinking? There was no way to tell.
Mark caught hold of her and kissed her on both cheeks. “I’m so glad I finally found you, you little devil. I’ve been going crazy wondering where you were.”
She looked into his eyes and saw a man she hardly recognized.
“Hello, Mark,” she said coolly. “I hope you had a nice trip out.”
She refused to apologize. She’d done that already, on the answering machine, and she wasn’t feeling very apologetic anyway. What right did Mark have to come here this way?
“How are you, Mark?” she asked, her smile chilly.
“Fine, darling. A bit lonely, of course. But otherwise, quite well.”
He didn’t seem to notice that his reception was not the warmest. But then, Mark was a politician. He didn’t live his life according to what was real. He made things up and pretended they were real. It was second nature to him.
He stood back and looked at the ramshackle house. “So you gave up your lovely apartment in the Melbourne Building for this, did you?”
His smile was supposed to be affectionate, but for once, she saw it rather as cloying and a bit condescending. Had it always been that way and she just hadn’t noticed? Or was it that others were usually the recipients of his sarcasm, so it hadn’t really mattered to her before?
“What is this?” he was saying slyly. “One of those campaigns to get back to the old roots? Go out and kick the dirt with the country crowd?”
That hardly deserved an answer. She looked at Joe, trying to read his eyes, but they were blank, no emotion showing whatsoever.
“Come on in, Mark,” he was saying. “I’ll fix you a drink. You must be thirsty. You’ve come a long way.’’
“That sounds good. I appreciate it.”
Carly was numb. What the heck was going on here? Why the friendly attitude? What was with the buddy-buddy routine?
The two of them together. She couldn’t help looking from Mark’s perfect hair and impeccable suit to Joe’s faded jeans and hole-studded sneakers. They were so different. Mark was the better groomed, but next to Joe he looked superficial, insubstantial. Joe had a solid look. The salt of the earth—with a little bit of pepper thrown in. Mark looked like an upper-crust used-car salesman.
They settled Mark in the living room and she followed Joe back to the kitchen where he had gone to set up drinks.
“So, you’re really a high-powered administrative assistant for a United States congressman,” Joe said, his voice as unemotional as his face. “Funny. You had me fooled.”
“That seems like a very long time ago,” she said lamely, her heart falling. She hated him to think she might feel the pull of her old life, because it wasn’t true. She hadn’t really missed it yet, and she didn’t foresee a time when she would.
“But it isn’t a long time ago,” he said dryly, pouring the liquid into glasses. “It’s now, Carly. Or should I call you Carolyn?”
“Call me Carly. That’s me. That’s who I am.”
His eyes met hers, but glanced away quickly. “Think you can rustle up a quick lunch for us?” he asked her. “I told him he was invited.”
“I didn’t invite him,” she said shortly, glaring at him.
His eyes were impenetrable. “Didn’t you?”
“No. Your mother invited him. Let her fix him lunch.”
He picked up two glasses and turned to go. “Just a little salad or something. Take your time. Mark and I have a lot to talk about.”
She watched him leave, seething. What was this, some sort of male conspiracy against her? But no. Old Ma Phyllis was the ringleader, wasn’t she? So she guessed she couldn’t really blame it on sex discrimination. But she would have to think this over, because she definitely wanted to blame it on something.
There were plenty of fixings to make a nice salad, and she had fresh rolls. Lunch was no real problem. She fixed it quickly, then set the table in the dining room and put everything out, along with tall, icy glasses of lemonade.
They came to eat when she called them, but they continued their conversation almost as though she weren’t in the room. They went on and on about California citrus as opposed to the crops from Florida, about water rights and the drought, and how best to market avocados to Eastern consumers—and she sat looking from one to the other, wondering why she was even there.
“Mark,” she broke in at last, unable to stand it any longer. “Are you going to tell me why you came?”
He looked at her as though she were being unbelievably rude, then seemed to forgive her and patted her hand. “I came to get you, Carly. It’s time you went home.”
She yanked her hand out from under his and glared at him, but before she could express her indignation, he went on.
“I understand that you came looking for your past, that your father’s missing or something, and you wanted to try finding him.”
“Who told you that?” she demanded, eyes flashing fire.
“The woman who called me. Her name was Carrington. Your mother, I believe, Joe?”
Carly groaned and threw a glare Joe’s way. “I might have known.”
“She told me how lost and confused you’ve been since you came. Darling, I knew right away that you needed me. That’s why I dropped everything—and we have a very important highway-spending bill pending before the committee right now—and came as quickly as I could.”
He tried to cover her hand with his again, but she deftly avoided contact. “Mark, I hate to disillusion you, but this is home to me. I grew up in this valley.”
“We all came from little hick towns, darling. We go to the big city and we grow. You outgrew this place before you turned twenty-one, I’m sure of it.”
She shook her head, liking him less and less. Why hadn’t she ever noticed before what a snob he was?
“You shouldn’t have come.”
“I had to come, of course.”
“Didn’t you get my message on your answering machine?”
“I heard it, darling, but I understand. You’ve been under a lot of stress...”
She turned to Joe, hoping for something close to a rescue, but she might as well have saved herself the bother. He wasn’t going to help, she could see that.
“It might be best,” he told her softly, “if you go on back with Mark.”
Her heart fell. What was this, the old brush-off? Was Joe really in on this too? Had they all gotten together and decided what would be the best way to dispose of her inconvenient presence?
Well, Joe could kick her out if he wanted to. But that didn’t mean she was going back to Washington.
“I don’t want to go back,” she said, her chin out at a stubborn angle.
“Oh come now, darling. I know you don’t mean that. You must miss it—the crowds, the restaurants, the theater. Your job.”
Did she miss it? A little, perhaps. But she’d found so much more here. She’d learned what a family could really be. A family was a wonderful thing, strong and resilient and yet terribly fragile at the same time. Building a family could be one of the most important and rewarding things a woman could do with her life.
She couldn’t even imagine building a family with Mark. But Joe had a ready-made one—a family kit, so to speak. All it needed was a mother.
Funny. For the first time in her life, she realized she could be one of those. She realized that she wanted to be one of those.
“There’s more to life, Mark,” she said stoutly.
“What?” He was beginning to get annoyed with her. “What else could there be?”
She threw down her napkin and glared at him. “Love,” she said loud and clear. “A concept neither one of you seems to know anything about.”
She thrust back her chair and got up. “I’ll bring in dessert,” she said lightly. “You two just go ahead and chat. You obviously have so much in common.”
She charged out of the room without looking at Joe. She was hurt and furious. But before she’d had time to develop a really good rage, the telephone rang and she had to stop to answer it.
“Hello?”
The voice on the other end was high with anxiety and at first she had trouble understanding what the woman was saying. But finally the words began to sink in. She felt as though all the blood had drained out of her.
“All right,” she said quietly. “We’ll be there right away.”
Running quickly to the dining room, she went straight to Joe. He looked up the moment she entered the room, knowing instinctively that something was wrong.
“That was the school. Something’s happened... There’s something about Jeremy on a roof about to fall…. I’m not sure what. I said we’d be there right away.”
Joe was up and out of his seat before she’d finished speaking. “Let’s go,” he said with quiet authority.
They ran out behind him, Mark included. No one invited him along, but when they piled into the bench seat of the truck Carly found herself sitting between the two men. Joe gunned the engine and they were off, barreling along the dusty road as though it were a racetrack.
“What exactly did they say?” Joe asked as they sped along.
“The woman was sort of incoherent at first. Jeremy seems to be on the roof of the school. She didn’t say how he got there. They’re afraid he’ll fall or something.”
“Have they got the paramedics there? The fire department?”
