by Janet Dailey
"You may leave. I don't need your services any more," he said evenly. There was something in his calm dismissal that told Andrea that he was serious, that he meant it to mean forever.
Catching back a little sob, she fumbled for the doorknob, opened the door quickly and nearly tripped over the Irish setter whining anxiously on the other side. Andrea's fingers trailed lightly over his golden flame head in assurance that she was all right before she bolted for the stairs. In her room, she shed the tears she couldn't hold back.
More than a quarter of an hour later, her expression frozen by repeated applications of cold water to clear her red-rimmed eyes, Andrea walked down the stairs in search of Nancy. Her haunted eyes automatically sought the study door and veered away from the door tightly, and no doubt permanently, closed to her.
"Goodness! You're finished already!" Nancy exclaimed, quickly bounding from the chair beside her mother to hurry to Andrea's side. "You must have knocked Tell off his feet getting those letters done so soon."
It was the other way around, Andrea thought. She was the one who had been knocked off her feet, but she only smiled and asked Nancy if she was ready to leave, if Tell decided to let it be known that she had not helped him that was his business. Personally, she didn't want to explain how disastrously her offer had turned out.
"The last time I was in Jacksonville I was barely thirteen. I hardly remember anything but a lot of old buildings," Nancy chatted easily as Andrea started the car and turned it down the lane past the rows of pear trees. "Of course, the day before we had just taken a float trip over the rapids on the Rogue River. Anything would probably have seemed pale in comparison to that."
"The town has been classified as a National Historical Monument." Andrea was determined to keep the conversation from straying into a personal direction. This was to be a sightseeing trip and that was what they would discuss…the sights they would see.
Ignoring the entrance ramp onto the fast, divided highway, she chose to take the leisurely and scenic back road from Gold Hill to Jacksonville. As they traveled the road with the pine-covered slopes of the mountains forever in the background, Andrea talked about the old stagecoach road and pointed out the thickets of blackberry bushes that would be heavy with large, succulent berries in late July.
When they arrived at the frontier town of Jacksonville, Oregon, there was a great deal more to attract Nancy's attention. Parking the car and taking a walking tour of the town, they turned off first down Oregon Street so Nancy could see the Brunner general store that the townspeople had used as a refuge during Indian raids, and the Oddfellows Hall across the street. The two feet of dirt between the roof and the ceiling of the latter structure had been installed to protect the building from fire in the event Indians attempted to burn it with a barrage of flaming arrows.
Other buildings possessed unique pasts as well. The Beekman Bank handled more than thirty-one million dollars' worth of gold, but never loaned any money in all its years of operation. The gold dust from the dance halls and gambling saloons had helped to fund the construction of churches in the town.
The better part of the afternoon was gone by the time they ended their tour with a walk through the old cemetery.
"Maybe Scott and I will come back in August to hear the Britt Outdoor Music Festival," said Nancy, voicing her thoughts aloud as they returned to their parked car.
"I go every year and enjoy it tremendously," Andrea responded, unlocking the door and sliding behind the wheel. She reached over to unlock Nancy's door.
"I'm much too content to go shopping. Let's go to Medford another day," she suggested.
"We still have plenty of time and it's not very far." Andrea glanced at her briefly as she started the car.
"Don't you feel relaxed and comfortable?" Nancy tipped her head inquiringly, a bright sparkle in her sapphire eyes.
"Very much so." Which was the truth. She had been able to carry off the day's excursion successfully without Nancy being the wiser about the scene with Tell.
"In that case—" the attractive girl settled into her seat, watching the scenery ahead as Andrea turned onto the road leading them home "—you can tell me all about the crazy argument you had with Tell just before we left."
"W-Wh-What?" The startled look she gave his sister nearly made her miss a curve in the road. Andrea had to turn the wheel sharply to keep from driving into the ditch. "What are you talking about?"
"Not even Superwoman could have got those letters out as quickly as you supposedly did," Nancy replied calmly. "And Tell was very anxious to get them out. Since you didn't have time to do them and considering the animosity he has expressed before, it had to have been an argument that got you free so soon." A faint smile dimpled one cheek. "Am I right?"
Andrea pressed her lips tightly together for a moment, then licked the lower one nervously. "Yes."
"What was it about this time?"
"The usual thing," Andrea shrugged.
"He's still on you about marrying John for his money," Nancy filled in.
"Something like that." There was a moment of silence the rural scenery couldn't make peaceful. Defensively, Andrea darted a glance at her fellow passenger. "Aren't you curious why I married a man who's not only old enough to be my father but is paralyzed as well?" she asked bitterly.
"To tell you the truth…" Nancy paused then said emphatically, "Yes, I am curious. You are a very beautiful woman, a fact you must be aware of. I would like to know why you married John, whom I dearly love myself. You're young and active. Would you mind telling me why?"
There was no sarcasm in Nancy's request, no prejudice against Andrea's reason. Curiosity was there and a desire to understand why Andrea had married John. In all her married years, no stranger had ever asked to understand. They had either jumped to conclusions or tolerated her presence as his wife, without beginning to think of what she might feel.
In spite of herself, a glimmer of tears welled in her eyes. If only Tell had reacted this way, how very differently things might have turned out.
Biting her quivering lower lip, Andrea smiled briefly at her companion in friendship. "Thank you, Nancy," she said tightly. "It means more to me than you'll ever know that you asked me to explain."
A gentleness entered the expressive blue eyes. "Will you tell me?" Nancy prompted gently.
Staring out the front windshield, Andrea began tentatively to relate the events that had led to her marriage: of her mother's long and futile fight against cancer, her father's death several months later, and of Dale's defection for another when she had needed most to know that she still had someone who cared. Nancy listened quietly, not interrupting but allowing Andrea to tell her story in her own way.
"Many people look at John and see an invalid, even some of his friends. When my father died, I saw the indomitable strength that surrounded him. He was there, offering sympathy, comfort and compassion. He was understanding and kind. Most of all, he was patient: a trait Dale didn't possess, unfortunately," Andrea explained. "I had nowhere to go and no one to care. My mother did have some relatives in the Midwest, but they were strangers to me. There was only John and, in his own way, he needed me."
"Do you love him?" Nancy asked after waiting to be certain Andrea had finished.
"Not the way you love Scott," she acknowledged honestly, "but I do care for him. I would never hurt him."
"I should think not." The light airy note teased away the heavy seriousness that had dominated the last miles. "Now, I have something to tell you," Nancy announced with a smile.
Andrea's answer came naturally, warmed by a new bond of friendship established between them. "What's that?"
"I hadn't really looked forward to coming here. I dearly love John, as I told you, but I didn't know what I was going to do with myself for two weeks," Nancy explained. "Since I've come to know you, I'm really enjoying myself. I'll almost be sorry that I'll have to leave."
"I'm glad."
"Heavens, we're home already!" Nancy exclai
med as Andrea turned the car into the driveway. "It's about time, too." Laughter lurked in her soft voice. "We were on the verge of getting syrupy with our establishment of a mutual admiration society."
Andrea laughed. The two girls were still chuckling over an extension of the same thought by Nancy as they entered the house. Mrs. Davison was at the base of the stairs, with a huge bundle of freshly laundered towels in her arms.
"Now that's a nice sound." Her thin face nodded approvingly. "I've been waiting to hear that ever since Nancy arrived. Mrs. Collins and Mr. Grant are in the living room. Dinner won't be for another hour and a half."
"My brother is still sulking in the study, is he?" Nancy flashed an amused glance at Andrea who looked hesitantly at the closed door, unable to smile at the memory of their argument.
"Mr. Tell? He's gone," the housekeeper replied in a tone that implied she thought they had known.
"Gone?" His sister tilted her head inquiringly to the side. "What do you mean 'gone'? Gone where?"
"Well, back to San Francisco, of course."
Andrea's small bubble of happiness was instantly deflated by the housekeeper's words. Tell had left and he wouldn't be back.
"Did he say why?" Nancy frowned.
"Not to me, miss." The housekeeper started up the stairs.
"That's strange," Nancy mused aloud, turning absently toward the living room, conscious that Andrea followed but not noticing the pallor that had taken possession of her face. "Tell hasn't even hinted that he might have had to go back without us." She glanced briefly at Andrea. "Did he mention anything about it to you this afternoon?"
His departure hadn't been discussed this afternoon, although she had known he intended to leave as soon as he was convinced his mother was better. That part she ignored.
"He didn't mention it at all," she answered, invisibly crossing her fingers at the near white lie.
"Maybe mother knows what's going on," Nancy murmured as they walked through the living-room.
"There you two are! We didn't expect you back for another hour." Rosemary Collins was sitting on the couch, looking youthful and elegant in a dress of pale yellow. "Did you have a good time?"
"A very good time," Nancy said emphatically.
The Irish setter, keeping his vigil beside John's wheelchair, slapped his tail against the floor in greeting. "I don't see any packages," John observed. "I thought you two girls were going to buy out the town."
"We spent all of our time in Jacksonville," Andrea explained, hoping the warm gray eyes examining her face didn't comment on its paleness.
"Yes, we're saving our shopping expedition for another afternoon," Nancy added, sitting on the, cushion next to her mother.
Andrea could see the beginnings of the question about Tell forming on his half-sister's lips. She wasn't anxious to be an actual part of the conversation. Not when she wasn't certain, she could keep her reactions to the answers from being seen.
"Would any of you like a cocktail?" she asked quickly before Nancy had a chance to speak.
"A sherry for me," Nancy requested, followed by John's and Rosemary's preferences.
Andrea was at the concealed bar, separated from the others as Nancy began asking about Tell.
"Andrea and I saw Mrs. Davison in the hall," she said. "She told us Tell left for San Francisco. It was a bit sudden, wasn't it?"
"Yes, he left quite abruptly," her mother sighed. "He said some problems had come up that couldn't be handled from here."
"Is he coming back?" Nancy asked.
"He said if he couldn't get back, he'd make arrangements for us."
"Which means he won't becoming back," she concluded grimly.
"That was the impression I had, too," Rosemary agreed.
Andrea closed her eyes briefly against the stabbing words, then opened them to measure out the vodka for John's martini. Indirectly, she had driven him away by the very fact that she was here, she thought to herself sadly.
"It's funny," Nancy said with a frown. "When daddy called the other night, he said everything was going smoothly. I even teased him about saying that so you and Tell wouldn't worry, but he insisted that it was amazingly true. I wonder what difficulty arose that daddy couldn't handle alone?"
"I'm curious about that, too." Rosemary Collins studied the armrest of the sofa, displaying an intense interest in the pattern of the colored threads. "I can't shake the feeling that it has something to do with that girl I hope my mother's intuition is playing tricks on me. As badly as he was hurt the last time, I hate the thought of Tell seeing her again, no matter what the reason."
The glass nearly slipped from Andrea's hand. Her stomach turned at the thought of Nancy's and Rosemary's reaction should they ever learn she was the girl to whom they were referring with such bitter dislike.
"Oh, mother, you don't suppose she had the nerve to contact him again, do you?" Nancy was plainly astounded and outraged by the thought.
"I certainly hope not!" was the emphatic response.
"Now, now," John mildly reproved their harshness. "I don't think anyone could make a fool of Tell twice."
"But he was so very much in love with her," Rosemary sighed.
"People recover from broken hearts," John replied in his wisest voice. "You simply have to be patient."
"Did you recover, John?" Rosemary asked with soft sadness.
"Yes," he breathed in deeply. "I recovered, a bit scarred but as good as new otherwise." He patted the arm of his chair as if wishing the conversation was on another subject. Then he glanced over his shoulder at Andrea. "Do you have the drinks ready yet? She isn't the world's most adept bartender, but I keep her around anyway."
"Coming right up," she replied with brittle brightness.
As Andrea carried the small tray with the drinks to the others, she remembered that time several years earlier when John had confided that he had once lost the woman he loved. He had not explained the circumstances, but Andrea had had the impression that the woman had chosen another.
It had been an admission he had made shortly after Dale had broken their engagement. Until this minute, she had thought he had said it to make her feel better and more able to face the future. For some reason, she hadn't thought it was actually true. Now she realized from Rosemary's comment that he really understood her misery.
Knowing that made her feel much closer to him. She drew new strength from his presence, holding her head up higher when it wanted to bow in defeat at the knowledge that she would never see Tell again.
Chapter Eight
AFTER DINNER THAT EVENING, there was a telephone call for Nancy from her fiancé. Nearly a half an hour later, she came gliding out of the study, where she had taken the call in private, seeming to walk on air. Her large blue eyes shimmered with a dewy-eyed rapture that tugged poignantly at Andrea's heart.
"Are you here or floating somewhere above us?" she asked lightly, swallowing back the bitter taste of envy.
"Somewhere above," Nancy beamed. Then she hugged her arms tightly around herself. "Oh, Andie, I miss him so much! It's just awful being away from him, even for two weeks," she moaned.
"I'll bet the feeling is mutual." There was a wistfulness in her smile.
"He doesn't talk about his feeling very much. He's kind of shy about putting it into words, but I like it that way," Nancy said, smiling, tears of happiness glittering in her love-radiant eyes. "Because when he says he loves me, I know how very much he means it."
"I'll take a guess and say that Scott uttered those three precious words not too long ago. Am I right?" she added, laughing hollowly.
The haunting memory of Tell's husky voice, vibrating with deep emotion, and whispering those same precious words, echoed clearly in her mind. Pain throbbed dully in her breast to know just one more minute of his love.
"Oh, you know he did!" Nancy's smile spread across her face. From the living room where John and Rosemary were, the sound of a strident female voice caught Nancy's attention. "Who's in there with mother?"
"A Mrs. Van Ryden. She was a friend of your mother's when they were younger. She's visiting locally and heard that Rosemary was staying here, so she dropped over to see her," Andrea explained.
"Do you suppose it would seem terribly rude if we sneaked to my room rather than joined them?" There was a mischievous glint in Nancy's expression.
"I don't think we would be missed." With a toss of her dark gold hair, Andrea turned toward the staircase.
Carefree hours were spent in Nancy's room, indulging in girl talk. Even while she enjoyed it, Andrea discovered a bittersweet pain in hearing Nancy's plans for her wedding, but she entered into the talk with spirit, only guarding her tongue when Tell was mentioned.
As much as she liked and trusted Nancy, she could not trust her with the truth of her previous relationship with Tell. She and Tell were half-brother and sister. The blood ties would naturally be strong.
IT WAS AFTER ELEVEN when Andrea slipped from Nancy's room. Rosemary had come up nearly an hour before that. The entire house was quiet. Tiptoeing down the stairs, she whistled softly for Shawn, the setter, to take him for his nightly walk. He padded quietly to her side as if sensing the need for silence in the sleeping house.
Out the veranda doors and into the garden, Andrea walked. The dog trotted at her side for several yards before ambling off to investigate the yard. The air was faintly brisk and cool, the breeze coming down from the mountains bringing the fragrant scent of pines to mingle with the blossoms in the orchard. The sky glittered with stars, a crescent moon suspended in one corner.
There was a lonely peace in the cool night. A promise of romance lay in the shadows, but Andrea was alone. She sighed, telling herself that she might as well get used to the feeling. Nights like this were meant for couples and she was out here walking the dog.
