Storm's End

by Sondra Stanford

  Julie relaxed and gave herself up to pure enjoyment as her arms and legs dangled over the sides of her inner tube. The sun on her face was warm, the river had a steady current which pushed one along willy-nilly and she abandoned herself to its direction.

  Much of the river was extremely shallow though, and sometimes they ran into shoals, but other times the water was deep, the current swift and in still other parts, there was much wood debris to be skirted and one had to be sharply aware of the surroundings in order not to be overturned.

  Along the sides of the river were many dead trees that lay strewn like matchsticks. "What happened to all these trees?" she asked Clive who was nearby.

  "A flood a couple of years ago," he answered. "Look at the standing trees and on some of them you can see the water marks made by the flood level."

  For the first time Julie studied the living trees, the cypress and oaks and even pines that grew thickly along the bank. They were tall trees and when she saw the water line on their trunks, she gasped in amazement. It was difficult to comprehend how devastating the flood must have been as it ruthlessly overtook everything in its path, when today the river basked benignly beneath a cloudless sky.

  Julie soon understood why Blaise had ordered the boys to always be in sight of them. The river's twists and turns and currents separated them constantly. One moment she would be floating along beside one of the others and the next a current would whirl one of them yards away or else someone would get tangled up in debris, take a tumble and have to both work free and catch his or her lost tube.

  After about an hour they all stopped at a sandy bank and ate sandwiches and drank soft drinks. The only one who did not have an appetite was Rosalind.

  "I want to go back to the car, Blaise," she informed him petulantly.

  "Why?"

  "Why?" She glared at him as he delved inside the ice chest, extracted a cellophane-wrapped sandwich and handed it to Tony. "Look at my leg. It got scraped on a tree branch beneath the water. I broke a fingernail and my hairdo is gone."

  Julie stared at the other woman in amazement. The scratch on her leg was so minor no one would even have noticed it if she had not pointed it out, the fingernail would grow back and though her lovely, curled hair now hung straight and dripping, surely it was only to be expected. Why had Rosalind come if she was not even prepared to get wet, she wondered.

  "I'm sorry, Rosalind," Blaise said. "There's no way you can get back to the car except by going on. We've been floating over an hour and it would be a long walk out of here even if you could push through the underbrush. Here, have a sandwich."

  Rosalind crossed her arms beneath her scantily-clad breasts and glowered at him. "I told you," she snapped through clenched teeth. "I'm not hungry. All I want is to get home."

  "Hey, Rosy, relax and enjoy yourself," Clive said soothingly. "Blaise is right, you know. We can't go back now and you're going to get hungry before long." Now he offered her a sandwich. "The chicken salad is fantastic. Try one."

  Surprisingly, Rosalind allowed herself to be mollified. She took the sandwich and ate it, although she very pointedly ignored Blaise, and when it was time to set out again, she went with Clive. It was his turn to pull the ice chest float and Rosalind held onto the opposite side of the float so that she could stay with him.

  Blaise did not seem at all concerned. The boys had already gone ahead of the other two and now he turned to glance down at Julie who was retying a wet shoe lace. "Ready?" he asked, and there was only a friendly smile on his face as he held out a hand.

  The earlier argument in her bedroom might have been only a bad dream, Julie thought in wonderment a little while later as the two of them floated slowly side by side. Blaise held her float close to his with one hand and they talked idly about anything that came to mind… the day itself, a bird suddenly spotted, incidents from their childhoods. Julie was vaguely aware that the rest of the party was out of sight and had been for some time, for they had reached a particularly winding section of the river, but it did not seem to matter. There was only Blaise and herself here on the cool water, floating lazily beneath overhanging shade trees and there was a sense of peaceful rightness to it that she did not question, but merely accepted.

  Suddenly, Julie's inner tube struck a submerged tree and she was overturned. The inner tube slid away from her grasp as she shoved herself away from the tree and rose to the surface.

  She shook her head and brushed her hands across her eyes and then she saw Blaise a couple of yards away, rescuing her float. He turned and made his way slowly through the water back to join her.

  "Are you okay?" he asked as she reached out to grasp her own inner tube.

  "Fine," she laughed. "Just wetter."

  He gave her an answering smile and then, without warning, his head bent and his lips claimed hers in a soft, infinitely warm kiss. Julie's free hand went out to rest on his bare chest and when they drew apart an instant later, Blaise's free hand came up to cover hers. For a long moment they gazed wordlessly at one another, but there were smiles on their lips that made words needless.

  Then Blaise squeezed her hand before releasing it. "I'd like to stay here and go on kissing you," he said huskily, "but I really think we'd better keep going. The others are way ahead of us."

  Julie nodded and a moment later they were back on course, but now a magic spell seemed to hold them together even though they were no longer touching. Blaise's eyes were warm and compelling as they held hers and Julie knew that her own eyes must be reflecting the sudden and unexpected happiness within herself.

  But a minute later, as they rounded a bend, a voice broke the stillness of the enchanted moment. "Blaise," Rosalind called. "Aren't you ever coming? I've been waiting here for you for ages."

  Chapter Seven

  Julie dressed for the day in her usual garb of shorts and a lightweight shirt and thrust her feet into sandals. Today, she reminded herself as she went over to the dresser to brush her hair, was the day Blaise would be returning home. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought.

  She had seen him alone only once since that kiss they had shared on the river, and then only for a brief moment and that had been two weeks ago. The morning following the outing to the river, as he had been about to leave on a business trip, they had had a moment together at the breakfast table before Andrew Barclay had joined them. Blaise's face had been solemn and thoughtful as he had regarded her and he had spoken in a low voice. The words had been burned into her mind ever since. "When I return, Julie, you and I have got to decide what we're going to do about us. We can't go on for three years as things are now."

  What had he meant, she asked herself now for the thousandth time. Her reflection, a rather pale face and large questioning gray eyes, gave her no answer, and, irritably, Julie dropped the brush and turned away from the mirror. Had Blaise meant that, after all, he was ready to throw over the bargain they had made with Andrew Barclay? Had he decided that he could not live for three years tied to her when he wanted Rosalind or had he meant something entirely different?

  Julie sighed. She had no way of knowing and all these "what ifs" merely caused her head to spin. Speculation was fruitless and anyway, now that Blaise was coming home, she supposed she would know soon enough. She told herself stoutly that if their marriage was coming to an end, at least it would be better if it happened this way, quietly and secretly, with no one except her grandfather aware that a marriage had ever taken place at all. She could not stop, however, the small stab of regret that pricked her heart like prongs from a fork.

  At least, she told herself encouragingly as she opened the door and ran lightly down the stairs, she could be sure of one thing. Blaise might want out and wreck everything as far as their stock ownership in the company was concerned, but Julie was certain that Andrew Barclay would not carry his wrath so far as to throw her mother, Bobby and herself out onto the street, so to speak. During the past two weeks she had made a real effort to get to know him better, Blaise's charge o
f parasite having infused her with a strong determination to prove him wrong, and she had discovered a surprising thing. Beneath his tough exterior, Andrew Barclay was an old softie, very much akin to her first notion that he reminded her of Santa Claus. Each day he still continued to present Ruth with some sort of gift, valuable or valueless. Yesterday's offering had been a cartoon he had clipped from a magazine, the day before, an exquisite porcelain sewing thimble. He was reckless in his generosity to Bobby as well, granting permission for a group of young boys Bobby had met at church to camp one weekend on the property, buying supplies for a rabbit hutch Bobby was building and there was even a peacock strutting the lawns now, a surprise gift to the boy from "Grandpa." And Julie herself had not entirely escaped his largess.

  One day she had absently mentioned that if she owned a bike she would have tagged along on a picnic outing with Bobby and Tony and the next morning there had been a shiny new bicycle awaiting her in the garage. Another time when she mentioned she liked a certain type of candy, he had sent to town and bought her an enormous box of it. After that Julie had been careful of spoken desires in his hearing but, all the same, it proved that he cared about them and their happiness and she did not believe he would callously dismiss them from his life should Blaise suddenly break the original agreement.

  She had almost reached the foot of the stairs when she saw Clive striding hurriedly down the hall toward the wide front doors, anger in every line of his body.

  "Good morning," she said as he passed her without seeing her.

  Clive stopped short and turned to glare up at her. "Morning," he growled.

  "What's wrong?" she asked curiously.

  "What isn't wrong?" he snapped. "The old guy's senile, that's all. There's no reasoning with him."

  "About what?"

  Clive's eyes narrowed. "The Wyndover Company made a new offer no sane person could refuse, but he's still holding out!" His thumb aimed over his shoulder toward the back of the house. "He won't even discuss it while Blaise is gone, and he's going to mess around and lose the whole deal. Those people aren't going to wait forever."

  "Well, Blaise will be back tonight and…"

  "And nothing!" Clive grumbled. "He's more obstinate than the old guy in there because he's set against selling." Now he eyed Julie assessingly. "Why don't you try reasoning with Uncle Andy? Maybe you can swing him around."

  Julie laughed and shook her head. "You've got to be kidding!" she exclaimed. "I don't know a thing about it and I'd merely look silly trying to pretend I did."

  "Yes, but you could express your views. If we go with the Wyndover deal, it'll be a lot of money for your pockets, too, you know, as Uncle Andy's granddaughter."

  "Sorry, Clive." Julie shook her head again. "I'm not going to attempt to sway him in any way whatsoever." She ran lightly down the last couple of steps, gave him a jaunty wave and headed toward the breakfast room.

  Andrew Barclay was still seated at the table when she entered the room. His face was red, and the hand that rested on the table was unsteady. The food on his plate appeared entirely untouched and, for the first time, Julie was actually concerned for his health.

  "Are you all right?" she demanded as she walked over to stand beside him.

  He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped it across his forehead. "Yes," he answered shakily, "or at least I soon will be. It was just that boy."

  "Clive?" At his swift look of surprise, she nodded. "I know. I ran into him in the hall… What on earth happened? Was there a shouting match? Your face is so red it looks like it's been in the oven!"

  Andrew Barclay gave her a wan smile and waved a hand toward the chair opposite him. "You might say it was a shouting match," he agreed as she went to sit down. "I suppose we did raise our voices a little."

  "Well," Julie said calmly as she reached for the coffee pot, "apparently you shout louder than he does. He didn't look very happy when I saw him."

  Her grandfather chuckled. "I guess I did come out on top, at that." He sucked in a deep breath and stared morosely at his coffee cup as Julie refilled it for him. "I'm just too old for these fracases and that's a fact, Julie. Time was when I enjoyed standing up to any man, any problem, the tougher the better, but not anymore. I'm tired of the hassles. I'd rather spend my days worrying about how to beat Ruth at our next game of chess or watching Bobby build that rabbit hutch." He smiled and gave his head a little shake. "You think that's crazy, I suppose, to be content with a life like that?"

  "Not really," Julie smiled. "I think you achieved everything you ever wanted to do in business all those years and now you'd just like to relax and enjoy the fruits of your labor, so why shouldn't you? You've already signed over the stock to Blaise and me, so why did you even allow Clive to upset you like that? You could have gone ahead and told him the decision is now out of your hands."

  Andrew shook his head. "No, not this way, with us yelling at each other. Friday we'll be having a board meeting and I'll announce it then. You'll need to be there, too." He grimaced. "But I warn you… it won't be pleasant."

  Julie nodded. For the first time, she sensed that while her grandfather loved his nephew, he was slightly frightened of him, of his extravagant notions, his hot-headed temper, his sharp tongue, and she believed too, that finally she understood his real reason for wanting her to marry Blaise. It was all well and good to give Blaise and herself controlling interest in the company, but had they not married, Clive would probably be much more inclined to fight the move, perhaps in court after his uncle died. After all, he was a blood relative as Blaise was not, and Julie supposed no one expected her, as nearest relative, to actually run the company. But by marriage to her, Blaise's position of control was invincible, so long as she herself cooperated, at least. Now she realized that the old man had taken a huge gamble on her. He knew only her hostility since they had met so he could not be certain, even yet, that she would not vote with Clive on selling out his life's work.

  All at once, it seemed important that she give him the assurance he needed. She had never wanted the responsibility of the stock, but now it seemed vital that she not only accept the trust he had placed in her, but that she keep faith with it. And if she could convince him of her sincerity, perhaps if Blaise did end their marriage, the old man would not carry out his threat by giving control to Clive, when it was clearly against his own desires. Married or not, Julie vowed to herself that she would serve in her duties to the best of her abilities if only she was allowed to do so.

  She cleared her throat and reached across the table to cover Andrew Barclay's hand with her own. "Grandpa, I… I just want you to know that no matter what happens, I'll do my part to see that the company continues to go in the direction you want. Blaise is a strong man with broad shoulders and he can handle the hassles. I'm tough, too, no matter how loud Clive shouts, and I'm not afraid of a fight. I… I am a Barclay too, remember?"

  "Julie." Her grandfather's voice was thick with emotion and she saw his chin quiver ever so slightly. "Thank you."

  They smiled warmly at one another and they both knew that that simple "thank you" had a much deeper meaning than its application to business matters. It was the first time she had ever called him by that familiar and personal term and it marked a momentous change in their relationship.

  It was a momentous day in a number of ways, but the remainder of the uneventful morning provided no clue. Julie paid a visit to her mother, took a short walk with her grandfather, played with the puppies and spent some time watching Bobby and Tony hard at work with the rabbit hutch. After lunch, while both her mother and Andrew Barclay took naps, Julie spent an hour in the study with some of the business papers her grandfather had given her to read. Today she concentrated in earnest and she determined that before the week was out she would ask Blaise to give her that tour of the plant. She had meant what she had said to her grandfather this morning and the sooner she became acquainted with various aspects of the business, the better equipped she would be to make decisions concer
ning the running of it. She had no intentions of allowing Clive to sway her on voting matters but she also had no intentions of allowing Blaise to always make her decisions either. She would be an informed, active participant in the company, not a mere figurehead. A parasite. She winced once more as she thought of the word. Never again, she vowed, would he have any reason to call her that.

  At three, her head was still bent over the desk, when her grandfather opened the study door.

  "What're you doing?" he asked.

  "Learning about synthetic rubber," she answered, shrugging her shoulders. "What else?"

  He laughed. "That's good, but you don't need to do it all in one afternoon. Come on outside. Bobby and Tony finished the hutch and they require some admirers."

  Together, they strolled leisurely across the back lawn to where the boys proudly stood beside their handiwork. And in truth, the hutch was well built.

  "It's great," Julie told them sincerely. "I had no idea you guys were so talented."

  "Well, Grandpa helped us some," Bobby allowed.

  "Not very much," Andrew denied it. "Mainly in an advisory capacity, so I'm not taking any credit. You boys worked hard and you did a fine job. We'll buy the rabbits first thing tomorrow, Bobby."

  Julie eyed the boys' hot, flushed faces and said, "I think a celebration is in order. How about some cold drinks? I'll bring them out."

  "Get some cookies, too, will you?" Bobby asked. "I'm starved."

  "So, what else is new?" Julie teased before she went back to the house.

  A few minutes later, carrying a tray-laden with cookies and four ice-beaded glasses of lemonade, she went back outside. She found her grandfather seated in a wooden lawn chair beneath the cool shade of an oak and the two boys sat on the ground beside him.

  Julie passed out the drinks, handed the plate of cookies to Tony and then sat down in the other lawn chair. But though she enjoyed the light breeze that brushed her skin, she did not really pay attention to the conversation. Her grandfather was telling the boys about his experiences raising rabbits when he was young and while Tony and Bobby eagerly listened to every word, the subject was not so fascinating to Julie.