by Curry, Edna
She opened her mouth to protest, but one look at his grim determined face warned her not to argue. He steered her to the passenger side and settled her into the soft leather seat. Besides, she thought, riding in his lovely Mercedes was a luxury that she'd probably not enjoy too often. Why not enjoy what good luck came her way? Arlene would no doubt reclaim him tomorrow.
She leaned back against the soft plush seat and watched his capable hands on the wheel. She wondered idly how those strong hands would feel if they were gently making love instead of steering her around angrily, as they always seemed to be doing. Then she blushed at the thought, looking quickly at him to see if he'd noticed, and realized in relief that it was too dark for that.
They were well out of the city traffic and onto the freeway before he settled back to question her for details of Bill's accident.
She told him what little she knew, and then lapsed into silence, still wondering what had brought him to her door tonight in the first place. She watched the swiftly passing landscape idly, her thoughts as bleak as the bare trees and snow covered fields.
"Anne and I have completed the basic arrangements for Dad's trip to Puerto Vallarta," Jeff's voice broke into her reverie.
"That's nice," she murmured, thinking he was just continuing his stream of idle conversation.
"I’d like you to accompany me as second tour guide."
That got her attention.
"You’d like me to do what?"
"Be second tour guide on this trip. We will need two with this large a group, you know."
"But I thought Arlene was going?" she sputtered, trying to adjust to this new development. If she spent a whole week with this man, actually having to work with him every day, she would surely be in trouble from day one.
"Arlene is going," he agreed dryly.
"Then what do you need me for?"
"Arlene isn't a travel guide," he said patiently, "She's my father's secretary. Besides, she is supposed to be on vacation, not working." His eyes narrowed, and he took his eyes off the road long enough to send her a searching glance. "I thought you wanted to go on this kind of assignment?"
"Of course I do," she said hastily. Wasn't this what she'd been hoping for? So why was she trembling in fear?
"Then it's all settled. We leave on January 5, in six weeks. All your expenses will be paid, of course, except for any clothes or personal items you take. I assume you can manage those?"
"Of course. In fact, I think I already have most of what I will need." Her mind whirled in confusion. The swimsuits shorts, tops and sundresses she had worn on various trips with her parents should surely be suitable. Money was tight for her at the moment and she didn't relish wasting any on more outfits.
Perhaps money meant nothing to him, since he'd been brought up in a wealthy home. Not that she had ever been poor, of course; as an airline pilot, her father had always earned a good salary. But she had been taught to spend it carefully.
"Your passport is up to date?"
"Yes. What will we be doing, exactly?"
"The usual. Trouble-shooting for the group in case of any problems. But mostly just arranging things for them so they will be free to enjoy their vacation without the hassles of hotel reservations and taxis and finding places to eat or things to do. Basically you and I will do those. The goal is for them to be able to come to the airport with their passports and not have to worry about anything except being where they're supposed to be when it's time to come back home. In between, they're to just have a good time."
Diane thought quickly back to the lists of names he had given her for this tour.
"About a hundred twenty people on this one, weren't there?" he asked.
"A hundred thirty right now."
He nodded. "Give or take a last minute change or two." He shot her a questioning glance. "Think you can handle it?"
"Of course," she answered with more enthusiasm than she felt. But she couldn't tell him it was the idea of working with him and not the challenge of the trip that was making her nervous. "Have you chosen the hotel?"
"Yes. There's not much choice when you have a large group. Only the big chains have the facilities we'll need for group cocktail parties and meals and entertainment." He named the hotel they'd settled on.
Diane nodded in delight. "Oh, yes, it's beautiful! Right on the beach, of course."
"Aren't they all?" he asked dryly.
"The best ones," she agreed. "But this one is especially beautiful, with its namesake's flowers planted all around the grounds."
He glanced at her in surprise. "You've been there?"
She nodded. "I spent a couple of weeks there with my parents five years ago. We didn't stay in that hotel, it's much too expensive. We just went to the restaurant there for a meal a couple of times and walked around the grounds and shops. We stayed in a small motel, then took a taxi or walked to wherever we wanted to go. Most of the hotel restaurants are happy to serve the public as well as their own guests, since the guests often go downtown to eat."
"So you're familiar with some of the places in Puerto Vallarta?"
"Yes. But it may have changed some. It's a fast-growing area. I've never seen so much building going on at once!"
"Then you'll be more help than I had thought. And Anne tells me you know some Spanish?"
"Yes. Though it's not really necessary. Most of the hotel personnel there speak fluent English, since it's basically a tourist town."
"But knowing Spanish may come in handy."
"Yes," she grinned to herself, remembering the problems that they'd had with taxi drivers who spoke no English. "I would prefer not to be caught in a foreign country without someone who has at least a working knowledge of the language."
"That sounds like the voice of experience." He smiled encouragingly.
"It is. There have been one or two occasions when I was separated from my parents or our interpreter on our travels that I would rather not remember." She smiled back at him, thinking he seemed almost nice. Perhaps this tour would be fun, after all.
"You'll have to tell me about them sometime. Let's see, we turn left here, don't we? Everything always looks so different at night."
She looked out, surprised to find they were already almost there. "Yes, the hospital is just two blocks off to your left, now."
Bill was looking much better, she thought, as they entered his room. He was smiling cheerfully at Rose, and listening to her as they entered.
"Why, Jeff, hello. What a nice surprise," Rose said, rising to greet them. "Diane, you didn't tell us you were bringing him."
"Come in, come in, Jeff, and pull up a chair. Great to see you again," Bill said, his face lighting up, as he reached out to shake hands with Jeff.
"Hey, remember me, your daughter?" Diane asked only half joking, as she kissed her father hello and sat on the foot of his bed. Jeff's big welcome by her parents was somehow irritating. They had accepted him so quickly, so completely.
"I knew you were coming," Bill returned. "And you know I'm glad to see you as always, daughter."
They spent a pleasant hour chatting and telling her parents all about their upcoming tour. Bill and Rose were thrilled for her, since they knew that that was what she had been waiting for.
"But I hate to leave Dad so soon after his accident."
"Nonsense. We'll be fine. There's nothing you can do."
The conversation was cheerful, yet Diane sensed something in her parents' manner, an unnatural overtone, which gave her a sense of foreboding, without knowing what was wrong.
Finally she could stand it no longer. Visiting hours were almost over and she couldn't leave without knowing.
"Mom, what's wrong?" she asked, her voice sounding loud in the lull in the conversation.
Bill looked at Rose. She sat silently looking back at him, then sighed and said, "I suppose we may as well tell her, since she's sensed something is wrong, now."
Bill nodded. "I don't suppose it'll help any to wait," he agreed.
"Tell me what?" Diane asked, her voice two notes too high and her mind imagining all sorts of horrible complications. But none any worse than the real one which followed.
"Bill's suffered some permanent damage to the spine," Rose said, her face lined and grim as she explained. "He won't be able to use his legs. He will have to be in a wheelchair."
"Oh, Dad, no!" The words came out in a hoarse whisper.
Jeff clamped a steadying hand on her arm, lending his strength and support. Diane was very aware of his warm, firm grip, and somehow, it helped her bring her voice back to normal, as she stared at her father in disbelief.
But Bill was smiling back at her. He was actually comforting her, when she should be the one to be giving him support. His still pale face was calm.
"I've had a little time to adjust to the idea," he told her. "This seemed like the end of the world a couple of days ago, but there's still a good side to it. At least I can still do anything with my hands and head."
"But you won't be able to fly anymore," she exclaimed, sorrowfully. Bill had always been a pilot in her mind; she couldn't imagine him as anything else.
"No, he can't do that," Rose agreed, her voice quiet and firm. "But there are many other things he will still be able to do, and we must think of those, and not dwell on the negative."
"The biggest hurdle will be transportation," Bill said. "Getting to and from an office, if that is where I must work, from now on."
"Dad! You must just concentrate on getting well, not worry about things like that, yet," Diane scolded.
"Problems like that can always be worked out," Jeff put in, his voice confidant. "A man with your talents and skills is always needed badly enough to bend the rules a bit."
"I hope you're right, Jeff," Bill said. "I sure don't want to be dumped on the sidelines. I was planning on another fifteen good years before retirement."
They took their leave on that hopeful note, though the admission of the somber prognosis had definitely put a damper on the former cheerfulness of the visit.
Rose walked them to the elevators.
Diane gave her a hug and then burst into tears.
"It isn't fair," she wept. "Dad is still such a young and active man. I can't bear to think of him in a chair or bed the rest of his life."
"Where is it written that life is fair?" Rose asked with a bitter laugh. "What has fair to do with anything?" She took the handkerchief Jeff held out to her and wiped Diane's wet face. "Come on, now, we must be strong and help your father through this crisis, not bemoan it."
"Sorry, Mom." She blew her nose, suddenly remembering that Jeff was standing there. He must think she sounded an idiot, she thought. She dared not look at him.
She summoned at smile for her mother and kissed her goodbye.
"I'll call you, tomorrow."
"Better let me call you. I'm going back to work in the morning," Rose said.
"Goodbye, Rose," Jeff said. "We'll be back again, soon. And don't worry. I meant what I said about his skills still being needed. Don't let him feel that he's worthless, now, just because he's lost some functions."
"I'll keep his spirits up. That's what nurses are for," she said with a shaky laugh.
"But it's different when the patient is your husband." It was a statement, not a question.
"Yes," Rose agreed ruefully.
Jeff said little on the return trip, and Diane was grateful for the time to think and adjust to this horrible new development. Luckily Rose was a career woman and used to doing things out on her own. It would have been far harder for her, Diane realized, if Rose had been a homebody like some of the women of her generation, with little or no experience outside her home.
It was late when they reached Diane's apartment. She was acutely aware of Jeff's hand on the small of her back as they walked out into the crisp, cold night. She shivered, half from the cold, half from awareness of his lean hard body next to hers.
He walked her to the elevator and she turned to say goodnight, but he merely punched the button and kept his hand on her arm and went on up with her.
"I'm really tired," she began, wondering nervously what he intended. She wasn't sure she could handle him on a normal evening, and tonight her defenses were not up to par.
"I've a couple more things to explain," he said firmly. "I'd rather they were clear from the outset. It won't take long."
She looked at him quickly. What had he left out? From the set of his square jaw, she was about to find out, and she probably wasn't going to like it.
The elevator came to a silent stop and they stepped out. The hall was eerily quiet, their footsteps soundless on the soft beige carpet. This time no door down the hall was open to indicate an inquisitive neighbor, but Diane still felt uncomfortable letting him come in. Not that she was that old-fashioned or anything; she certainly was as modern as the next girl. It was just this man who made her jumpy. Bob had helped her move into her apartment and been there several times since. He never gave her the jitters and sent her blood dancing!
"How about a drink? You look like you could use one," he commented dryly. "Do you have anything?"
"I think there's some brandy in the refrigerator," she said, slipping out of her coat and hanging it in the hall closet. She ran a trembling hand through her tangled tresses. "I'll get it."
"You just sit down and relax," he said looking at her sharply. "I'll find it."
She was too exhausted to argue with him. She sank down on one end of her Early American print couch and leaned against its soft high back.
When he returned, she roused herself with an effort, taking the glass he handed her.
"I hope you like it with soda and ice," he said, though he didn't sound as though her answer was going to matter.
She sipped it gratefully, trying to bring her mind back to what he was saying. All the emotional upsets of the evening were taking their toll and she felt drained and weary, vulnerable. She stared at him, wondering how he could still look so...so much like a lion ready to pounce.
He drank his drink, silently watching her, then with a little laugh, took her empty glass from her.
"Go to bed, Diane," he said wearily. "I mean alone," he added at her alarmed look. "You're in no shape to talk, tonight. I'll be tied up all day tomorrow. How about dinner tomorrow night?"
She nodded, too tired to be surprised at the idea. He leaned down and brushed her hair back softly, then kissed her forehead.
"Can you get yourself to bed?"
"Certainly!" she said, sitting up in alarm at the very idea that he might attempt to help her.
He grinned. "I'll pick you up here tomorrow at seven, then."
She dressed carefully for dinner the next evening. It had been a long and uneventful day. Her thoughts had insisted on returning again and again to Jeff, varying between her excitement over their upcoming trip and his possible reasons for asking her out tonight. She’d scolded herself over and over for annoying him by being so tired last night. He’d have told her whatever it was last night and gotten it over with if only she had encouraged him a bit instead of almost passing out on him. Whatever had been the matter with her anyway?
She brushed her short blonde hair until it shone. Then she carefully made up her face and slipped into a slim red silk dress. She turned about in front of her full-length mirror, debated on changing into something less revealing and decided against it. Jeff had sounded grim when he'd wanted to talk to her; perhaps a bit of glamour would soften him up a bit and make whatever it was less unpleasant.
She fastened small gold balls in her ears and put on a matching chain necklace, which shimmered and moved on her collarbones with every slight turn of her head. As she added a touch of her favorite evening perfume, there was a knock on her door.
She quickly stepped into her suede high-heeled pumps and went to answer it.
Jeff stood there, looking as though he'd spent as much time getting dressed himself as she had. His blue plaid sport-coat gave him a decidedly more ha
ndsome look than the usual plain suits he wore to the office.
His eyes traveled hungrily over her, and she blushed in quick response. Her heart had started its usual speed-up at sight of him, and it made her voice tremble a bit as she greeted him. She began to have second thoughts about the wisdom of wearing something glamorous to soften him up. Perhaps wearing something prim and proper would have been more prudent.
He took her to an elegant, quiet restaurant for dinner and she made nervous chit-chat for what seemed hours. She told him about a phone call from her mother and discussed details of how her father's new handicap would affect her parent's lives. She was amazed at his interest. She thought at first it was affected, but as they continued talking she could find no evidence of that. Besides, she doubted he was that good an actor, nor could she think of any reason he should feign interest if he had none.
They talked shop-talk, and then he told her Arlene had returned to Milwaukee.
"Didn't she say she was once your secretary?"
"Yes, for about a year."
So, he had known Arlene well, she thought bitterly. But she'd already guessed that, hadn't she? So why did it hurt so?
"What about your project?"
Was it her imagination, or did his face freeze into a guarded expression?
"I've done as much as possible for now. We've got to manufacture some new software before I can go any further."
The waitress took away their plates and brought delicious pale green ice-cream after-dinner drinks called "grasshoppers".
Jeff dipped the tiny spoon in his, caught the two filberts decorating the top of the smooth concoction, and ate them.
"Why do they always serve such tiny spoons with these?" he asked wryly, looking at her over his glass. "And it's certainly too thick to drink through this tiny straw."
She giggled nervously in agreement.
His face had turned serious, and she was sure the moment she had dreaded had come. He was about to explain whatever it was that he had put off telling her the night before.
"About this tour," he began abruptly.
"I haven't thanked you for assigning me to it," she evaded. "I do appreciate the opportunity. I'm afraid I didn't sound like it last night."
