Thorne was back there with them, apparently gambling quite heavily. A girl, lovely as an exquisite flower, hurried toward the bar to get another drink for Thorne, carefully avoiding looking at Jamie as she sped back to the gamblers. What’s wrong? Jamie thought, closing her eyes, her head back on the seat. Beside her, David had fallen silent, too.
“David?”
“We just crossed over into Nevada. I’ve flown this route so many times I can tell when we’re getting close to Vegas. It has a certain smell about it that’s unmistakable.”
“Did you say—did I hear you say the other morning that your doctor friend, Mel, is taking a weekend off to go to Vegas?”
“The ambition of Mel’s life, besides to save lives like a good doctor should, is to have a date with Angel O’Hara. And she’s in Vegas at the moment, at the Copa, I think. At any rate, so is good old Doc.”
“Twenty-one!” a woman screeched from the back of the plane, and as she did, the thousands and thousands of lights from Vegas began to appear, like upside-down stars.
“Will you be seeing him?”
“If I want to hang out at the Copa Lounge all of the time, yes. But I don’t plan to do that.” He looked at her. “Why all the questions about Mel?”
“I want to talk to him, that’s all. Will you ask him to call me at our hotel?”
“Sure.” He hooked her safety belt for her; in seconds the lights had become distinct and glittering. “Don’t say ‘our’ hotel that way. Rhonda is furious because of that blurb in the papers. And even madder when she asked me to marry her and I told her no.”
“No isn’t forever,” Jamie said, reaching over to fasten his seat belt for him.
The call to take seats came from the pilot; Thorne sat across from her, next to the pretty young girl who talked in a loud, overly excited voice, thinking she was special because he’d chosen to sit next to her.
As the plane’s wheels touched smoothly on the landing strip, Jamie turned her head to look at Thorne. She thought he would not acknowledge her boldness, but he did. He turned his head briefly, as the girl beside him pretended to be frightened, and as she hugged him, his blue eyes once again met Jamie’s.
The intensity of his look grabbed her heart. She knew something was wrong; she had known that for some time. It was something else, something more, than his just wanting to ski down a mountain. Whatever the driving force was that led him to the edge of death, it had something to do with all the fragments and pieces of things she might very likely have forgotten, except that their relationship had always been somehow off balance, veering too far to the other side of honesty.
Thorne had a secret, and the secret was going to kill him on the mountain Ajax. Jamie meant to find out what that secret was, before it was too late.
She felt David’s hand press hers in fellowship as the plane taxied to a stop and people began tumbling out of seats, everybody loud and anxious to start hitting the big gambling casinos.
“I’m going to have a talk with each and every one of them,” David told her. “If I can get enough people to sign a petition, we still might be able to stop him.”
She nodded, tears behind her eyes. But as she squeezed past Thorne and the girl in the aisle, Jamie managed a bright, fake smile. “Hope you get in some practice here, Thorne.”
“Darlin’,” the girl said, hanging onto his arm, “he’s had plenty of practice!”
“I was talking about skiing,” Jamie said, as David led her down the aisle.
There were various station wagons waiting outside, to take them all to the hotel where Rhonda, though miffed at David, had leased rooms for her entire party in honor of David’s birthday.
“That’s poppycock and rubbish,” he said later, in the hotel coffee shop. He’d phoned Jamie in her room and asked her to meet him there, before the “evening’s insanity” began. “Rhonda was just looking for an excuse to drag a bunch of people over here and spend her money. Or rather, her grandfather’s money.”
Jamie had never seen a place like this one. She had never seen such beautiful women; they seemed to be everywhere, walking alone in the plush bars, through the crowds who were absorbed in gambling; even on the streets there were beautiful-looking women alone.
“Ladies of the evening,” David told Jamie in a fatherly tone, as a girl walked by and gave him a long, meaningful look. “Every whore, pimp, thief and con artist hits this town at one time or another. We don’t have to stick with Rhonda’s group, you know. We can go find Mel and watch what’s-her-name.”
“I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes,” she told him. “Make that ten.” She got up from the table, picking up her purse.
David watched her. “You certainly are in a hurry for me to find Mel for you.” His intelligent eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “Do you by any chance think Thorne is sick?”
“No—not sick. But he might—there might be something—”
“Mental illness? Are you suggesting that?”
She let her breath out. “David—I don’t know; I only thought maybe a doctor could tell what’s wrong. Because something is.”
“Obviously. A man who is about to ski down the most dangerous mountain in the world, on the run so many men have been killed trying, doesn’t party days before he’s supposed to try to ski.” He puffed on his pipe. “I’ve seen him work, in Switzerland, in the French Alps. He’s fast and he takes chances, but he’s always been known as a man of great skill and precision. Now, he won’t even be able to put on his skis, let alone make it down that damned mountain.” His eyes looked into hers. “No matter what—will you be okay?”
Jamie hesitated for a moment. “I thought I would be,” she said, her voice soft. “I honestly thought I could make a choice and decide to live and—and be happy and forget about Thorne. I mean, if he’s stupid enough to want to die when he doesn’t have to, then that’s his choice, isn’t it?” She lowered her eyes. “I thought I could feel that way about him—but the truth is, I can’t.” Tears came to her eyes. “I don’t want him to die, David. I—don’t think I can go on if he does.” They were very close at that moment, in that busy coffee shop, where gamblers wandered in to try to wake up. Outside, neon lights blazed, and in the adjoining casino, they could hear the loud bark of the stickmen at tables.
She felt his fingers, very gentle, on her wet cheek.
“I guess,” he said quietly, “I was wrong. You do love him. And that changes you from a little girl with stars in her eyes to a woman, Jamie.”
“Then you’ll talk to Mel?”
“We can go find him right now. I’m sure he’s sitting at the Copa staring at what’s-her-name.”
They left a few moments later, to go to the Copa. On the way through the hotel lobby, Freddie Collier, heir to a vast fortune acquired by his grandfather in various shady deals concerning California land, suddenly came up from behind and grabbed Jamie’s arm. He was a spidery little fellow, the kind of young man one might expect to see working at the docks in Dublin, all freckles and fair skin. He looked out of place in his expensive clothes, but actually, he wasn’t. Freddie had been born rich and, having used him as a character long ago in one of his earlier novels, David had dismissed him as being “stupid, lazy and extremely boring.”
“Rhonda’s lining everybody up for dinner. She told me you two would probably be off hiding someplace.” He smirked. “Now why don’t you both be nice and come to the party?”
Jamie looked hopelessly at David. “We’re coming,” he said smoothly. “Tell Rhonda I’ve just gone to get good old Mel, doctor at large. We’ll be along for her dinner, don’t worry.”
And so, Jamie hoped, would Thorne.
The singer named Angel stood in a pink spotlight which turned her bleached hair pink. She sang in a husky voice, smiling now and again at the enraptured Mel, who grinned like a schoolboy whenever she did.
“Surprise,” David said, sitting down at his table. “You remember my secretary, Jamie.”
Mel shook her hand. “W
hat brings you guys to Vegas?” He didn’t seem very interested; he’d once again turned to face the girl on the stage, just beyond them.
“We’ve come to take you away from all this,” David said.
“Not now, buddy. She’s going to sing ‘Body and Soul’ for her next number.”
“Well, you’ll just have to catch that later.” David leaned closer. “Someone may need you very badly.”
“Somebody sick?”
“That’s for you to find out. So come on.”
Mel sighed. “Okay, but of all the doctors in town, why me?” However, he was already halfway up out of his seat. “Now,” he said at the door, “she’ll probably never sing at me again like that.”
Rhonda’s “group” had been seated in the main show lounge, they were told. Dinner had been ordered, but they could order late.
“I thought someone was supposed to need a doctor,” Mel said crossly. “Look—I detest large groups eating the crummy food these hotels put out. Why’m I here with you? What’s going on?”
“Never mind,” David told him. “Just mingle, will you?”
There was plenty of that going on; nobody seemed to stay put at the long table for very long. A comic came out and told some filthy jokes, then a singer and then another comic. Jamie, sitting next to David, picked at her salad and tried not to watch as Thorne, sitting across from her and down, toward Rhonda, ordered another glass of wine. In no time at all, people started moving away from the dining room out to the huge room where the gambling took place. Thorne left with Rhonda and a few others, then David followed, taking a mildly protesting Mel with him. Jamie had promised to come along, but actually she hated the thought of going in there. Watching Thorne behave that way made her feel angry and hopeless, as if she were watching him walk some kind of narrow railing fifty stories up.
“Come on,” Freddie said from across the table, “cheer up. Here, come help me lose some money; want to?”
“No, thanks, Freddie—I think I’ll just go on up to my room.”
“You didn’t come to Vegas to sit in your room, honey, did you?” Why had she come? To please David, maybe. Perhaps because she was uneasy, staying in Aspen alone, without David’s company and the household she’d quickly gotten to enjoy. Or perhaps she had come to run away from Thorne, from the pain of his rejection—
“Come on,” Freddie was saying, “let’s go play some twenty-one.” She looked at this little man. He’d changed his clothes from what he’d worn on the plane; now he wore slacks and a blazer jacket and a silk scarf tied at the throat. He looked a little drunk as he stood there, weaving and grinning. “Come on,” he said again, reaching for her playfully, pulling her close to him. “If you’d honestly rather go to your room, how about a little company?”
She pulled away, but before she could step away from him completely and get on the elevator, Thorne came running across the room. That’s what he was doing, running, as if to save her from drowning, or from being run over by a train. He lowered his head like a bull or a football player and simply charged directly into poor Freddie.
There were curses, shouts, men running over to help or hinder, and then Freddie was standing there with a bleeding nose, saying he was going to sue. Someone snapped a picture, and at that point Thorne grabbed Jamie, pushed his way through the crowd with her hand in his, and then they were out on the busy street, hurrying along the sidewalk, past the spraying fountains of multicolored water and the big hotels and the well-dressed people getting in and out of cars in front of the hotels.
They walked a long time, very fast; Jamie had to hurry to keep up with him. Finally, she stopped, panting a little, and tugged at his sleeve.
“Thorne—what’s this all about?” But she was, she realized, happy to be with him, glad to be near him, walking, running, whatever. “Freddie didn’t—he didn’t mean—”
“Of course he meant to. And I couldn’t stand it.” He looked at her, his eyes going quickly over her face, as if he were looking for something. “You don’t really want to go back there, do you?”
“No,” she said, and she took his arm.
They walked for blocks; the night air was sharp and cold. Beyond the gaudy, blazing lights that went on and off like mad, winking eyes lay the desert, serene, silent, and, Jamie thought, very beautiful.
“Are you tired yet?”
“Should I be tired?”
He stopped walking. “I wanted you to be tired so I could carry you.” A taxi honked at them and he grabbed her hand and hurried her across the street. “I want to spend the night with you, Jamie.”
Her heart began pounding in her ears; one moment not so many moments ago, she had been on her way to her room and now, suddenly, she was having all those wild feelings again. Hold me, she thought, hold me—
“Will you?”
For a night. That was what he was talking about, for one night.
“I make it a practice never to go to bed with strangers.”
The lovely glow of those past few moments, when they’d walked along, was gone. Now, suddenly, they were on the verge of anger.
“I’m supposed to react to that, right? I’m supposed to get mad at you and let you walk away from me, back to the hotel.” He put his hands on her shoulders as people pushed by them; the sidewalks were jammed with laughing, talking, pushing people.
“Thorne, it’s very flattering to have you constantly tell me you want to make love to me, and yet you’ve never—” She took a deep breath. “You’ve never asked me to marry you.”
He was silent for a second. Then he took her hand once more and they walked along, going the other way, back toward the hotel. “If you want to know the truth,” he said, “I’ve thought about it.”
“Well?”
“I have feelings about crutches,” he said. “I don’t like them. I don’t think a marriage always works out in the best interest of both parties.”
“Oh,” she said, and somewhere inside her the complicated feelings were beginning to circle themselves into just one emotion: shame. How, she wondered, is a girl supposed to feel when she has just been told he won’t marry her? He can say it in any way he wants; he still doesn’t want to marry me. “It’s odd you should use that word.” They passed a glaring sign that advertised naked women waiting on tables. “Crutches.”
“Look,” he told her, “I don’t want to argue about basic things like a guy’s freedom to ski down a mountain.” He looked around them. “Let’s get out of this, get a cab. Come on.”
In the taxi he pulled her close to him and kissed her.
“Thorne—I don’t want—I’m not going to the hotel with you.”
“Who said anything about that? I want you to meet some friends of mine. We can stay the night there.”
Before she could answer him, the cabdriver turned around and stared.
“Are you Gundersen, the skier?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Hey,” he said, “I saw you in the Alps, on TV. You were great.” He stopped for a light. “You going out to the usual place?”
“Just to the cabins in the back.”
Jamie sat up very straight. “I’d like this cab to turn around and take me to my hotel,” she said rather stiffly.
“Do me a favor,” Thorne said to the driver, “explain to this lady about where we’re taking her. I don’t want her to jump out of the car or anything, just because she happens to have nasty thoughts.”
The cabby, a young man with a nice grin, gave her a quick glance. “He’s talking about Mountain Haven. It’s a place for kids. Mr. Gundersen is their number one big brother.”
“Guest cabins are in the back,” Thorne told her. “In the morning you’ll meet all the kids.”
“It sounds very nice, but I’m afraid I have to get back. David will send out the police—he’ll think I’ve been murdered in the wicked city. He told me every crook in the country comes here.”
“He’s right, lady.” The cabby glanced at them in the rearview mirr
or. “Is that your husband, David?”
“Her boss,” Thorne said. “Please, Jamie, I want very much for you to meet them. It’s too late now—that’s why I thought we could stay there. It’s very nice.”
“Yes,” the cabby said. “It’s very nice.”
Jamie smiled. “I’d like to, but my boss—”
“They’re very special kids,” Thorne said.
“They sure are.” The cabby flashed her a look in the mirror. “They’re blind.”
She felt his hand move against hers, reaching for it.
“I’d love to meet them,” she said, and she thought, Let David fire me if he wants to. Let him think I’m an idiot to want to spend my time with a man bent on dying and a lot of blind kids!
But of course the truth was David understood. It was only that he was afraid for her.
She settled back against the seat, close to Thorne’s beating heart, as the cab drove out of town, toward the dark, silent desert.
ELEVEN
It was a strange but oddly happy day she spent the following day, with Thorne. She had slept well. Surprisingly, the guest cabins were roomy, warm, and the beds were just hard enough to ease the tension she’d had in her body. The couple who ran the place, Bud and Della, had appeared briefly in bathrobes, cheerful but obviously sleepy. They’d greeted Thorne warmly and said they’d see everybody in the morning, early.
Jamie was surprised, when she walked from her cabin to the wide patio in back of the low, one-story, red-tiled building, to find Thorne sitting out there, along with Bud, who wore a short-sleeved black shirt, black slacks and the turned-around collar of a minister.
Both men stood up. “Good morning,” Thorne said warmly, “I didn’t want to wake you. Coffee?”
She picked up a cup that looked handmade and held it out. The patio was an extremely pleasant place, with hanging plants, lush flowers, several birdbaths and low, comfortable chairs. Children were everywhere, tumbling in the chairs, hanging on the chair backs of Bud and Thorne, playing some kind of game with braille cards at a lawn table.
Precious Moments Page 14
