by Nora Roberts
“My, my, so many numbers. It looks complicated.” Aunt Tabby peered at it through narrowed eyes, forgetting the glasses that dangled from her chain. “I have a very nice one, Autumn. You’re welcome to use it whenever you like.” After giving the Nikon another dubious glance, she beamed up with her misty smile. “You just push a little red button, and the picture pops right out. You can see if you’ve cut off someone’s head or have your thumb in the corner right away, so you can take another picture. And you don’t have to grope around in that darkroom either. I don’t know how you see what you’re doing in there.” Her brows drew close, and she tapped a finger against her cheek. “I’m almost certain I can find it.”
Autumn grinned. She was compelled to subject her aunt to yet another bear hug. Over the gray-streaked head, Autumn saw that Lucas was grinning as well. It was the warm, natural grin which came to his face so rarely. For a moment, she found she could smile back at him without pain.
Chapter 4
When the rain came, it didn’t begin with the slow drip-drop of an April shower. As the sky grew hazy, the light in the lounge became dim. Everyone was back and the inn was again filled with its odd assortment of guests.
Steve, expanding on his role of bartender, had wandered to the kitchen to get coffee. Robert Spicer had trapped Jacques in what seemed to be a technical explanation of open-heart surgery. During the discussion, Julia sat beside him, hanging on every word—or seeming to. Autumn knew better. Occasionally, Julia sent messages across to her with her extraordinary eyes. She was enjoying herself immensely.
Jane sat sullen over a novel Autumn was certain was riddled with explicit sex. She wore dull brown again, slacks and a sweater. Helen, her bruise livid, smoked quietly in long, deep drags. She reminded Autumn eerily of Alice in Wonderland’s caterpillar. Once or twice, Autumn found Helen’s sharp eyes on her. The speculative smile left her confused and uncomfortable.
Lucas wasn’t there. He was upstairs, Autumn knew, hammering away at his typewriter. She hoped it would keep him busy for hours. Perhaps he’d even take his meals in his room.
Abruptly, the dim light outdoors was snuffed out, and the room plunged into gloom. The warmth fled with it. Autumn shuddered with a sharp premonition of dread. The feeling surprised her, as storms had always held a primitive appeal for her. For a heartbeat, there was no sound, then the rain began with a gushing explosion. With instant force, instant fury, it battered against the windows, punctuated by wicked flashes of lightning.
“A spring shower in the mountains,” Steve observed. He paused a moment in the doorway with a large tray balanced in his hands. The friendly scent of coffee entered with him.
“More like special effects,” Julia returned. With a flutter of her lashes, she cuddled toward Robert, “Storms are so terrifying and moving. I find myself longing to be frightened.”
It was straight out of A Long Summer’s Evening, Autumn noted, amused. But the doctor seemed too overcome with Julia’s ingenuous eyes to recognize the line. Autumn wanted to laugh badly. When Julia cuddled even closer and sent her a wink, Autumn’s eyes retreated to the ceiling.
Jane wasn’t amused. Autumn noticed she was no longer sullen but smoldering. Perhaps she had claws after all, Autumn thought, and felt she would like her better for it. It might be wise, she mused as Steve passed her a cup of coffee, if Julia concentrated on him rather than the doctor.
“Cream, no sugar, right?” Steve smiled down at her with his California blue eyes. Autumn’s lips curved in response. He was a man with the rare ability to make a woman feel pampered without being patronizing. She admired him for it.
“Right. You’ve got a better memory than George.” Her eyes smiled at him over the rim of her cup. “You serve with such style, too. Have you been in this line of work long?”
“I’m only here on a trial basis,” he told her with a grin. “Please pass your comments on to the management.”
Lightning speared through the gloom again. Jacques shifted in his seat as thunder rumbled and echoed through the room. “With such a storm, is it not possible to lose power?” he addressed Autumn.
“We often lose power.” Her answer, accompanied by an absent shrug, brought on varying reactions.
Julia found the idea marvelous—candlelight was so wonderfully romantic. At the moment, Robert couldn’t have agreed more. Jacques appeared not to care one way or the other. He lifted his hands in a Gallic gesture, indicating his acceptance of fate.
Steve and Helen seemed inordinately put out, though his comments were milder than hers. He mumbled once about inconveniences, then stalked over to the window to stare out at the torrent of wind and rain. Helen was livid.
“I didn’t pay good money to grope around in the dark and eat cold meals.” Lighting another cigarette with a swift, furious gesture, she glared at Autumn. “It’s intolerable that we should have to put up with such inefficiency. Your aunt will certainly have to make the proper adjustments. I for one won’t pay these ridiculous prices, then live like a pioneer.” She waved her cigarette, preparing to continue, but Autumn cut her off. She aimed the cold, hard stare she had recently developed.
“I’m sure my aunt will give your complaints all the consideration they warrant.” Turning pointedly away, she allowed Helen’s sharp little darts to bounce off her. “Actually,” she told Jacques, noting his smile of approval, “we have a generator. My uncle was as practical as Aunt Tabby is . . .”
“Charming,” Steve supplied, and instantly became her friend.
After she’d finished beaming at him, Autumn continued. “If we lose main power, we switch over to the generator. With that, we can maintain essential power with little inconvenience.”
“I believe I’ll have candles in my room anyway,” Julia decided. She gave Robert an under-the-lashes smile as he lit her cigarette.
“Julia should have been French,” Jacques commented. His moustache tilted at the corner. “She’s an incurable romantic.”
“Too much . . . romance,” Helen murmured, “can be unwise.” Her eyes swept the room, then focused on Julia.
Before Autumn’s astonished gaze, Julia transformed from mischievous angel to tough lady. “I’ve always found that only idiots think they’re wise.” Statement made, she melted back into a celestial being so quickly, Autumn blinked.
Seeing her perform on the screen was nothing compared to a live show. It occurred to Autumn that she had no inkling which woman was the real Julia Bond—if indeed she was either. The notion germinated that she really didn’t know any of the people in that room. They were all strangers.
The air was still vibrating with the uncomfortable silence when Lucas entered. He seemed impervious to the swirling tension. Helplessly, Autumn’s eyes locked on his. He came to her, ignoring the others in his cavalier fashion. The devil smile was on his face.
She felt a tremor when she couldn’t stop the room from receding, leaving only him in her vision. Something of that fear must have been reflected in her face.
“I’m not going to eat you, Cat,” Lucas murmured. Against the violent sounds of the storm, his voice was low, only for her. “Do you still like to walk in the rain?” The question was offhand, and didn’t require an answer as he searched her face. “I remember when you did.” He paused when she said nothing. “Your aunt sent you this.” Lucas held out his hand, and Autumn’s gaze dropped to it. Tension dissolved into laughter. “I haven’t heard that in a long time,” Lucas said softly.
She lifted her eyes to his again. He was studying her with a complete, singleminded intensity. “No?” As she accepted Aunt Tabby’s famous red-button camera, her shoulders moved in a careless shrug. “Laughing’s quite a habit of mine.”
“Aunt Tabby says for you to have a good time with it.” Dismissively, he turned his back on her and walked to the coffeepot.
“What have you got there, Autumn?” Julia demanded, her eyes following Lucas’s progress.
Flourishing the camera, Autumn used a sober, didactic tone.
“This, ladies and gentlemen, is the latest technological achievement in photography. At the mere touch of a button, friends and loved ones are beamed inside and spewed out onto a picture which develops before your astonished eyes. No focusing, no need to consult your light meter. The button is faster than the brain. Why, a child of five can operate it while riding his tricycle.”
“It should be known,” Lucas inserted in a dry voice, “that Autumn is a photographic snob.” He stood by the window, carelessly drinking coffee while he spoke to the others. His eyes were on Autumn. “If it doesn’t have interchangeable lenses and filters, multispeed shutters and impossibly complicated operations, it isn’t a camera, but a toy.”
“I’ve noticed her obsession,” Julia agreed. She sent him a delicious look before she turned to Autumn. “She wears that black box like other women wear diamonds. She was actually tramping through the forest at the break of dawn, snapping pictures of chipmunks and bunnies.”
With a good-natured grin, Autumn lifted the camera and snapped Julia’s lovely face.
“Really, darling,” Julia said with a professional toss of the head. “You might have given me the chance to turn my best side.”
“You haven’t got a best side,” Autumn countered.
Julia smiled, obviously torn between amusement and insult while Jacques exploded with laughter. “And I thought she was such a sweet child,” she murmured.
“In my profession, Miss Bond,” Autumn returned gravely, “I’ve had occasion to photograph a fair number of women. This one you shoot from the left profile, that one from the right, another straight on. Still another from an upward angle, and so on.” Pausing a moment, she gave Julia’s matchless face a quick, critical survey. “I could shoot you from any position, any angle, any light, and the result would be equally wonderful.”
“Jacques.” Julia placed a hand on his arm. “We really must adopt this girl. She’s invaluable for my ego.”
“Professional integrity,” Autumn claimed before placing the quickly developing snapshot on the table. She aimed Aunt Tabby’s prize at Steve.
“You should be warned that with a camera of any sort in her hands, Autumn becomes a dangerous weapon.” Lucas moved closer. He lifted the snap of Julia and studied it.
Autumn frowned as she remembered the innumerable photographs she had taken of him. Under the pretext that they were art, she’d never disposed of them. She’d snapped and focused and crouched around him until, exasperated, he’d dislodged the camera from her hands and effectively driven photography from her mind.
Lucas saw the frown. With his eyes dark and unreadable, he reached down to tangle his fingers in her hair. “You never could teach me how to take a proper picture, could you, Cat?”
“No.” The battle with the growing ache made her voice brittle. “I never taught you anything, Lucas. But I learned quite a bit.”
“I’ve never been able to master anything but a one-button job myself.” Steve ambled over. Autumn’s camera sat on the table beside her. Picking it up, he examined it as if it were a strange contraption from the outer reaches of space. “How can you remember what all these numbers are for?”
When he perched on the arm of her chair, Autumn grasped at the diversion. She began a lesson in basic photography. Lucas wandered back to the coffeepot, obviously bored. From the corner of her eye, Autumn noticed Julia gliding to join him. Within moments, her hand was tucked into his arm, and he no longer appeared bored. Gritting her teeth, Autumn began to give Steve a more involved lesson.
Lucas and Julia left, arm in arm, ostensibly for Julia to nap and Lucas to work. Autumn’s eyes betrayed her by following them.
When she dragged her attention back to Steve, she caught his sympathetic smile. That he understood her feelings was too obvious. Cursing herself, she resumed her explanations of f-stops, grateful that Steve picked up the conversation as if there had been no lull.
The afternoon wore on. It was a long, dreary day with rain beating against windows. Lightning and thunder came and went, but the wind built in force until it was one continuous moan. Robert tended the fire until flames crackled and spit. The cheery note this might have brought to the room was negated by Jane’s sullenness and Helen’s pacing. The air was tight.
Evading Steve’s suggestion of cards, Autumn sought the peace and activity of her darkroom. As she closed and locked the door behind her, the headache which had started to build behind her temples eased.
This room was without tensions. Her senses picked up no nagging, intangible disturbances here, but were clear and ready to work. Step by step, she took her film through the first stages of development, preparing chemicals, checking temperatures, setting timers. Growing absorbed, she forgot the battering storm.
While it was necessary, Autumn worked in a total absence of light. Her fingers were her eyes at this stage and she worked quickly. Over the muffled sound of the storm, she heard a faint rattle. She ignored it, busy setting the timer for the next stage of developing. When the sound came again, it annoyed her.
Was it the doorknob? she wondered. Had she remembered to lock the door? All she needed at that point was for some layman to blunder in and bring damaging light with him.
“Leave the door alone,” she called out just as the radio she had switched on for company went dead. There went the power, she concluded. Standing in the absolute darkness, Autumn sighed as the rattle came again.
Was it someone at the door, or just someone in the kitchen? Curious and annoyed, she walked in the direction of the door to make sure it was locked. Her steps were confident. She knew every inch of the room now. Suddenly, to her astonishment, pain exploded inside her head. Lights flashed and fractured before the darkness again became complete.
***
“Autumn, Autumn, open your eyes.” Though the sound was far off and muffled, she heard the command in the tone. She resisted it. The nearer she came to consciousness, the more hideous the throbbing in her head grew. Oblivion was painless.
“Open your eyes.” The voice was clearer now and more insistent. Autumn moaned.
Reluctantly, she opened her eyes as hands brushed the hair from her face. For a moment, she felt them linger against her cheek. Lucas came into focus gradually, dimming and receding until she forced him back, clear and sharp.
“Lucas?” Disoriented, Autumn could not think beyond his name. It seemed to satisfy him.
“That’s better,” he said with approval. Before any protest could be made, he kissed her hard, with a briefness that spoke of past intimacy. “You had me worried there a minute. What the hell did you do to yourself?”
The accusation was typical of him. She barely noticed it. “Do?” Autumn lifted a hand to touch the spot on her head where the pain was concentrated. “What happened?”
“That’s my question, Cat. No, don’t touch the lump.” He caught her hand in his and held it. “It’ll only hurt more if you do. I’m curious as to how you came by it, and why you were lying in a heap on the floor.”
It was difficult to keep clear of the mists in her brain. Autumn tried to center in on the last thing she remembered. “How did you get in?” she demanded, remembering the rattling knob. “Hadn’t I locked the door?” It came to her slowly that he was cradling her in his arms, holding her close against his chest. She struggled to sit up. “Were you rattling at the door?”
“Take it easy,” he ordered as she groaned with the movement.
Autumn squeezed her eyes shut against the pounding in her head. “I must have walked into the door,” she murmured, wondering at the quality of her clumsiness.
“You walked into the door and knocked yourself unconscious?” She couldn’t tell if Lucas was angry or amused. The ache in her head kept her from caring one way or the other. “Strange, I don’t recall you possessing that degree of uncoordination.”
“It was dark,” she grumbled, coherent enough to feel embarrassed. “If you hadn’t been rattling around at the door . . .”
“I wasn’t ra
ttling around at your door,” he began, but she cut him off with a startled gasp.
“The lights!” For a second time, she tried to struggle away from him. “You turned on the lights!”
“It was a mad impulse when I saw you crumpled on the floor,” he returned dryly. Without any visible effort, he held her still. “I wanted to see the extent of the damage.”
“My film!” Her glare was as accusing as her voice, but he responded with laughter.
“The woman’s a maniac.”
“Let go of me, will you?” Her anger made her less than gracious. Pushing away, she scrambled to her feet. At her movement, the pain grew to a crashing roar. She staggered under it.
“For God’s sake, Autumn.” Lucas rose and gripped her shoulders, steadying her. “Stop behaving like an imbecile over a few silly pictures.”
This statement, under normal conditions, would have been unwise. In her present state of mind, it was a declaration of war. Pain was eclipsed by a pure silver streak of fury. She whirled on him.
“You never could see my work as anything but silly pictures, could you? You never saw me as anything but a silly child, diverting for a while, but eventually boring. You always hated being bored, didn’t you, Lucas?” She made a violent swipe at the hair that fell over her eyes. “You sit with your novels and bask in the adulation you get and look down your nose at the rest of us. You’re not the only person in the world with talent, Lucas. My abilities are just as creative as yours, and my pictures give me as much fulfillment as your silly little books.”
For a moment, he stood in silence, studying her with a frown. When he did speak, his voice was oddly weary. “All right, Autumn, now that you’ve gotten that out, you’d better get yourself some aspirin.”
“Just leave me alone!” She shook off the hand he put on her arm. Turning, she started to take her camera from the shelf she had placed it on before beginning her work. Glancing down at the table, she flared again. “What do you mean by messing around with my equipment? You’ve exposed an entire roll of film!” Seething with fury, she whirled on him. “It isn’t enough to interrupt my work by
