by Janet Dailey
Shouldering Jonni aside, her mother took over to bathe the blood from his face and check the seriousness of his cuts. She asked Trevor a list of clinical questions about his vision, his hearing, any dizziness or nausea. Jonni stood beside his chair and watched, exhausted and shivering in her rain-soaked clothes. Her father pressed a cup of steaming coffee into her numb hands.
"He's all right," he said. "You go change out of those wet clothes before you come down with pneumonia. Your mother will see to him."
After a second's hesitation, Jonni tiredly submitted to the commanding tone of his voice. She walked out of the room to the stairway to the second floor and her bedroom, nursing the strong, sweet coffee. As she started up the stairs, her father caught up with her.
"What does Gabe look like?" he asked, partly from concern and partly from curiosity.
"What do you think?" Bitterness crept into her voice. "He's hardly got a mark on him." The fight's outcome had been predictable and it still irritated Jonni that Gabe had found it necessary to prove it.
In her bedroom Jonni finished her coffee while the bathtub was filling with hot water. After the bath she towelled her hair damp-dry and changed into a kelly green sweater with ivory slacks. Half an hour from the time she had left the kitchen, she was walking back downstairs.
Trevor was in the living room. A thin strip of bandage covered the cut above his eye. A larger one was on his cheek, but it didn't totally conceal the purpling bruise surrounding the gash. An ice bag was alternately being applied to his cheek and to his split and swollen lip. Jonni paused at the doorway, then walked in.
"How do you feel?" she asked with quiet concern, aware of how he looked.
"The way any man feels when he's on the losing end of a fight," Trevor answered testily. "Like an ass."
"You shouldn't. It was wrong of Gabe to fight you when he knew he could win," Jonni insisted with a harsh undertone.
"Look at this." He tipped his head back and carefully parted his lips. "He knocked a chip off my front tooth." There was a black gap in the row of even white teeth.
"I'm sorry, Trevor." Jonni wasn't sure why she was apologizing.
"I'm glad I have a good dentist." He grimaced and pressed the ice bag to his lip. "I'm just sorry I ever picked a fight with him."
"So am I." She stood close to his chair, too ill at ease and upset to sit down.
He caught at her left hand, looking up at her with a warm light in his brown eyes. A smile was too painful for his injured mouth. "At least I have the consolation that his victory was a hollow one. You're here with me."
Jonni wasn't certain it meant anything so she kept silent. His fingers twisted the diamond ring she wore, unnecessarily reminding her that she was engaged to him. He pulled her down to sit on the arm of his chair.
"I suspected all along that Stockman wasn't to be trusted. I had a feeling he'd try to make mischief, but it didn't do him any good." Trevor was placing all the blame on Gabe and treating Jonni as an innocent participant, which she knew she hadn't been.
"Trevor — Her attempt to correct that misconception was interrupted.
"You don't have to worry about him anymore," he assured her. "I've made arrangements for the chartered plane to pick us up at nine in the morning, and I have our airline reservations confirmed to New York. I've talked to your parents. They quite understand that it's best, under the circumstances, for you to cut your vacation short."
He was taking it for granted that she wanted to go with him. Since Jonni wasn't sure whether she wanted to or not, she said nothing. There would be time enough to make up her mind between now and tomorrow morning. Trevor seemed unperturbed by her silence as he affectionately squeezed her hand.
"Would you mind going into the kitchen, darling, and seeing, if your mother can fix me something to drink, preferably with a straw?" he asked.
"Of course not," she answered, and straightened from the chair, slipping her hand from his light hold.
As she walked to the kitchen Jonni was aware that his touch had done nothing for her. His caress had not sparked a savagely sweet rush of emotions. There had been no odd tremor of excitement.
Her mother was at the kitchen sink peeling potatoes when Jonni walked in. Caroline glanced up, her look faintly anxious. "Trevor told us you were leaving in the morning."
"Yes, I know," For the time being, Jonni didn't contradict the statement. "He'd like something to drink. Would you take it into the living room for him?" She continued through the kitchen and paused at the back door where a yellow rain slicker was hanging from at hook.
"Where are you going, Jonni?" A knife and a half-peeled potato were set on the porcelain drain board of the sink.
"I want to see Gabe."
"Is that wise, dear?" Caroline frowned.
"I hope so." Jonni sighed and fastened the last of the snaps before stepping outside into the drizzling rain.
Pulling the vinyl hood over her head, she started off across the path straight for Gabe's living quarters in the renovated bunkhouse. She stopped at the door, fighting the twisting uncertainties in her stomach, and knocked twice, loudly.
"Come in." 'His voice was muffled by the thickness of the door.
The interior of the quarters was austere. A small kitchenette was on one side, birch cabinets built around the stove, sink and refrigerator. A small wooden table with two chairs stood next to another wall. With the exception of a floor lamp beside a leather recliner, the rest of the space was taken up by a desk and several filing cabinets. A short hallway ended in a closed door. Another door in the hallway stood open. Light streamed out and Jonni heard the sound of running water. She walked toward it, pushing the rain hood back.
Naked from the waist up, Gabe was standing in front of the sink in the bathroom. He didn't turn around when she appeared in the doorway, but glanced into the mirror above the sink where her reflection joined his. Without speaking, he finished rinsing the washcloth, then dabbed it at the cut at the corner of his mouth, wincing slightly. His knuckles were swollen and faintly discolored. On the back of his left hand there was a gash that looked sore and angry.
There was a closed expression to his face. "Did he live?" he asked dryly.
His baiting tone made Jonni snap, "No thanks to you!" The sight or him bare to the waist was making her all nervy. "You broke off part of his front tooth," she accused.
"Really?" Gabe flexed his injured hand as if realizing the source of the wound.
This wasn't the conversation she wanted to have with him at all. She took a calming breath and tried to start again. "Trevor is sorry he fought with you."
"He probably is," he agreed smoothly, and reached for a towel to dry his hands.
There was too much complacency in his response and her temper flared. "You could apologize, too." The blame was just as much his.
Gabe turned around to face her, completely controlled and impassive. "I've never walked up to anybody with my hat in my hand, and I'm not going to start now." A clean shirt was hanging on the doorknob. Picking it up, he slipped a bronze arm in one long sleeve and shrugged into the other. His gaze lightly skimmed her taut features.
She tried to goad some reaction out of him, unable to tell what he was thinking or feeling and needing to know. "Trevor is leaving for New York in the morning. He expects me to go with him."
Gabe buttoned his shirt. "Naturally he wants you to go with him. Since you're still wearing his ring, he obviously still considers you his fiancé."
Frustration welled at his noncommittal response. "Don't you care whether I'm leaving with him or not?" Jonni demanded with a faintly desperate ring.
"You know were I stand. The next decision is yours. Either you stay or you go." Gabe tucked his shirt in his pants as if they were discussing some trivial subject instead of their future.
His indifference hurt. She wanted to be told more than just that she knew where he stood. She wanted Gabe to say he loved her and wanted her to stay. She wanted to be persuaded. She wanted him t
o sweep away any supposed resistance with a crushing embrace.
"What if I told you I was going?" Jonni challenged.
"Are you?" There wasn't even a flicker of emotion in his steady gaze.
"Yes!" she declared out of sheer perversity.
"Then there isn't anything more to be said, is there?" A pair of impersonal hands moved her out of the doorway so he could walk past.
Shocked by his calm acceptance of her supposed decision, Jonni could only watch as Gabe walked to his desk. He sat down in a creaking swivel chair and opened a ledger book. From a sheaf of notes he began writing down figures in the columns.
Feeling lost and forlorn, Jonni pulled the yellow hood over her head and walked numbly to the door. Her hand closed over he cold metal of the doorknob.
"Goodbye, Jonni," Gabe said with an air of finality.
"Goodbye," she choked.
With a muffled cry like a wounded animal, she jerked open the door and fled into the gray drizzle.
THE NEXT MORNING Jonni stood at the bedroom window overlooking the front of the house. Her clothes were all packed in the suitcases standing at the door waiting to be carried downstairs. It was half-past eight and the chartered plane was due at nine. She'd heard Trevor go down fifteen minutes ago but still she waited, nibbling at her forefinger.
At the sound of a motor, her hand came away from her mouth and Jonni brightened anxiously. The pickup truck rolled up to the sidewalk leading to the front door of the house. The driver got out and her heart fell to her toes. It was Duffy McNair who would drive them to the airfield, not Gabe. Her last hope faded.
On wooden legs she walked, to the hall door, picked up the two lightest suitcases and proceeded down the stairs. Duffy was standing with her father in the entryway. Their voices hushed when she approached.
"Let me take those for you, Jonni." Duffy stepped forward to relieve her of the suitcases.
"I'll carry these," she insisted. "There are two more, heavier ones, upstairs in my room. I'll let you bring those." She tried to sound light and uncaring, but her voice came out artificial and brittlely gay.
"Be glad to." He began mounting the stairs on bowed legs.
"They're sitting right by the door," she called after him, then turned to her father. "Where's Trevor?"
"He took his bags out to the truck. Let me carry one of those for you," he offered.
"No. You aren't supposed to be carrying heavy things," Jonni refused.
"Don't be pampering me," John Starr reproved. "My heart isn't in such bad shape that I can't carry a few tubes of lipstick." With that, he took the cosmetic case from her hand and opened the door. Trevor was standing by the truck, along with her mother. Jonni paused at the porch steps while her father closed the front door.
"Where's Gabe?" she asked, trying not to sound too interested as her gaze scanned the ranch buildings "I thought he'd be here this morning to see us off."
"He went to a livestock auction today." John's sidelong look was narrowed and sharply questioning. "I thought you'd said your goodbyes yesterday. Didn't you?"
"We did." Her voice wavered. With gritting determination, Jonni steadied it. "Yes, we did."
A quarter of an hour early, the plane was circling the field to land as Duffy came out of the house with the rest of Jonni's luggage. In a numbed state, Jonni submitted to her mother's hugs, kisses and tears and her father's fierce hug and gruff wish for a safe trip.
Their farewells to Trevor were more restrained and less emotional. He looked worse that morning. His bruises had colored into vivid purples and yellows. One quarter of his lip was half again as large as the rest of his mouth. The chipped front tooth added to his battered appearance.
Duffy was careful to avoid looking at Trevor when he slid behind the wheel. Jonni suspected Duffy found the sight of that bruised face amusing, but she was too wrapped up in her own misery to care about any slight, implied or otherwise, to Trevor.
The ride to the airfield had always seemed such a long one, but this time it was incredibly short. Much too soon, her luggage was being stowed in the baggage compartment of the twin-engine aircraft, its motors idling in readiness for flight. Before she climbed aboard Jonni took one last look, hoping, against hope that Gabe would suddenly arrive. When she hesitated, Trevor hurried her inside.
Automatically she buckled her seat belt while staring out the window at the hangar. The plane began taxiing and she continued to watch, a strangling tightness encircling her throat. At the end of the runway the plane made its roll down the grass strip and lifted off. A few minutes later she saw her parents standing in front of the house and waving at the plane banking northeast.
Trevor leaned over. "I know you'll miss them, but they'll be coming to New York in less than a month's time to help you get ready for the wedding." His hand covered the balled fist in her lap. "We'll be married soon, darling. The next time we come back here for a visit, you'll be my wife. And you won't have to worry about that Gabe Stockman ever bothering you again."
"Shut up, Trevor." Jonni turned her head and stared out the window, letting the first teardrop fall.
Chapter Ten
THE STEREO MUSIC WAS LOUD. It had to be in order to be heard above the noise of an apartment full of people, all laughing and talking at the same time. A portable bar, borrowed from a neighbor, was the center of attention, drawing nearly as big a crowd as the buffet table loaded with snacks and goodies. Streamers draped the ceiling, their festive colors dulled by a haze of cigarette smoke. A huge sign hung across one wall; emblazoned on it were the words We'll Miss You, Vickie.
"Excuse me." Jonni inched her way through the crowd around the buffet and added two more platters of finger sandwiches to the assortment of hors d'oeuvres.
"Hey!" As she turned away, someone grabbed her left hand. "What happened to that sparkler you've been wearing and dazzling all our eyes with?" Her laughing inquisitor was Dale Barlow, a photographer Jonni had worked with on several occasions.
"I returned it." She shrugged diffidently and tried to withdraw her hand from the clasp of his fingers. She didn't want to remember how difficult it had been to convince Trevor she didn't want to marry him.
"Hey, gang!" Dale refused to relinquish his hold of her hand and held it aloft. "We may be losing Vickie to the lure of smoggy California, but her roommate, the beautiful Jonni Starr, is footloose and fancy-free again. She's ditched her tycoon lover boy."
Jonni winced at the phrase, the color washing from her face. She wasn't footloose and fancy-free, not by any means. She was too poignantly aware of the mistake she'd made by leaving the ranch instead of staying with Gabe, but her stubborness had gotten in the way. She wanted to go back, but she needed more courage — more courage and less pride.
"Enough, Dale." She removed her hand from his amidst the cheers that followed his announcement. "You're interfering with the hostess while she's on duty."
"Very well. More champagne and caviar, my good woman," he requested in a falsely deep voice before breaking into laughter.
Presented with the opportunity, Jonni slipped away into the relative quiet of the compact kitchen. She was relieved to be in charge of the farewell party for her roommate. It meant she was occupied with an endless array of things to keep the party running smoothly and didn't have to pretend to be enjoying the festive air.
The doorbell rang as she was opening the refrigerator door. Jonni had discovered early on in the evening that her ears seemed to be the only ones attuned to the sound. She removed the tray of biscuit wafers topped with caviar and set it on the counter. Smoothing a hand over the front of her long black pinafore gown, she walked back into the crowded living room.
"Jonni! I haven't had a chance to talk to you all evening!" Within seconds of entering the room, Jonni was cornered by a former model friend turned actress. "Don't you have a drink?" The girl turned to the man beside her. "Bob, get Jonni a drink."
"Don't bother, Bob," Jonni refused, and backed toward the door.
"Whe
re are you going?" The girl frowned. "We haven't had a good gossip in ages."
"Later, maybe," Jonni stalled, and motioned toward the apartment door. "The doorbell is ringing. Late arrival, I guess."
"It's ringing? How can you tell with all this racket?" The girl laughed.
An answer wasn't required as Jonni smiled and continued on her way to the door. Its buzzing ring came again, insistent in its tone. Jonni schooled her expression into a welcoming smile and opened the door.
Her heart somersaulted into her throat, lodging there to deprive her of speech. Gabe stood out-side — at least it looked like Gabe, unless she was hallucinating. His broad-shouldered frame was clothed in a tailored suit and vest of dark blue with a striped tie of blue, gray and gold to blend with the pearl-gray shirt he wore.
The clothes didn't belong to the levi-clad Western man she knew, but the sun-hardened features looked the same. The neatly trimmed brush of black mustache was there, and the black hair was in its natural casually rakish style, which some men paid the earth to achieve. The bold blackness of his eyes could belong to no one else. Yet Jonni was afraid her own eyes were deceiving her. It had only been two weeks since she'd seen him. How could he have changed so much?
"Gabe?" she questioned hesitantly, half-afraid she would blink and he'd disappear.
"Hello, Jonni." The vibrant, caressing pitch of his voice flowed warmly over her. His gaze strayed behind her to the noisy party. "You've having a party."
"Yes" She was dazed, joyously mesmerized by the sight of him standing there at her door. "It's a farewell party for my roommate. She's moving California."
"May I come in?" he asked with faint mockery.
A wave of self-consciousness rouged her cheeks. She wanted to fling herself into his arms and shut out the party but the moment had passed when she could do that. She opened the door wider and stepped aside.
"Of course, please come in, Gabe. You'll have to forgive my manners," she apologized with a nervous laugh. "When I answered the door didn't expect to see you there."
