Jolene laughed and handed the leaflet to Maggie instead. “We’ll bring you into the fold yet, Tate Jennings,” she said. “We’re holding a coalition meeting at Pinter’s store tonight. Maggie, I hope we’ll see you.”
“Yes,” Maggie said. “Yes, Jolene, I’ll be there.”
Tate couldn’t help it; his mouth dropped open in surprise.
HE HAD ABSOLUTELY NO luck in talking Maggie out of going to the coalition meeting.
“It looks like you’re serious about hanging out with that group,” Tate said that night as Maggie brushed her hair preparatory to leaving the cabin.
“Of course I am,” she said, head upside down so that her voice was muffled. “The meeting is important.”
Tate paced from one end of Maggie’s small bedroom to the other. Before he’d started talking, he’d tried to think her out of going, tried to reach into her mind and tell her that he didn’t think it was a good idea. He’d had no luck; she was blocking him again.
“I didn’t think you meant it when you said you’d go,” he said.
Maggie tossed her head back. “I don’t say things I don’t mean,” she said serenely.
Tate ran a hand through his hair. “It’s only our third night together here,” he argued. “I thought you’d want to spend it enjoying each others’ company.”
Maggie’s brush halted in midstroke. “Oh, Tate,” she said. “I phoned Jolene earlier and she said that the meeting will only last an hour.”
Tate made an empty gesture. “What am I supposed to do while you’re gone?”
“Miss me terribly,” Maggie said teasingly.
“Oh, I’ll do that, all right. Only-”
“Only you want me to be here,” she finished.
“Of course,” he said lamely. It actually occurred to him that this would be a good time to tell Maggie that he loved her, and then, horrified that he could even consider using those three important words to impose his will on her, he backed off. If he ever did anything like that, he’d hate himself. Nor did he want to believe that he was capable of such manipulation. The past, he thought grimly, still had a grip on him, no matter how much he wanted to think he had changed.
Now Maggie was slipping her feet into a pair of shoes that he’d never seen before; it occurred to him that there might be a lot of things he didn’t know about her. Her advocacy of environmental causes was certainly something new to him.
“Hey, I never have done anything like this before,” she said, standing up and linking her arms around his neck.
Tate made himself smile down at her. “Now who’s reading minds? How did you know what I was thinking?”
“I realized right away after I told Jolene that I’d be at the meeting that you wouldn’t be too happy about my doing this,” she said.
“I’m not.”
“One of us has to, Tate. And you can’t because of your position at Conso.” Her eyes met his levelly.
“I hope you won’t tell anyone who is a member of the coalition the things I told you in confidence, such as what Karl told me about Conso’s plan to double the size of Balsam Heights and scrap the wilderness park.”
“I would never do that, Tate,” she said quietly.
He trusted her, or he wouldn’t have told her in the first place. “I know you wouldn’t. But you must realize how information such as that would add fuel to the fire as far as the coalition is concerned.”
“I’ll be careful. I’m only going to this meeting so I can learn more about how the coalition plans to take on the county commission. If I live here, I’ll be able to vote on local issues. Tate, are you sure you won’t come along?”
“You know I can’t do that. I’ll hook up the television set as soon as you go so I can see the Casey Nichols news report about the rally on the seven o’clock local news. Want me to tape it for you?”
“Good idea. There are blank tapes in the TV cabinet.” She checked her purse for necessary items, and Tate went into the living room and began to untangle the wires attached to the back of the television set.
Maggie blew him a kiss on the way out the door, but he got up and hurried after her.
“Do you think you’re going to get away with only a feeble gesture?” he asked, grabbing her from behind as she reached for the car door handle.
She turned in his arms and pressed so close that he could feel her breasts and the hard globe of her swelling abdomen against his.
“Lord, I hope not,” she said fervently, and he kissed her the way she deserved to be kissed. She kissed him back, and he felt the beginnings of an arousal that was anything but feeble.
“Hurry back,” he said urgently, loving her, wanting her.
“You’d better believe it,” she whispered against his lips. “And when I get here, the home fires had better be burning.”
Tate willed his anatomy back in line. “They already are,” he said, and watched her until her car was out of sight down the long winding driveway.
Back in the house, it took him only a few minutes to figure out how to hook the television set to the cable from the rooftop antenna, and he sat back to await the local news out of Asheville. There was a report of a robbery, news of a waste spill at a hog farm, and then the earnest face of Casey Nichols popped up on the screen. Casey was taking great pains to explain the work of the Kalmia Conservation Coalition, and Tate leaned forward m his chair as the scene filmed earlier that day at the rally in front of the county courthouse unfolded in front of his eyes.
“This group of angry citizens issued a challenge to the community today,” Casey said. “They say that they intend to fight the Consolidated Development Corporation over development of Scot’s Cove and environs. You can be sure that—”
Tate did a double take. He was looking at a close-up of himself standing beside Maggie at the rally, and Jolene Ott was holding the recruiting brochure for the Kalmia Conservation Coalition toward him. Worst of all, he was smiling and looked as if he were accepting it. The tape had been edited to cut out the part where he waved the brochure away.
“And giving in to the Consolidated Development Corporation is not something that the Kalmia Conservation Coalition intends to do,” intoned Casey Nichols, and the program cut to a commercial.
Tate leaped to his feet. He wanted to smash something. He wanted to scream at the injustice of it. He had known that Casey Nichols didn’t like him, but that was no reason for that dirty double-crossing scoundrel to make him look as if he were supporting the coalition. There was no doubt in his mind that Casey had known exactly what he was doing.
First he phoned the station in Asheville and asked for Casey Nichols; he was told that Mr. Nichols wasn’t in at the moment, but would he like to leave his name and phone number so that Mr. Nichols could return his call?
“No,” said Tate, slamming down the phone. He drummed his fingers for a moment on the breakfast bar. He wished Maggie was there. He wished he had someone to tell how betrayed he felt. He wished he could express his anger and his fear that the powers-that-be at Conso would see that piece and think that he had taken up with the Kalmia Conservation Coalition.
Just as he was preparing to head out the door the phone rang.
“Tate?”
It was Maggie.
“They just ran the piece about the rally, Maggie. The film was edited so that it looked as if I were talking to Jolene about joining the coalition. This makes me look like a traitor to Conso, and I’m worried—”
“Tate, wait a minute. I called because there’s an emergency. Your friend Albie Fentress came to cover the meeting, and halfway through it he collapsed and was taken to the hospital. I thought you’d want to know.”
It took a moment for this to register. “Is he going to be okay?”
“I don’t know. I’m still at the general store with some of the people who came to the meeting, and we haven’t heard anything about Albie.” Tate heard voices in the background.
“I’d better go over to the hospital, Maggie. Albie d
oesn’t have any close relatives.”
“Do you want me to meet you there? I hate to think of your going alone.”
“Yes, if you don’t mind.”
“I’ll leave right away.”
Tate took only a moment to turn off the television and VCR before hurrying outside and jumping on his motorcycle. In a few minutes, he was roaring off toward town through a lightly falling rain.
When it rains it pours, he thought with more than a little irony, and he wondered what else could possibly happen to complicate his life.
MAGGIE RAN TO TATE as soon as she saw him striding through the door of the hospital emergency room, his hair slicked back like it was on the first day she’d met him, wet raindrops shiny on his black leather jacket.
He embraced her. “Any news of Albie?”
“They’ve taken him to Intensive Care. You were right about his not having any relatives. The only person anyone could think of to call was a distant cousin who lives in Virginia, and she’s not well enough to come,” Maggie said hurriedly.
“I’d better talk to the nurse,” Tate said.
They went to the Intensive Care Unit and were briefed by not only a nurse on duty but a doctor who told them that Albie had suffered a heart attack and would likely be in Intensive Care for several days.
“Can he have visitors?”
The doctor shook his head. “Not yet.”
“I’ll wait here until I can talk with him,” Tate said resolutely, and he and Maggie joined other well-wishers, most of whom had been at the coalition meeting, in the waiting room.
They didn’t get to see Albie that night, and it was after one in the morning before they arrived back at Maggie’s cabin where they fell exhausted into bed and went to sleep immediately.
Tate was up soon after dawn, and he dressed to go to the hospital without waking Maggie.
At noon, when he still hadn’t seen Albie, Maggie brought him a sandwich for lunch. They ate in a small park near the hospital, holding hands afterward until Tate decided he’d better go back and see how Albie was doing.
“Has there been any fallout from Conso over that piece on the news last night?” Maggie asked as she prepared to leave the hospital, and Tate grimaced. “No, but Karl probably can’t find me. He wouldn’t know that I’m in town at the hospital because of Albie’s heart attack, and he would be the last one to care about Albie. Karl is hardly an admirer of the Scot’s Cove Messenger. Their editorials frequently give Conso a rough time.”
“It’s just as well that you haven’t heard from anyone at Conso, I suppose.”
“Undoubtedly.”
“When will you be home tonight?” She slipped her arm around his waist, and he did the same, tucking her close.
“I’m hoping they’ll let me see Albie soon, and then I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“No need to rush. I’d like time to cook something good for dinner,” she said. “Is there anything you’d especially like?”
“Your delicious spaghetti and you,” he said.
She nuzzled his cheek. “In any particular order?”
“Surprise me,” he said.
SHE WOULD SURPRISE HIM all right, Maggie thought on the way home as she stopped at the gas station to fill up. She’d greet Tate with a glass of wine at the door and invite him to drink it in a few resourceful ways. A hot bath, candlelight, making love so they’d work up an appetite, and then dinner. Or dinner first, then the hot bath, then making love, and then dessert in bed. She had pumped the gas and was trying to decide on the most exciting order of events when she literally ran into Jolene Ott coming out the gas station door as she was going in.
“Maggie, am I glad to see you! The coalition is having an informal meeting at Pinter’s store right away. You won’t believe what we’ve found out! Conso has decided to build a thousand mobile home sites on Breadloaf Mountain, not five hundred as we thought.”
“Oh,” Maggie said. Of course she knew this; it was what Tate had told her. It was all she could do at the moment not to tell Jolene that the land for the additional mobile home sites was going to come out of what was supposed to have been the wilderness park.
“Jolene,” she said tentatively.
“What?”
But Maggie couldn’t do it. She couldn’t betray Tate; he trusted her.
“I—I think it’s a shame about the extra mobile home sites,” Maggie said.
“We all do Anyway, this calls for immediate action. People around here are as angry as all get-out.” Jolene herself was visibly upset, her cheeks flushed with anger, her eyes flashing fire.
“How did you find out about it?”
“It wasn’t something that Conso wanted us to know, you can believe that, but we have ways. Just between you and me, those of us who believe in the coalition’s agenda have lots of relatives, some of whom have jobs at Conso, and most of them aren’t too happy about the plans for Breadloaf Mountain. Our kinfolk may not be the upper echelon, but you’d be surprised what a clerk-typist can find out if she puts her mind to it. Anyway,” Jolene continued glancing at her watch, “I hope you can come to the meeting.”
“I can’t tonight, Jolene. I already have plans.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll let you know what happens. I’ve got to run, Maggie. See you later.”
“Bye.”
Jolene hurried away, and Maggie, feeling that she’d only barely averted disaster, went inside to pay for the gas. She cared about what the coalition was trying to do, but her loyalty was with Tate.
As soon as she got home, she’d try to reach Tate at the hospital. He’d want to know that the news about the additional mobile home sites had shpped out. After all, on Monday morning, he’d be the one who had to deal with damage control, and forewarned was forearmed.
Chapter Eleven
Charlie Bearkiller came to keep Tate company at the hospital while he waited for news of Albie.
“I told Albie years ago that he’d better slow down. You’d think that newspaper was the be-all and end-all,” Charlie grumbled as he and Tate lingered over cups of coffee in the hospital cafeteria.
“To Albie it is. He comes from a long line of newspaper editors and was undoubtedly born with printer’s ink in his veins.”
“Well, too bad he doesn’t have a printing press for a heart. They might be able to fix a printing press.”
“Don’t give up on Albie, Charlie. He may be down, but I don’t think he’s out.”
“They’ve got medicines to help him, I guess. If they don’t work, we can always try the Cherokee way,” Charlie said philosophically. “We have songs to be sung for making a person well, folk medicine, love charms. Thought I’d mention that last one in case you ever have a need,” he said, eyeing Tate speculatively.
Tate was spared a reply when he was summoned by a nurse who said, “The doctor says you can talk to Mr. Fentress now.”
Tate followed the nurse back to the Intensive Care Unit. She admitted him to a small cubicle where Albie lay in bed. Tate thought he was asleep and sent a questioning look at the nurse, who smiled encouragingly and hurried away. Feeling awkward, Tate sat down gingerly on a chair beside the bed as Albie opened his eyes. A heart monitor beeped; tubes and wires seemed connected to every part of his friend’s body.
“Didn’t think you’d come to see me,” Albie said. He was pale but his eyes were lively, and he looked as if, with the slightest encouragement, he’d sit up and rip off all the tubes and wires.
“Are you kidding, Albie? Charlie and I have been boring each other out of our minds while we waited for you to quit napping,” Tate said, keeping his tone light.
A smile touched Albie’s lips. “It was some nap,” he said.
“Yeah, well, you’ll be back in your office at the newspaper giving Conso grief in those editorials of yours before long,” Tate told him.
“Don’t count on it. I’m going to have to slow down, Tate, much as I dislike the idea.”
“So what does that mean?
Ten-hour workdays instead of twelve?”
“It means,” Albie said, displaying a hint of his old fire, “I need to hire a managing editor. Fast.”
“Hire one. The Messenger is a fine paper. You won’t have any trouble luring some discontented editor away from one of these small-town weeklies around here. The Messenger would be a big step up for some of those folks.”
“I don’t want any of them. I want you,” Albie said.
“Me?” Tate was stunned.
“Sure. You. I’ve known ever since I read your stuff in the Raleigh Express all those years ago that you’re a born newspaperman, Tate. Don’t bother denying it.”
“I happen to work for Conso, and you’re their sworn enemy,” Tate reminded him.
“Well, wasn’t that what we were talking about yesterday at the Kalmia Conservation Coalition’s rally? How the safest strategy is to know what the other guy is saying about you? I figure if I hire you away from Conso, that one-ups them.”
“You’re a schemer, Albie.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. Are you interested, Tate?”
“Albiè, I’m supposed to report back to work at Conso on Monday. That’s tomorrow, in fact.”
“Say you’ll consider my job offer.”
“It wouldn’t be appropriate at this time. You realize that.”
“You know, they turned my hearing aid down. I can’t hear a thing.”
“I’ll be back to see you tomorrow. Maybe you can get it turned up by then.”
“Maybe not.”
“Get well, Albie. This community needs you.”
“Maybe not,” he said again. But when Tate left, Albie was grinning.
Charlie was in the hall, walking up and down with his hands clasped behind his back. As soon as he saw Tate, he hurried over.
“How is the old buzzard, anyway?” Charlie demanded.
“I’d say he’s going to be up and out of here in no time.”
“Geez, then why are we wasting our time around here? Let’s go shoot a game of pool.”
Tate socked Charlie on the arm. “You’re on. But only for an hour or so. I’ve got a hot date tonight.”
Lover's Leap Page 18
