Forever Spring

by Joan Hohl

  Karen backed down. Paul’s expression became grim.

  “He’s using you,” Paul said harshly, capturing Karen alone in the hallway as she was putting on her coat the morning of Charles’s appointment.

  Karen shrugged helplessly. “I know. But he’s not well, and I—” Her voice failed when she saw the anger that flashed in Paul’s eyes.

  “Isn’t he?” Paul’s eyes glittered behind his narrowed lids. “I’m beginning to have strong doubts about the seriousness of Charles’s condition.”

  Since Karen had doubts of her own, she could hardly argue. Her shoulders rose, then dropped tiredly. “Perhaps the specialist will allow Charles to go back to work and resume more normal activities.”

  Paul arched one eyebrow. “Will you be present during the examination?”

  “Well, no, but—”

  Paul cut her off abruptly. “That’s what I thought. Which means you’ll have no way of knowing what the doctor says to him, will you?” Karen conceded his point by shaking her head slowly. Paul’s expression gentled. “Karen, I think it would be to your advantage to have your own consultation with the specialist. For all you know, the doctor may have told him he could return to Boston after the last visit.”

  Though Karen didn’t want to accept the possibility that Charles was deliberately extending his recuperative period, she knew that he was capable of doing so should it suit his purposes. She simply couldn’t comprehend what his purpose could be in this instance. She frowned at Paul. “But Charles has always said that this is the dullest place on the East Coast. What reason could he have for wanting to remain here?” “You haven’t figured that out yet?” Paul’s lips slanted wryly. “Charles wants to stay because he wants you.”

  Karen blinked in amazement. “Oh, Paul, that’s ridiculous! Charles and I have been divorced for over five years. Why would he suddenly decide he wants me?”

  Paul ran a cool but very flattering glance over her gently curved body. “I can think of many reasons,” he said dryly, “because I share them.”

  “But he had me and let me go!” Karen protested. “Did he really let you go?” Paul countered. “Or did you walk away from him?”

  “I didn’t walk, I ran!” Karen exclaimed.

  “Did he try to stop you or talk you into staying with him?”

  Karen lifted her head. “I didn’t give him the opportunity.”

  “Precisely.”

  Karen still couldn’t accept the idea. “But it’s been over five years, Paul,” she said doggedly.

  “Five years of self-indulgence,” he retorted. “Five years of who knows how many different women. Five years of instability. And now a heart attack has made him face his own mortality.” Paul paused, then shot another question at her. “Has he ever mentioned a current, er... relationship?”

  Karen sighed as acceptance finally shuddered through her. “Yes. While he was in the hospital, Charles told me he had recently ended a relationship.” She moistened her lips, then went on in a whisper, “He admitted to me that none of the relationships he’d engaged in had been as satisfying for him as our marriage had been.”

  “There you go.”

  Karen stared at Paul for long seconds. Then she nodded once, sharply. “I’ll talk to the doctor.”

  Chapter Twelve

  As it turned out, Karen didn’t need to consult with the specialist. Charles himself made the meeting unnecessary with the first words out of his mouth on leaving the doctor’s office.

  “Good news,” he said jauntily, clasping her arm to draw her with him toward the door. “The doctor said that if I continue to improve at the same rate I can go back to work after the holidays.”

  Since she had decided to consult with the specialist, Karen was tugging against the hold he had on her arm, resisting his efforts to get her out of the office. His announcement took all resistance out of her, and she allowed him to lead her from the building to the car.

  “Well, isn’t that good news?” Charles asked impatiently when she didn’t respond immediately.

  “Yes, very good news.” Karen carefully pried his hand from her arm. “I’m glad he’s satisfied with the progress you’re making.

  “I thought you would be.”

  Suspicion rose in Karen’s mind at his smug tone and expression. It appeared more than a little odd to her that immediately after Paul’s suggestion to her about having a talk with the doctor, Charles had suddenly been given good news. Had Charles overheard the discussion between her and Paul earlier? she wondered, frowning as she unlocked the car. He had supposedly been in his room, getting ready to leave for the drive into Portland, but... Karen slanted a glance at Charles as she slid behind the wheel. Could he have been standing in the upstairs hall, eavesdropping? Though Karen didn’t like to believe that Charles would listen in on a private conversation, she knew Charles was capable of listening at keyholes if he thought it to his own advantage.

  “Is something wrong?”

  Karen blinked. “What?”

  “You’ve been scowling at the steering wheel for several minutes,” Charles said. “Is something wrong with it?”

  “Oh! No.” Smiling faintly, Karen thrust the key into the ignition and started the car. “I was, ah, thinking.” And getting nowhere with my thoughts, she added silently. Backing out of the parking space, Karen decided that speculation was pointless regarding her suspicions both about whether Charles had indulged in a little eavesdropping and whether the

  specialist had in fact given Charles his good news during his previous visit in November.

  As she drove out of the lot and into the stream of traffic, Karen mentally shrugged. What Charles was up to, for whatever reason, didn’t really matter. In less than a month he’d be returning to Boston. She’d be free, with the time and the opportunity to explore the possibility of a lasting relationship with Paul.

  Paul. Karen silently repeated his name, thrilling to the image of him that filled her mind, and nearly missed a streetlight that was turning red. Waiting for the light to change, Karen got lost in a dream of a tall, aristocratic-Iooking banker. Charles’s voice shattered her pleasant musings.

  “I want to celebrate. Let’s have dinner in the most expensive restaurant in town.”

  Karen frowned and eased her foot from the brake as the light turned green. She didn’t want to have dinner in any restaurant in town, expensive or otherwise. She wanted to go home to Paul. Searching for an excuse to reject his suggestion, she scanned the sky.

  “I think I’d just as soon go straight home, Charles,” she said reasonably. “I really don’t like the look of that sky.”

  “Oh, come on, Karen. Your boyfriend will be all right on his own for one day.” Charles snickered and added, “And I use the term boy loosely.”

  Karen’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “That’s not very funny, Charles.” Her voice was as tight as her grip.

  “You’re damned right it’s not funny!” Charles twisted in the seat to glare at her. “The man’s almost

  as old as my father, old enough to be your father. 1 never realized that you had a father fixation, Karen.” He paused for breath. Karen opened her mouth to protest, but he didn’t let her get a word out. “Is that why you left me? Was I too young, too modern for you?”

  His attack was unwarranted, unfair and grossly incorrect. Karen was suddenly angrier than she’d ever been in her life, so angry she couldn’t speak for a moment. Twisting the wheel, she drove onto the access ramp to Interstate 95. She was going too fast, and the car swayed.

  “For crying out loud!” Charles exclaimed. “Are you trying to land us in a heap by the side of the road?”

  Karen eased her foot from the accelerator, then carefully merged with the stream of traffic. She didn’t trust herself to speak until the car was moving along smoothly at a legal fifty-five miles per hour.

  “Any more remarks like that and I’ll happily dump you by the side of the road.” Karen’s voice was harsh; her fingers trembled as
they gripped the wheel.

  “I could’ve had another heart attack,” Charles whined. “You scared the hell out of me.”

  Karen counted to ten, and as she did she counted the number of times Charles had verbally hit her with the heart-attack shtick since she’d brought him to Maine. Memories flashed rapidly across her mind, memories of all the times Charles had frightened her with complaints of shortness of breath, twinges of pain and excessive weariness. The last time had been the night before, while she and Paul had laughed together as

  they cleaned up the kitchen after dinner. Suddenly Karen felt like the world’s most gullible fool.

  Damn him! she thought, but corrected herself immediately. No, she should be damning herself! For while it was true that Charles had effortlessly manipulated her for weeks with the threat of another impending attack, she had allowed him to manipulate her, just as she’d allowed him to manipulate her with sweet talk and promises during the years of their marriage.

  Hadn’t she learned anything in the years since their divorce? Karen asked herself with sharp impatience. She had believed herself mature, adult, independent, but... Karen’s lips tightened with self-disdain. Due to her own immature, self-imposed mental state of guilt and remorse because of her relationship with Paul, she had been the perfect patsy for Charles. And as Charles had always been an opportunist by nature, he had immediately identified and capitalized on her weakness. In truth, Karen knew she had earned every second of worry and torment Charles had given her.

  “Aren’t we going to stop for dinner?” Charles’s voice sounded much the same as Mark’s when he was pouting and also betrayed the uneasiness he was feeling because of her lengthy silence.

  “No, I told you I want to go right home.” Karen’s tone was vaguely disinterested. She was much too angry to care if Charles was discontent or disappointed. Her eyes narrowed on the road, and the first fat snowflakes plopped onto the windshield. Karen could have used the snow as an excuse but couldn’t be bothered.

  Obviously aware that her desire to get home had little to do with the weather, Charles didn’t mention it, either. In his frustration he took a verbal stab at her, striking her most vulnerable spot.

  “He’s a grandfather,” he sniped nastily.

  “So what?” Karen said, unconsciously echoing Paul’s bland tone of a few weeks earlier.

  “He’s too old for you.”

  Karen shrugged, and that was when Charles struck.

  “I’d bet Rand immediately figured it out that you and Grandpa were getting it on.” He sneered. “And I’d also bet that by now Rand has painted a pretty lurid picture for Mark.” Patently satisfied with the shocked gasp he’d wrenched from her, Charles smiled smugly and settled into his seat.

  “Shut up!” Karen’s demand lacked strength, for as appalled as she was by his crudity, she was more appalled by the content in his deliberate choice of words.

  “Why?” Charles shot back, digging at her vulnerability. “Don’t tell me you didn’t realize that Rand had to get wise to what was going on? The kid’s not stupid, you know.” His lips twisted. “Paul betrays himself and you every time he gives you one of those hot, hungry looks.” He raked her body with a jealous, thwarted glare. “And you’re no better when you look at him. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes to see that you and he are lovers. And it’s pretty disgusting.”

  Karen knew that Charles was pulling strings, playing his game of manipulation, and yet she felt sick at the image that rose in her mind. The image was of

  Rand, his expression cold with disgust...disgust with her.

  No, oh, please, no! The cry of despair rang in her mind. She was in love with Paul, so deeply and irrevocably in love with him that she no longer felt ashamed of the physical relationship they’d shared. In fact, she longed to repeat it. She felt empty and incomplete without Paul beside her at night, making her a part of him by becoming a part of her. She believed Charles’s assertion that her feelings were revealed when she looked at Paul; Karen had seen those feelings reflected back to her in Paul’s expression. But had Rand noticed, misinterpreted and been disgusted by the proof of what she and Paul were feeling for one another? Karen shuddered at the thought.

  “Not a pleasant consideration, is it?”

  Oddly, it was the complacent purr of Charles’s tone that reactivated Karen’s common sense. Another image filled her mind, the image of Rand as he’d looked the day he’d left to go back to school. Rand had hugged Karen and thrust his hand out for Paul’s handshake. Rand’s expression had revealed love for her and respect for Paul. The memory was clear and revealed Charles’s willingness to use any means, even his own son, to attain his desires.

  Suddenly sheer fury swept through Karen, dispersing weeks of accumulated doubts and uncertainty. And, just as suddenly, she knew what she had to do. She’d had enough of Charles Mitchell and his machinations.

  Her decision made, Karen turned off the interstate at the next exit, circled around and drove onto it again, heading back to Portland.

  Alert, his eyes gleaming with victory, Charles favored her with his most dazzling smile. “I knew if you thought about the situation you’d see things my way.” His voice was as smooth as glass, his tone all gracious condescension. “I’ll have a talk with Rand sometime during the Christmas holidays and explain the circumstances to him.”

  “Circumstances?” Karen asked, deliberately nudging him into talking himself into a sealed box. “What circumstances?”

  “Why concerning you and Vanzant, of course.” Charles flicked his hand as if to dismiss the older man. “I’ll explain to Rand that this kind of thing is natural for a woman your age, one who has been on her own for too long. Rand’s old enough to understand how a lonely woman could be seduced by an older, experienced man.” His smile nearly earned him a smack in the face. “But enough of that. I’ll take care of that problem at Christmas. Right now, I want to know what restaurant you have in mind for dinner.”

  Karen was hard-pressed not to laugh out loud. The man’s conceit was outweighed only by his gift for self-deception. A woman her age, indeed! She didn’t even waste time looking at him.

  “I haven’t any restaurant in mind, Charles,” she said blandly. “I’m driving you to the airport.” Though several inches separated them, Karen could actually feel him stiffen.

  “Airport?” he repeated starkly. “What for?”

  “Why the obvious, Charles.” Karen flashed a brilliant smile in his direction. “I’m going to toss you on the first available plane to Boston.”

  “But the doctor said I was to have two more weeks of recuperation!”

  “But he didn’t stipulate where, did he?” she countered.

  “But my heart!”

  “My foot!” Karen spared a glance from the wet, snowy highway to sear him with a disdainful look. Merely returning her gaze to the road was a dismissal. “You have used your health against me for the last time, Charles.” Her voice was devoid of compassion. “I’m not responsible for your life or your physical condition—you are.” A wry smile curved her lips. “But I’ll stop by the doctor’s office and ask him if it’s safe for you to fly if it will calm your fears.”

  “I’m not afraid!” Charles said heatedly, sounding exactly like his thirteen-year-old son. “And you don’t have to stop by the doctor’s office. I wouldn’t stay with you now if a dozen specialists advised me not to travel.” He hunched down in the bucket seat and thrust his jaw out belligerently. “I can’t imagine why I ever considered starting over again with you,” he muttered.

  “1 can’t, either,” Karen said in amazement. “Because to tell you the truth, Charles, you didn’t stand an ice cube’s chance in hell... Paul Vanzant or not.”

  Several hours later, Karen was again driving on Interstate 95, and though the snowfall was growing steadily heavier, her spirits were as light as a spring breeze. Most of those hours had been spent anxiously waiting at the airport, as they had learned on arrival that the Boston flight was fully boo
ked. For a few moments, Charles had reverted to his attitude of superiority, but after one close look at Karen’s implacable expression he’d agreed to wait on standby. To her relief, when the Boston flight was called, there were three no-shows, probably due to the weather. When the plane took off, Charles was on it.

  Peering at the highway through the curtain of lacy white flakes, Karen smiled and decided she loved the cold, wet stuff. Her fingers were icy and her toes were cold, but Karen didn’t mind; she was eagerly looking forward to a warm bed and an even warmer Paul Vanzant. Karen laughed aloud at the prospect.

  “Where the hell are they?” Unaware of growling the question aloud, Paul followed it up with a muttered string of curses that would have curled a maiden lady’s eyelashes.

  Prowling through the house like a wild thing, he strode to the long, narrow windows facing the road. Pulling the drapes aside, Paul frowned at the unbroken ground cover of white obscuring the lines between the driveway and the front lawn.

  Speculations and fears, each more chilling than the rising wind, tumbled through his mind, freezing Paul in place. Had Karen had car trouble? Had there been an accident on the slick road? Had she been injured? Had Charles prevailed and talked Karen into spending the night in Portland—with him?

  “I’ll ruin the son of a—” Paul clamped his lips together. He knew that driving on the thin layer of snow had to be a nightmare. Part of him was hoping she’d decided not to attempt the trip until the storm was over and road crews had cleared the highway. Yet another more possessive part of Paul rebelled at the idea of Karen being snowbound with Charles.

  Paul knew, had known after being in the house one day, that Charles was determined to win Karen back again. And Paul was equally determined to prevent Charles from succeeding.

  “Karen’s mine.” This time Paul was fully aware of speaking out loud and of the harsh sound of his voice in the too-quiet room. Why hasn’t she called? he asked himself for the dozenth time. His narrowed gaze scanned the white landscape. His patience thinned. “Dammit! If she doesn’t call or get home soon, I’m going after her!” The vow was no sooner out of Paul’s mouth than the eerie glow of a car’s headlights pierced the hazy swirl of white. Paul was across the room and to the door before the car made the turn into the driveway.