A new sense of determination flowed through Ari. It was surprising, and yet she welcomed it. Over the next few minutes, she felt a trickle of hope that she would be able to meet her adversity face-to-face. As Inca had said, all she had to do was try. That was all that was asked of anyone. Even if she failed, that didn’t mean she’d lost anything. But if she didn’t try, she would be a failure. Buoyed by Inca’s words, and Rafe’s unspoken love for her, Ari took in a deep breath. On the bedstand was the orchid. All she had to do was look at it, hear Rafe’s emotion-filled request that she come back to him, and that was enough….
Chapter Ten
“Father?”
Ben Worthington was working at his massive cherry desk in the Pentagon late on a snowy December afternoon. It was Friday, and most people had left early because of the snowstorm that was stalking the East Coast. He hadn’t; there was too much paperwork to catch up on. When he heard his daughter’s strong, clear voice, his head snapped up. Ari stood in the open doorway, his assistant, Becky, standing behind her, an apologetic look on her face. No one saw the secretary of the Navy without an appointment, even his daughter, who had disappeared out of his life in July.
Clearing his throat, he nodded to his assistant. “That’s all right, Becky. Bring us some cookies and coffee, please?” He stood, feeling anger and curiosity and relief mix violently within himself as Ari moved into the office. She was wearing a soft pink wool beret, her golden hair tucked beneath the camel hair coat that fell to her knees. She wore black wool slacks and a pair of black galoshes still shiny with melting snow. The vivid purple wool muffler thrown around her neck and shoulders made her blue eyes seem even larger.
“Ari…” he murmured, coming around the desk, his hands outstretched. “I’ve been worried sick about you.” He stopped about six feet away from her. What was different about his daughter? Many things, he realized, beginning with the look in her eyes. He no longer saw fright there, and she was able to meet and hold his gaze. The way she held herself was different, too. Instead of being slump-shouldered, as if ashamed of something, she stood confidently before him, her chin uplifted. She gripped a large parcel wrapped in plastic against her breast.
“I’m fine, Father,” she answered unsteadily. It took all of Ari’s courage to meet his hard, assaulting gaze. That look of the eagle in her father’s eyes had always scared her, but now she had to move through that fear. She saw him hesitate, his brows knitted in confusion. And then he dropped his hand and looked suddenly very old, his skin gray, not its normal ruddy color. Still, he looked strong and powerful in his expensive Italian pinstripe suit and ebony leather shoes. The tie was a paisley blue, black and cream design, equally conservative.
“This is quite a surprise,” he uttered, and then saw his assistant rushing in with a silver tray filled with coffee cups and cookies. Smiling faintly, he gestured to the leather wing chair nearest him. “Have a seat, Ari. Becky will serve us and then we’ll talk.”
Ari swallowed hard. She was afraid of her father. After hanging up on him so many months ago and not contacting him since, she figured he would be furious with her. Now he appeared worried, yet grateful that she’d showed up. Gripping the parcel, she walked toward the chair only after he’d backed away, walked around the desk and sat down. Her hands moved nervously over the package as she placed it on the wing chair and divested herself of her coat, beret and muffler.
Becky smiled, took her wraps and then quietly closed the door and left them alone. Ari started to sit down.
“Would you like some coffee? Maybe cookies? Becky keeps my favorite around here even though I don’t need them.” Ben pointed to the chocolate-covered macaroons sitting in the center of the tray.
Ari gulped, feeling edgy. She had expected her father to start yelling at her, demanding to know why she’d walked out of his life. As she moved hesitantly toward the tray that sat on the coffee table on one side of the huge room, Ari realized that her father had aged more than a little. There was a lot more silver at the temples of his military short dark hair, and the silver in the natural wave dipping rebelliously down his perpetually wrinkled brow was more pronounced as well.
Ben watched his daughter covertly, pretending to look at several reports that needed his perusal and signature. “Your hair is a lot longer than I remember,” he said pleasantly.
Ari politely took a cup of coffee and moved to the wing chair. “I know. Being that it’s cold now, I’m glad it’s long. It keeps me warmer,” she said with a soft laugh. After placing the cup and saucer on the edge of his desk, she picked up her parcel once again and sat down. Her heart pounded, underscoring her fear. At any moment, she knew, he could fly into a rage at her. She saw the confusion, the hurt and anger in his narrowed blue eyes. Compressing her lips, she inhaled deeply and said, “I came here for a reason, Father.”
“Yes, I can see that,” he said. Placing his pen into the inkwell, he folded his hands in front of him. “What’s in the package you’re holding on to like your life depends upon it?”
Her lips lifted in a little smile. He was teasing her. For just a moment, all his armor dissolved and he lost the tough expression from his bulldog features. “It’s the galley proofs on my orchid book, which I wrote for Mom.”
Stunned, Ben stared at her, and then at the parcel wrapped in clear plastic to protect it from the winter weather. “Book?”
Ari stood and walked to his desk. With careful authority, she placed the package on the cherry wood and opened it, one corner at a time. “Yes. I wanted to share the good news with you. You know how Mom loved to paint orchids. I know I can never be the artist she was, but a publisher finally bought it.” Smoothing the plastic away from the enclosed page proofs, a three-inch-thick bundle, she slowly turned it around so that he could take a look if he wanted to. Ari hoped and prayed that he would.
“I’ll be damned,” he muttered, reaching for the top galley and pulling it toward him.
Ari bit her lower lip and forced herself to sit down. Out of nervousness, she picked up the coffee and took several scalding sips. After he’d slowly leafed through the first few pages, his hand froze. Her heart plummeted.
Ben read aloud the dedication in the book: “To my mother, Ellen Hanover-Worthington, orchid artist. This book is dedicated to her, and to all the new species of orchids that were found in Brazil, in the AmazonBasin. May her name and her love of them live on forever.”
Lifting his chin, he narrowed his eyes on Ari. “A very nice dedication. I know your mother would have liked it.” His words were filled with emotion.
A frisson of terror came and went. Ari gripped the coffee cup that she held rigidly above her lap. “Go on. Look at the first chapter….” Now she really felt fear, because he would look upon her orchid drawings for the first time. The publisher had made color copies of them for the galley; the real photos taken from the originals were at the printer’s, ready to be processed for printing.
Ben leafed through several more pages. When he came upon Ari’s first colored drawing, his mouth dropped open. His hands hovered in midair, the sketch in his fingers. Brows rising in surprise, he stared at it. And then he looked over at his daughter. “This…is your work, Ari?” Ben saw so much of Ellen’s style in Ari’s work. And yet there was Ari’s own unique expression in the strokes, in the way she connected colors and shades into a drawing that looked more real than real life. He was stunned.
“All mine,” she laughed nervously. “There’s thirty sketches in there. All done with the same colored pencil set Mom gave me that last year before she died.” She wanted to ask “What do you think?” but was too cowardly to do so. Her father’s expression was one of frank shock. Did he like them? Hate them? Ari was unsure, and she wished that she didn’t care as much as she did whether or not he would approve of them.
Silence settled around them like a thick, warm blanket on that cold, snowy afternoon. Ben took his time leafing through the pages of the book. On some, he studied Ari’s pencil sketches and saw that they were simple
, straightforward and yet graceful and shouting of her love of the subjects she drew. As well as the beautiful orchids, there might be a vine twisting down the trunk of a tree, or a white egret standing in the shallows of a channel, looking for frogs. And then he began to read some of the notes opposite her sketches.
“How long did this take you?” he murmured as he continued to page through the manuscript.
“Three months. Rafe helped me a lot. And so did the Juma Indians, who would take me out and show me all those beautiful orchids.”
“These are—” he looked up, his voice tinged with awe “—incredible, Ari. Simply incredible.” With a sweep of his hand, he added, “You’re better than your mother. Do you realize that?”
Her heart thudded. “Oh, no, Father. I’ll never have anywhere near mother’s skill and talent!” Yet joy flooded through her. He liked her drawings! It was more than Ari dared hope for. Ben Worthington could have started screaming and yelling at her like he usually did, but this time was different. Maybe because she was different, she mused. During the last five months she had matured in many, many ways. The confidence that had taken root in Amazonia had been nurtured, tempered, challenged and solidified by working in New York City at the library at New YorkUniversity.
Ben placed his hands over the manuscript and looked at his daughter. “I owe you an apology, Ari. I said you weren’t an artist, but you are. You might not have gone to college to learn your craft, but you learned it from your mother.” His voice softened and he shook his head. “How much you’ve become like her.”
Sitting very quietly, holding her coffee cup, Ari couldn’t believe her ears. Her father had always put her down. Now he was complimenting her. What had changed? Looking up, she said, “What is so different between when I phoned you in July and now? The fact that you’ve seen my work?”
Ben leaned back in his chair. It creaked in protest. With one hand lying across her galley proofs, he looked up at the ceiling for a moment. His voice was filled with apology and regret when he finally spoke. “Ari, when your mother died, you were very young. I didn’t have a clue how to raise you. Kirk, yes, because he was a boy…male. But Ellen had always raised you girls. When she died, well, I…felt useless. Helpless as a matter of fact. I knew I couldn’t mother you like she had. I was angry. Very angry that she was taken away from me…from all of us…at such a young age. I was heartbroken. I could barely function at my job as a naval officer, much less think two coherent thoughts about how to raise you and Kirk.”
Sighing, he looked across the desk to Ari. “You more or less raised yourself, honey. You took over for your mother in many ways. I was gone so much on duty, and you kept the house clean, made meals for Kirk and me when I was home.” Opening his hand, he whispered painfully, “When you hung up on me in July, I was furious with you. I was ready to call out the FBI, put out a tail to find you and drag you back here to Washington.”
Ari gave him a surprised look.
He laughed self-consciously. “What I did instead was call Morgan Trayhern. He’s my age and has four kids he’s raising. I told him what had gone down and I asked him for advice. What should I do with a rebellious daughter who was fully intent on jumping out of the nest I’d made for her?” He chuckled ruefully and held her teary gaze.
“Morgan counseled me to leave you alone. He’d warned me prior to you going to Brazil that you were at an age where you needed to explore, to find out who you were. He told me in no uncertain terms to keep my mouth shut and let you leap out of the nest.”
“I—see…”
“It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, Ari. When you first left for the Amazon, I wanted to be there to protect you. You’re so young.”
She shrugged delicately. “You can’t keep protecting me for the rest of my life, Father. If you hadn’t let me go there, I wouldn’t have done this.” She pointed to the book. “Come spring, it will be published. I’m so excited.”
Smiling proudly at her, Ben covered the galley proofs with his large hands. “Was it hard finding a publisher?”
“Very,” she muttered, and sipped the coffee. “I got a job at an accounting firm. I’d make appointments to see editors at different houses on my lunch break. I was turned down fifteen times in a row.”
Shaking his head, he marveled, “Fifteen? You’re a lot stronger than I’ve given you credit for, Ari. You kept at it, though, and you sold it.” He brightened. “Are you getting millions for it?”
Laughing fully, Ari set the cup and saucer on the desk in front of her. “Millions? What a crock. Most writers would starve to death if they wrote one book a year. And ninety-nine percent of us get petty advances.” She gestured to the book. “I got a five-thousand-dollar advance.”
“Not exactly career building, is it? You couldn’t walk away from your day job on that, could you?”
“Most writers never will,” Ari said glumly. Then she brightened. “The editor says if the book sells well, they’ll want a second one from me. The president of the American Society of Orchid Growers is going to give me an endorsement for the book cover. I’ve already been contacted by a very rich corporate owner who wants to bankroll me and send me back down to the Amazon to find new species of orchids for him and his collection in Florida. He said he’s willing to pay me well to do this. I can find new orchids as I draw them for the next book, so it’s a nice dovetailing. I’ll get paid to do what I love best.”
Frowning, Ben sat up. “But, Ari, what about your degree in business? I know I can get you a high-paying job on Wall Street—”
Holding up her hand, Ari said, “Father, please…I love what I did down in Amazonia.”
“And?”
“And I wanted to come here this afternoon to tell you that I’m leaving tomorrow for Manaus. I’m going back down there, Father.” She instantly saw anger darken his eyes. Steeling herself, she pushed on. “You need to know that I think I’m in love with Rafe Antonio. The man at whose camp I stayed.” She opened her hands, excitement in her tone. “He’s the most wonderful man I’ve ever met, not at all like the guys I’ve known here and in New York. He’s been through so much and he’s so levelheaded. He understands me, my dreams….”
Frowning, Worthington got out of his chair. He jammed his hands into his pants pockets and prowled the boundaries of his office for several seconds in silence. “Are you going back because you’re pregnant?”
Gasping, Ari stared at her father. His face was hard. She was familiar with that look and it made her stomach clench in fear. “What?”
“You heard me,” he growled.
The accusation stung her. Clenching her fists on her lap, Ari met his angry gaze. “What do you think I am? Someone who sleeps around with every man I see?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Yes, you did!” Her voice rose in righteous indignation. “Rafe Antonio never made a play for me like you think, Father. He’s a man of honor, with absolutely impeccable integrity. If you met him, you’d certainly change your mind about him. He’s like a knight from the past. He would no more think of doing something like that to me than—than…oh, you make me really angry!” Ari jumped to her feet.
Surprised at herself, she froze. The glare her father gave her caused her incredible agony. “You can see I’m not pregnant,” she cried. “Rafe doesn’t deserve that slap in the face and I sure don’t, either!”
Wrestling with his anger, Ben snarled, “Then why the hell are you going back down there? Because this rich corporate tycoon is bankrolling you?”
Planting her hands on her hips, she faced her father squarely. “I’m going back down there to see what Rafe and I have together. Three months wasn’t enough. I was under a lot of pressure then. Now that the book has been bought and is going to be published, I can start looking at my own dreams, Father. I feel like I’ve fulfilled my dream for Mom. For the family.”
Raking his fingers through his hair, Ben stalked back to his desk. He jerked out the chair, sat down and looked at Ar
i. “I’m not giving you any money to do this. Not a penny.”
Ari had expected that. Up until July, her father had always given her a generous amount of money every month. “You won’t have to. I was coming in here to tell you that from now on, I’m on my own. You don’t have to keep giving me money. I appreciate all you’ve done for me, Father, but it’s time I made my own way.”
“How are you going to pay for the flight down there, then?” he demanded.
“I’ve been saving money from my job,” she told him defiantly. Her heart was beating with fear. Would he disown her, like Rafe’s father had him, for going after what she wanted?
The harsh buzzing of the phone on his desk startled Ari. She saw her father’s scowl deepen. Leaning over, he pressed the button.
“Yes, Becky?”
“I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr. Secretary, but Mr. Morgan Trayhern is here. He says it’s urgent he see you.”
Puzzled, Ben growled, “Send him in.”
Ari moved to one side as the door swung open. She had heard of this very famous man through Rafe, who knew him personally. She watched as a tall, muscular man wearing a navy blue suit, white silk shirt and light blue tie stepped into the room. Morgan Trayhern radiated power.
Ben made introductions, then said, “This is unexpected, Morgan.”
Morgan stood tensely, his hands clasped in front of him. “I know, Ben. I’m sorry to burst in on you without warning.”
Scowling, Ben looked over at his daughter. “Ari, if you’ll excuse us?”
“Wait,” Morgan cautioned. “This concerns Ari. That’s why I’m here.”
Worthington said, “I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I,” Ari murmured. She saw the agitation in Morgan’s eyes, in the set of his mouth. Her stomach knotted.
“I knew you would be coming here today, Ms. Worthington,” Morgan said in a low tone. “I was on my way here, to the Pentagon, on other business when I received an urgent satcom message on board our jet just before we landed at NationalAirport. My sources informed me you were coming in to see your father. That’s why I knew where to reach you.”
Man of Passion Page 15
