by Lyn Cote
Leigh slid down onto a kitchen chair at the small table for two. She re-read the note, rejecting what it said, all it implied. Her heart pounded in her ears, tears pooled in her eyes.
She didn’t know how long she sat there, holding the note. Aunt Kitty came into the kitchen, tying the sash of her beige robe. “What’s wrong?”
“Mary Beth left.” The words plummeted through her like an avalanche. She handed her great-aunt the note.
Aunt Kitty sat down in the chair opposite. “I’m so sorry.”
“None of this makes any sense. Marijuana isn’t addictive.”
“But some people are prone to addiction. At least, that’s what I think. And if a person prone to addiction gets a taste for being high…” Kitty shook her head and sighed.
Leigh burst into tears. No, not Mary Beth.Had it been all for nothing? Had she come all this way in vain?
Kitty rose and came to her. She patted Leigh’s shoulder, murmuring comforting words.
Leigh stood up and rested her head on her great-aunt’s slender shoulder. “I wanted to save her.”
“A person has to want to be saved. Obviously, Mary Beth isn’t there yet.”
“Why? Mary Beth would have been the last person I would have expected to…”
“Leigh, from what your mother told your grandmother, Mary Beth was extremely impressionable and her parents were odd themselves. Maybe they didn’t give her a solid foundation or maybe they tried and failed. Parents aren’t always to blame. Mary Beth is just one of thousands of young people seduced by the nationwide vibrations from the‘Summer of Love’ here in 1967. ‘Flower power.’ ‘Make love, not war.’ ‘All we need is love,’ “ Kitty recited the pat phrases.
Leigh folded her arms in front of her stomach. She felt as if a gaping space had opened in her midsection. “What do I do now?”
“What she says.” Aunt Kitty nodded toward the note on the table. “Don’t look for her. She doesn’t want to be found—”
Leigh couldn’t accept this. “But—”
“Where’s your purse?”
Leigh looked at Kitty. “Why do you ask that?”
“Where’s your purse?” Kitty repeated.
“Hanging on the hall tree in the foyer.”
“Go get it.”
Returning, Leigh was astounded and unable to hide it. She held out her open purse. “My money’s all gone.”
Kitty nodded, not looking surprised. “I took my purse to bed with me. I should have taken yours, too. But… Let’s see if she lifted anything else.”
Dumbfounded, Leigh trailed after her aunt as she walked from room to room, tallying what Mary Beth had stolen. Two small pieces of art glass, a pair of eighteenth-century spectacles that had sat on top Kitty’s secretary in her den, and some cash Kitty had had in her desk. “I’d better call the police,” Kitty said matter-of-factly. “The art glass is insured, so I have to put in a theft report to make a claim.”
Stunned into silence, Leigh sat down on the carved Victorian loveseat in the den while Kitty dialed the police. Soon, an officer came to take down a description of the art glass and spectacles. Leigh watched, but said nothing.
“They’ll probably turn up in antique stores in town,” he said, looking at his notes. “We’ll send out a description of them to the reputable dealers,” the officer said. He turned to Leigh. “I wouldn’t bring any more hippies home. Some of them are harmless, but some of them get into drugs way over their heads. She’s probably on heroin now, or coke. Or maybe she just has a taste for acid. In any event, she isn’t to be trusted anymore.”
Leigh wanted to rail against him, tell him he didn’t know Mary Beth—how sweet she was, how smart. But the words melted on her tongue, sour and bitter. She merely nodded.
Kitty walked him to the door and then called to Leigh to follow her to the kitchen. “I think we need a hot cup of tea. Or maybe we should just have coffee. I won’t sleep anymore.”
Leigh made no answer, just wandered into the kitchen and sat down.
“This isn’t your fault, Leigh. Mary Beth has chosen her path to destruction, and there’s no way you can save her or stop her.” Kitty filled the yellow-enamel kettle at the sink. “You came and found her. She could have decided to stay here with us and get back to her life. But she didn’t.”
“I don’t understand.” Leigh ran fingers through her long hair, feeling for sleep tangles. “I just don’t get it.”
“Of course, you don’t. But this isn’t the first generation that’s waded out into deep waters and foundered.”
“What do you mean?” Leigh glanced up.
“Ever hear of the Roaring Twenties?”
Leigh nodded.
“Well, that was my generation. Speakeasies, bathtub gin, and the Charleston.” Kitty set the kettle on the stove and lit the gas burner. “I spent the whole decade in an alcoholic haze. And then I nearly died on some colored wood alcohol I got at a club.”
Leigh gawked at Kitty.
“Don’t look so shocked. Your generation isn’t the first to turn its back on conventional mores. We flappers talked a lot about Freud and inhibitions and wanted to rid ourselves of ours.” Leaning against the counter, still in her robe, Kitty smiled sadly and shook her head. “I thought I was ‘the thing,’ all right. No one could tell me how to live my life. Not even my parents, who loved me so much, or my brother, who’d suffered so much in the war. Or even my beautiful best friend, your grandmother. Kitty McCaslin had all the answers, but unfortunately, she hadn’t even figured out the questions.”
As Leigh listened to her great-aunt, a deepening feeling of loss and despair wrapped itself around her heart. Though she’d never really “had” him, she’d lost Frank to Cherise, and somehow that meant she’d lost Cherise, too. And tonight she’d lost Mary Beth. They wouldn’t be graduating together in the spring as they’d planned or going to Europe together in the summer. Was this the way life was going to be? Didn’t anything ever work out the way you planned?
CHAPTER TEN
San Francisco, January 1972
From the chill night, Leigh led Dane inside Kitty’s warm quiet, dimly lit townhouse. He folded her into his arms. She came to him without demur, molding herself to him, letting her arms creep up to circle his neck. She loved kissing Dane, letting Dane kiss her. When their lips parted, she sighed, prolonging the seductive thrum through all her nerves. “You do know how to kiss.”
But I want more, need more than kisses. These three years together have been wonderful, but maddening. I need to know whether you love me or not. And if you love me enough to make a commitment.
He chuckled. “Offer me something warm to drink before you send me out into the dank night again.” He was already taking off his black leather gloves and helping her out of her fur-collared coat to hang on the hall tree. As if nothing crucial were about to happen, she smiled and waved him to follow her. Earlier tonight she’d decided that this was it. After a few years of an on-again-off-again, long-distance relationship, she had to ask what Dane’s intentions for them were.
In the kitchen, she put the kettle on the stove and lit the gas burner. As she pulled mugs and hot cocoa mix from the shelf, she searched for the right words—without success. Dane came in and sat down at the tiny table. “Hey, Ted gave me that article you did on the chances for the Democratic Party in this year’s election. Well done.”
She smiled in reply but had her own agenda tonight. “How long are you here for this time?” she asked him as she pulled out the half-and-half. She set it on the counter next to their mugs. Dane liked his hot cocoa rich and creamy. And she liked performing this homey task for him. He would accept so little from her. And she longed to do so much more.
“Just this long weekend. I’m here to give a deposition in a case.”
“Sure I can’t persuade you to stay a bit longer?” She turned to him and lifted one eyebrow, trying to ease into her overriding question. She never knew quite what to expect from this man.
Wi
th one swift move, he took her back into his arms. Within seconds, he had backed her against the wall and she was drowning in his embrace. “You tempt me,” he murmured.
Dane, tell me that you love me. I need to hear the words.
Then he was back in his seat and she was breathing deeply and reaching for the kettle, which was just beginning to whistle. The words, “I’ve fallen in love with you,” hovered just behind her lips, clamoring to be voiced. Instead she asked once more, “Why do you do this—drop in and out of my life?”
For the first time, he didn’t try to evade her question. “I can’t help myself. I keep telling myself to stay away, but I can’t resist what you offer me.”
Feeling her way, she poured the hot water into the mugs. His words puzzled her. “And what is it that I offer you?”
“I come to warm my hands by your bright fire. In this cold world, there is so little warmth.” He accepted the mug from her hand, letting his fingers brush hers.
She stood over him. He always made it sound as if she was from Mercury, the molten planet nearest the sun, and he was from the dark, frozen side of the moon. Of course, he was nearly a decade older than she, and they lived very different lives. But it was time to put her feelings and his to the test.
“It’s been three years since Chicago. I was an innocent then, but I’m not naive anymore.”
“You will always be naive.” He blew on his hot cocoa. “You were born to be an innocent in this wicked world.”
“I don’t see that.” She propped a hand on her hip. “I’m not the girl I was in Chicago. I’m a woman out in the world every day, writing about it, trying to get others to see the injustices I see.”
“That’s what I mean.” He gazed up at her. “You’re still Joan of Arc, still the crusader who wants to save the world. The world doesn’t want to be saved. It wants to go to hell. Let it.”
She sat down across from him and shook her head. “I have to speak out.”
He nodded and took a tentative sip. “That’s your unquenchable fire, your bright passion. That’s what I can’t get out of my mind. That’s what always lures me back to you.”
His words were criticism and praise all in one. She wouldn’t let him dismiss her this way. She’d refused other men and waited for Dane’s intermittent calls or for the next time he’d just appear at Aunt Kitty’s door once again. She drew up her nerve. “Why not stay?” she asked, boldly reach ing over and placing her hand on his. “Why not get transferred to San Francisco? Why not buy me a ring?”
His fingers closed around hers, weaving together the two hands. “I’ve thought of that. But I wouldn’t do that to you.”
Would he never open up and tell her what really kept them apart? “What are you protecting me from?”
“I’m in a dangerous line of work—”
“Don’t give me that,” she snapped. “My stepfather’s FBI, remember?”
Dane shook his head with an apologetic but closed expression. “I’m not the man for you. I’ll try not to come back here again.”
He tried, but she wouldn’t let him pull his fingers from hers. “What holds you back? And don’t give me that Joan of Arc story.” I can’t go on just waiting by the phone.Even Aunt Kitty had suggested she pin Dane down, with the caution, “Dane’s wonderful, but, Leigh, you only have so many years in your youth.”
He wouldn’t look at her. “Do you know how I met your dad?” His deep voice was low, almost inaudible.
Hope sprang up even as she tried to force it to remain under control. “Tell me.” Please.
“Ted was working on a kidnapping case.” Dane looked away out the window as if it weren’t black night outside. “I was the kid who’d been kidnapped. I was fifteen.”
Leigh stared at him. “Why did that… why—”
He stood up and walked to the window, keeping his back to her. “My father engineered the whole thing. He was in debt, gambling debt, and needed money from his father-in-law.” He stared out the window as if he could see the rooftops below. “My father paid someone to kidnap me—someone very unstable, and I nearly got killed. Your stepfather figured it all out in time and saved my life.”
Leigh held her warm mug within two hands and took her time reacting. She’d ask for the truth, and he’d given it to her. Now what should she do with it? “So you had an idiot for a father.” She rose. “That’s all in the past. Why does that mean we can’t be together?”
“You’re fearless.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “You don’t have a clue to what life can throw at you. I do. I don’t want you hurt because of who I was, who I am, who my family is.”
None of what he said gave her the answer she needed. “Why won’t you tell me what’s really keeping us apart?”
“I know you don’t understand, but that’s the way it’s going to be. I’d better be leaving.” He walked out into the hall.
Frustration and the fear of losing him pushed her. She followed him. She pleaded, “Stay for a while. We’ll make a fire and sit in the living room.” Don’t leave like this. I need to know the truth.
He halted and without words preceded her into the living room, where he began to lay a fire in the vintage fireplace. Leigh stood beside him and then led him to the sofa and pulled him down next to her. She knew how to snare him. She knew he’d respond to her.
He wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her neck.
Leigh wanted to persuade him to tell her more, but every time she opened her mouth, his lips smothered her words with kisses. Frustration fumed inside her, but she’d already said too much, and for once he’d given her something to think about. She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. Maybe this couldn’t be done in one night. She would have to be content with what he’d told her that night and bide her time for the rest.
*
In the darkness of early morning, the phone rang. Leigh woke up and realized that she’d dozed off in Dane’s arms. Dane’s cheek had been resting on her head. Now he sat up straighter and looked around.
“I’ll get it,” Leigh said, reaching for the phone, a sudden fear zinging through her. Who would be calling at this hour?
“Hello?”
“Leigh,” her mother’s strained voice came over the line. “I’m so sorry to call so late, but… your grandfather’s had a heart attack.”
Leigh gripped the receiver. “Are you with Grandma Chloe?”
“Yes, your stepfather and I are here at Ivy Manor, or really, at the hospital. Leigh, you need to tell your Aunt Kitty, and you both need to get here as soon as you can. Your grandfather wants to see his sister before… before…”
Before he dies.Leigh squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them. “I’ll call you to tell you when to expect us at the airport.”
“Hurry. Hurry.”
Leigh couldn’t ever remember her mother’s voice sounding this way, shaky and uncertain. “I will, Mother. Bye.” Leigh put the receiver back into place. She relayed her news to Dane and rose to go upstairs. She halted.
Aunt Kitty in her robe already stood in the doorway to the foyer. “I heard you on the phone. Is it Roarke?”
“Yes. He’s had a heart attack.” Leigh went to her aunt and took her hands in hers. “Are you all right?”
“No, I’m not.” Aunt Kitty’s voice trembled. “But, I don’t have time to take this all in now. We have to pack.” But her great-aunt just stood there.
“You two go up and dress and pack,” Dane said, taking charge. “My rental car’s parked outside. I’ll drive you both to the airport. No travel agency is open now, but the airport is open around the clock. I’ll take care of everything. Just go get dressed for the trip and pack.”
Still hearing her mother’s shaky voice in her mind, Leigh looked back at him, the low glimmer from the fire backlighting him. His outline looked so strong and capable. “Thank you.”
She led Kitty back upstairs to her room. When Kitty still seemed bewildered, Leigh selected an outfit for her and told her to dres
s. Leigh then quickly selected a few more outfits and laid them on Kitty’s rumpled bed. “After you dress, pack these in your suitcase.”
Leigh went to her own room and slumped down on her bed. She felt like she’d been hit over the head and was still vibrating from the assault. Dear God, don’t let him die before we get to see him one more time.
Dane had taken charge, and now, late on Sunday afternoon, he drove them in his car the last few miles toward Ivy Manor. Aunt Kitty rode in the backseat, unnaturally silent. Leigh sat close beside Dane. She hadn’t tried to persuade him that she didn’t need him. She did need him. She was having trouble concentrating on anything; her thoughts drifted away, bringing up memories of her grandfather. He loved me.
Then Leigh realized that she’d used the past tense, and a tear slipped from her eye.
Before long, Leigh directed Dane to the side street that took them to the small hospital. After parking the car, he walked them inside to the information desk, where he asked for Roarke’s room number. He then escorted them up to the second floor and down the long hall filled with Sunday visitors to the private room on the end. At the door, he stepped back, letting her and Kitty enter first. The room was filled with family. Leigh immediately walked into her stepfather’s embrace.
Grandpa Roarke lay in bed, looking very pale and old—much older than Leigh remembered from her last visit at Thanksgiving, just a few months ago.
Grandma Chloe sat in a straight chair beside the bed, holding one of Roarke’s hands. When she spied Kitty, she rose and opened her arms. Kitty came and hugged her. Then Kitty moved to stand beside her brother on the other side of the bed. He moved his hand and she took it.
“You came, Kitty,” Roarke said in a thready voice that almost didn’t sound like him.
“I’m sorry I waited so long,” Kitty said in a shaky voice. Still holding Roarke’s hand, she sought the chair beside him as if her legs wouldn’t support her.
Leigh watched the scene unfold. Her mother came and stood on Ted’s other side and Dane kept his place beside Leigh. Her little sister, who was now a teenager, came over and kissed her, casting a glance at Dane. Leigh hugged her. Leigh’s uncles, Rory and Thompson, and their wives hovered in the background, greeting her with soft hellos, smiles, and nods.
