"We're very different, aren't we?" she asked softly. "You and I, I mean. From different backgrounds, different worlds."
He was listening intently, his face shuttered. "Yes, we are," he said. "And I hate to say it, Dana, but when I...regain my sight, that difference is going to become even more apparent. I travel in circles you've never touched, full of wild living and unconventional people."
She watched him with a heart that felt near breaking. "And, too, there's Layn, isn't there?" she prodded. "Layn, who would fit very well—does fit very well— in that kind of world?"
His face tautened. "Yes."
She lifted her hands to her waist and clasped them there, very tightly. "Gannon, about the engagement..."
"Not today," he said curtly, as if the words were being dragged out of him, as if he hadn't meant to say them. "We'll discuss it some other time. Get that pad, please. Layn's driving me down to Savannah the day after tomorrow for a meeting about that expansion I mentioned at the shipyard. I'll be gone most of the day, and I need to have this correspondence out of the way before we get there."
"Yes," she said quickly.
She turned and almost ran from the room, feeling as if something inside her had died. He wanted out. If she'd been blind herself, she'd have sensed it today, when he spoke so lovingly of Layn and seemed to hate the very thought of regaining his sight because he was tied to a woman he only needed because he was blind. And when he could see, he'd only want Layn....
By the morning Gannon was about to go off with Layn, Dana was more than ready to have the luxury of a day without his company. He was taciturn and curt and he began to pick at her as he had in the early days of their acquaintance. The engagement, while still apparently in force, was never referred to, and he treated her as his nurse, not his wife-to-be.
"I asked you to get Al Pratt on" the phone half an hour ago," he snarled at her just before Layn arrived. "Have you even tried?"
"Yes, I have," she said coldly. "He wasn't in. I am not a miracle worker; I can't produce people at a second's notice."
"You might be a little more diligent," he accused.
"I took my training in medicine, not business," she reminded him coldly.
"You have a sharp tongue," he growled.
"Yours is sharper, and you have no patience anymore," she shot back. She felt herself begin to slump. "It's a good thing you're going out," she said wearily. "Perhaps being with Miss Dalmont will improve your temper."
His nostrils flared. "Perhaps it will. At least she tries to please me once in a while, miss."
So might I, if I knew what you wanted of me, she thought miserably. She moved away from him, her nurse's uniform making clean, crisp sounds in the silent room. She'd started wearing it again, because it made her feel more comfortable. He was treating her like his nurse, not his fiancee, after all, so what did it matter?
His head rose suddenly. "What's that noise?" he asked sharply.
"Sir?"
"That rustling sound...."
"My uniform," she said coldly.
He actually seemed to blanche. "I thought you were wearing street clothes now."
"I came here as, and still am, your nurse," she reminded him with dignity. "Is it surprising that I feel more secure dressed to fit the part?"
He stood quietly, breathing deliberately. "We're engaged," he said.
' She laughed softly, bitterly. "No, sir," she told him. "That was a bit of fiction. An impulsive, quickly regretted and impossibly answered proposal that would be best forgotten by both of us."
"You don't want to marry me?'' he asked, something odd in his tone.
"No, sir, I don't," she lied, her voice carrying a conviction that was not in her heart. "As we've already agreed, our worlds are too different ever to mix. And when you have your sight again, the last thing you'll want or need is a scarred, plain little..."
"Stop it!" he burst out, white in the face.
She caught her breath at the violence in the harsh words, at the expression in his blank eyes. But before she could say a word or question him, there was a loud knock at the door, and she went quietly to answer it.
Layn gave her a lazy, cool appraisal. "Back in chains, I see," she said pleasantly, chic in a white linen suit with a pale pink silk blouse. "Where's Gannon?"
"In his study, of course. He's expecting you," Dana said quietly.
"Do show me in," came the amused reply.
As if she needed showing. But Dana complied. There was no fight left in her.
"Miss Dalmont is here," Dana said to Gannon's rigid back.
He turned, staring toward the sound of her voice. "Layn?"
"Right here, darling," she cooed, going to him. She reached up and kissed him, and to Dana's amazement his arms went around her and he returned the kiss with a hungry fervor that was faintly embarrassing.
"What a nice greeting," Layn gasped when he let go. "Just like old times!"
"You smell delicious—just like old times," he murmured. "Ready to go?"
"Whenever you are."
Gannon took Layn's slender hand while Dana stood and watched them, hurting all the way to the heels of her comfortable shoes.
"You aren't taking your little nurse, I hope?" Layn asked.
Gannon flushed darkly and seemed about, to say something, but stifled it. "No, Dana isn't coming with us," he said instead.
"Thank goodness," Layn murmured fervently. "Come, Gannon, the car's just outside. I hope we won't need an umbrella, because I didn't bring one. It's getting very dark and stormy-looking out."
"Dana?" Gannon hesitated.
She swallowed, full of hurt pride and rejection. "Yes?"
He seemed to flinch. "Don't go out on the beach alone, will you? There are storm warnings out today."
"I won't," she promised quietly.
"I wish I could believe you," he said under his breath.
She didn't bother to reply, standing aside as he went out the door with Layn. Dana closed it behind them, just before she burst into tears.
"You're very quiet this afternoon," Lorraine remarked just before dinner that night as they sat together in the living room while thunder and lightning raged outside. "Does the storm bother you?"
Dana shook her head. "Not at all."
"Gannon's going out with Layn does, though, doesn't it?" the older woman probed gently. "Oh, Dana, if I only understood my stepson..."
"It's all very simple," Dana told her. She looked up with sad, quiet eyes. "He wants me to break off the engagement. He's done everything but toss me out the window to get his point across."
"But why?"
"His sight is coming back," she said, sure of it now. "He told me quite bluntly that I wouldn't fit into his world—the world he lives in when he has his sight. I could only belong in a world we made together, out of darkness. Layn is back and he wants her. And who could blame him?" she added bitterly. "She's perfect, so sophisticated and worldly..."
"So selfish and shallow," Lorraine countered angrily. "Your exact opposite in every way. It isn't like Gannon to succumb to that woman after the way she's treated him. He's much too proud. And he cares for you. It's in the way he speaks to you, the way he listens for your step and the way his face lights up when you walk into a room. No, there's something else, I'm sure of it."
But Dana wasn't convinced. Gannon's hunger for Layn had been all too obvious in the kiss she'd seen them share, and his manner with Dana had convinced her that all he wanted now was to be rid of her.
"When he comes back tonight," Dana said quietly, "I'm going to break off the engagement. It's what he wants, and now it's what I want too. If I'm right, he'll get back on his feet that much faster because he has Layn to look forward to."
"Dana, I wish you'd wait—just a little longer," Lorraine said softly.
"There's no point. If he felt as I did, it would be different. But I have no right to build my happiness on his sorrow. I won't."
"You must love him very much, my dear, to care so m
uch about his happiness."
Dana's eyes clouded. "I'll never love anyone else. Not as long as I live. But I can't marry him, knowing how he really feels."
Lorraine looked as if she wanted badly to say something else, but she smiled sadly and went back to her needlepoint. There was no use.
Chapter Nine
It didn't help Dana's already damaged pride when Gannon called an hour later to tell Lorraine that he and Layn were going to spend the night in Savannah.
"He said Layn's afraid to drive back with the weather so bad," Lorraine related irritably. "If you want my opinion, she just wants Gannon all to herself."
"That's very likely," Dana said wearily. "Can you blame her?"
"For more than you know, I can blame her," the older woman said curtly. "Dirk's coming in the morning. Perhaps he can make some sense of all this. Heaven knows, I can't!"
But Dana could. Not that it eased the hurt. It made it worse.
The night was horrible. The thunder and lightning seemed to go on forever, and Dana couldn't sleep for its crash and roar. The ocean was boiling with the force of the storm, like the one raging inside Dana.
It seemed such a long time since she'd come there from Ashton, full of guilt and grief and despair. And while she was still aching from Gannon's rejection, she felt that she'd begun to cope very well with her personal problems. The sharp edge of grief was beginning to numb.
She went to stand at the window and watched the lightning flash down toward the water. Death was, after all, as natural as lightning, as the rain. It was the routine progression of things—birth, life, and death; a cycle that everything human had to follow. And somewhere in that natural progression was God's master plan. Even Mandy had had a part in that, and so did her death and the manner of it. It wasn't for Dana to question why. It was her part to do as God directed.
She wrapped her arms tightly around her thin nightgown with a ragged sigh. Perhaps her presence here had helped Gannon in some small way to rethink his own life. Even if she lost him forever, she felt that she'd helped him see a sense of purpose and meaning in his existence. And wasn't that worth a few tears? After all, love in its ideal form was an unselfish thing. If she loved him, she had to want what was best for him, didn't she?
A silent word to God, seeking His guidance, brought comfort. Resolutely she dried her eyes and went back to bed, and slept peacefully for the first time in days.
Dirk came in the door just as Lorraine and Dana were sitting down to breakfast, and slid into a chair between them to dig hungrily into bacon and eggs and homemade biscuits.
"I didn't realize how hungry I was," he chuckled, watching their amused glances. "Where's Gannon? Sleeping late?"
"He's in Savannah," Lorraine said tautly. "He and Layn didn't drive back last night. She said she was afraid of the weather."
"That's a laugh," Dirk scoffed. "Kidnapped him, did she?"
"Looks like it," the older woman replied. She glanced at Dana. "I don't know what's wrong with him lately; he acts so...strange."
Dana put down her napkin. "Excuse me," she said. "I'm through, and I do love to walk along the beach early in the morning. The rain's gone, and it's so lovely..." she realized that she was rambling, but she tacked on a quick smile and rushed out before anyone could stop her.
She'd only gotten halfway down to the pier before Dirk caught up with her.
"Hold up and I'll stroll along with you," he said. "How are things with you and Gannon?"
"Things aren't," she said shortly. "I broke the engagement."
"You what?"
"I had to," she burst out. "He was hating every second of it. Layn came, and the way he kissed her... Oh, Dirk, he loves her, don't you know?"
She burst into tears, and he drew her gently into his arms, holding her quietly while she got some of the hurt and pain out of her system.
"I'm sorry," she muttered. "I can't seem to stop crying lately."
"He really is blind if he can't feel how much you love him," he growled.
"He knows I love him. He can't help wanting Layn, can he?" she murmured quietly. She drew away and dabbed at her eyes. "I wish I could go home. Facing my kinfolk now isn't nearly as anguishing as having to live around Gannon day after day and knowing he wishes I were in some other country."
"Poor Dana," he said softly. "I wish there was something I could do to help."
She drew in a steadying breath. "But there isn't. I'll just have to wait it out. I can't leave him, not yet, not until he sends me away."
"As long as he needs you, is that how this goes?"
She nodded. "As long as he needs me." She smiled wanly. "I only hope it won't be much longer. I don't know if I can bear much more."
"That makes two of us," he muttered.
But she had her eyes on the horizon, and her mind was with Gannon. Where was he? Why didn't he come home?
The day passed slowly, and Dana's troubled eyes kept going to the driveway. But no car came. By the time the cook was putting supper on the table, Gannon still hadn't appeared.
When the phone rang, Dana rushed to answer it. Lorraine was still upstairs and Dirk had gone, and there was no one else around.
"Hello?" she said quickly.
"Dana?"
It was Gannon's deep voice, and her knees felt rubbery. She sat down in the chair beside the table. "Yes. Gannon, are you all right?"
There was a pregnant pause. "Yes," he said, his voice sounding strained and terse. "As a matter of fact, I have some rather exciting news, Dana. I've got my sight back."
"What!" she exclaimed, sitting up straight.
"We were rushing to get back to the hotel in the rain," he said quietly, "and I tripped and fell. The blow must have dislodged the shrapnel, because I can see."
Tears were rolling down her cheeks unashamedly. "Oh, Gannon, I'm so happy for you. So happy!"
There was another long pause, and a long, shuddering sigh. "Yes. Well, you do understand what that means?"
All the joy washed away in a torrent of cold understanding. Yes, she understood. She was out of a job. Sighted, he didn't need her anymore.
She swallowed down another burst of tears. "I understand," she said on a whisper. "You...you won't need a nurse now, will you?" she laughed.
"No," he said tersely. "Dana...about our engagement?"
"What engagement?" she asked bravely. "It's all right, you don't have to pull your punches. We agreed already that it was a mistake, that...that I wouldn't fit into your world, didn't we? Anyway, Dirk was here..."
His voice was colder than she'd ever heard it before. "Dirk? Well, well, how very convenient. Trying to get his bid in, is he?"
"That's unfair," she returned. "Especially when you as much as told me that you didn't want me anymore!"
There was a long, hot silence on the other end of the line. "Yes, I said that, didn't I?" he asked, his voice odd and deep.
"It's just as well. I...I miss my home," she said after a minute, her lower lip trembling. She controlled it with an effort. "It's time I went back, made my peace with my people."
"When did you plan to go?" he asked curtly.
She cleared her throat. "I...I thought...in the morning."
He sounded relieved. "That would be a good time. I...I plan to stay here with Layn for a few more days."
Her eyes closed on a pain so sweeping that she thought she might fall to her knees. "Then it will work out...very well for you, won't it? She's so lovely."
There was a harsh, muffled sound. "It isn't because of the way you look!" he burst out. "Sweet heaven, Dana, I'd give anything to make you understand!"
"There's nothing to understand, and you don't owe me any explanations," she said quietly, gripping the phone like a lifeline. "I came here as your nurse. You were lonely and maybe a little afraid.... Didn't I tell you that most male patients make a grab for their nurses? I didn't take you seriously, of course."
They both knew it was a lie, but he was going along with the fiction to help save
her pride. She hated knowing that.
"I'm glad of that," he said roughly. There was another pause. "If I can do anything for you, ever..."
"I can take care of myself," she told him proudly. "But thank you for offering. Shall I tell Lorraine and Dirk...?"
"No!" he said quickly. "No," he added in a more controlled tone. "I want to surprise them when I get back. Promise me you won't say a word."
"As you like," she agreed dully. "But why shall I say I'm going home?"
"Can't you invent an emergency?" he asked "Or is telling a white lie too much for your snowy conscience?"
She swallowed down a hot retort. "I can manage that, I think."
"Good, Then do so. For all they have to know, this phone call could have been from your people. You don't have to say it was me, do you?"
"No," she agreed. "There's no one around right now. I'll...I'll find an excuse to take the first bus out in the morning, Gannon...I'm very happy for you."
He didn't reply right away. "I hope things go well for you," he said finally, heavily. "Be happy, Dana. I'd give anything if..."
"If," she murmured. "What a sad word."
"Sadder than you know, little one," he whispered. "Good-bye, my...Dana."
"Good-bye, Gannon."
The line went dead She put her head in her hands and cried until there were no tears left. It was over, all over. He didn't want her anymore, and he couldn't possibly have made it any plainer. He wanted Layn. Beautiful, poised Layn, who was sophisticated and physically perfect.
Dana heard Lorraine coming down the staircase minutes later, and was grateful that she'd had a little time to compose herself. She drew herself erect and tried to look calm.
"Did I hear the phone ring, dear?" Lorraine asked with a smile.
"Yes," Dana said, thinking fast. "It was my aunt. She's developed a serious medical problem, and there's no one but me to look after her. I don't know what to do..." She let her voice trail off and couldn't look at the older woman.
"Do? Why, you must go and see about her," Lorraine said quickly. "I can manage Gannon, with Dirk's help. We can do without you if we must," she added gently.
Books By Diana Palmer Page 224
