Under the Sheets (Capitol Chronicles Book 1)

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Under the Sheets (Capitol Chronicles Book 1) Page 15

by Shirley Hailstock


  But Jacob’s face loomed in front of her. The wall was back. Like a living part of her existence it stopped her. She couldn’t go back. She had to be more on her guard than ever. These were people who knew her, knew everything about her. They were the ones most dangerous to her new identity. She couldn’t afford to let any word, any gesture from her past slip out and condemn her.

  Squaring her shoulders, she walked toward them, Grant at her side. Susan looked up, smiled at Grant and came forward. David followed. Susan hugged Grant, and David shook his hand. "This is Brooke Johnson." He introduced her.

  "Hello," Susan smiled widely. "Grant has told us about you."

  She gave him a questioning look. "I hope it was all good." She joked covering her embarrassment. "Congratulations, he tells me you’re to be married."

  Susan turned her gaze to the man she loved. Robyn’s heart muscle tightened. She wanted to be able to openly look at the man she loved with the same unmasked emotion.

  Robyn knew David had been married before. He told her it only proved he never wanted to be married again. She could see his meeting Susan had changed that. It was wonderful to be able to see them.

  She felt like she was on the window side of a one-­way mirror. She could look into their lives but they couldn’t see hers. She smiled to herself.

  "Would you like something to drink?" David asked them.

  " I’d like a glass of wine." Susan responded, and Robyn nodded when Grant asked her. The two women watched as Grant and David headed for the bar.

  "Will you be staying for the weekend?" Susan asked conversationally. She moved toward the edge of the room. Robyn walked with her until she stopped near a mahogany table. Above it was a large gold-framed mirror, ornate with carvings, capturing the ac­tivity in the room.

  "I’m afraid I have to get back." She watched as her friend’s face seem to fall slightly. Robyn knew the expression. There was something on Susan’s mind, and she was trying to hide it. For anyone else, it was unnoticeable, but they had known each other since college, and Robyn recognized it immediately. It couldn’t be David, not after the way she’d looked at him. It had to be something else. "Is anything wrong?"

  Susan smiled. "I’m sorry. Actually, it’s none of my business. It’s just that Grant has been alone so long, and then, you came into his life. We’re. . ."

  "I understand." Robyn took over. "You’re his friends, and since his wife died, you’ve been his pro­tectors. Suddenly, I show up, someone you don’t know, who doesn’t live here and can’t be watched to tell if my intentions warrant approval?" She was re­warded by the look of surprise that replaced Susan’s smile.

  "If I didn’t know better. . ." Susan began but ap­peared to stop speaking when she realized words were actually coming from her mouth.

  "Excuse me." Robyn prompted, looking at the room from the mirror above her. Grant and David were talking quietly at the bar on the other side of the room.

  "It’s nothing, just that no one’s read me so clearly since. . .well, in a long time." She corrected herself but Robyn knew she was about to say Robyn. "I’m surprised to find my thoughts so visible."

  "I didn’t mean to be unfriendly." Robyn wanted Susan to like her. In the back of her mind, she wished to tell her who she really was. Suddenly, the need, to confide in someone was so strong she could barely contain the force that wanted to pull Susan into a room and pour her heart out to an understanding ear.

  "I think I’m going to like you, Brooke."

  Suddenly, her heart was full. Even if she had an­other face and a voice several notes higher than her former one, that invisible bond that reaches across time and keeps memory alive was shining in Robyn’s eyes.

  "I know I’m going to like you."

  "I’m glad to hear that." Grant stood behind her. He set the glasses that he held on the table and placed his hands on Robyn’s bare shoulders. Warmth washed over her, and she had to visibly keep herself from blushing. "Come, dance with me."

  Robyn floated away, riding on her own cloud as Grant led her to the dance floor. The small band, hugging one wall of the large room, had just finished playing Billy Joel’s "Piano Man." As she and Grant reached the temporary wooden floor, the band reached back in time and launched into Barry Manilow’s I Write the Songs. Her step faulted slightly before he turned her into his arms and glided her effort­lessly around the floor. Robyn matched his steps, knowing the routine and following the feel of his lead as though their minds had merged and she knew what he would do before he did it.

  Grant closed his eyes. She felt like Robyn as he held her in his arms. He lied to himself, saying it was because she was a dancer that she reminded him of Robyn. But he knew it wasn’t true. In so many ways, she was like his wife. There was nothing he could see, and nothing she said, but there was something intan­gible about her that seemed to bring Robyn into the pic­ture.

  He felt guilty about it sometimes. But there didn’t seem to be anything he could do about it. He dreamed of Robyn, and his waking hours were filled with thoughts of how her hair had bounced when she’d moved her head or how her voice sounded when she laughed. He smiled at the images he created. Robyn had been the only other person in his life who could make him block out everything and everyone else. He rationalized that this was the reason he couldn’t stop comparing them.

  The music stopped, but Robyn was too absorbed in being in Grant’s arms to notice. It wasn’t until some­one bumped into her that she realized couples were leaving the dance floor. She and Grant made their way to their drinks where she tried to cover her disorientation with the drink she raised to her lips. Susan and David were busy with other guests.

  "Tell me what you think?" Grant asked.

  "What I think about what?"

  "Susan. You and she were having quite a conversa­tion earlier."

  "I think she’s a wonderful person. I’m glad to see she’s so happy." Robyn’s eyes found Susan. She was laughing at something someone said to her. "Tell me how they met?" She looked at Grant.

  "Susan was our next door neighbor. When I was captured and taken to Beirut, David got her to help let Robyn know. They saw each other frequently at our house while Robyn waited for the State Department to finish negotiations. After I came home and Robyn died, they started seeing each other."

  "What’s taken them so long to get married? It’s been five years since your wife died.”

  "I guess they were being cautious. David had a bad marriage and so did Susan. This time, they wanted to be sure everything would work."

  Robyn’s gaze found Susan and David again. They looked at each other as if each person’s world centered on the other. ‘Tm sure it will work."

  Dinner was announced then, and Robyn was seated next to David. On her right was a thin, red­headed, woman who owned a fashionable dress shop in Georgetown. Robyn had a lovely time talking to her about styles, colors, and using fabric to decorate. She found the woman had a hobby of using the excess fabric from making her own designs to make doll clothes. She said she did it for her grand­daughter, but the hobby turned into a business and now she sold the designs in a toy store on M Street.

  "I’ll have to visit it when I’m in Washington again." Robyn told her.

  "And when might that be?" David captured her at­tention.

  "I’m not sure." She turned to him. "I have a busi­ness to run at home."

  "Grant tells me you own a restaurant, and you sing and dance there."

  "It’s only one song and I don’t sing every night. I dance to fill in if one of the regulars is out. My role is managing."

  "Whose minding the store tonight?" He raised a cup of coffee and drank.

  "I have a partner. She’s doing everything tonight, and I’m sure she’s very busy." Robyn thought of Mari­anne coping with everything that could possibly go wrong. When they were both there, each had someone to depend on to handle things. Just the thought of not having to take care of everything made the operation run smoother.

  "Susan and I
are planning our honeymoon in Toronto. Maybe, we can drive down and have dinner one night."

  "That would be wonderful." Excitement oozed from her. She’d love to see them again. And on safe territory. "I’ll have the chef make your favorite foods."

  David smiled at that. "Now, we’ll have to come. And speaking of coming, can we count on seeing you at the wedding?"

  Robyn took a deep breath. "I’m not sure. I do need to be at the restaurant. And I have a small child." She hoped mentioning Kari would give her a reason to beg off.

  "Can’t you make arrangements? One day can’t make that much difference."

  "I’ll let you know." Robyn knew she couldn’t come. She had no right being here tonight.

  "I’m sure Grant would want you with him."

  "I promise, I’ll try." She’d like nothing better than to attend her best friend’s wedding. But the situation was impossible. Tonight’s visit had been an unex­pected one, but to plan to return to the city where men would kill her if they knew her identity. . .and where Jacob was only a few miles away.

  David patted her hand and smiled, his arguments curtailed for the moment. Robyn spied Grant at the other end of the table. While she sat at David’s right, Grant sat on Susan’s right. She wondered if they’d been placed that way for some strategic purpose. Grant was engaged in conver­sation and not looking at her. Then, the woman next to Robyn captured her attention and monopolized it through the rest of the meal.

  After the meal, the dancing resumed and promised to go on until late in the night. Robyn sat at the bar with David by her side. "Are you having a good time?"

  "Yes," she answered truthfully. She was enjoying herself. She’d danced with Grant several times and talked to Susan. She felt like a ghost, able to see into the lives of her friends without them knowing who she really was.

  "What’s that smile for?" David asked, guiding her toward the door. They walked into another part of the huge house where small groups of people nodded as they passed. Robyn recognized several of their mu­tual friends and former neighbors. She smiled at them wishing she could stop and catch up with them. David led her to the farthest corner of the crowded room. She knew he was about to feel her out.

  "You’re not going to ask me if my intentions are honorable?" she asked, lightly challenging him as she dropped into one of the maroon velvet chairs that dot­ted the room.

  Throwing his head back and laughing loudly, David captured the attention of the room. For a brief moment, all eyes focused on them. He quieted and nor­mal conversation resumed.

  "You’ve been talking to Susan." It was a statement.

  "We’ve decided to become friends," she smiled.

  "I like you, Brooke Johnson. You’re direct."

  Robyn dropped her head a moment before bringing her eyes back to his.

  "You’re like Susan," David continued. "She, too, can’t manage to stop saying what’s on her mind."

  "You love her a lot." Robyn didn’t need to say it. She only had to look at them to see that they each were absorbed in the other.

  "Fortunately, what comes out of her mouth is also what’s in her heart and I love her—a lot.

  " Robyn knew the small phrase came from his heart. It made her feel warm inside. She had liked David from the first, and Susan was her oldest friend. The two of them married would make her immensely happy.

  She raised her glass to him and toasted, "I wish you a lifetime of memories—created today, remem­bered today, created tomorrow, remembered forever." The look on David’s face stopped her heart. How could she be so thoughtless? That was the toast he’d given to Grant and herself at their wedding dinner in Las Vegas. In the last five years, she’d been so cau­tious, now she was forgetting herself. She had to be careful. She promised herself it wouldn’t happen again. In a few hours, she’d be safely back in Buffalo, away from everyone who’d been so important in the life she’d left.

  "I gave that toast to Grant and Robyn. He must have told you."

  She raised her glass, giving a noncommittal shake of her head and hoping her error would be covered.

  He leaned closer to her as if the words he was about to say were for her ears only. "Grant is a changed man since he met you."

  "What do you mean, a changed man?"

  "More relaxed, smiles a lot." David leaned back in his chair. "The only change has been his frequent trips to see you."

  "What was he like before?"

  David’s brows furrowed, and he sipped his drink before answering. "I don’t mean to sound like he was unhappy. He’s told you about Robyn?"

  Robyn nodded. "She died five years ago."

  "After Robyn died, Grant burned the candle at both ends. He put everything into the air service. Some­times, we didn’t see him for weeks."

  Robyn’s heart contracted. Guilt over the pain she caused him washed over her like scalding water. Forc­ing herself not to shudder, she continued to listen.

  "Finally, when the business began to prosper, we thought Grant would begin to take it easy."

  "But he didn’t?" Robyn asked.

  "Not by a long shot. He wanted to fly every contract himself."

  "That’s not like Grant. . .I mean he doesn’t seem like the type who wouldn’t know how dangerous that could be. Couldn’t you convince him?"

  "We tried. . .Susan thought. . .well, I agreed. . ."

  Robyn watched him fumble. She knew what he wanted to say. But she let him struggle a while before she helped him.

  "You thought he needed a diversion, a woman, maybe."

  "Exactly," David smiled, probably relieved she un­derstood.

  "Did it work?" she asked.

  "Too well. He found a replacement for the energy he put into the business. About a year later, it stopped. He seemed like his old self."

  "Did anything happen to cause the change?"

  "I thought it was a resolution of Robyn’s death. You see he never talked about her. Suddenly, he just began. I thought he exorcised all the demons keeping her alive. But it wasn’t until a few weeks ago when he came back from Buffalo that I really think he began to let her go." The last sentence he spoke very slowly. Then, he paused as if he wanted the effect to sink into her.

  Robyn’s eyes bored into her friend. "Why are you telling me this? I’m a complete stranger."

  "Grant’s my friend. I want him to heal."

  "Five years is a long time. You think that he’s still grieving for Robyn?" Robyn asked herself that same question. Hadn’t she found fault with every man to come into her life since she went into the program? Hadn’t all her energy gone into the restaurant? Both of them were still grieving.

  "I wouldn’t want to see anything happen to cause him any additional pain."

  "You think I would hurt him?" She moved to the edge of her seat.

  "Not intentionally." David moved closer, taking her hands in his. "Please don’t take this the wrong way," he hesitated. "You remind me of Robyn. No doubt you remind Grant of her too.”

  Robyn clinched her hands and immediately regret­ted it when she realized they were clasped in David’s.

  "You don’t look like her, except for the hair. Your voice is different, but there’s something about you that reminds me of her. And if Grant sees that, you could damage his healing process."

  "What do you think I should do?" she asked.

  "I have no solution, you could be the medicine he needs or. . ." He left the sentence hanging.

  "Hey, you two have been hiding a long time." Susan came toward them. "And holding hands, too. What’s going on?"

  "I’ve just been trying to convince Robyn to come to our wedding," David said.

  "I’d consider it a personal favor if you’d come," Susan said.

  "How can I refuse such an invitation." Robyn couldn’t believe she’d let herself be talked into return­ing to Washington in three weeks. This was the last place on earth she should be.

  "I’ve been looking all over for you." Grant joined the group. "Have they been ga
nging up on you?" He smiled at Robyn, and she returned it.

  "No." She looked at Susan before her gaze rested on David.

  "Good, let’s dance. Susan left me to Marsha Watson and I need someone to give me a sense of balance."

  Grant took Robyn back to the dance floor. "Tell me the truth, were David and Susan giving you the third degree?"

  "They’re concerned about you. And they wanted to invite me to the wedding."

  "What did you say? You will come, won’t you?" Grant circled the floor easily, and Robyn found it easy to combine her steps with his. "I know Susan will be the bride, but you’ll be the prettiest woman there."

  "I told them I’d come."

  "Wonderful." Grant took the news by executing a series of turns that had her chiffon gown spinning about her legs.

  The rest of the night passed in a blur. Grant stayed by her side, introducing her to his friends and keeping her busy on the dance floor. She smiled and laughed constantly and enjoyed being with him. It was like slicing a piece out of time. She was newly married and dancing the night away with the man of her dreams.

  "Grant." David tapped him on the shoulder. "You might think this was planned, but you have a phone call. You can take it in my office."

  Grant gave his friend a sarcastic look and ignored him. Again, he tapped. "I swear." A teasing smile pulled at his mouth. Robyn watched the exchange. Re­luctantly, Grant left her, and David took his place.

  David was not as tall as Grant, but was a good dancer. He swung her effortlessly about the dance floor, her dress creating a fabric cloud through which she moved. Memory made her match his steps. She couldn’t remember the last time she had so much fun. When the music ended, she was excited. Smiling and winded, David led her toward the bar.

  "You dance well," he commented, after ordering another wine for them both.

  Robyn smiled her thank you. She’d always enjoyed dancing with David. He usually gave her a good workout, and tonight was no different. His routine, how­ever, was decidedly different. She realized when she went into his arms that she could not dance the way she remembered. And thankfully, she hadn’t had to hold back her sure steps or fake the routine.

 

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