by Janet Dailey
She wasn't really in the mood to do it, but it was something that needed to be done and it filled the time until she went to bed.
'Are you going to invite Mitch?' Amy asked eagerly.
Susan paused, the muscles in her stomach knotting at the mention of his name. 'I don't think Mitch would be very interested in coming to my wedding,' she replied, avoiding a direct answer.
'You would come, wouldn't you, Mitch, if Susan invited you?' Amy's inquiry was directed toward the hallway arch.
Glancing up in surprise, Susan bit into her lower lip. Mitch was standing in its frame, lazily watching her with an almost mocking expression in his eyes.
'It would be very difficult to refuse a written invitation from Susan,' he said dryly. 'That would practically be a milestone.'
Her eyes bounced away from his face to the papers on her lap. The cast had been removed from his left arm. Without the cumbersome protective cast, Mitch looked more vitally attractive than she remembered.
Susan couldn't think of a single reply she could make to his comment. She didn't want him at her wedding. Even though she didn't think he would come, she still didn't want to invite him.
Fortunately Amy filled the silence.
'I'm going to be one of Susan's bridesmaids.' Amy had declared vigorously that she was much too old to be a flower girl. 'I'm going to wear a beautiful long gown of emerald green. And Mother said I could go to a beautician and have her fix my hair on top of my head.'
'Johnny Chambers had better watch out if you catch that bridal bouquet,' he teased.
'Oh, Mitch!' Amy giggled, her cheeks turning nearly as red as her hair.
Susan knew that Johnny Chambers was one of the boys in Amy's class at school and also the object of her latest crush. Mitch was still her idol, though.
Mitch leisurely wandered into the room, pausing beside the sofa where Susan sat. Her hand trembled nervously as she felt him looking over her shoulder.
'Is that the list of guests you're inviting to the wedding?' he asked after several long seconds had passed.
'Actually,' Susan didn't let her gaze wander from the handwritten lists, 'what it is is my list and Warren's list. I have to compare the two to make certain we haven't duplicated any names.'
'Amy!' her mother called from another room. 'You've left your record albums strewn all over the family room. Come in here and pick them up before they get broken.'
'Oh, Mother!' Amy grumbled, and slid off the couch.
Shifting her leg uneasily, Susan waited for Mitch to leave. He had avoided her so completely in the past week that she was apprehensive about his reasons for staying.
'Susan.' He was asking for her attention, but she refused to look at him.
'Yes,' she said absently as if she had forgotten he was there.
'Are you really going through with this wedding?'
'Of course,' she laughed, pretending she didn't understand why he had asked that question. 'It would certainly be a waste of time to compile all these names if there wasn't going to be a wedding, wouldn't it?' She knew some kind of deflating retort would be forthcoming, so she didn't give him a chance to respond. 'I see the doctor removed your cast this afternoon. It must really be a relief not to have that weight on your arm,' Susan commented with forced nonchalance.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him absently flex his left arm as if testing it. 'Yes, it is a relief.' Mitch allowed the change of subject. 'The doctor said it was healing almost perfectly, and it certainly does feel better.'
'In a couple of weeks you'll be as good as new,' she observed brightly, still not letting her eyes stray from the paper on her lap.
'As good as new,' he agreed dryly. 'I'll be leaving next week, Susan.'
'So soon?' She flashed him a glance of surprise, meeting the watchfulness of his blue eyes. Then, feeling she had betrayed something, she immediately added, 'I imagine you're very eager to be on your way now that you've recovered.'
'Eager? I wouldn't say that,' he mocked. 'But I certainly don't have any reason not to meet the boys at Pocono now that the cast is off.'
'A-are you racing?' she frowned.
'I've entered in the Pocono 500 at the end of the month. The time trials start next week,' he told her.
A cold chill ran over her skin. She could hardly keep from shuddering. 'I—I'm sure you'll do very well,' she said. 'As Greg says, you're a very excellent driver.'
Mitch didn't reply to that rather inane comment. His head moved in a slight negative shake as if to say the situation was hopeless. In the next moment he was walking out of the room.
Be glad that he's leaving, Susan told herself. Now everything will return to normal. She could begin forgetting him. But there was an awful tightness in her throat.
When she mentioned Mitch's imminent departure to Warren the next night, he rejoiced openly with a scathing comment that it was about time. Susan's murmur of agreement was hollow. She tried, but she simply couldn't make herself be glad he was leaving.
Warren's exultation at the news forced her to hide the cloud of depression that had tagged along behind her ever since Mitch had told her.
Bright and early Wednesday morning was the time Mitch had chosen to leave, choosing the hour before Susan and her father left for work. Her mother cooked an enormous farewell breakfast, but most of the food Susan ate lodged itself somewhere between her throat and stomach.
She silently wished that Mitch had stolen away in the night, but he seemed determined to make his departure as big an impact on her life as his arrival had been.
Susan stayed in the kitchen helping her mother clear away the dishes rather than join Mitch's entourage. Her father, Greg, and Amy were all helping him pack the expensive blue sports car now parked in the driveway.
Finally there was no more to be done in the kitchen and Beth Mabry was urging her toward the outer door. Susan didn't want to take part in the lingering goodbye outside. She wished she were a child again so she could run away and hide. Instead she squared her shoulders and marched along beside her mother.
His few possessions were all stowed in the car. Mitch was leaning against the door when Susan and her mother joined the semicircle around him. His gaze touched her fleetingly before it casually moved away.
'Well,' Mitch drew a resigned breath and smiled as he straightened from the car and extended a hand to her father, 'I guess there isn't any reason to keep prolonging the moment when I have to say goodbye.'
'I wish you could, Mitch.' Simon Mabry gripped his hand firmly, a faint gruffness in his voice. 'We're going to miss you, all of us.'
'I can't say anything but thanks, and that doesn't seem like enough,' Mitch replied. He withdrew his hand and turned to her brother. 'Greg.'
Awkwardly Greg shook his hand. 'Good luck at Pocono. We'll be cheering for you.'
Amy's dark eyes were gazing at him soulfully when Mitch turned to her. She offered him her hand, a slight tremble in her chin.
'Goodbye, Mitch,' Amy said in a slightly strangled voice.
Mitch flashed one of those fulsome smiles that Susan had not seen in the last ten days. It was just as potent as it had always been and this time her sister was the object of his charm.
'May I kiss you goodbye, Amy?' he asked with an inquiring tilt of his head. 'I don't want Johnny Chambers to be the first.'
Amy's auburn head bobbed quickly in agreement, a sparkle of ecstatic disbelief in her eyes. Then Mitch was bending his head and tenderly brushing her sister's lips in a chaste kiss.
With her mother, Mitch didn't ask but kissed her lightly without speaking. Beth Mabry gave him a quick hug in return, a teary brightness appearing in her eyes.
'Thank you, Beth, for letting me be a part of your family for a while,' Mitch offered sincerely.
'We're going to miss you,' she reiterated her husband's statement.
The last one in the semicircle was Susan. She wanted to bolt and run when Mitch turned to her. For a long second he stood in front of her and said nothing
, holding her troubled gaze with the compelling blueness of his.
The morning sun danced in his hair, brightening the shadowy brown. He looked so vigorous, so strong and so handsome that Susan felt her breath being ripped away. The image of him at this moment seemed to implant itself in her mind to be remembered and recalled for the rest of her life.
'And Susan,' he drawled, a faint smile turning up the corners of his mouth. 'I always try to save the best for last.'
The emotional scene leading up to this moment had eroded the control Susan had fought to attain. She had hoped to wish him a breezy goodbye and Godspeed. But the genuinely affectionate exchanges that had gone before had erased the barrier. Still, she tried.
'Goodbye, Mitch.' She spoke in a low tone so her voice wouldn't tremble and politely offered him her hand.
Mitch ignored her outstretched hand. 'Aren't you going to kiss me goodbye, Susan?' he asked with complete seriousness, not even the faintest glimmer of wicked mockery in his eyes.
Self-consciously she glanced to the amused expressions of her parents. She appeared to be the only one taken aback by his question. Her hand fell uncertainly to her side.
'Warren won't mind,' Mitch added, 'not since you're kissing me goodbye. You never know, we might never see each other again. That's one of the risks in my profession.'
The blood rushed from her face at his words, the anguishing memory of his crash in the Indy 500 came vividly back. She swayed toward him, reeling from the stabbing pain in her midriff.
His hands closed over the soft flesh of her upper arms and drew her the rest of the way toward him. Her head was tilted back to gaze into the handsome features while her hands spread themselves on the solid wall of his chest. For an instant they were like two statues, motionless in the beginning of an embrace.
Drawing her up on tiptoe, Mitch lowered his head to meet her halfway. A quivering magic raced through her when his mouth claimed her lips, persuasively warm and ardent. A longing filled Susan for the enchanted spell to continue, her breath completely stolen and her heart thudding against her ribs. Almost with reluctance, he released her lips.
His back was to the others and he spoke in a low soft voice that carried its message only to her ears. 'You aren't going to forget me. I won't let you.' In a louder voice, for the benefit of the rest of the family, he said, 'Goodbye, Susan.'
Then she was released and he was moving away. The flesh of her arms was cold where his hands had been and the coldness began to penetrate to the bone. Only her mouth still tingled with warmth.
Her gaze was riveted to him, mesmerized by the mystical power he held over her that made her respond physically to his touch.
I'm engaged. I'm going to marry Warren. The words were almost a chant, spoken silently toward off the bewitching effect Mitch had on her.
Susan marveled at the way he had dissociated himself from their kiss of a second ago. She was stunned by it and he was smiling cheerfully and bidding everyone a last goodbye as he slid behind the wheel of his sleek sports car.
When he reversed out of the drive, Mitch waved, but it was a wave that encompassed them all. Susan wasn't singled out for any last attention. She stood in the driveway with her family until he was out of sight, the hushed silence darkening the cloud of depression at her heels.
Susan was the first to turn away, hot tears in her eyes. 'I'll forget him,' she declared to herself. 'Maybe not tomorrow, but he's wrong. I'll forget him.'
It was a bold statement made in desperation. Her heart didn't believe a word of it, but her mind wouldn't listen to her heart. There were too many things it might have to admit if it did.
Yet when she arrived at the office that morning, Susan didn't say anything to Warren about Mitch leaving. She didn't think she would be able to listen to his caustic remarks about the Indy man. As often as she had tried, Susan couldn't despise Mitch as much as Warren did. Mitch had disrupted her life, but she couldn't bring herself to hate him for it.
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Chapter Ten
'SUSAN! Warren is here. Are you ready yet?' her mother called from the bottom of the stairs.
Rising from the edge of the bed where she had sat for the last ten minutes in huddled silence, Susan walked slowly to the hallway door and then hesitated.
'I'll—I'll be down in a minute,' she answered.
Why hadn't she phoned him and said she wasn't feeling well? she asked herself for the hundredth time, as she walked to the mirror above the chest of drawers. It wasn't that she was actually sick. She simply didn't feel like going out tonight.
To be truthful, Susan hadn't felt like going out Saturday night or Thursday night or Tuesday night or either of the weekend nights before that. This Sunday evening was proving to be no different. The second Sunday since Mitch had left.
'That has nothing to do with it,' Susan whispered angrily the instant she had the thought.
But she was beginning to believe that it had more to do with it than she wanted. Every room in the house was haunted by Mitch's ghost. She could hardly bear Warren's embraces any more. They left her feeling vaguely revolted and sick. Warren hadn't changed, so she must have.
With a sigh, because that there was no sense putting off going downstairs, Susan turned away from the mirror and walked dispiritedly into the hallway and down the steps. The living room was empty and she guessed that her mother had invited Warren to wait in the family room where the others were.
Following the lower hallway, Susan paused in the open archway of the family room, her troubled eyes going to the man sitting with military erectness next to her father. A second later Warren glanced up, saw her and smiled.
'You look lovely, Susan,' he said warmly, but she felt nothing.
'I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long,' she said quickly.
'I didn't mind in the least,' Warren replied, rising to his feet. 'I planned—'
'Sssh!' Greg interrupted loudly, gesturing with his hand for Warren to be quiet while he frowned in deep concentration at the transistor radio in his hand.
'What is it?' Her father leaned forward eagerly. 'The results at Pocono?' At Greg's nod, Simon said, 'Turn it up.'
'—Snyder's victory today was marred by a disastrous crash on the hundred and seventy-fifth lap that involved seven cars. The leading cars were lapping the slower traffic when Binghamton lost control of his car in the turn and bumped into Braden, sending him to the wall. That started a chain reaction—'
'Oh, no!' Susan tried to muffle the cry with her hand, but it rang clearly in the hushed room. Warren stared at her stricken expression, a darkening cloud drawing blackly over his face. But she didn't see him.
'Turn it up!' cried Amy, reaching for the radio and bumping the station dial.
'Leave it alone!' Greg yelled, hurriedly turning the dial back to the station.
'—listed in critical condition. Now to the baseball scores,' the sportscaster said.
'Oh, Simon,' Beth Mabry glanced earnestly at her husband, 'you don't suppose it's Mitch? It couldn't be, could it?'
His gaze bounced away from hers as if unwilling to guess. 'Try another station, Greg,' her father urged.
Susan was rooted to the floor, frozen by the cold terror that held her motionless. If her heart was beating, she couldn't feel it, as she prayed that Mitch was all right.
Not even the shattering ring of the telephone in the living room could prod her into action. It was Amy who raced from the room, muttering that Cindy, her girl friend, had chosen a bad time to call. Warren touched Susan's arm.
'Are you ready?' he asked impatiently.
'Not now!' She looked at him blankly, stunned that he would want her to leave before she found out if Mitch was hurt. 'I can't leave now.'
'What—' Warren began with biting arrogance.
But Amy's voice interrupted him. 'Susan, it's for you. It's long distance.'
Susan crossed her arms, running her hands shakily over her elbows. 'Who is it, Amy?' she called back.
/> 'Someone named Mike O'Brian. Do you know him?' was the answer.
Her eyes widened in instant recognition of the man Mitch had identified as his pit boss at the hospital. She pivoted sharply around and raced to the living room alcove where Amy stood holding the telephone receiver in her hand.
Susan took it and quickly put it to her ear. 'Hello?'
'This is Mike O'Brian, Susan,' the vaguely familiar voice answered on the other end. 'I don't know if you remember me, but I work—'
'Yes, yes I remember you,' she broke in nervously.
'I'm calling for Mitch.'
Susan interrupted again. 'Is he all right? We heard about the crash on the news a minute ago and—Is he all right?' she repeated desperately. Her fingers tightened on the receiver.
'Susan—' the man hesitated. 'He's asking for you.'
Fear rose to strangle her throat. 'How badly is … is he hurt?'
Her question was met by another moment of silence. 'I think it would be best,' Mike O'Brian answered slowly, choosing his words with care, 'if you could come right away, that is if you can come.'
'Of course I'll come. I'll leave right away,' Susan rushed, choking back a frightened sob.
'I'll tell him.'
'Mike, wait! What hospital—' But there was a click at the other end and the line went dead.
Slowly Susan replaced the receiver, turning to find the anxious faces of her family gathered around her. Behind them was Warren, a black mask stealing over his rugged features.
'Mitch? Is he—' Greg began, and stopped.
'I—I don't know how badly he's hurt.' Susan shook her head absently, trying to elude the nausea that made her want to faint. Her frightened brown eyes sought out her father. 'Mike said he was asking for me and wants me to come as soon as I can. I told him I would. Daddy,' her voice broke for a second, 'I don't know which hospital.'
He was instantly at her side, a supporting arm curving around the back of her waist. 'Don't worry about it, honey. You'll be able to find that out when you get there. First let's get you there.'
