by Janet Dailey
The Ivory Cane
* * *
Janet Dailey
AN [e-reads] BOOK
New York, NY
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, scanning or any information storage retrieval system, without explicit permission in writing from the Author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locals or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1977 by Janet Dailey
First e-reads publication 2005
www.e-reads.com
ISBN 0-7592-5748-5
Table of Contents
* * *
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
One
* * *
Overhead a sea gull screeched. The blustery wind off the Pacific Ocean swirled around the boats docked at the Yacht Harbor of San Francisco Bay. Distantly came the clang of a cable car, the one climbing the steep hill of Hyde Street.
A light blue Continental with a leather-grained top of dark blue was wheeled expertly into the parking lot in front of the harbor. The driver, a stunningly beautiful, titian-haired woman in her mid-thirties, braked the car precisely between the white parking lines and switched off the motor. As she reached for the door handle, emerald green eyes nicked to the silent girl in the passenger seat.
‘It’s quite chilly outside, Sabrina. It probably would be best if you waited in the car while I see if your father is back.’ It was a statement, not a suggestion that the woman made.
Sabrina Lane opened her mouth to protest. She was tired of being treated as an invalid. With a flash of insight, she realized that Deborah was not concerned about her health as much as she was about spending some time alone with Sabrina’s father.
‘Whatever you say, Deborah,’ she submitted grudgingly, her right hand closing tightly over the smooth handle of her oak cane.
The silent moments following Deborah’s departure grated at Sabrina’s already taut nerves. It was difficult enough to endure her own physical restrictions without having her father’s girlfriend place others on her, regardless of the motive.
Her father’s girlfriend. One corner of her wide mouth turned up wryly at the phraseology. Her father had had many women friends since her mother died when Sabrina was seven. But Deborah Mosley was not just another woman. If it had not been for Sabrina’s accident some eight months ago, Deborah would have already been her new stepmother.
Prior to the accident, Sabrina had thought it was terrific that her father had found someone he wanted to marry. Deborah Mosley wouldn’t have been Sabrina’s choice, although she liked her, but that hadn’t mattered not as long as her father was happy.
That was before the accident, when Sabrina had been totally independent. She had had a place of her own, a very small apartment, but it had been hers. She had had a career, not a lucrative one, but she could have supported herself.
Now — the word screamed with its own despairing wail. It would be a long time, if ever, before Sabrina could say any of that again.
‘Why me?’ a sobbing, self-pitying voice asked silently. ‘What did I ever do to deserve this? Why me?’
Her throat tightened with pain at the unanswerable question. There was simply too much time to think. Too much time to think about the ‘what-might-have-beens’ and the ‘if-onlys.’ The damage was done and irreparable, as specialist after specialist had told Sabrina and her father. She would be incapacitated for the rest of her life and there was nothing, barring a miracle, that could ever be done to change it.
A seed of rebellion stirred to life. An anger seethed to the surface that she might forever sit in cars and stay at home while someone else decided what was best for her.
A sickening thought sprang to mind. Suppose, Sabrina thought, that Deborah’s wish to be alone with her father was not prompted by a desire for some romantic moments but part of a plan to persuade him to send her away to that rehabilitation home? Rehabilitation — the word always made her feel like a criminal.
‘Please, God,’ Sabrina prayed, ’don’t let Daddy listen to her. I don’t want to go to that place. Surely there must be an alternative besides another school.’
She felt guilty praying to God for help. It hurt to need anyone to help her. She had always been so completely self-sufficient. Now she was constantly depending on someone. At this very minute, Deborah might be persuading her father to send her to another school and she was sitting in the car, accepting her fate by the very fact that she was not participating in the discussion but calling on someone else to intercede on her behalf.
Thousands of times Sabrina had walked from the parking lot of the harbor to the slip where her father tied his boat. It wasn’t that great a distance. If she remained calm and took her time, there was no reason why she couldn’t traverse it again.
Artistically long fingers tightened the cord of the striped tunic and adjusted the rolled collar of the navy dark turtleneck she wore underneath. The wind whistled a warning outside. She ran a smoothing hand up to the back of her head to be certain her mink-brown hair was securely fastened in its knot atop her head.
Taking a deep breath to still the quivering excitement racing through her, Sabrina opened the door and swung her long legs on to the pavement. With the car door closed behind her and the cane firmly in her grasp, she moved slowly in the direction of the harbor fence. The icy tendrils of fear dancing down her spine added to the adventurous thrill of her small journey.
Emboldened by her initial success, Sabrina unconsciously began to hurry. She stumbled over a concrete parking stop and couldn’t regain her balance. The cane slipped from her hand, skittering away as she sprawled on to the pavement.
Excitement disappeared immediately, leaving only black fear. Her shaking fingers reached for the cane, but it was out of her grasp. Except for the shock to her senses, there was no pain. She wasn’t hurt, but how was she going to make her way to the dock without the cane?
’damn, damn, damn!’ Sabrina cursed her own foolishness for making the attempt in the first place.
If her father found her like this, it would only increase the apparent validity of Deborah’s argument that Sabrina needed more professional help. Propping herself up on one elbow, she tried to check the rising terror that was leading her toward panic and think her way out of this predicament rationally.
‘Are you all right?’ The low, masculine voice offering concern was laced with amusement.
Sabrina’s head jerked in the direction from which it had come, embarrassed red surging into her cheeks that a stranger should find her and humiliation that she was forced to seek his help.
The triangular line of her chin, tapering from prominent cheekbones and square jaw, tilted to a proud angle. ‘I’m not hurt,’ she asserted quickly, then grudgingly, ‘My cane, would you get it for me?’
‘Of course.’ The amusement disappeared.
The instant the cane was retrieved Sabrina reached out to take it from him, not wanting to endure the mortification of his pity and hoping a quick ‘thank you’ would send him on his way. As her outstretched hand remained empty, her cheeks flamed darker.
A pair of strong hands slipped under her arms and bodily lifted her to her feet before she could gasp a protest. Her fingers touched the hard flesh of his upper arms, covered by the smooth material of his windb
reaker. The salty tang of the ocean breeze mingled with the spicy after-shave cologne and his virile masculine scent. Sabrina was tall, nearly five foot seven, but the warm breath from his mouth stirred the bangs covering her wide forehead, making him easily six inches taller than she.
Her cane, hooked over his arm, tapped the side of her leg. ‘Please let me go,’ she said crisply while her fingers closed over the cane and lifted it from his arm.
‘Nothing sprained but your pride, is that it?’ the man mocked gently, loosening his grip on her slim waist and letting his hands fall away.
Sabrina smiled tautly, keeping her luminous brown eyes, that sometimes seemed too large for her face, averted from the man’s face. His pity she didn’t need.
‘Thank you for your help,’ she murmured unwillingly as she took a hesitant step backward.
Turning away, she waited for interminable seconds for him to continue wherever it was that he was going. She could feel his eyes on her back and guessed that he was waiting to be certain she hadn’t hidden an injury from the fall.
Afraid that he might feel compelled because of her need for the cane to offer further assistance, Sabrina stepped out boldly. The shocking blare of a horn simultaneously accompanied by the squeal of car brakes paralyzed her. A steel band circled her waist and roughly pulled her back.
The husky male voice was still low, but there was nothing gentle and concerned about its tone as he growled in her ear. ‘Were you trying to kill yourself? Didn’t you see that car coming?’
‘How could I?’ Sabrina muttered bitterly, unable to tug the steel-hard arm from around her waist. ‘I’m blind!’
She heard and felt his swift intake of breath a split second before he spun her around, her upper arms now prisoners of his hands. His eyes burned over her face. Her downcast chin was seized by his fingers and jerked up. Sabrina knew her sightless eyes were gazing into his face. For once she was blessedly glad she couldn’t see. The pity that would be in his expression would have been unbearable.
‘Why the hell didn’t you say so!’ There was a savage snap to his angry voice that caught her off guard. Anger she had not expected. ‘And why the blazes isn’t your cane white?’
Stung, Sabrina retorted in kind. ‘Why am I supposed to have a white cane? Why am I expected to wear dark glasses? Should I run around with a little tin cup, too, crying “alms for the blind”? Why does being blind make me different from anyone else? Why do I have to be singled out? I hate it when parents point their fingers at me and tell their children to let the blind lady go first. My cane isn’t white because I don’t want any special consideration or any pity!’
‘And your abhorrence of white canes nearly got you killed,’ the stranger said grimly. ‘Had the driver of the car that almost ran you down seen a white cane in your hand, he might have taken extra precautions, slowed down to give you the right of way or perhaps honked his horn to be sure you knew he was there. You go right on being a proud fool. You won’t live long. Just keep on stepping in front of cars and sooner or later one of them will hit you. It might not trouble your conscience, but I’m sure the driver who ultimately runs you down will have difficulty understanding the pride that kept you from carrying a white cane that could have saved your life.’
‘It’s not difficult to understand,’ Sabrina replied in a strangled voice. ‘If the man had ever lost his sight, he’d know how grating it is to advertise your blindness.’
‘It’s very obvious why you reject pity from others,’ the man taunted. ‘You’re much too busy wallowing in a pool of your own self-pity.’
‘Of all the arrogant — ’ Sabrina didn’t bother to finish the statement as her hand accurately judged the distance and height before connecting with a resounding slap against the man’s jaw and cheek.
The trajectory of her hand had not completed its arc when she felt a stinging hand against her own cheek. It was no more than a reproving tap, but her shock at his reaction magnified it tenfold.
‘How dare you strike a blind person!’ she exclaimed in an outraged whisper.
‘I thought you didn’t want any special privileges?’ he mocked. ‘Or doesn’t that extend to slapping another person, secure in the belief that he wouldn’t retaliate against a blind girl? You’ll have to make up your mind whether the kid gloves should be on or off.’
Sabrina gasped sharply, caught in the trap of her own words. ‘You are insufferable!’ she breathed, and turned away.
‘Not so fast.’ The hand digging into her shoulder and neck effectively halted her steps. ‘You’re worse than a toddler,’ he muttered impatiently. ’do you hear any cars coming? Do you know where you’re going? Have you got your directions straight?’
‘Just leave me alone!’ Sabrina demanded. ‘My well-being is nobody’s responsibility but my own!’
‘I’m sorry.’ There was no apology in his harsh tone. ‘But I was raised to believe that all of us are our brother’s keeper, or sister’s as the case may be. So, whether you like it or not, I’m going to see that you safely arrive at whatever destination you have. Go ahead and walk away.’ Sabrina could sense his shrug of indifference. ‘I’ll be walking right behind you.’
She wanted to scream her frustration, but the stranger’s unrelenting manner seemed to say that even that would be a waste of energy. She could not go on the docks, not with this man as an unwanted bodyguard. The last thing she wanted was to have her father feel that it wasn’t safe to leave her alone even for a few minutes. The minute her father saw this man at her side there would be all sorts of questions and the entire embarrassing story would be told.
Reluctantly she turned back in the direction she had just come. ‘You don’t need to trouble yourself,’ she said stiffly. ‘I’m only going to the car.’
‘And drive, I suppose.’ Satirical amusement was back in the man’s low-pitched voice.
Sabrina chose to ignore his laughing jibe. Embarrassment and anger had all but erased her sense of humor. She tried to step past the tall stranger, but he moved to block her way.
‘Which car?’ he asked softly.
‘The blue Continental behind you in the next row.’
‘That isn’t where you were headed when I first saw you.’
She gritted her teeth. ‘I had intended to go out on the docks to meet my father and Deborah. Since you insist on accompanying me, I prefer to wait for them in the car.’ There was a saccharine quality to her carefully enunciated words.
‘They’re out sailing and left you here in the car?’ His tone seemed to indicate that her father and Deborah possessed as little sense as she did.
‘No, my father went sailing. Deborah and I came down to pick him up. She’s somewhere out on the dock now and I was going to see what was keeping them,’ Sabrina retorted.
’deborah is your sister?’
‘You seem determined to pry into my personal life,’ she sighed impatiently. ’deborah will quite likely be my new mother — if it’s any of your business!’
His hand closed over her elbow, the firm hold guiding her steps in the direction Sabrina knew the car to be. Several steps later, the end of the cane clunked against the side fender of the car.
‘Which slip does your father use? I’ll go see what’s keeping him for you,’ the man offered.
‘No, thank you,’ she refused curtly. ‘He’s nearly convinced already that I need a permanent baby-sitter. If you go carrying tales to him, I’ll never be able to persuade him that I don’t want anybody wiping my nose for me.’ Exasperation ringed her voice. ‘If I give you my word that I won’t leave the car, will you go away and leave me alone?’
‘I’m afraid it’s too late to keep our meeting a secret from your father,’ the man said.
‘What do you mean?’ Sabrina frowned.
‘Is Deborah a redhead?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, there’s a man walking toward the harbor gates with a redhead at his side. He’s looking this way with a rather anxious frown on his face,’ was the
reply.
‘Please go quickly before he gets here,’ she pleaded.
‘Since he’s already seen me, if I were your father I would be very suspicious if a strange man was talking to my daughter and left when he saw me coming. It’s better that I stay,’ the man stated.
‘No.’ Sabrina whispered her protest. With this man, words held little persuasion.
There was the clink of the harbor fence gates opening and closing. Time had run out.
‘Stop looking as if I’d made some indecent proposition to you. Smile.’ The sound of the man’s low voice held a smile, warm and faintly amused at her apparent discomfort. Her reluctance was obvious as the corners of her mouth stretched into a slow smile.
‘Sabrina.’ Her father’s voice hailed her, an undertone of concern in his otherwise warmly happy use of her name. ‘Were you getting tired of waiting?’
Nervously she turned, trying to keep the faltering smile in place, knowing how perceptively discerning the scrutiny of his hazel eyes could be.
‘Hello, Dad.’ She forced a casualness into her voice. ’did you have a good sail?’
‘What else?’ he laughed his assertion.
Sabrina sensed almost the exact instant when her father’s inquisitive gaze was turned on the man at her side. She had been so busy trying to get rid of him that she hadn’t thought of a single excuse to explain his presence.
The problem was taken out of her hands. ‘You must be Sabrina’s father. She was just asking me if I’d seen the Lady Sabrina come in while I was at the docks. I have the ketch down the way from yours, Dame Fortune. The name is Bay Cameron,’ the stranger introduced.
‘Grant Lane,’ her father countered, the vague wariness leaving his voice at the introduction.
Unconsciously Sabrina had been holding her breath. She let it out in a silent sigh. The stranger, now identified as Bay Cameron, could think on his feet, she decided with relief. Of course she was certain there wasn’t another boat in the harbor named Lady Sabrina, but the man had been quick to put two and two together simply from her father’s use of her name. And it sounded like such a plausible excuse for her to be talking to him.
