She did not cook breakfasts for him. She listened instead, and when he was gone from the house each morning she cooked for herself and Neil. Neil went to the hospital one day and his cast came off. His arm was very white and weak, but he was going to physiotherapy three times a week and Sam was pleased with the X-rays of the arm. On Sam’s suggestion, Neil had gone down to talk to Michael MacAvoy at the site of his new building. He came back with his eyes bright and excited.
‘I’ve got a job!’ he announced to Alex. ‘Well, sort of. I’m helping on the building two hours a day, kind of a gofer for Mr MacAvoy. Then, if I do good in the electronics, I might have a chance of a job when my course is over.’
In mid-August he signed up to start the electronics course at the beginning of September. He paid his fees with money he had earned himself. While he waited for the course to start, he spent his evenings reading an electronics book he had borrowed from Michael. Alex hoped he would be able to finish the course. His court case would come two weeks after school started. They had no way of knowing if Neil would be free, or in gaol, after that.
‘Try not to worry too much about it,’ she overheard Sam telling him o day. ‘You’re doing everything you can to influence the decision. The schooling, the possibility of a job—it’s all going to create a favourable impression on the judge. If I were you I’d go in and have a talk or two with the probation officer before the court date, too. Make sure he knows what you’re doing, that you’re straight. Then try to put it at the back of your mind, knowing you’ve done everything you could.’
She knew that Sam had spent some time with the probation officer on Neil’s behalf, and she suspected that he had arranged the job with Michael, although he gave no hint of it to Neil himself. One day Sam came home with a dog, a big Saint Bernard that squeezed its way through the doorway. Alex heard the door and the scrabbling of dog, accompanied by a low ‘Woof. She left her computer and came dashing through her doorway and into the foyer.
‘What—where on earth did that come from?’ The big canine head tipped awkwardly to one side, then the feet ambled over to her. A long tail swept across, creating a draught she could feel through her slacks. Her hand automatically dropped to the dog’s neck, her fingers scratching the heavy folds of skin and dog hair.
‘One of my patients,’ explained Sam, looking faintly embarrassed. ‘An elderly fellow up at the Manor. He’s been worried about his dog, and I told him I’d look after it.’ He rubbed the back of his neck, complained, ‘I thought I had. A neighbour offered to take him, but it fell through. Apparently he eats too much.’
She smothered a giggle. ‘I don’t wonder.’ She thought of the contents of the kitchen, and said, ‘We don’t have any dog food. There’s the remains of the roast from last night, though.’ Ten dollars a kilogram seemed like a high price for dog meat, but Sam wanted the dog looked after so she said, ‘He can have what’s left of the roast, and I’ll get some dog food for him this afternoon.’
‘Thanks, honey.’ He smiled wryly, and said, ‘I really hadn’t bargained on this, although he does seem like nice dog.’
She froze as his hand covered hers, giving the dog an affectionate scratch before his fingers curled around hers. She asked, ‘What’s his name?’
‘Maxwell.’
‘Maxwell?’ She eyed the dog doubtfully. He was big and awkward, the tail sweeping dangerously. eH rubbed his head against her leg, almost pushing her over. ‘Max,’ she decided. ‘I’ll call him Max. Do you think the fence in the back yard will contain him?’
‘I hope so! I’ll go and take a look before I go back.’
It turned out that the fence was high enough and solid enough—at least, Sam hoped so. Alex fed the dog and turned him loose, then walked with Sam back towards his car.
‘We’ll take him for a walk this evening,’ said Sam. ‘But don’t take him out yourself. Not yet. When I had him on the leash, he was determined to go back to his old home. He’s so damned heavy, he really pulls. I don’t want you to try to handle him yourself on the lead.’
‘All right.’ She had no desire to be dragged across Prince Rupert, towed by a big Saint Bernard. She supposed that she should resent Sam’s giving her instructions like this, almost bossing her around, but it made her feel warm and sheltered.
Sam stepped out of the way for a bulky middle-aged woman passing on the pavement. The woman stared at Alex as she passed, her rigidly sprayed hair a smooth criticism as she pointedly glanced from Alex to Sam, but said nothing. Sam didn’t notice, but Alex did, and she wanted to shrivel. Emily Derringer’s best friend, and if Emily wasn’t gossiping yet, she soon would be.
Sam stepped closer, frowning. ‘Alex—’
She didn’t know why he broke off, or what he was about to say. The woman’s head was stiff, her ears obviously trying to catch their conversation. Alex felt a sudden, sharp anger. ‘Hello, Mrs Santon.’ The woman didn’t seem to hear, didn’t turn, so she raised her voice. ‘Good morning, Mrs Santon!’
She jerked, mumbled, ‘Oh, hello, Mary. Yes, I—good morning. Ah—how are you?’
‘I’m fine.’ Why, this woman was as nervous as she was. Alex’s voice softened and she said, ‘Thank you for asking.’
Helen Santon smiled nervously and scurried down the pavement away from them. Sam’s fingers grasped her arm, demanding her attention. ‘Alex, when are you going in to see Roy for a check-up?’
‘I—’ She smoothed her palms on her thighs nervously. Sam’s hand didn’t leave her arm and he wouldn’t look away from her. ‘I feel fine.’ Her voice was defensive. ‘I’m fine. There’s no hurry.’
‘I should have made you go before this.’ He glanced after the woman who had got a half-block away by this time. ‘I don’t like what’s happening to you right now. You’re hiding from everyone, as if you’re ashamed to be seen. That woman who just passed—she’s the first person I’ve seen you talk to except for Neil and I, and the MacAvoys.’
She pulled away from his hand, but his eyes held her although she wanted to turn and escape into the house. ‘They all know me, Sam.’ She bit her lip. ‘All my life they’ve treated me—well, differently than other people. In school, whenever the other kids were doing things, everyone assumed that I wouldn’t be part of the—well, the fun or the wildness. They talked differently around me, treated me as if I was different. They’re all watching now, and they’re thinking—’ She shrugged helplessly, swallowed her frustration, realising that there was no way he could understand.
‘They’re thinking you might be human after all.’ He gestured after the. disappearing woman. ‘Of course they’re watching you. You’ve lived an unnatural life. Living in a manse is unnatural for a child. I’d imagine that the average cIergyman’s child breaks out around the age of seventeen, getting far away from the restrictions. They’re watching, quite understandably hoping for signs that you’re as human as the rest of us.’
She shuddered. ‘They’re getting signs, aren’t they?’ She was living in the same house as an unmarried man, unchaperoned except for Neil’s presence. She was losing the figure that had been hers, thickening and filling out in places that didn’t come from overeating. ‘They’ll have all the evidence they can handle.’
Sam exclaimed impatiently, ‘Grow up, Alex! That woman down there—don’t you think she’s got some sort of human weakness in her family? Even your damned Emily Derringer, for goodness’ sake!’
‘No, not Emily.’ She knew that. Emily would never understand, and Emily would spread all the dirt she could. Emily had been whispering, hovering, when Toby died. Alex had always got on well with Emily herself, but she had heard the bite of her gossip and dreaded being the brunt of it herself.
‘Alex, you—damn it, Alex! We’ve got to—’ He pushed an impatient hand through his hair, and loosened his tie absently. ‘You’ve got to get over this somehow, but right now you’ve got to get in to see Roy. Hell, Alex, you’re expecting a baby. There are tests that should be done, and—’
‘I will,’ she promised hurriedly, wanting this conversation over. ‘You’ve told me that before. When?’ he demanded. His hand attacked his hair again. ‘Look, this has got to be done, ‘Alex. I’ve let it go too long. I could get Roy to come here, to see you at home, but damn it! You can’t hide forever. And the tests have to be done at the hospital, in the lab.’
‘Do—’ She gulped. ‘Are you trying to tell me that you think something’s wrong?’
‘No!’ He shook his head angrily. ‘Do you think I’d have let you go this long if.—’ His voice softened abruptly, lost its angry heat. ‘Don’t worry, honey. I’m sure everything’s fine, but-look, think about it yourself. I know you’ve had some dizziness, some nausea. That’s natural enough, but you should have your iron count checked. You might need more vitamin supplements than what I’ve brought you. You should have—’
‘Sam—’ She touched his arm, hurt by the concern in his eyes, longing to be the brave person he wanted her to be. ‘I can’t face going into the clinic. I can’t—I thought I could do this, but I can’t—Sam, I really can’t do it!’
He froze, deathly still. ‘Honey, what—what is it you’re trying to say? You—you’re not thinking of an abortion? Not now, Alex, it—it’s too late— It wouldn’t be safe now, and—Alex, it’s almost— There might be a doctor willing to do it, but it wouldn’t be—’
‘No!’ She shook her head vigorously. ‘No, Sam. No! I—I wouldn’t do that. It’s my baby. Your baby, too. I wouldn’t— ‘
‘Then what are you telling me?’
She stepped back, feeling him too close, nervous suddenly of the large strength he radiated. ‘I think I should go somewhere else. It would be better if I went somewhere else. I—’ She rubbed the back of her hand over her eyes, wishing he wouldn’t look like that, his face os shuttered and still. ‘Sam, I can’t do it here, not with everyone—’
‘Alex, people are not monsters.’ He sounded very tired. She thought of all the night calls, wondered if he was sleeping well enough. ‘You’re making this into something it isn’t. Of course some people will gossip, but you can be pretty sure that they’re the same people who were scorning you behind your back when you were being Miss Goody Twoshoes up at the manse.’
‘No—’ She shook her head vigorously.
‘Yes, darling. The people who matter, the ones who are your friends, like Maggie and Michael—those people don’t change. You can run away if you like. I know I can’t stop you—damn it, honey, I’ll even help you if you really must go. But it’s the wrong thing. You don’t know—’
His pager beeper sounded loudly, overriding his voice. He closed his eyes painfully. ‘You have no idea,’ he said harshly. ‘You have no idea what you’re throwing away if you run now. You have a family here, people who love you. Don’t throw that away. You’ll—Alex, this is something I do know about. Being alone. You were never made to be rootless, alone, without—Don’t run away from the people who care about you.’
‘My family don’t—’
His fingers touched her lips, silencing her. ‘Give them a chance, honey. You’ve thrown them quite a curve. Just give them a chance to recover. I have to go now, but just promise me you won’t do anything until we can talk more about this?’
She didn’t have to promise, because he couldn’t wait for her words. She watched the car roaring away, felt the tears welling up in her eyes. She went inside, where no one could see her if she cried. Through the window at her desk she could see the dog, Max, rolling on the grass, trying to scratch some elusive spot in his thick coat. He seemed content and she wondered how long it would be before he started to whimper, crying for his old home, for the old man who had been his master.
She sat down, mechanically rereading the words she had typed on the screen earlier. This was a dramatic scene, filled with suspicions and fear and the developing sensual attraction between the heroine and the man who might be the murderer. . . He wasn’t, but the heroine had no reason to know that yet.
Her fingers moved. New words streamed across the screen, but they were stilted and wrong. She frowned, pushing her hair back behind her ears and then forcing her fingers to type, making the words keep coming. Two sentences. Three. A paragraph.
Her hands stopped. Outside, the dog raised his head and stared intently. On the other side of the fence a Siamese cat was stalking a bird, preparing to pounce. Max’s tail moved, sweeping the grass as he watched the cat. His thick, heavy body froze, on the verge of motion, then he dropped back into a blob on the lawn as if involvement was too much effort.
The doorbell rang. Alex started to rise, then sat down again. It was the first time in her life that she had ever ignored a telephone ringing or a doorbell, but there was no one she wanted to see. She read the words on the screen. She had typed a line of gibberish as she watched the dog. She highlighted it to delete, then found her fingers continuing the highlight, erasing everything she had just written.
There was no future for her here. Hiding from the town, waiting for Sam to come home. . . watching for Sam...talking to Sam on the telephone...always wanting more. If she invited him, he would take her body to his, making love to her, and her need would quickly grow into an obsession.
But he would accept nothing from her except the physical act of love. He shoved his shirts into the wardrobe rather than ask her to sew on a button, refused to let her give him breakfasts, paid for a meal for her for everyone of his she cooked.
He was never going to let himself need her, except in a physical way. She closed her eyes, shutting out the bright day. She could feel the vulnerability growing inside herself. The tears were close. That happened so often lately, the desire to throw herself down and sob wildly. She supposed it was partly hormones and the baby growing inside her, but it wouldn’t be long before she would be begging him, reaching out and asking for anything he would give her.
She had a terrible conviction that he would give anything she asked—except himself. The more he gave, the more she would need. Then she would be possessed, belonging totally to a man who needed no one, who had learned to stand alone as a child.
She knew where she could go, knew how she could escape all of this. It had come to her out there on the pavement as Sam had pressed his demand for her to go for her check-up with Dr Box. She could go to Aunt Lexie’s house. Her aunt was away sailing, but her small house on the outskirts of Victoria was empty. In her letter, Lexie had said that she was not renting the house, but leaving it in the care of the next-door neighbour.
Alex knew the neighbour, and she was known in turn. If Lexie were home she would welcome her niece in her casual fashion, telling her to push something aside and make a place for herself. As it was, the neighbour would let her in and Lexie would not mind when she found out.
Oh, lord! She was going to miss Sam terribly. The other day she had thought that there was something, some movement within her womb. She had been playing a game of chess with Sam in his living room, and she had almost told him, asked him to touch and feel what might have been the first stirrings of their child.
His son, Sam had said once. She hoped it was a boy, if that was what Sam wanted. If she stayed here any longer, she would be reaching out, clinging, asking him if he was still willing to marry her. He would say yes, but it would be a trap for him. She knew a lot about this man. He would never walk away from anyone who needed him. But he needed no one. Except sometimes, in his eyes. . . but he never reached for her.
She should be working, writing, but she knew that she would do nothing more today. Perhaps there would be no more words written under this roof. Sam would say she was a coward, running, hiding, and it was true. She had faced one dragon today, forcing her to say hello because of a surge of uncharacteristic anger that she didn’t understand. If Sam loved her, needed her, she thought that she could stand tall and face them all. It would not matter.
He had needed her the night he had made love to her under the trees. That was what had made it right, and it was why it h
ad been so inevitably easy to give herself to him, to ask him to take her. But that night was gone into fantasy, never to return.
I love you, she thought, watching the dog he had taken in. She knew she would never be able to say the words. She would have to content herself with loving his child. He would always be in her life, through the child, but he would not belong to her or to anyone. She had been pretending that, shutting herself away here as if it were their world and he were hers. It wasn’t true. He belonged to anyone who needed him, his patients and Neil as much as her. It would never be different.
She got out her bank book and a piece of paper. She had to telephone Be Ferries to check the fares before she could calculate what she would need, but she had enough, just enough to get her to Victoria and last until the baby came. Her book was being published then, and she was due the second half of her advance on publication date. She could make it if she cashed in the savings bonds that had been her graduation present from her parents. Thank heaven for the medical insurance which would cover the costs of her delivery!
Sam would insist that she have her medical check-up before she left, and she should do that. She telephoned and made the appointment for the next day, ignoring Mrs Bramley’s curiosity. It didn’t matter. The ferry left in two days, and she would be gone. They could all talk as much as they wanted then.
He had said he would help her if she felt she had to leave. She would not need his help, just the knowledge that he would not stop her. She looked at her watch, but there was no need to make a lunch for Neil today. He was working mornings on Michael’s building site, afternoons at the college. He had packed a lunch to eat at the college before his classes. She would eat soon herself, because she had to look after herself, but there was no hurry.
She walked slowly around her own rooms. There wasn’t that much to pack. A couple of suitcases, and she would ask Neil if he could crate up her books. Perhaps Sam would not mind storing the crate in the basement for a few months. She wouldn’t be able to stay at Lexie’s forever, but later there would be more money. There was no reason to think that her next book would not sell. She herself believed that it was better than the first.
One Secret Too Many Page 13
