Wonder and Wild Desire

by Jeanne Stephens

  Jan had gone on to suggest that Carrie and Mike move into her apartment and share expenses. There was even a wonderful grandmotherly widow across the hall who, Jan assured her, would love caring for Mike while Carrie worked.

  Things had been better after that. Living expenses were less, and, equally important, Carrie had someone to talk to in the evenings after she had put Mike to bed. She had even gone out several times with a friend she had met through Jan.

  But now the capricious fate that had dogged her footsteps ever since she had come to Boise had stepped in again…

  Carrie shifted Mike to her left arm in order to take her key from her coat pocket and unlock the apartment door. She walked into the living room and crossed the gold shag carpet to the door of the bedroom that she shared with Mike. She had arrived at Mrs. Mawbrey's apartment before the widow had put Mike down for his afternoon nap. Now he was drowsy, his chubby little arms wound around Carrie's neck, his blond head resting on her shoulder. Standing beside his crib, she hugged him against her for a moment, feeling his drowsy warmth, inhaling the sweet baby smell of him.

  Her happiest moments during the past ten months had been those spent with this child. Oh, how she loved him, with his short golden curls and blue eyes! She loved him with an ache that threatened to choke her at times. She could not have loved him more if she had given birth to him herself.

  Gently she lowered him into the crib and pulled a soft blanket over his body. He gave a quiet little murmur, but his eyes remained closed, the brown lashes resting against the soft pink cheeks. Love for him welled up in Carrie anew, and she had to blink back tears. We're going to make it, Mike, she vowed silently.

  Carrie was sitting on the couch in the shadowy living room when Jan arrived.

  "Why are you sitting here in the dark?" Jan threw off her fake fur coat and walked through the apartment, turning on lights. Then, returning to the living room, she kicked off her high-heeled shoes and flopped into a chair. "Where's Mike?"

  "Still napping."

  "How did you make it home so early? I'm always here before you."

  Carrie, wearing her heavy velour robe, was sitting sideways on the couch with her knees drawn up. She was hugging her legs as if she were chilled. "I left work early today."

  Jan's green eyes contemplated her friend's pose with concern. "Not feeling well, huh? There's a lot of flu going around. Maybe you've caught a touch of it."

  Carrie laid her forehead on her knees and said in a muffled voice, "No…"

  Frowning, Jan got up and walked to the couch.

  Looking down at the thick fall of hair that was hiding Carrie's face, she touched a loose wave tentatively. "You really do look pale, Carrie. Why don't you go to bed, and I'll take care of Mike when he wakes up. I'll make soup for dinner and call you when it's ready." When Carrie did not reply, Jan sat down beside her. "Can I bring you some aspirin or cold tablets— anything?"

  Carrie looked up then, and the unhappiness in her blue-green eyes caused her friend to gasp. "Carrie, what is it? You've been crying."

  "I haven't got a cold or the flu, Jan. If I look ill it's because I'm worried sick. I lost my job today."

  Jan stared at her for a moment and then, recovering, moved to put her arms around Carrie, pressing her cheek against Carrie's hair. "Don't tell me you had a fight with the boss?"

  "No, nothing like that." Carrie's voice was weary. "Actually, he said I'd done good work. But business is bad and somebody had to go. Since I'd been there the shortest time, I was chosen." She stirred, her stockinged feet sliding to the floor, her head falling back against the couch. "I've been calling employment agencies all afternoon. Nobody's hiring right now. They all said to call back after the first of the year."

  Jan sighed, getting to her feet to pace back and forth across the living room. "Carrie, I'm sorry, but you can't let it get you down like this. Something will come along." She stopped in front of Carrie and thrust her hands into the side pockets of her wool skirt. "Even if you have to wait until the first of the year, it won't be the end of the world."

  "A couple of the agencies were looking for temporary evening clerks for department stores during the Christmas shopping season. The hours are from five until ten. But after I paid Mrs. Mawbrey for babysitting, I doubt that I'd have much left."

  Jan tossed her red hair back and resumed her restless pacing. "If you have to take one of those temporary jobs, I can watch Mike most evenings."

  "Jan, you're a dear, but I can't expect you to take over my responsibilities with Mike. There's no reason for you to have to curtail your social life just because I lost my job."

  "We'll get by," Jan said stoutly.

  Carrie drew a long, unsteady breath. "It's time for Mike's checkup with the pediatrician, but I can put that off for a few weeks. I can't put off buying new shoes for him, though. His toes are touching the ends of the ones he's wearing now." She closed her eyes and said tiredly, "He deserves so much more than I can give him, Jan."

  "What kind of talk is that?" Jan said indignantly. "Nobody could have taken better care of Mike. Certainly nobody could love him more than you do. Material things aren't important to children. You've been there for Mike, and I don't want to hear any more of that kind of talk from you!" When Carrie did not respond, Jan added, "We're going to work this out together. Trust me. I'll think of something." She was thoughtful for a moment. "I hear Mike waking up. You go get him, and I'll fix that soup."

  A short while later Mike was sitting in his high chair between the two girls at the small kitchen table. Carrie fed him his soup first, then gave him a cracker to chew on while she ate her own dinner.

  "I've been thinking," Jan said. "If Danny Revell was still alive, I'd say he ought to be forced to help you now. Since he isn't, I think you should call that big-shot brother of his and demand a financial settlement."

  Carrie laid her spoon down and stared at her friend. Her face was so pale that her brows and thick lashes looked like smudges of stoveblack against her skin. "Joshua Revell is the last person on earth I'd go to for help!"

  Carrie had seen Danny's older brother only once; he had joined her and Danny and Meg for dinner one evening when he was passing through Boise. But her memory of the powerful head of the Revell Corporation could still send a fearful tremor through her: that long, lean body, the almost savage hardness of it not at all camouflaged by the elegantly tailored dark blue suit he had worn; the thick, tiger-tawny hair that grew in deep sideburns down each side of his face; the brown eyes with the flecks of gold that had assessed Caroline boldly and clearly found her wanting; the stern-visaged face set in disapproving lines; the wide mouth, the upper lip ruthlessly hard, the lower lip fuller and somehow sensual.

  Jan was looking at her impatiently. "But Mike's father was a Revell. As head of the family, Joshua Revell might want to help if he knew your situation. He's filthy rich. It's not as if he'd miss the money."

  Not in a million years could Carrie imagine going to Joshua Revell and telling him that she was caring for his brother's illegitimate child, and that Meg had died as the result of what Danny had done to her. Even the thought of it tied Carrie's nerves in knots.

  "No," Carrie said with vehemence. "We'll have to think of something else. And, please, don't mention that man to me again."

  "Gosh, honey, I didn't mean to upset you," Jan said solicitously. "But don't you worry—about money, I mean. Leave that part to me."

  "Of course I won't leave it to you." Carrie eyed her friend suspiciously. "But I won't go to Joshua Revell, and that's final."

  "I'm not asking you to," Jan soothed. "Okay?"

  After a moment Carrie nodded, picked up her spoon again, and began to eat. She was too lost in the maze of her own tangled thoughts to notice the calculating gleam that came into her friend's green eyes. Jan finished her soup and gazed past Carrie through the window into the gray November dusk.

  During the next few days, Carrie checked out every lead she heard of for secretarial jobs. Every place
she called had either recently hired someone or wanted to wait until after Christmas to break in a new employee. The only bright spot in her days was that she was able to spend more time with Mike, but even that was marred by the worry over money that remained at the back of her mind.

  On Saturday morning she arose early to bathe and feed Mike. Then she settled him in his playpen with some toys while she cleaned the apartment. When Jan got up about eleven, Carrie left Mike with her to go to the supermarket for their weekly supply of groceries. The checkout lines were long, and after finally getting away she stopped at a shoe store that had infants' footwear on sale, where she found a pair the right size for Mike. It was after one when she got back to the apartment.

  Jan appeared, having changed from her nightgown to jeans and a sweater. "I already fed Mike and put him down for his nap. I'll take these things to the kitchen, and then I'm going to run down to the drugstore. You better go into the living room. There's someone here to see you." She disappeared into the kitchen clutching two bags of groceries.

  Carrie hung her coat in the foyer closet. Then, tugging her gold velour shirt down over the top of her brown corduroy jeans, she walked into the living room.

  A tall man, at least six feet two inches, was standing at the window, his back to her. A muted tan and green plaid sports jacket molded itself to his broad shoulders, and his hands were thrust into the pockets of tan flannel trousers. In the first moment Carrie noticed that dark blond hair, which had a slight tendency to curl, overlapped the collar of his jacket in back.

  Her heart began to pound erratically, for there was something vaguely familiar about this man. Apprehensively, she raked her slender fingers through her windblown hair. "Did you want to see me?"

  He turned then, towering above her, dwarfing everything else in the room. His gold-flecked brown eyes narrowed as his gaze swept over her, disdain hardening the high cheekbones and deepening the noticeable cleft in his chin.

  "Want, Miss Franklin?" Joshua Revell said. "No, I wouldn't say I want to see you. It seems I must."

  Carrie's sudden lightheadedness forced her to catch hold of the back of the chair beside her to keep from falling. "Wh-what are you doing here?"

  His tawny brows lifted sardonically. "I am here in answer to a phone call I received from your friend, Janice Winton, Thursday—as if you didn't know."

  She shivered and sat down suddenly in the chair with which she had been supporting herself and took a shaky breath. She could feel Joshua Revell's cold gaze assessing her, reminding her acutely of that other time when she had felt gauche and hopelessly inadequate in his presence.

  "Jan had no right to call you!" she said tensely. "So you could come here and look at me as if you think I—I—"

  "As if I think you're a little schemer planning how you can get your hands on Revell money?" he murmured, and his glittering brown eyes looked directly down into hers, making her face flame with sudden overwhelming indignation. His look seemed to encompass her and strip her bare, and she caught her breath at what she saw in his eyes—icy contempt generously laced with ruthlessness.

  "I knew that's what you—you would think!" Carrie's eyes blazed into his. "That's why I told Jan I wanted nothing to do with you. If I had known she intended to call you, I would have stopped her."

  He stared down at Carrie's delicate-boned face, which was pale except for the dark brows and lashes and the dark smudges beneath her blue-green eyes. There was a quiver she could not control in her small chin, and her softly sculptured mouth and blazing eyes hinted at a passion she kept carefully buried beneath a coolly composed exterior.

  This man's brother had plundered Meg's innate inviolateness, destroyed with hate the innocent purity which had been her sister's to give with love. As if that were not enough, he had destroyed Meg's life. Now Joshua Revell stood in her living room and devoured her with a look that stripped her of the remnants of her self-esteem, of the pride she had felt in living up to her promise to care for Meg's child.

  "You feel so superior, don't you?" she cried. "You want to make me feel small and helpless. You are as cruel and heartless as your brother was!"

  She sensed a rigid tightening of all the muscles of his body as he approached her with such deliberate intent that she shrank against the padded chair back.

  "I did not come here to be insulted," he declared, "or to hear my late brother insulted, either. Danny is not here to defend himself, but I am. Here, I remind you, at the urgent request of your roommate. If—and I repeat, if—this baby you are caring for is Danny's child, he did not bring it into being alone. I do not wish to speak disrespectfully of the dead, but your sister was as much to blame as my brother in what happened, Miss Franklin."

  She stared at him, unable for the moment to force any more words past the dry tightness in her throat. He must think that Meg had been some kind of playgirl, an amoral little featherbrain who jumped into bed with any man in sight. And if he thought that of Meg, he undoubtedly believed the same of Meg's sister.

  "I don't think we have any more to say to each other," she said hoarsely.

  The tensed muscles relaxed, and he stepped nonchalantly to the couch and sat down. "But we have," he said insolently. "I came here to satisfy myself as to the validity of your claims, and I intend to do just that."

  "I have made no claims against you! I told you I didn't know my friend had phoned you, and I will not sit here and be called a liar and—worse."

  Unruffled, he retorted, "Spare me the histrionics, please. I want answers to my questions."

  "Wh-what questions?"

  "How can I be sure that this baby is my brother's child?"

  "Given your suspicions that everybody is out to get some of your money, you probably can't be," Carrie said with heavy sarcasm. "But I knew my sister. Meg was only eighteen and totally innocent when she met your brother. She was never with any other man, so there is not the slightest possibility that Mike's father could be anyone but Danny."

  "Is Danny's name on the birth certificate as the father?"

  "Yes," Carrie returned shortly, "although Mike goes by my sister's maiden name, Franklin. Your brother made it quite plain that he wanted nothing to do with the baby."

  He eyed her dubiously. "Why would he do that if he knew the child was his?"

  The disbelief in his tone cut across the space between them like a knife. "Well, I have a question for you, Mr. Revell. Why did Danny leave the country so suddenly?"

  He shrugged. "I wouldn't say it was sudden, Miss Franklin. We needed someone to oversee some copper mines we have acquired in South Africa. Danny volunteered for the job. He wanted to prove that he could handle the added responsibility."

  "How convenient for him!" Carrie exclaimed. "That job gave him the chance to put several thousand miles between himself and the girl who was carrying his child. I think he was afraid Meg might decide to file a paternity suit against him."

  He brushed her angry words aside. "Since Danny is dead, we will never know whether you are right, will we?" Then, in an abrupt change of subject: "Do you know the baby's blood type?"

  "A-positive, but I don't see—"

  His eyes narrowed. "The same as Danny's, as it happens, though I'm sure you know that doesn't prove anything."

  She gripped the arms of her chair until her knuckles turned white. "I don't have to prove anything to you! How dare you—"

  He cut her off rudely. "I would like to see the child now."

  "He's asleep," she snapped.

  He got to his feet. "Where? In here? I won't wake him." Before she could protest he had crossed the room and entered the bedroom. Several long minutes passed before he returned. He walked slowly to the couch and sat down.

  "He has Danny's coloring," he mused, more to himself than to Carrie. After a pause, he looked up sharply. "I am still not convinced you are telling me the truth, however."

  "Naturally," Carrie said bitterly. "You seem to hold such a low opinion of my sister and me, why should you believe me? You a
re very like your brother, Mr. Revell. He told me that he would deny paternity and that if we persisted in pressing Meg's claim he would see to it that neither of us ever worked in Boise again. The Revells are a charming family!"

  His eyes narrowed warningly. "I must insist that you stop dishonoring my brother's name! Moreover, if I ever learn that you lied to me, about anything—"

  "I do not lie!" Carrie's anger was so great that it was all she could do not to burst into furious tears.

  Her reaction seemed of little concern to him. "I intend to investigate the matter further, Miss Franklin." He got to his feet with arrogant ease and strode toward the foyer. "You'll be hearing from me."

  Before she could rush after him and cry that she never wanted to hear from him again, he had closed the door firmly behind him. Carrie stood in the foyer, trembling all over. How dare Joshua Revell come here and talk to her like that! And wait until she saw Jan!

  She did not have long to wait. Apparently Jan had been watching from the drugstore downstairs for Joshua Revell to leave the building. She entered the living room, where Carrie was pacing back and forth, and said, "I hope you're not furious with me for calling him, but—"

  "Well, I am!" Carrie retorted. "After I told you specifically that I wanted nothing to do with him!"

  "Honey," Jan said coaxingly, "you do need his help. Mike deserves to gain some benefit from the fact that he is a Revell."

  "Don't," said Carrie through clenched teeth, "say that name to me!"

  During the next few days, Carrie lived in fear of hearing Joshua Revell's voice every time she answered the telephone or the door. But by Friday she had begun to doubt that he had ever really meant to get in touch with her again, and she began to feel calm.

  Jan was planning to go on a skiing weekend with a group of employees from the bank where she worked and had told Carrie Friday morning that she would probably be home early. So when the doorbell rang at two, Carrie assumed that her roommate had forgotten her key and ran to open the door before the chimes woke Mike from his nap.