by Susan Wiggs
“She won’t be needing it, will she?” said Belinda with a merry wink. Then she sobered. “I really am terrible, aren’t I?”
“I’ve been telling you so for years,” said Amanda. She finished buttoning Isabel’s sleeve. “Just ask Blue. Our sister has always behaved badly.”
“Why is he called Blue?” asked Isabel, turning her wrist this way and that to admire the onyx buttons. His late wife had enjoyed expensive things.
“I gave him the name when we were children,” Belinda said. “For one thing, his middle name is Bluett, after our maternal grandmother. And for another, Little Boy Blue was my favorite nursery rhyme, and it was infinitely simpler to pronounce than Theodore. I’m told I was quite insistent about keeping the name, and in those days, I got everything I wanted instantly. Ah, the days of my youth—”
“Growing ever dimmer,” Amanda said with a dramatic flourish.
“No pesky little sister bedeviling me,” Belinda pointed out. “Borrowing my things and forgetting to return them.” She snatched a hair ribbon from Amanda, who snatched it back.
Belinda set a pair of kid leather slippers in front of Isabel. “Try these on.”
She obliged, studying the Calhoun women as she did so. The two sisters were completely different, but each utterly delightful in her own way. Fair-haired, big-boned and bossy, Belinda had a way of dominating a room with the sheer force and energy of her personality. Yet she was so good-humored and kindhearted that no one minded. Amanda was much younger, perhaps eighteen. Small and dark and quick, with flashing eyes and a fleeting smile, she struck Isabel as being a watchful observer. She didn’t seem timid, but quiet and thoughtful. A subtle air of mystery surrounded her.
“You don’t look like sisters,” Isabel remarked.
“We’re half sisters,” Amanda said. “I’m the good half, she’s the evil half.”
Belinda sniffed. “So you say.” To Isabel, she explained, “Blue and I lost our mother when we were very small. Our father married Eliza, and they gave us another brother and sister.”
So, thought Isabel. Blue Calhoun’s father, Hunter, apparently had a “before” and “after” of his own.
“Hank is a completely charming rapscallion,” Belinda continued, “and Amanda is the undisputed spoiled baby of the family.”
Amanda made a face. “I dispute that. I’m not the least bit spoiled. How could I be, with you tormenting me?”
“Someone has to keep you in your place.”
Isabel felt a rare ache of longing as she observed the sisters together. They knew each other so well and were so comfortable together. She wondered what it would be like to have a sister, or even a brother for that matter. Someone to give her a nickname, to tease her, to regard her with fondness or even love. To have someone who shared common roots would have been extraordinary. Perhaps her life would have unfolded in an entirely different fashion. There was safety in having a sister, even one who pestered and borrowed things and forgot to return them.
Belinda led Isabel to an oval mirror hanging over the dressing table. “Are you comfortable? Is your injury going to be all right? Did we leave the corset loose enough?”
Isabel nodded, studying her reflection. Several days ago, Bernadette had repaired her terrible haircut, shaping the dark brown locks into soft curls that looked unconventionally short, but somehow fashionable. Isabel insisted on wearing the combs Dr. Calhoun had given her. No one could know what those combs meant. Just as no one could ever know the reason she had declared a birthday for herself.
Her brush with death had reminded her of all she’d failed to do with her life. It didn’t matter that she would never know her exact age or date of birth. She’d simply wanted to know what it was like to celebrate a birthday. It had been more wonderful than she’d imagined. There was magic in hearing people wish you well. It made her think that wishes could come true.
Now Isabel looked perfectly groomed and was starting to feel like her old self again, ready for adventure. She met Belinda’s eyes in the mirror. In a way, she thought, there was greater adventure in getting to know a new person than in traveling to a new land. “I’m sorry about your mother,” she said. “I lost mine as well, when I was very small.” More she would not say. She had indeed lost her mother, though not to death.
Belinda fluffed at Isabel’s hair in artful fashion. “I scarcely remember our mother, but Blue took her death quite hard. They say he didn’t speak for two years after she died.”
“A brother who never speaks.” Amanda sighed. “I often dreamed of such a thing when Hank and I were small.”
Isabel turned the information over and over in her mind. What an amazing and heartbreaking boyhood he’d had. Blue Calhoun was an undiscovered country. Getting to know him through the people who loved him was a fascinating process. Each bit of information revealed a new facet of him, and this one was important. He had lost the two most important women in his life. That explained his caution, then, at least in part. The heart was such a fragile organ. Giving it into someone’s keeping was a risky business indeed. She had never dared to take that risk herself…until now. Unfortunately, she had chosen unwisely. Blue Calhoun had built a wall around himself, and trying to reach that well-protected heart was probably futile.
Finally Amanda asked the expected question. “How did you get shot?”
Isabel saw no reason to lie. “For an experienced traveler, I showed a remarkable lack of judgment. Just a few days after my arrival in San Francisco, I was swindled out of my entire fortune. When I tried to reclaim it, I found myself in a very bad spot, indeed.”
Unlike their brother, they seemed satisfied with the explanation. She went downstairs with the sisters, who presented her as an honored guest in the drawing room adjacent to the grand dining room.
Within minutes, Isabel could tell a number of things about the large, talkative Calhoun family. They deeply loved and worried about Blue, and he deeply loved and was annoyed by them.
Eliza Calhoun, the matriarch of the clan, was a compelling woman with dark hair, pale skin and a magnetic manner that commanded attention. Belinda said she had a magical way with both horses and children, driving fear from a frightened animal or drawing out the most timid child. Hunter was a quiet man with a honeyed Virginia accent and a slow, indulgent smile. At a glance, Isabel could tell he was the source of Blue’s tawny-colored hair, massive height and broad shoulders.
Bernadette had whispered that Hunter Calhoun hailed from the most venerable old-money family in Tidewater Virginia. According to below stairs gossip, he’d left behind a vast plantation in order to found a horse ranch in California with Eliza, who was the subject of some scandal no one seemed willing to speak of.
Judging by the clothes and jewels, the obvious refinement and education of the Calhouns, Isabel guessed that they had made a fine success of their enterprise.
They had come to the city, explained Eliza, for the annual charity gala. The proceeds would benefit the Rescue League. “I do hope you’ll be well enough to attend,” she said to Isabel.
“I shall do my best to mend,” Isabel said without sparing so much as a glance at Blue. She already knew he’d be appalled by this further intrusion into his life. “The Rescue League is the worthiest of causes.” She used her most charming and refined manner of speaking, having stolen the cultured nuances and cadences from the daughter of a nobleman. It had been a revelation to Isabel to discover the many ways a clever woman could manipulate the world around her. She employed the techniques often and discovered they almost always worked. A judicious sigh of discontent, a well-timed tear, a favorable smile—all were weapons in a lady’s subtle arsenal. Blue Calhoun, she had discovered, was one of the few men who seemed impervious to her. He disliked her regardless of the role she played.
Unfazed, she beamed at the handsome family gathered in the formal drawing room, determined to amuse herself despite her dour host. “I owe my life to Dr. Calhoun,” she said. “I’m sure there are many who make that claim.�
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“We’re so proud of the work he does,” said Eliza. “We always have been.”
The flattery earned her nothing but a flat look from Blue.
Rory McKnight arrived, greeting everyone with obvious pleasure. “You Calhoun women slay me with your beauty,” he said, bending over each one’s hand, staggering and clutching his heart when he reached Amanda, who blushed and giggled. To Isabel, he said, “You fit right in with the lot. Beautiful and, I think, rather naughty.”
Belinda and Amanda each exchanged a glance. “Did he just call us naughty?” asked Amanda.
“I believe he did,” said Belinda.
“Then I misspoke,” Rory said, keeping hold of Belinda’s hand. “For you, naughty is too mild a term. You are evil.”
Amanda touched Isabel’s arm with her fan. “Didn’t I tell you?”
Belinda aimed a devastating smile at Rory. “You’re just saying that because I don’t swoon at the very thought of you like all your other women.”
“Which proves you have no taste.” He cocked out his arm to accompany her to the supper table. “And how would you know about all my other women?”
“Ha. You just admitted it by asking the question.” The two of them squabbled all the way to the lavishly set dinner table.
“Allow me,” said Hank Calhoun, offering his arm to Isabel.
She sent him a warm smile and was gratified by his reaction. Like all the Calhoun men, he was uncommonly handsome, perhaps too much so; he could almost be described as beautiful. He had a wealth of wavy dark locks, a physique that was whipcord lean and athletic. His intelligent, penetrating eyes hinted at a gratifying sense of humor. His sisters had told her earlier that he was a university student. He had manners, charm and political ambitions, and was a distant cousin to Mr. Jamie Calhoun, Speaker of the House in Washington, D.C.
As he held a chair for her, Hank said to his brother, “By God, Blue, it seems we’re going to be leaving you just as your life is finally getting interesting again.”
“She’s not staying.” Blue stood behind his chair at the head of the table. With his massively built father at the other end of the table, the blond giants dominated the room.
“And so polite,” Eliza said tartly. She turned an apologetic smile to Isabel. “I taught him better. Truly I did. Now I wonder if I should postpone my trip, stay around and beat some sense into him.”
“We’ll postpone nothing,” said Amanda. “You promised we would finally go.”
“Where exactly are you going?” Isabel asked.
Eliza beamed. “On a dream voyage. After the charity gala is over, we’re actually going to be sailing around the world.”
“It sounds like a wonderful trip. What is the shipping line?”
“There’s no affiliation,” Hunter explained. “It’s the last command of my brother, Ryan. He’s a ship’s captain and this is his final voyage before he retires.”
There was some elusive quality to his elongated drawl that prodded a vague memory in Isabel. She studied him discreetly, wondering if there was some way she could have encountered him in her travels.
“Can you imagine, months and months at sea?” said Hank. “We shall only pass overland at the Isthmus of Panama.”
In fact, Isabel could imagine such a voyage, for she had made quite a few on her own. The trouble was, she could imagine it so well that it didn’t seem new or fresh to her.
“It’s so exciting.” Amanda opened her napkin with a flourish. “Hank and I have never been anywhere, and now we are going everywhere.”
“It’s something we’ve always meant to do,” Eliza explained. “My late father was a seafaring man.”
“Not all of us are partial to sea voyages,” said Hunter.
Eliza smiled wickedly at him. “But you are partial to your wife and so you’re going.” They exchanged a private look that spoke volumes.
Isabel felt a lurch of yearning and she wondered what it would be like to travel in the company of loved ones, to have someone to talk to or just while away the hours in companionable silence. She always traveled alone, of course, and often that meant weeks of solitude. Listening to their talk of faraway places, she kept waiting for her old, familiar wanderlust to strike. But surprisingly, she felt nothing other than benign interest.
“Blue refuses to leave his practice,” Amanda said. She aimed an accusatory glare at him. “I can’t believe you won’t come with us.”
“I have patients who need me. I can’t turn my back on them for months on end,” he stated.
“That’s what partners are for,” Hunter pointed out. “Have you considered taking on a partner?”
“Many times. But most promising young doctors are put off by the nature of my practice.”
“They expect to be paid for their work,” Hank explained to Isabel.
“Oh, you never go anywhere, you huge stick-in-the-mud,” said Amanda. She turned to Isabel. “He never goes anywhere, ever. Once a year at Christmas, he brings Lucas to Cielito. Other than that, he never leaves San Francisco. He hasn’t left since he got back from the Indian wars.”
“Our ship is called the Intrepid,” Eliza said, speaking quickly as though to switch the subject. “It’s one of the Easterbrook fleet out of Boston….”
“I shall expect a letter each week,” said Belinda, also eager to deflect the topic. “I’ll be all by myself, looking after the ranch.”
“No one could abide the idea of a lengthy sea voyage with her,” Rory said.
“Did you hear something?” Belinda frowned. “I think it was the buzzing of a gnat. Someone slap it.”
“Have you a large family?” asked Hank, gazing earnestly across the table at Isabel. He seemed so young to her. So innocent and sincere. She caught herself wondering what would end his innocence for him. A betrayal? A broken heart? Failure? Disillusionment?
“No, I…” She paused, trying to decide which story would forestall further questions.
She was spared from answering by Lucas. The boy arrived only seconds before the soup was served. He was out of breath, his hair hastily plastered down by a handful of water, his cravat crooked and his waistcoat half buttoned. “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “I was working at the church.” He went directly to Eliza and bowed. “Grandmama, hello.”
She favored him with the fondest of smiles, then turned her cheek up for a kiss. “Goodness, you’re tall as a redwood tree. You must be starving after all that hard work.”
Lucas’s manners as he greeted everyone else were impeccable, and Isabel noticed a secret gleam of pride in Blue’s eyes as he watched his son. He was a man whose pleasures in life were few but, despite his troubles with his son, Lucas was a source of quiet joy.
After the soup, there was a delicate sea bass with saffron rice, deliciously prepared by Mrs. Li and served by June, who blushed every time she caught Lucas’s eye. The talk was lively and cordial, and despite her status as an unwanted houseguest, she was suffused with a curious feeling of belonging. How wonderful they all were, she thought. How affectionate and caring.
What must it be like to belong in a family like this? she wondered. Even Lucas, though rebellious, found comfort and safety with his father and relatives. And Blue, with his unrelieved grief over a loss that would never heal, relaxed into the invisible cocoon of their affection.
Isabel had never known that. Ever. What was it like to know there was someone there to cushion every fall? It must be like a miracle.
She glanced at Rory and recognized the expression of need on his face. She remembered what June had told her about him. We are orphans, both of us, she thought. Our lives are defined by the fact that we don’t have families.
Rory, beside her, touched her hand under the table. “They’re always like this,” he said, answering the question she didn’t know how to ask. She listened to the laughter and murmurs of conversation, the warm and civilized sounds of a deeply bonded family. It hit her then like a blow. After a lifetime of moving from place to place, she
had finally found a spot she never wanted to leave.
Part Two
Rescue
Whoever rescues a single life earns as much merit as though he had rescued the entire world.
—The Talmud
Seventeen
“How did you know I was restless?” Isabel asked Lucas as they walked through the arbor behind the house. It was a perfect summer day, and from the hill, she could see the shipping traffic traversing the bay. All the gardens in the elegant neighborhood were in full bloom, and she filled her lungs with the sweet, clear air. What a lovely place to live, she thought. In her mind, she made a picture of a younger, happier Dr. Calhoun with his beautiful wife and small son, enjoying the gardens here in summer. And then, without warning, the image of the wife changed to an image of Isabel herself.
No, she thought. Don’t.
Lucas headed for a walkway leading down to the carriage house. “I thought I could show you our horses.”
“I don’t know anything about horses.”
“You don’t?” He looked incredulous, his eyes wide and his Adam’s apple bobbing. “We’ve always kept horses,” he said, striding down the hill. After a few steps, he hesitated and turned to her. “Sorry,” he said, offering his arm.
She took it graciously and pretended not to notice the fiery blush that colored his entire face. They entered the dim, hot carriage house. “Efrena lives in the quarters upstairs,” Lucas said. He showed her the horses, Ferdinand, Gonzalo and Trinculo. “Those are names from The Tempest by William Shakespeare,” he explained. “All horses from Cielito are named after characters in the play. It’s a tradition my grandmother started.”
Family traditions were so foreign to Isabel. She wondered—if she had a family, what traditions would she start? “Your horses are beautiful,” she said, “so sleek and healthy.”
“Efrena and I look after them.” He drew his hand down the bay’s broad neck. “Father and I used to exercise them at Laguna Park or down at the shore.”
