by Anne Mather
CHAPTER TEN
CHARLEY came to find Joanna as soon as she got home from school. Her knock at the bedroom door was reminiscent of other occasions, when the girl had spent more time with her sister-in-law than she did with the other members of her family. But in those days Joanna had sought comfort from her. Now, it was Charley who needed commiseration.
‘Donna’s a bitch!’ she declared, after Joanna had let her into the bedroom and resumed drying her hair in front of the mirror. ‘Twins are supposed to support one another, aren’t they?’ Her jaw jutted. ‘She just enjoys causing me aggravation!’
Joanna turned off the drier, and regarded her visitor with sympathetic eyes. ‘Cool down,’ she said. ‘It’s too hot to get so riled up over anything. What did Donna do, for heaven’s sake? Steal your boyfriend?’
‘Worse than that!’ exclaimed Charley, flinging herself down on the end of the bed, and staring broodingly at the carpet. ‘She’s just gone and told Ma that Billy and me are going steady.’
‘Oh.’ Joanna wrapped the silk dressing-gown she had slipped on after her shower closer about her slim figure. ‘I see.’
‘Is that all you can say?’ cried Charley, her eyes wide and indignant. ‘Ma’s grounded me for the next month, and she says if I try to see Billy again she’ll get Pa to throw him out of Palmer’s Point.’
Joanna’s mouth tightened. Ryan Macallister was good at that, she thought contemptuously. He was good at destroying people’s lives. Look what he’d done to Sarah!
‘Did you talk with Cole yet?’ Charley was asking now, and Joanna put her own grievances aside to answer the girl.
She shook her head. ‘Charley, I only arrived yesterday.’
‘Did you talk to Pa, then? Did he tell you why he wanted to see you?’
‘I’ve spoken to him, yes.’
‘And?’
Joanna sighed. ‘Charley, I’d rather not talk about that right now.’ She paused, and then added, ‘Look, I will tell Cole what’s happened. But I can’t make any promises.’
Charley pushed herself up from the bed. ‘You won’t need to tell Cole,’ she muttered. ‘Leave it to Ma to do that. I just hoped you’d had a chance to talk with him before it all came out. Damn, what am I going to do? I love Billy. I can’t give him up.’
Joanna moved to put her arm around the girl. ‘Don’t lose heart,’ she said. And then, because she understood only too well how Charley was feeling, she went on, ‘As I say, I can’t promise anything, but there might be something I can do. Leave it with me. And don’t you do anything stupid.’
‘I won’t.’ Charley gazed at her hopefully. ‘I saw the way Cole was looking at you last night. He’s still stuck on you, isn’t he? Gee, no wonder Sammy-Jean never stood a chance.’
‘What do you mean?’
Joanna knew she shouldn’t have asked the question, but she simply couldn’t help it, and Charley smirked. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘I heard Ben telling you, things haven’t been the same around here since you walked out.’
‘Oh.’ Joanna wondered why she suddenly felt so deflated. ‘Well, as I say, I’ll do what I can about you and Billy. Now, I think you’d better go. I’ve got to get ready for dinner.’
Tonight, Joanna decided to wear loose-fitting silk cut-offs that allowed the air to flow freely around her legs. They were tan, and combined attractively with the cream and gold box jacket she chose to wear with them. The jacket had a high neck, with an upstanding Chinese collar, and because of its brevity it occasionally exposed an inch of olive skin around her midriff. Her earrings were gold again, beaten squares of metal that accentuated the slenderness of her neck. And she swept her hair up into a loose knot, allowing several strands of midnight silk to droop beside her ears.
To her surprise, the library was empty when she went down. Of course, she was a little earlier than the night before, and it was possible she was the only person dining at home. Apart from Cole’s father, of course, but there was no guarantee that he would join her. In any event, Joanna decided to help herself to a drink. She’d had nothing but tap water since lunchtime, and she felt she needed some stimulant to get her through the evening ahead. Even if she had to spend it alone, she consoled herself grimly. There was something about this place that always put her nerves on edge.
The drinks cabinet had been replenished, after the night before, and her hand hovered over the whiskey for a moment, before moving on to the wine. Better she keep her wits about her, just in case, she thought drily. No one was going to accuse her of over-imbibing these days.
She was raising the glass of wine to her lips when she realised she was no longer alone. While she had been concentrating on not spilling any of the wine over the polished surface of the cabinet, Cole had come to stand in the doorway. With his shoulder propped against the jamb, he was watching her actions with narrowed eyes, and when Joanna became aware of him she felt a moment’s regret.
He looked so attractive standing there, his hair damp and still clinging to his head after his shower. The water had darkened its silvery-blond strands, casting an artificial shadow across his face, and, in spite of the fact that he had shaved, a glistening of bristle lay over his jawline. He was wearing navy trousers and a roll-necked cotton sweater in a lighter shade of blue. The heat never seemed to bother him, Joanna reflected, but of course he was used to it. And then, part of the heat she was feeling was self-induced, brought on by the unwilling memory of her thoughts that afternoon.
‘All alone?’ she enquired, going on the old adage that it was easier to attack than defend. ‘Can I get you a drink?’ She held up her glass. ‘The wine’s very good. I can recommend it.’
Cole said nothing, but he straightened from his lounging position and came across the room towards her. However, although her skin prickled, and all her pulses set up a wild tattoo, he didn’t touch her. Instead, he lifted the bourbon bottle and poured himself a generous measure over ice, swallowing a mouthful before acknowledging her comments.
He smelt good, too, she noticed, the scent of the soap he had been using drifting to her nostrils. She could even smell the heat of his skin, clean, and faintly musky, and incredibly masculine …
God! She brought herself up there, forcing herself to remember where she was. As the realisation of what she was thinking—and what it was doing to her—swept over her in mindless waves, she saw the yawning pit she was digging for herself. He was her ex-husband, for pity’s sake! Not someone of critical importance in her life. And she had come to know his scent as well as her own, so—big deal! She could live with that. She took a breath. She had to.
‘We’ll be dining alone,’ he said, as she struggled to assume a casual demeanour, and she wondered whose idea that was. Not his mother’s, she was sure. Maggie would never condone such a suggestion.
‘I see,’ she murmured, her brows arching inquisitively, and, as if sensing a sarcasm she was far from feeling, Cole went on,
‘Yes.’ He paused. ‘Ma, Sandy and the twins are having supper at Joe’s. And—Ben has a date this evening.’
‘Really?’ Giving herself time to think, Joanna took another sip of wine. ‘I thought Charley was grounded.’
Cole frowned. ‘Grounded?’
Joanna considered quickly. She had no wish to involve Charley yet. Not until she had had a chance to sound out the situation. ‘I—it’s not important,’ she said. Then, tilting her head, ‘Will your father be joining us?’
‘Not tonight.’ Cole’s mouth compressed, and he turned to pour more bourbon into his glass.
‘Oh?’ Joanna moistened her lips. ‘Why not? He’s not——’
‘Worse?’ Cole swung around, cradling his glass between his strong fingers. ‘Do you care?’
Joanna endeavoured to remain unmoved. ‘I hardly think your mother would be spending the evening at Joe’s, if he was in any danger,’ she replied smoothly, and Cole assumed an irritated expression.
‘No,’ he said after a moment. ‘No, you’re right, of course. He’s no
worse and no better than he was.
But——’ the word was heavy with meaning ‘—he thinks it would be a good idea if we—talked to one another.’
Now Joanna understood. But, ‘Talked?’ she queried, with just the right amount of confusion in her voice. ‘What about?’
Cole’s jaw hardened. ‘What do you think?’
‘I don’t know, do I?’
He grunted. ‘He wants us to—reconcile——’
‘Reconcile!’ Now Joanna couldn’t keep the disbelief out of her voice. ‘You mean, he wants us to get together again?’
‘No!’ Cole swore. ‘Not that. He’s ill, but he’s not senile!’ He expelled his breath on a harsh sigh. ‘No, he simply wants us to try and heal our differences; to be—civil—with one another again.’
Joanna stared at him. ‘Why?’
‘Why?’ Cole had obviously thought of this himself, but he didn’t have an answer for her. ‘I—why do you think? He’s sick. Near to death. People who are dying sometimes have these crazy ideas. I guess he wants to—to——’
‘Salve his own conscience?’ suggested Joanna silkily, and Cole’s face suffused with angry colour.
‘You would say that, wouldn’t you?’ he snarled. ‘I should have known better than to hope you’d show some compassion.’
Joanna shrugged. ‘Maybe you should,’ she agreed, putting down her glass. She had suddenly lost all taste for the wine. ‘Or perhaps you should learn to have some compassion yourself.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Joanna hesitated. ‘You haven’t asked me why your father wanted to see me.’
Cole’s mouth flattened. ‘I know why. I’ve just told you why.’
‘No, you haven’t.’
He scowled. ‘Stop bulling me, Jo. You know damn well how hard this is for me—for both of us. Don’t—don’t make it any worse by lying about it.’
Joanna felt a moment’s indignation, but it passed. ‘I’m not lying,’ she said. ‘Your father doesn’t care if we hate each other’s guts! My God, he and your mother did what they could to bring that about. Why should he feel any differently now? I’m still the foreigner! The outsider! The unwanted intruder, who spoiled all the plans your daddy had for you!’
‘That’s history, Jo. Let it go. It’s not as if you made any attempt to fit in here. I don’t remember you doing much else but moan about this place. You didn’t like the way we lived, the way we treated the workers, the lack of health care on the estate.’ He shook his head. ‘No, all you did was cause trouble.’
‘My, oh, my!’ Joanna brought her hands together in a slow clap. ‘You’re learning, Cole. I could almost believe that was your daddy talking.’
‘Shut up!’
‘No. Why should I?’ Joanna was keeping her anger in check by a supreme effort. ‘It’s the truth. Tell me, when are you Macallisters going to realise this is the twentieth century?’
Cole took a step towards her, but, whatever his intentions had been, the appearance of a maid, to inform them that supper was waiting, forestalled him.
‘Right, Sally, we’ll be right there,’ he muttered, and, swallowing the remainder of the whiskey in his glass, he gestured for Joanna to precede him out of the room. And she did so, uneasily aware of her ex-husband’s grim presence behind her.
Supper was served in a high-ceilinged salon, where a pair of revolving fans endeavoured to keep the air circulating. It was where they had all eaten the night before, but this evening only two places were set at the long polished table. Predictably, Cole sat in the chair his father had occupied the night previously, with Joanna at his right hand. It was nearer than she would have liked, but at least they weren’t sitting opposite one another. She didn’t know how she would have coped with such an unguarded appraisal.
As it was, she endeavoured to concentrate on her food, and her surroundings, to the exclusion of all else. She needed time to consider how she was going to proceed, and it didn’t help that Cole had his own preconceived ideas of why she was here. The trouble was, she didn’t know what she was going to do. She had forgotten how it was here. Somehow, the heat sapped her powers of reasoning. What had appeared so cut and dried in Nassau no longer seemed so easy.
Looking at him out of the corners of her eyes, as he attacked the chunky fish soup, and quail stuffed with cornbread, she wondered why she didn’t just tell Ryan Macallister to do his own dirty work, and get out of there. She didn’t want to stay. And it was obvious Cole didn’t want her here. She didn’t owe his father anything. Nothing good, at least.
‘Do you ever see Sarah?’ she asked abruptly, knowing it would antagonise him, but reckless none the less. Anything to rid herself of this feeling that she was weakening. She had to remember exactly what he’d done.
Cole put down his fork, and reached for the glass of wine beside his plate. ‘Why?’ he asked, after rinsing his palate. ‘What relevance does that have to this situation?’
Joanna bit her lip. ‘I’d like to know if she’s all right.’
‘She is.’
‘And Henry?’
‘I’ve told you. Henry still works in the stables.’
Joanna shook her head. ‘How can he?’
‘How can’t he? He still has to live. He earns enough to keep himself and his mother at Tidewater.’
‘Conscience money!’
She was scathing, and a nerve jerked in Cole’s cheek. ‘May I remind you that Henry worked at Tidewater long before you knew anything about his brother? He likes the work. He’s good with horses.’
‘There are other places——’
‘Not for someone like Henry,’ retorted Cole savagely. ‘For God’s sake, what would you have us do? Deprive him of his chance to have some self-respect? If, as you say, you think it’s conscience money, think about how he’d live if he didn’t come to Tidewater. In any case, it’s what Sarah wants. Now, will you give it a rest?’
Joanna took a steadying breath. ‘Why don’t you want me to see Sarah?’
Cole closed his eyes for a moment. ‘Why do you think?’
‘I don’t know, do I? I’m asking you.’
Cole hesitated. ‘All right. In words of one syllable, she doesn’t want to see you.’
Joanna gasped. ‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Nevertheless, it’s the truth.’
Joanna shook her head. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Try. Your presence here can only bring back unhappy memories for her.’
‘It does?’ Joanna winced. ‘Does she—does she hate me?’
‘No!’ Cole was impatient. ‘Sarah doesn’t hate anyone.’
‘Not even your father?’
‘Not even him,’ declared Cole flatly. ‘You know Sarah. She doesn’t have a vindictive bone in her body. Now—why don’t you stop thinking everyone’s your enemy, and try and enjoy your time here?’
Joanna licked her lips. ‘With you, you mean?’ she ventured, her pulses suddenly racing, and Cole’s expression tightened.
‘If that’s what it takes,’ he said guardedly. ‘I brought you here. I guess I have to take my share of the responsibility.’
‘Gee, thanks.’
Joanna was sarcastic, but she still couldn’t control the quickening rate of her heartbeat. A few days with Cole, she mused, with some nervousness. Was that what she really wanted? What she could handle? And was she going to plead his father’s case, or was she going to allow him to go on thinking that all his father wanted was some cosy reconciliation?
Cole had picked up his fork again, but, from the way he was pushing the meat and peas around his plate, food was the last thing on his mind. After a few moments, he threw the fork down again, and wiped his mouth on his napkin.
‘Tomorrow,’ he said, and she knew the words were being dragged out of him, ‘tomorrow, we’ll take a ride out to Palmer’s Point.’ He paused. ‘There’s something you might like to see.’
‘What?’ Joanna’s eyes were curious.
‘
You’ll find out,’ he said, pushing back his chair, and getting up from the table. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.’
‘Work?’ Joanna looked sceptically towards the inky darkness outside, where fireflies and huge, hairy moths clustered against the window-pane. ‘What work?’
‘Paperwork,’ Cole informed her briefly, nodding to the maid to come and clear. ‘Someone has to run Tidewater, now that my father isn’t able to do it. Mary-Lou will get you anything else you want. I’ll see you in the morning.’
He was walking towards the door when another thought occurred to her. Turning her head, she said, ‘Cole!’ and, with a perceptible stiffening of his shoulders, he halted in the doorway.
‘Yes?’
‘What time in the morning?’ she asked innocently, twining a strand of silky dark hair about her fingers as she spoke, and Cole’s eyes narrowed.
‘Seven,’ he stated harshly, slapping one hand against the jamb, and, without waiting for any response, he strode out of the room.
Joanna was walking along the upper corridor to her room when she heard a whispering sound behind her. For a moment, it unnerved her. She hadn’t heard a door open, or anyone call her name, and because the lamps that lit the landing were few, and inclined to flicker, she knew a moment’s panic. The old house was like that. Boards creaked; shutters banged; and just occasionally the electricity failed altogether.
She swung round, half prepared to face whatever demon was pursuing her, and then caught her breath at the sight of Ryan Macallister, following her in his wheelchair.
‘Did I scare you?’ he asked, in a low voice, and she knew damn well he knew he had. But she refused to give him that satisfaction.
‘Is that how you get your kicks these days, Mr Macallister?’ she asked, keeping her voice steady and adopting a provocative stance. She tipped her head, and rested one hand on her hip. ‘And here I was thinkin’ y’all had turned over a new leaf!’
If her words, and the way they were delivered, angered him, he did an admirable job of hiding his feelings. Instead, he wheeled himself closer, so that if she had chosen to stretch out her leg she could have touched the foot-rest. Then, looking up into her guarded features, he demanded, ‘Did you do it?’
