“I should have suspected” was all Douglas said, then he turned and walked away.
It was late Saturday morning before Jillian was able to get to sleep again.
CHAPTER 15
Jillian was working, intent on the gold taking shape in her hands, and she was content.
Then Connie burst into her office.
“What is it?” Jillian asked.
“I almost had an affair with him.”
“Who? What are you talking about?”
Connie swallowed, smoothing out a wrinkle that didn’t exist in her skirt. Her wide blue eyes fell on Jillian again. “Daniel,” she whispered.
“Joe works for Daniel.”
Connie nodded, swallowing again. “I know, and I love my husband. He’s fiercely loyal to Daniel, too. He was watchful when Robert first came. I think he hated Robert at first, because he thought he was here to oust Daniel.”
“Connie,” Jillian asked carefully, “what about the ‘almost’ affair?”
“We met for drinks a few times and discussed an affair.”
“But you didn’t…”
“I saw him a few times. We talked. We had drinks. We almost…”
“But you didn’t?” Jillian repeated.
Connie shook her head.
“Does Joe know any of this?”
Connie shook her head vehemently. “I know you think I should tell him, but the point is, nothing happened. And if I tell him…”
“He’ll accost Daniel, he’ll want to quit, he’ll want you to quit.”
Connie nodded. “And it’s over. Really over.”
“Why are you telling me?” Jillian asked.
“You’re my best friend,” Connie said softly. “We’re supposed to share.”
“Ah,” Jillian murmured a little skeptically.
“And because Robert is watching me. He’s suspicious, and I don’t see why he’s so suspicious of me. The one you need to watch is Griff.”
“Why Griff?”
“He’s always talking about marrying you, which of course he can’t do now, since you’re already married. You see, Griff isn’t Daniel. Griff would have to marry you to get the kind of power Daniel has.” Connie sighed. “You won’t tell him, will you?”
“Joe? I’d never tell your husband a thing like that, Connie. Anyway, I think you’re right. Nothing happened, let’s just leave it alone.”
“Watch Griff,” Connie warned her.
“I will,” Jillian promised solemnly.
Connie left the office, Jillian staring after her. She could watch Griff. She could watch everyone. But as much as she watched, she didn’t seem to be able to see anything.
She hadn’t had the dream again since she left the house in Connecticut. Robert had moved half his things into Douglas’s house, and he was with her every night. The new ad campaign was in full swing, and sales were skyrocketing. She was delighted, since the company was turning over a percentage to the charities of her choice.
The entire city was decked out for Christmas, and she could feel that she was really doing something for the children who needed help. Those with cancer, with AIDS, with other diseases, or with just bad luck in life. Orphans, children with debilitating injuries…
On top of that, she adored Robert more every day.
But she was still watching.
And worse, he was still watching.
* * *
Their days had been going smoothly. So smoothly—so busily—that Robert had almost begun to believe he had imagined the danger that had haunted them. Maybe the cat had eaten a rat. Maybe a branch had just fallen and a saddle girth had just worn through.
And maybe he had only imagined the ghost of Jillian’s late husband.
Connie was still angry with him; he could tell every time he saw her. And he still didn’t know what she was hiding.
He had to be vigilant still. There were undercurrents still humming through the offices. Douglas and Daniel continued to be at odds with one another. They kept their differences to Douglas’s office, but Robert could sense the tension.
The office emptied out early that day. The executives of Llewellyn Enterprises were due on the ice at Rockefeller Center, where they were treating a group of underprivileged children to skating, dinner and a Broadway show. Jillian had gone over hours ago with Daniel.
Dealing with a major cable company had kept Robert at his desk later than he had intended. In the middle of his call, he realized he was missing one of the contracts he needed. Apologizing to the VP on the other end, he left his office, wishing he hadn’t let his temp go for the day.
No one was around. Swearing, he hurried along the hall to Daniel’s office, calling out to him. Daniel had apparently left, and Gracie was gone, as well.
Swearing some more, he looked through the papers on Gracie’s desk. Nothing. He went into Daniel’s office and opened his top drawer, hoping that the pertinent information would be in plain sight.
He froze where he stood.
A box of rat poison was shoved into the rear of the drawer, half hidden by a sheaf of papers.
* * *
Rockefeller Center was fabulous, Jillian thought. The night was beautiful, crisp and cold, and the famous tree was huge, and lit in all its usual glory. She, Eileen and Daniel were already on skates, greeting the kids as they arrived. They ranged in age from five to fifteen, and their excitement at the night out, their pure pleasure in putting on skates and sliding across the ice, was a humbling experience.
“Look at that little girl,” Eileen whispered to Jillian. “Isn’t she the cutest little thing you’ve ever seen?”
Surprised—Eileen didn’t tend to be the warm and cuddly type—Jillian looked past her cousin to see the child to whom Eileen was referring. She was young, tiny, with golden ringlets and huge blue eyes. She looked a little lost, just standing on the ice, waiting.
“She’s adorable,” Jillian said.
“I’ll bet she can’t skate,” Eileen told her.
“The big ones are usually around to help the little ones.”
“Why don’t you go help her?” Eileen suggested.
“I can, but if you think she’s so cute…”
“I’m not good with children the way you are. You go help her. I’ll watch.”
Jillian stared at Eileen in exasperation. “You don’t know if you’re good with them or not, you hardly ever talk to them!” But there was a single tear forming on the little girl’s cheek, as Jillian skated over to her. “Hi. Want to try taking my hand?”
The child looked up as Jillian stretched out a hand. The little girl took it, and they started around the ice. Jillian talked, pointing out the tree, the decorations, shop windows across the street. The girl was very small, so it was easy to catch her and help her along any time she started to slip. Still, though she smiled at Jillian, she never spoke.
Later Jillian passed the little girl to one of the older boys, who was steady on his skates. She helped some of the bigger children, especially one chubby little boy who was having problems in front of his friends. “Relax,” she whispered. “Take both my hands and we’ll cross over. We’ll look great, I promise.” She winked. He flushed, but he paid attention, following her every lead. After a while she heard the other boys calling out to him with a note of envy in their voices. Pleased, she left him with a little girl who had been trying to do the same easy glide.
She skated over to the edge, heading off the ice to take a seat beside Sister Catherine, one of the nuns in charge of the orphans. Sister Catherine was young, very pretty and popular with the children—and with adults, as well. Eileen had been sitting there, watching the action, chatting with the sister. Jillian gasped, smiling. “I can’t believe it. I’m out of air.”
“This is a wonderful thing you’re doing,” Sister Catherine told them. “Not to sound jaded or anything, but most corporations simply give money to charity. They get tax breaks for it and, often, more than the value of the donation in free publicity. Not that
I mind that—I don’t care what it takes to get help for the children. But you Llewellyns all come out here yourselves. Time is far more precious than money.”
Eileen laughed softly. “Remember how I used to hate this when we were kids? I always thought that the orphans would be dirty or something.”
“Ah, but you were a big history buff, and you always got through it by pretending that we were the medieval nobility, washing the feet of the poor on holy days,” Jillian reminded her, smiling.
“I was such a brat,” Eileen admitted. She pointed out over the ice. “There’s Theo. Showing off.”
“And Daniel, looking like a pro.”
“Gracie’s on the ice—look!” Eileen said. “She’s really good. I never saw her out there before. She can really skate.”
“Maybe she’s moving fast because it’s so cold,” Jillian mused, winking at Sister Catherine.
Sister Catherine laughed back. “The air is cold tonight, but the children never mind that. They enjoy this so much. The Christmas season is so special for children.”
“And for Jillian. She never grew up,” Eileen teased.
“Well, you’ve heard this before, but Christmas is for the child in all of us. And naturally it’s one of the biggest events in the year to me,” the nun said, smiling.
The little blond girl Eileen had commented on earlier, her smile almost as big as the Christmas tree, came skating toward them, wobbling only slightly. She gave Sister Catherine a beatific smile, beaming with pride.
“Jenny, you’re doing so well. You’re skating,” Sister Catherine said and applauded.
Jenny nodded, then looked shyly from Sister Catherine to Jillian. She struggled for a minute, then said a soft, barely whispered “Thank you.”
“Sweetheart, you’re welcome.”
As Jenny skated off, Jillian realized that Sister Catherine was staring at her. “What?” she said, touching her face. “Did my nose grow?”
“No. No, there’s nothing wrong with you at all. It’s just that…I’ve never heard Jenny talk before. Her parents died traumatically just a year ago, and she was left screaming for help, which came too late. I believe that’s the first time she’s spoken since then. It’s a miracle.”
“It’s great, but I don’t think it qualifies as a miracle,” Jillian said.
“Isn’t a miracle when the unbelievable happens—not when a little girl with nothing really wrong with her decides to talk again?” Eileen asked skeptically.
“I believe in miracles big and small,” Sister Catherine said, grinning. “I accept them in all sizes, and I just say, ‘Thank you, Lord.’ This was a little miracle. And do you know why I get lots of little miracles?”
“Why?”
“Because I’m willing to let them happen.”
“Jilly needs a miracle,” Eileen said casually.
“Eileen…” Jillian murmured.
“Why? Maybe I can help,” Sister Catherine said, looking at Jillian curiously.
“She keeps dreaming about fires and burning up,” Eileen said. “And then she screams.”
“I haven’t had the dream in a while,” Jillian murmured.
“Were you ever in a fire?”
“No,” she said, then thought about the book and Morwenna’s horrible death. “Not in this lifetime,” she added lightly.
“Well, they say dreams mean something,” Sister Catherine said.
“Maybe she sees her family as tendrils of flame, lapping at her soul and sanity,” Eileen intoned dramatically.
Sister Catherine grinned. “Dreams are usually a nighttime reflection of the daytime world. Remember being a child and telling Santa what you wanted for Christmas?”
“Sure,” Jillian said.
“Now,” Sister Catherine told her, “since we’re a bit too big for Santa, what you do is this—you just look up, find the brightest star and say, ‘Merry Christmas, Jesus. Happy Birthday. This year, please, for Christmas, I’d very much like to stop dreaming about fire.”
“I like it,” Eileen said. “And you can add, ‘Please, protect me from the bogeyman.’”
“I’ve got it,” Jillian said out loud. “Dear Father, please, for Christmas, no more nightmares, and protect me from all evil.” She added silently. And please, please, please, don’t let the bogeyman be someone in my own family.
“You know,” Sister Catherine said, turning her gaze upward, “He can give better than any department store Santa.”
“I’ll remember that,” Jillian said. Then she jumped up. “Look at the time. It will be a miracle if we make the play.”
“Trust me, we’ll be there on time,” Sister Catherine said calmly.
“And how do you know that?” Eileen asked.
“I told you, I get all my little miracles. I just believe that they’ll happen.”
* * *
Robert didn’t make the skating party, but he was there for the play, and when they took the kids out to eat after, he was great. Jillian felt a surge of pleasure watching him. Though he seemed a bit preoccupied, he laughed, cut meat, pushed in chairs, distributed napkins, rescued a few drinks, and never once made a child feel awkward.
But he seemed to be avoiding her family, she realized. Douglas had gone home early, right after the theater, Amelia at his side. But Daniel, Theo, Griff and even Gary had joined them for the evening, and every one of them spent time with the children.
When the evening was over, the kids thanked everyone. Jenny spoke to Jillian again, saying thank you again and nothing more, but Jillian was still delighted. And the little girl gave Robert a big hug, which seemed to surprise him.
“She’s a pretty little thing,” he told Jillian, one arm around her as they stood on the street, shivering a little as they watched the children get back on the bus. Daniel and Griff were inside, settling the bill. Eileen, Gary and Theo had gone on home. “I bet you looked like that when you were little.”
“Maybe. I don’t remember.”
“Well, I’d like a dozen like her.”
“A dozen girls? No sons?”
He looked at her, angling his head, smiling. “How about a dozen of each?”
“Wow, we’ll be busy.”
“But it sounds like fun, huh?”
“It does. But I think two dozen children may be a few too many.”
“Maybe. I’ll let you work on the number. As long as it’s more than one.”
“Four.”
“I like it.”
She smiled, putting her arms around him. “You know, I love you more and more every day.”
“I love you, too,” he told her, but there was an odd tension about him. She could feel it in the heat of his body, in the tautness of his muscles.
“Just think, only a few more days and then we’re off to Connecticut again for Christmas. Time together, the scent of pine, packages all wrapped up in string.”
“I was thinking of not going to Connecticut for Christmas,” he told her.
“What?” she asked incredulously.
“It’s our first Christmas together. We could go somewhere alone.”
She hesitated, drawing back, watching. “Robert, I love my family.”
“I didn’t say that you shouldn’t.”
“But you don’t want to be with them for Christmas.”
He stared down at her. It was growing colder by the second. “I’m sorry. Too many things have happened. It’s hard to trust them.”
“Robert, I don’t know how many Christmases Douglas has left.”
“I don’t know how many you’re going to have left!”
She searched his eyes, deeply blue, almost black in the shadowy light. “I can’t leave my grandfather on Christmas, Robert. I can’t. And I won’t.”
“Morwenna died on Christmas Eve.”
“Sometimes you believe in the book, and sometimes you don’t,” she charged him. “Whatever’s convenient for you. If history is somehow repeating itself, if we are old souls trying to make things right in a new life
, running away isn’t going to solve anything.”
“And what if you have a homicidal cousin?”
“None of my cousins would ever kill me—especially at Christmas,” she said vehemently.
To her dismay, Griff was coming up to them. She prayed that he hadn’t heard her. If he had, he made no comment, just asked Robert, “Did you drive over? Daniel said to check with you. If not, I can give you a ride.”
“Thanks, Griff. I drove today.”
“Cool. Good night.”
Griff started off; then he turned back, a curious expression his face. “Hey, cuz, I’d never kill you at Easter, either. And certainly not on St. Patrick’s Day.”
“Great,” Jillian moaned, watching him walk away. “Now his feathers are all ruffled.”
“Maybe they should be.”
“Just what is your problem?” she demanded angrily.
“Daniel had rat poison in his desk.”
“Maybe he was killing rats.”
“Maybe he killed the cat.”
“He wouldn’t. He likes cats.”
“Yeah, well, the cat wasn’t supposed to die. You were the intended victim, Jillian.”
She shook her head, backing away from him. “You’re wrong. And I’m not staying away from my family on Christmas, Robert. I’m not.”
He sighed. “Jillian…”
“I’m going to take a cab.”
“The hell you are.”
“No, you know what? I’ll get a ride with Daniel.”
“Jillian!” When she started to walk away, he went after her, catching her arm, spinning her back around. “Okay, have it your way. We’ll be with your family for Christmas, Jillian. Let’s go home now, can we?”
Neither of them was happy, but she gave in. They drove the distance in silence. Robert, usually fairly calm behind the wheel, swore at the drivers around them the whole way.
At the house, Jillian hurried upstairs to shower, then rushed into bed. He didn’t come up until later. She heard him as he shed his clothing, but he didn’t come right over. He had picked up the snow globe Milo had given her and was examining it.
Riders in the snow.
After a while he came to bed. It was the time to make up. One of them should have rolled toward the other. They should have talked, touched, laughed, made love.
A Season of Miracles Page 25
