"I don't need anyone to lean on, Mom!" Julie exclaimed. "I'm twenty-one, a big girl now, and Bobby and I'll do just fine until you're back home and well again, because you are going to get well! I know there are problems to work out and that the budget will be strained, but we'll pull through. People always do. Besides," she added darkly, "if I go to see my grandfather and accept his help, what good will it do as far as establishing a relationship with him? He'd only think I was seeing him because of his money and the help he could provide and it would be the truth!"
Ruth Wilder nodded. "I realize that, Julie, but even there, you shouldn't feel ashamed or guilty. After all, if Andrew Barclay owes his wealth to anyone it should be you. But I don't want you to go to him for that reason alone. Like you just said, we can muddle through on our own if need be, but I would like for Drew's daughter to meet his father. I didn't before, but now I do. I've been doing a lot of thinking these past few weeks, Julie, and it's the one gift I'd like to give to your father's memory. It's all I ask of you, that you meet him just this once. Beyond that, I ask nothing of you. If you decide never to see him again, it would be your decision and I would abide by it, but please, for me, do this one thing."
Julie got to her feet and moved restlessly around the room touching a vase, fiddling with the drapery cord, straightening the magazines on the coffee table.
It was incredible after all these years that her mother should do such a complete turnabout. She herself had learned the story when she was sixteen, not long after Tom Wilder, her mother's second husband and Bobby's father, had died. They had been talking sadly late one night of how much they missed Tom, and somehow the discussion had turned to Julie's father as well.
Julie had known most of her life that Drew Barclay had died in an automobile accident months before her birth, but only that night did she discover the tragically senseless reason behind it. Her mother, an orphan, had been a waitress when she met Drew Barclay, and within weeks the young couple had been married. But when Drew took his bride home to his father in Baton Rouge Andrew Barclay had been obstinately against the marriage. He was a wealthy industrialist who had great plans for his son's future, perhaps even a stint in Louisiana's governor's mansion some day, and that plan had definitely not included a nobody as a wife. During the next few months he had done his utmost to make his son suspicious of every man who even so much as spoke to Ruth. And then, on the very day that Ruth told Drew she was pregnant, Andrew maliciously wrecked the marriage. While Ruth, in a night gown, sat at her dressing table in her bedroom, the gardener Andrew employed entered the room, bare-chested, and swooped Ruth into his arms. While she struggled to free herself and he insolently raked his hands over her body, Drew walked in. The gardener ran from the room and Drew, in a jealous rage, accused her of being pregnant by the other man. He refused to listen to her tearful explanation that she had scarcely ever exchanged a word with the gardener and he ordered her to leave the house before the evening was over.
Julie was a little over a year old before Andrew . Barclay's private detectives traced Ruth to Oklahoma City, where she was by then working in a department store. Andrew wrote her and confessed that he had put the gardener up to going into her room that night, but explained that he had had no idea until after she was gone that she had been pregnant. In remorse, he had told his son the truth. Drew left home immediately afterward and never saw nor spoke to his father again, and three months later he died in a fiery automobile crash that while officially listed as accidental Andrew was certain had been suicide. In his letter, Andrew begged Ruth to return to Baton Rouge with the baby and allow him to support them, as they had a right to be Barclays but Ruth, proud and filled with bitter hatred, had refused either to accept support then or to allow Andrew the privilege of seeing his granddaughter later. The only Barclays she had ever spoken of with kindness since had not really been Barclays at all… Andrew's second wife, Evelyn and her son, Blaise Richard.
But Julie wanted nothing to do with any of them. She had already discovered what a horrible person Blaise Richard was today, and there could be no doubt about what her grandfather was like. A man who would stoop so low as to wreck his son's marriage and because of it be a major contributing factor in his son's death deserved no kindness or consideration from anyone, and Julie could not understand her mother's change in attitude. Andrew Barclay was a monster and she wanted to claim no relationship with him. He had wrecked her mother's life once and she had no intention of allowing him to ever influence it again.
"I'm sorry, Mom," she said gently, going now to drop to her knees beside her mother's chair. She felt suddenly fiercely protective of the petite woman sitting there. Ruth Wilder's face was colorless and there was a pinched look about her mouth that spoke volumes for the pain she had been recently suffering. Julie reached out and clasped her hand. "I love you, Mom, and you know I'd do almost anything in the world for you. But this…" She shook her head. "I just can't. He ruined your life once and I don't want him to ever have the opportunity of hurting you again in any way whatsoever. If you want to see him tonight, fine, but I won't be here. Maybe you can forgive him, but I'll never forgive what he did to you and Dad. Never!"
"Julie!" Her mother's voice was shaken. "What have I done to you? You're so bitter, so unyielding!"
The front door opened and they both glanced toward it to see ten-year-old Bobby walking inside, a baseball mitt on his hand. "Thanks for showing me that curve," he was saying as he turned his head to speak to someone behind him.
A second later Blaise Richard entered the room and nodded toward the two women. "I arrived back a few minutes early and Bobby was outside, so we tossed a few balls." He was holding a baseball and now he dropped it into Bobby's mitt. "Your son has a good arm, Ruth. We just may see him in the major leagues in a few years."
Ruth Wilder smiled warmly at him. "Let's hope it comes to pass," she said. "It's Bobby's greatest dream." Now she studied her son, her keen eyes not missing his wildly disordered blond hair or the dirt on his jeans. "Bobby, I would really appreciate it if you would go wash up and change your clothes."
"Aw, Mom…" Bobby protested. "Do I have to?"
His mother laughed. "Yes, you have to."
"But I wanted to ask Blaise some more questions about my pitching and…"
Blaise Richard smiled down at him and Julie was shocked at such a diametrically opposed expression on his face from the way he had looked at her earlier. To her, he had been scornful and unfeeling; to her mother he had been gentle and to Bobby he was kind and understanding and in no way patronizing. "It's okay, Bobby. I've been invited to dinner tonight so we'll have a chance to talk again then."
"Super!" Bobby said enthusiastically. "I'll see you later then." He left the room cheerfully, obviously content that he had made a new friend, and childlike, in no way curious about who this man was or why he was here. He simply accepted Blaise unquestioningly because he liked him.
As soon as Bobby was out of hearing, Blaise returned his attention to Ruth and Julie. "Well, have you decided?" He asked directly, looking at Julie.
"I'm not going," she said doggedly.
"I've tried," Ruth sighed heavily. "Would you reason with her, Blaise?"
Blaise Richard's thick eyebrows lifted. "But is she a reasonable person?" he asked.
"Of course I'm reasonable," Julie said hotly. "But this is…"
"This is something that is very important to your mother and yet you'd rather be smugly self-righteous and deny her what she asks than to bend a little, that's it, isn't it?" he sneered at her. He turned to her mother. "I'm sorry, Ruth. It's too bad Bobby isn't a Barclay, instead. He's a wonderful boy." He gave her a little nod. "I'll be going now but at least Dad will be able to see you tonight. It will mean a great deal to him."
He strode toward the door but before he reached it, Julie was on her feet. "Wait! I… I'll go meet him." She looked down at her mother, swallowed hard and forced a smile. "If it means that much to you, Mom, I'll go."
; Ruth Wilder smiled and Julie saw tears glisten in her eyes. "It does, Julie," she whispered softly. "It really does."
Outside, in the car Blaise Richard had rented, he turned to smile at Julie and for the first time she felt the tremendous force of the charm that until now, only her mother and Bobby had received. The smile revealed straight, even teeth and it softened the firm lips and the angular mold of his face and there was a light of warmth in the deep brown eyes that regarded her. "I'm glad you changed your mind," he told her.
Throwing up a defensive shield against the magnetism of the smile, Julie looked away from him. "I'm only going to please my mother," she said in a brittle voice. "For no other reason."
"Understood," he said. He switched the key in the ignition and pulled the car away from the curb. They drove in silence for a few minutes but then, Julie's curiosity got the best of her. "What's my grandfather like?" she asked.
Blaise grinned. "In twenty words or less?" He shook his head. "He's a complex man and I'm not sure anybody really knows all there is to know about him. I think I'll let you make up your own mind when you meet him."
"Is your mother with him?"
He shot her an incredulous look. "My mother? She died over ten years ago."
Now it was Julie's turn to stare. "I'm sorry," she mumbled after a tiny silence. "I didn't know. Whenever my mother ever spoke about the Barclays, the only one she ever showed any fondness for was your mother. And you too, of course," she added as an afterthought.
Blaise nodded. "Yes, my mother and yours got along fine. I was still just a kid when it all happened, of course, and I didn't understand the real story until later."
"Then it's just you and my grandfather now?" Julie mused. "Do the Barclays still have the manufacturing plant?"
"The rubber plant, yes. Dad is pretty much retired, though he's still president and chairman of the board. I'm the general manager. And of course there's Clive."
"Clive?" Julie's voice was a question mark over the unfamiliar name. "Is he your brother?"
"No, he's your cousin. Dad's niece's son. She and her husband died years ago, so really, the only blood relatives Dad has left now are Clive and you. Clive is the marketing manager at the plant." Suddenly his lips pressed together in a firm, hard line as though something displeased him, but Julie scarcely had time to wonder about it because a moment later Blaise was turning the car into the parking lot of a motel.
Julie tensed as they got out of the car and approached the door to her grandfather's room. Now that she was actually about to meet him, she was almost as nervous of the man who had caused her mother so much pain as she was resistant.
Blaise knocked lightly on the door and as though he had been watching for them, Andrew Barclay opened the door at once and for a long moment, he and Julie merely looked at one another.
She was not exactly sure just what she had expected. After the stories about him, he had sounded so powerful and dynamic somehow that she had pictured a huge figure of a man. Andrew Barclay was not small by any means, but he was not as tall as Blaise. He was slightly on the portly side and, consequently, Julie noticed that the buttons on his dark suit vest were slightly strained by his girth. His jaw was heavy beneath ruddy cheeks and lines furrowed his forehead and crinkled the skin around sharp, clear gray eyes. His hair was gray also, wiry and thick, as were his eyebrows. Altogether Julie could only think that this cruel man did not look the part in the least. Except for the absence of a beard, he looked more like her idea of Santa Claus.
Now he stepped back so that they could enter. "Come in," he said in a deep, rumbling voice. Julie was relieved that her grandfather made no attempt to embrace her. In fact, he did not even extend his hand to her, which suited her fine. As she crossed the threshold into the room, they eyed each other warily, more like two potential adversaries rather than long lost relatives at a reunion.
"Won't you sit down?" Andrew Barclay invited politely as he closed the door. He waved a hand toward the seating area.
Julie took a chair near the window, gazing about idly as she did. Like all motel rooms, this one was impersonal. Other than a jacket that had been tossed at the foot of the bed, there was nothing at all in the room to provide a clue about the man who was occupying it and, obscurely, this pleased her. At least here she and her grandfather were meeting in neutral territory.
Blaise took the chair next to Julie while Andrew Barclay lowered himself slowly into a chair that faced her. A lamp table separated them and as her grandfather regarded her soberly from across the small distance, Julie unflinchingly returned the gaze.
"So…" Andrew Barclay said after an interminable stretch of silence, "You're my granddaughter."
"So I'm told," Julie answered dryly. She laced her fingers together in her lap.
"You're very beautiful." Andrew Barclay permitted himself a tiny ghost of a smile. "Almost as lovely as your mother was at your age, but you don't have her golden hair and fair coloring. You have the Barclay coloring."
"Unfortunately."
"Unfortunately?" Her grandfather's thick eyebrows lifted questioningly.
"If I had my choice," Julie said bluntly, "I would have taken nothing at all from the Barclay side of the family."
The thick brows crushed down until gray eyes were mere narrow slits. "Hmph! I see you're a very plain spoken young woman," he said with obvious disapproval.
Julie shrugged. "I suppose," she agreed. "But then I didn't realize I was expected to come here and pretend I'm delighted to meet you after all these years."
"Why did you come then?" he demanded.
"To please my mother," she answered swiftly and with devastating honesty. "I don't understand why she was so insistent upon this meeting after all these years, but since she was, I came."
"No natural curiosity on your part?"
Now Julie smiled. "Very little. What I've heard about you has not made me exactly eager to make your acquaintance."
To her surprise, instead of being offended, Andrew Barclay chuckled. "I can see you've got a mind of your own. I must say I approve of that. It's a Barclay trait, whether you like it or not."
"I told you," Julie said, bristling, "I don't care to claim anything from the Barclays, not now, not ever."
"Don't you think you're being a trifle hot-headed and overly independent?" Andrew Barclay countered coldly. "Your mother has explained her problems to me and if you cooperate, I'm prepared to help out in a multitude of ways. I'm a wealthy man, Julie, and as your grandfather I'm willing to give your family all the benefits and comforts my money can provide."
"We don't need your money," Julie hissed furiously. She jumped to her feet and glared down into darkening gray eyes that mirrored the gathering storm in her own. "You think your money can buy anything, don't you? Well, it can't buy me!"
"No?" Her grandfather's voice was icy. "You mean you're so selfish that you'd cut your mother and brother off from the help I can give them just to spite me?" He shook his head. "It's not me you'll be hurting, girl, but them. Especially Ruth. Is that what you want to live with… the knowledge that you could have made things easier for her, but didn't? You say you don't want to be anything like the Barclays, but the truth is you plan to do to your mother exactly the same thing I did to her years ago. Back then I could have made things easy for her, but instead I hurt her by my own selfish desires. Now I'd like to make it up to her but you're the one who'll hurt her by refusing to let me. Oh yes, my dear," he said scornfully, "you're a Barclay, all right, no doubt about it. We always were a selfish, unprincipled lot."
The words halted the angry retort that had risen in Julie's throat. Her breathing was ragged from the intense emotions that churned through her and she closed her eyes for a moment in an effort to bring them under control.
"You said if I cooperate." She spoke more calmly now. "Exactly what did you mean by that?"
Now a slow smile spread across her grandfather's face. He looked at Julie with a curious light in his eyes, then his gaze shifted to
Blaise. After a moment the gray eyes were on her again and he said, very clearly, "I want you and my stepson Blaise to marry."
Chapter Two
"You're joking, of course!" Julie exclaimed after a stunned instant. She whirled toward Blaise. He was on his feet now and the blank astonishment on his face informed her that her grandfather's words were just as much a shock to him as they had been to her.
"Dad!" he gasped. "Have you taken leave of your senses?" he asked incredulously.
"I assure you, I'm neither joking nor have I lost my mind," Andrew Barclay said emphatically. "Sit down, the pair of you, and listen to what I have to say."
"I won't listen to such ridiculous nonsense!" Blaise thundered. "We're neither of us children you can order around, you know!" While Julie, weak-kneed, sank back into her chair, he paced across the length of the room and back. "You've had your little bit of fun now and if Julie's ready, I'll drive her back home."
A hard, obstinate strength tightened the old man's jaws. "She'll leave when I say so, Blaise, and not before!" Andrew Barclay roared. "Now sit down until I've had my say!"
For a moment the two men glowered at one another and Julie believed Blaise was going to refuse. Then, finally, he shrugged and resumed his seat. "Fire away," he said with exasperation, "for all it's worth, which is nothing."
"We'll see," the old man said mildly. Now he fixed his attention on Julie once more. "We'll start with you first, girl. I know the doctors here want Ruth to have a team of specialists in Houston to perform her surgery." At Julie's slight inclination of her head, he continued. "She'll probably be there a month to six weeks, depending. Even with insurance, the medical bills will be quite substantial. Then there is you and your half-brother. You earn a small salary as a clerk, I understand, and with Ruth away in the hospital, you will need to continue your job for the income it provides, while your brother will have no one to watch over him."
Storm's End Page 2
