They’d gone into the living room and taken seats in a corner to allow them privacy. Ben was nowhere in sight.
“Have you talked with him about your feelings?”
“Of course not! I’m not even sure what they are!”
“Well…he’s obviously suffering from the same malady. How can you expect him to approach you with feelings that he doesn’t understand, that he may not want to understand?”
“I suppose you have a point,” Abby granted softly. “It’s just such a touchy situation…. And the trial seems to be building up steam….”
It continued to build. Friday’s court session saw half a dozen additional character witnesses take the stand to testify to Derek Bradley’s typical abrasiveness, his uncanny ability to charm when necessary, his dark flair for revenge. And the parade continued the next morning, with witness after witness conveying the fundamental meanness of the defendant’s character. Derek Bradley, it seemed, if this collection of witnesses was to be believed, was a basically ruthless person.
Then, shortly before noon on Saturday, the state rested its case.
If only Abby was able to rest hers. But nothing was resolved. She was no closer to knowing the extent of her feelings than she’d been in the movie theater Thursday night.
It seemed, indeed, that Ben Wyeth was as strong-willed as the prosecutor claimed Derek Bradley to be. Ben hadn’t approached her again in a personal way. Nor did he seem particularly affected by her nearness each day in court. For all outward purposes, she was to him simply another juror.
She began to wonder if she’d imagined the poignancy in his voice that night. Loneliness…that was what she’d wanted to hear. Had she read it into his tone?
What she needed, she realized, was a chance to be with him, talk with him, get to know him even better. Had they not been members of a sequestered jury, they might have gone off somewhere together for the day. Of course, she pointedly reminded herself, had they not been members of this sequestered jury, they would never have met! Yet for the first time she truly resented the limitations of their circumstances.
Time together was an indulgence, time alone a luxury. Nothing had come from running together each morning, little more from dining—en masse—at several of the finest restaurants in the area. Even the movie had proven a dubious interlude.
By the time she got wind of a mountain climbing expedition in the works for Sunday, Abby was willing to try anything.
Seven
Sunday dawned dark and overcast but did nothing to dampen the enthusiasm of the six who’d decided to go. There were Abby and Patsy, Brian, Richard, Phillip, and, of course, Ben. Ray was their official escort. A skilled mountaineer had been hired as their guide.
Dressed warmly in jeans and a jacket, Abby was one of the first downstairs. She was quickly joined there by Patsy, who appeared as excited as she. Abby knew the reasons for her own excitement; totally apart from the opportunity to be with Ben, a day in the wilds appealed to her. She hoped physical exertion would finally earn her a good night’s sleep. As for Patsy, she simply beamed and said she was an outdoors girl at heart.
The group left soon after breakfast bearing backpacks filled with food conscientiously prepared by the Abbotts. Their destination was an hour’s drive north of the inn, a mountain chosen both for its gentleness and its obscurity. It was relatively unknown, and therefore fit the sheriff’s specifications to a tee.
Unpromising skies notwithstanding, the climate was ideal for Abby’s purpose. With so few of the jurors along—and Patsy quite mischievously taking her place at the front of the line with the decidedly youthful and good-looking guide—she was bound to catch Ben at some point. When he quite deliberately fell into step beside her, she knew that her day was made.
“You’re looking pleased,” he commented, taking his eyes from the path long enough to toss her a look of amusement.
“I am. This is just what I need.” In every sense.
“Ever been climbing before?”
“Nope. I ski…but there’s a slightly different route to the top.” As their companions gradually spaced themselves along the narrow path, she felt freer to talk. “How about you?”
“Ski or climb?”
“Either.”
“Both.”
Abby laughed. “I’m impressed. When do you find the time?”
“You mean,” Ben lowered his voice, “when do I come down from my ivory tower long enough?”
“Now, now, I didn’t say that. But I assume that you’re very busy. What is your life like, Ben?”
Taking her hand, he led her over a particularly rocky area. His fingers were warm and strong, filling her with buoyancy. All too soon though, they’d returned to the earthen path and he released her.
“Oh, it’s pretty regimented. I have classes every day, with student conferences and other appointments sandwiched in. Then there are faculty meetings and committee meetings and a handful of other meetings strewn around. Not to mention advanced seminars that are most often held in the evenings. Somewhere in between all that, I have to prepare lectures and do my own reading and writing.” He took a deep breath and arched a roguish brow. “It’s busy. Not exactly an ivory tower existence.” Then his grin melted Abby with its crooked flash of white. “But I do love it. And I have Sundays and holidays and vacations to do all the other things.”
“Like skiing and hiking?”
“Like skiing and hiking.”
“Were those things high on the list of priorities that brought you north in the first place?” she asked, eager to keep the flood-gates open. The fresh outdoors, raw as it was the higher they climbed, seemed to have freed them both from past restraints.
Ben’s gaze protected her from the chill. His eyes were as gray and soothing as ever. “They were really only passing considerations. I’d never been on a pair of skis…nor had I climbed a mountain.”
She recalled his mention of having grown up with few advantages and the jigsaw puzzle piece fit. Further, she respected the way he showed no embarrassment at confessing to what other men might consider a handicap. “Then…?” she prompted him.
“I wanted a change from the city, wide open spaces, a quieter life.”
“Quieter? From the sounds of it, you’re constantly on the go!”
With her eyes glued to his face, Abby nearly stumbled on an exposed root. Ben’s hand was instantly at her elbow. “Watch it, babe. It’s getting rougher.”
Not to mention the terrain, she reflected wryly. But nothing could get her off the track. “Wouldn’t it be easier if you lived on campus?” she asked, realizing as she did that, had that been the case, he would have been a resident of New Hampshire and they might never have met.
He climbed further before answering. “As a matter of fact, I did rent a place on campus for several months when I first arrived. I found that I needed the distance, though. It’s too easy to have an open door there, with people coming in and out all the time. I need my privacy…if for nothing more than to think.”
“Sounds very esoteric,” she quipped, sending him a teasing glance. “What sorts of mysterious thoughts do you have?”
“Nothing overwhelming,” he answered quietly. When a pensive look overspread his features, Abby worried that she’d lost him to those very thoughts. It seemed terribly important to keep him with her.
This time, she saw the root before tripping over it. The heels of her hands bore the brunt of her weight when she tumbled. Ben righted her easily.
“Are you okay?” Genuinely concerned, he turned her hands face up. “Nothing’s cut. Do they hurt?” With the gentlest of motions, he brushed the dirt from her skin.
“They’re fine. That was stupid of me.”
“Not stupid. Your mind must have been on something else.”
“Everything all right here?” Ray asked, finally reaching them from behind.
Ben assumed the burden of explanation. “Everything’s fine. Abby tripped…but she’ll live.”
“Jo
hannsen has a first aid kit in his pack.” Johannsen was the guide. “Should I yell for him?”
Much as Abby was content standing with her hands held so tenderly by Ben, she couldn’t warrant disturbing the others. “No, thanks, Ray. I’m really all right. See? Just a few scratches.” She held her hands up for his fleeting inspection before tucking them safely into the pockets of her jacket. It seemed one way of preserving the memory of Ben’s warm fingers.
“Are you cold?” Ben must have intercepted that thought fragment, for he regarded her with renewed concern.
“I’m fine.” She smiled gallantly. “But the longer we stand here the colder it gets.”
“You’re right about that,” Ray agreed, then brusquely motioned them forward. “Lead on.”
Emboldened by her chaperone—perhaps in defiance—Abby tucked her elbow through Ben’s and leaned closer to offer a stage whisper meant for Ray’s ears as well. “We’d better do as he says. He’s the one with the gun.” She cast an eye back in time to catch the guard’s dry smile. “Where do you think he’s taking us?”
Ben’s gaze narrowed on the path ahead. “Looks like it’s to the mountaintop. He must have his men waiting there,” he drawled, joining the game. He covered her hand with his own as they resumed the upward trek. Had it not been for the increasingly sharp incline of the trail and the guard following several paces behind, they might have been lovers strolling through the park.
“What do you think they’ll do to us?” she asked.
“Shoot us at dusk, no doubt.” He lowered his head. “We could try to make a run for it.”
“Nah. I bet he’s got the woods surrounded.”
“Hmmph. You’re probably right.…We could split up and confuse him….”
“Then one of us might get lost.”
Ben eyed her with mock skepticism. “You? Get lost? I’ll bet you could find your way out of a cornfield with your eyes closed.”
“Then you’re the one with the poor sense of direction?”
“Shhhh. No one’s supposed to know that.”
“You’re serious….”
“Sadly so.”
“Really, Ben?” She tipped her head away to look up at him in disbelief.
His expression was the ultimate in sincerity. “Really, Abby.” Again there was no embarrassment. This was a man who recognized and accepted his limitations. She admired that.
He continued in a low, velvet tone. “I’m fine if I know the way by heart, but I have this knack for getting lost in new surroundings. Of course, if I had a pretty lady with a great sense of direction beside me all the time…”
Of course. That would be nice. A tempting, if improbable thought. Better to return to the game, she mused. Glancing over her shoulder, though, she saw that Ray had again fallen back. Had he done it for their benefit? The others were well ahead. This was the time with Ben she’d sought.
“What are your plans for the future?” she asked. Then, mortified at what must have seemed her implication, she quickly qualified the question. “I mean, will you stay at the college…or have you set your sights on other things?”
“Like…?”
She shrugged against his arm, rather liking the feel of his solidity. “Like teaching elsewhere, or writing full time, or accepting a political appointment. Maybe you’d like to run for office yourself.”
“Me?” He chuckled. “Not by a long shot.”
“Why not?” She’d vote for him any day.
The path took a series of ragged twists and turns, forcing them to separate. At Ben’s gesturing, Abby moved ahead, waiting patiently for her answer until they could walk abreast once more.
“For the same reason that I live off campus. Privacy. I like it. I don’t think I could take the constant demand put on a politician by his constituency. I make too many demands on myself.”
“And what are those?”
Eyes forward, he focused on the rugged trail. “That whatever I do, I do well. As a teacher, I constantly update my lectures. As an adviser, I take an active interest in my students. As a writer, I do as many drafts as are necessary to produce the best possible manuscript.”
“And what about you?” she burst out on impulse, then went on simply because the damage was already done. “What about your private life?”
“What about it?” he asked, detached.
“What demands do you place on it?”
A light mist had begun to descend, dampening the foliage on either side of the trail as well as the earth underfoot. Feeling suddenly chilled, Abby zipped her jacket to the throat. Ben seized on the move to change the subject.
“You’re getting cold?”
“It’s really chilly. I wish I’d had boots to wear.” Her sneakers were getting wet and did little to protect her from the fast falling temperature.
“Maybe we should turn back.”
“For me? Don’t be silly! I’m fine as long as we keep moving.”
They did. For nearly another two hours, they trudged ahead, trying to rationalize the merits of exercise, of fresh air, of climbing-the-mountain-because-it-was-there. Though Ben opened up no further, he was quietly companionable and quick to offer gentle coaxing when Abby felt herself begin to drag.
Shortly after noon, they joined the rest of the group on the bald and drizzly mountaintop. Abby wasn’t the only uncomfortable one. It seemed that Richard and Phillip had done their share of complaining, irritating Brian and leaving all three short-tempered.
Patsy had fared well beside her guide; but then, Patsy had evidently done this before. Not only had she worn long johns, she told Abby after the fact, but she’d come properly equipped with hiking boots and a water-repellent parka. Furthermore, a snug wool cap and a pair of mittens had mysteriously appeared to warm her head and hands.
Trusty Ray considered it all in the line of duty, ignoring the dampness, parrying the complaints, finding solace in the fact that there’d be no other fools on the mountain that day.
And as for their guide…Abby had to agree that, for all her fickleness, Patsy had good taste. Peter Johannsen, as he was introduced to her, was not only adorable and able, as his skill in ferreting out a sheltered lunching spot attested, but he’d taken to Patsy with a protectiveness that was almost reassuring. Abby counted on him to have the good sense that, if past example were a guide, her friend might lack.
Abby’s greatest source of pride, though, was Ben. Even when things went from bad to worse, his composure never wavered. When the light drizzle evolved into a steady rain, he discovered a shallow cave into which they might retreat. When the temperature began to drop as quickly as the rain, he built a small fire from brush that he and Peter collected. When Phillip’s grumbling resumed with a vengeance and Brian launched an unnecessarily harsh counterattack, Ben was there to negotiate a cease-fire.
Finally, with bones rested, hunger sated, and hands temporarily warmed, they stuffed the bare remains of lunch back into the packs for the long trek down the mountain.
It should have been easy with gravity their ally. Patsy and her guide led the way; Abby and Ben kept an eye on Brian, while Ray tagged behind earning his salary the hard way mollycoddling Richard and Phillip.
It should have been easy…but it wasn’t. Muscles that were weary from the hike up were jarred with each downward stride. Clothing that had dried by the fire at lunch was now far wetter than before. Spirits were low, conversation at a minimum. All concentration was on getting home.
Then Brian fell. Brian…of all people. Brian…who ran each morning as though he were in training for the Olympics. Brian…who prided himself on being the true athlete of the jury. Brian…who’d spent the better part of his morning and lunchtime reminding Phillip and Richard that they were soft, untrained, out of shape.
It happened so quickly that Abby was hard pressed to re-create the event later. She recalled Brian being several steps ahead of her, moving to the edge of the path to look at something, and suddenly vanishing. His hair-raising cry first told of i
mminent disaster. Within seconds Abby was on her knees near the spot where the sodden earth had apparently crumbled beneath his weight. Seconds later she was unceremoniously hauled back by an irate Ben.
“Get away from there, Abby! Do you want to go over, too?”
“He’s down there, Ben—”
“I know!” he gritted. Then, finding what he judged to be a more stable spot, he stretched out on his stomach and inched forward until he could see below to where Brian had fallen. Impulsively, Abby followed his lead. “Abby…”
“There he is!” she cried, ignoring Ben’s warning. “He’s moving!”
Brian was indeed moving, appearing stunned but not seriously injured. He lay sprawled on the slick grassy slope some forty feet down from Abby and Ben. By some miracle, he’d managed to save himself from the rockier, lower portion of the ravine.
An Irresistible Impulse Page 14
