Promises to Keep

by Rose Marie Ferris

  Garth fell silent as he held out his coffee cup to Jessie for a refill.

  "So you went into racing," Dan remarked when Garth did not continue his narrative.

  "Like a drowning man clutching at a straw," Garth said. "I'd never felt as alive as I did when I was driving in a race." He'd spoken flippantly, and Julie suspected that this was a cover for the intensity of his feelings.

  "And now you run Falconer Construction," Dan said.

  "It's Falconer Engineering Consultants these days —the firm rarely enters into construction contracts since I took over—but yes, I do run it with the help of a fine management team. Julie's uncle, Rupert Hastings, is our vice-president in charge of design."

  "I used to wonder why Rupert and his wife didn't petition the court for custody of Julie after her parents died, or at least keep in touch with her."

  "There had been a falling out between the two couples," Garth replied. "You must have heard about the scandal involving Julie's father."

  "Oh, yes!" Jessie exclaimed irascibly. "We heard about it, and heard about it, and heard about it, ad nauseam, from Elizabeth."

  "What scandal?" Julie asked quickly.

  She had been listening to their conversation so quietly that the other three seemed to have forgotten about her and now, in unison, they realized their oversight and turned startled faces toward her. No one answered for a time. Their glances shied uneasily away from her to shift back and forth to one another in a kind of conspiracy of silence.

  "Let it go, Julie, please," Dan pleaded. "Don't stir up all that old misery."

  "What scandal?" she repeated. Her eyes were fixed on Garth, targeting her question directly at him.

  "Your father was also employed by Falconer's, Julie," Garth answered as if he were carefully choosing his words. "He was the chief engineer on a bridge project in southern Oregon. Within a month of its opening, the bridge collapsed and an investigation showed that the material used by one of the subcontractors was below specifications. The company was held accountable for civil and punitive damages— three people had been killed when it collapsed—and your father was found guilty of accepting a bribe from the subcontractor to guarantee his approval of the substandard work."

  Dan and Jessie exchanged an anxious look. Julie's face was strained, and so completely drained of color that it seemed all eyes. Her hands were tightly folded in her lap, and she held herself stiffly, as if to keep from flinching. Though Garth hadn't raised his voice, his words had struck her like blows, and she felt wounded by them.

  "My father did that?" she whispered.

  "No, Julie, he didn't." Garth covered her hands with one of his and he could feel her relax as he spoke. She slipped one hand confidingly into his, and as his fingers closed around it he marveled that something so delicately boned should be capable of such strength.

  "Eventually he was cleared," Garth said. "It was unfortunate that it wasn't until after his death, but new evidence came to light that proved his assistant was the guilty party. Your father's only mistake was delegating too much authority to the man who sold us out." She clung to his hand with renewed pressure. "Your grandmother was notified of this development when it happened."

  Dan and Jessie were gaping with amazement. "Elizabeth told us every detail about Ted Hastings's conviction," Jessie muttered, "but there wasn't a peep out of her concerning his exoneration."

  This time Dan did not defend Elizabeth Ayers. "Why didn't Rupert contact Julie after Ted was acquitted?" he asked.

  "I just don't know the answer to that," Garth returned. "A number of years had passed and in the interim Rupert had more than his share of family problems. Charlotte, his wife, is something of a shrew. On her own she can cause enough turmoil to keep half a dozen men occupied." He shrugged casually. "It's pure conjecture on my part because I was away at school most of the time when all this was going on, but Charlotte was once engaged to Ted, and I think she was jealous of Julie's mother. She might have discouraged any effort of Rupert's to win custody."

  Sighing, Jessie got to her feet and began stacking the dishes. "This topic of discussion is likely to lead to enough indigestion to send bicarbonate of soda stocks soaring," she declared. "Let's talk about something more pleasant."

  "Good idea, Jess," Dan agreed brightly.

  Garth was relieved. "Tell me more about Julie," he requested. He was still holding her hand under the table, and she hated to have to free it when she rose to help Jessie serve dessert.

  Dan willingly obliged, regaling Garth with anecdotes about Julie's childhood and adolescence. "We didn't see much of her once she'd finished high school," he revealed. "By then Elizabeth was failing so badly, Julie was pretty much tied down looking after her."

  His compliments, augmented by Jessie's, grew more flowery, his commendations more fulsome, until Julie felt like screaming that she couldn't possibly be the angelic person they were describing. Instead she complained tartly, "I wish you wouldn't talk about me as if I'm not here. Even if my memory was functioning, I don't think I'd recognize myself. All this praise—it's too much! You'd think I was dead and you two were delivering my eulogy."

  This time they allowed her to have the last word, and conversation turned to other things.

  After lunch Dan invited Garth to his workshop for a demonstration in the art of tying flies. He was an enthusiastic angler and had years of experience in making his own lures.

  "I have one little beauty you're going to love," Dan told Garth when he learned the younger man had enjoyed the limited amount of fly-fishing he'd done. "It's my personal favorite and it's surefire. Trout practically jump into your creel to get at it!"

  "That's the last we'll see of them for a while," Jessie forecast good-naturedly when they left the table. "Now that Dan is semiretired, I see less of him than I did when he was working full-time. He's either in his shop or out on the river trying out his inventions. I swear, if I'd agree to serve his meals in there, he'd just move into the shop."

  When they had finished clearing the table and loading the dishwasher, Julie asked, "Can I help with anything else?"

  "I'd planned to bake some pies for the Autumn Festival the local women's club is sponsoring," Jessie replied. "You can peel the apples for me."

  They worked together companionably, and when the pies were in the oven, filling the kitchen with delectable spicy aromas, Jessie made some coffee for the men, and Julie took it into the shop for them before she returned to the kitchen for tea.

  "They were so deep in a discussion about a 'Number Four Brown Hex,' whatever that is, they hardly noticed me," Julie said. "Do you think they'll know the coffee is in there?"

  "Never fear. I don't know about Garth, but Dan can smell coffee a mile away if he's upwind of it in a gale!"

  Julie smiled at the picture this brought to mind, but she was stirring her tea with unnecessary care and Jessie thought she seemed preoccupied.

  "There's something I'd like to ask you," Julie confessed hesitantly, "and I'm not sure there's any tactful way to do it. I wouldn't want to impose on your friendship."

  "In other words you're afraid it might put me on the spot." Jessie reached out to pat Julie's hand. "Lord, child! From those pink cheeks of yours, I'd say you're the one who's uneasy. Ask away. If I don't want to answer, I'll tell you straight out, it's none of your business."

  "It's—well—it's apparent you and Dan have very different opinions about my grandmother. I just wondered why you disliked her."

  "Mainly because she tried to poke her nose into our business," Jessie replied evenly.

  "How do you mean?"

  "When I first moved in with Dan, she started some ugly rumors about me. Until I settled her hash, she conducted a one-woman campaign to either run me out of town or undermine Dan's trust in me so he'd send me away."

  Jessie's sharp-eyed glance took in Julie's apologetic expression, and she cautioned, "You understand I've told you this in confidence. Dan never found out who was behind all the gossip, and I could
never bring myself to tell him and destroy his high regard for Elizabeth. It would have served no purpose, and he'd have been terribly hurt."

  Julie nodded soberly. "Naturally I won't tell anyone. But what possible reason could my grandmother have had for doing such a thing?"

  Jessie's face was contorted by a rueful grimace. "Elizabeth dearly loved to try and run other people's lives for them, and that was all the reason she needed. She saw everything in black and white and was so set in her belief that only she was equipped to judge the right and wrong of things, you'd have thought she had a direct line to God!"

  As if to mitigate Elizabeth's culpability out of consideration for Julie, she added philosophically, "Of course, you have to remember that Elizabeth's sense of morality was outraged. She grew up in a time when it was commonly thought that sex outside of wedlock was a mortal sin. And even a married woman was expected to look upon sex as a duty and grin and bear it—and she'd better not grin too much either!"

  Jessie's eyes twinkled mischievously. "That just goes to show you how society can sometimes carry its taboos too far. Sometimes individuals can, too, and so far as I'm concerned, that was Elizabeth's greatest failing. She couldn't understand that in loving each other as we do, Dan and I have hurt no one—and we've made each other very happy. I never could see any cause for shame in that."

  Jessie had spoken quietly, without a trace of rancor, and when she paused to drink some of her tea, Julie was impressed once again by her tranquillity. Every aspect of her demeanor testified to the sure-ness of her inner peace. She exchanged an eloquent glance with Julie over the rim of her cup before she replaced it in its saucer.

  "From the smell of those pies," she declared as she pushed her chair away from the table, "I'd say they're about finished baking."

  Chapter Nine

  With a poor imitation of being uncommonly fatigued, Jessie and Dan excused themselves and went to their room shortly after supper that night, leaving Garth and Julie alone in the living room.

  "I'm surprised they didn't take poor old Buck with them," Garth quipped when the dog claimed his customary place next to Julie, with his head resting in her lap.

  "I'm sorry they were so obvious," Julie said.

  "Don't be embarrassed, Julie. And for God's sake don't apologize for Dan and Jessie. I'll admit I don't need to be hit over the head with a club to know how they expect us to occupy ourselves tonight, but I like them—partly because they are so transparent. You're lucky to have such staunch allies in your corner."

  He was standing by the hearth, looking down at her, and he couldn't miss seeing the color that suffused her cheeks. He laughed softly and indicated the logs in the fireplace.

  "Let's at least try to live up to their romantic ideal," he suggested.

  "It would be a shame to let a ready-made fire go to waste," she agreed happily.

  Garth sat on his heels and touched a match to the newspaper cones that were heaped beneath the logs in the grate. Dropping down beside her to share the floor cushion, he watched as the flames spread and leaped and, with a sudden rushing sound, licked voraciously at the wood, setting it ablaze.

  As Julie stared into the flames she experienced once again the dizzy, disorienting feeling of being trapped in a timewarp. Her feeling of contentment vanished, dispersed by anxiety that threatened to expand into panic of unbearable dimensions. Though she tried to keep them open, her eyes closed, and the pungent sweetness of wood smoke became acrid and eye-stinging. The gentle warmth on her face became intense heat that surrounded her and would soon consume her. The cheery hissing-popping noises made by the pitch igniting in the wood became a deafening, all-encompassing roar. More than anything else, it was the sound that frightened her.

  She was sobbing, but her eyes were dry—for she was too terrified for tears. Somewhere glass was breaking and someone was shouting her name. The voice was familiar and yet, somehow it was different … younger, not as deep. She wanted to run toward the voice and discovered she was unable to move her feet. She wanted to answer the shouts, but she couldn't. Her throat was too sore, too irritated by smoke.

  A scream tore at her vocal cords, and when she hastily opened her eyes, she was surprised to find that no sound had escaped her. Garth was holding her close in his arms and she was safe.

  "Shhh, it's all right now, Julie," he murmured soothingly. She was shaking with fear, and he repeated, "It's all right."

  "Yes," she replied dully. "It's gone now."

  "Your parents died in a fire. Your house was completely destroyed. It was almost totally engulfed in flames before anyone even turned in the alarm."

  "Someone rescued me," she said.

  "Yes," he confirmed.

  "Was it you, Garth?"

  He nodded. "I managed to get to you by breaking in through your bedroom window just before—" He left the sentence unfinished but continued talking because it appeared to be having a calming effect.

  "It was an odd coincidence, but the only reason I happened to know which room was yours was because I'd delivered some papers to your father that afternoon. You took quite a fancy to me. In fact you made such a pest of yourself that I finally joined you and your collection of dolls for a tea party to get you off my back. That was quite a blow to the macho image I tried to cultivate when I was sixteen. I had myself more than half convinced that I was twice that age and a ringer for Charles Bronson before you came along and ruined it all."

  "Was I an awful nuisance?"

  "Terrible," he said dryly.

  Her trembling had ceased, and she lay limply against him with her head on his shoulder. He shifted his position slightly to cradle her more fully in his arms and pulled off the clasps that confined her hair. It reminded him of fine, dark silk as he ran his fingers through it to loosen it, and when he had finished, the soft fragrance of it clung to them—the scent of spring flowers.

  "I'm sorry you had to remember the fire," he said. "It was a nightmare."

  "Yes," she whispered. "Sometimes it's better not to remember."

  His arms grew taut about her. "Why do you say that? Did you recall anything else today?"

  She shook her head. "Only the way the sun sets behind the Tetons." His arms gradually relaxed, and she sighed deeply. "I wish I knew more about so many things."

  "Such as?"

  "My uncle. It's strange to know so little about my father's brother."

  "You were never well acquainted with him, Julie."

  "Because of the scandal?"

  "No," he said thoughtfully. "I think it was mainly because of Charlotte. She's a very domineering woman and Rupert—well, Rupert is a good man, a kindhearted man, but he's no match for her."

  "He's weak?"

  "As far as his wife is concerned, yes, he is," Garth answered. "He's an easygoing guy, and Charlotte has raised bitchiness to the level of a fine art. Whenever she's thwarted, she goes straight for the jugular. I suppose, out of sheer self-preservation, Rupert no longer even tries to oppose her."

  "Is that why Diane looks so unhappy in the wedding picture?"

  "No," he said curtly.

  "Then why—"

  "She was recovering from an unhappy ending to a love affair at the time."

  His arms still held her but he seemed remote.

  When she moved a little away from him, he released her entirely and she felt lonely.

  "Was her affair with you?" she asked tremulously.

  "No!" For a moment he was taken aback. "What in God's name made you think that?"

  "Diane is very lovely, but she looks so sad in the picture," Julie replied. His expression remained stony, and she added weakly, "I just thought she might have been in love with you."

  "Well, you thought wrong," he emphasized coldly. "I won't try to kid you that I've been celibate. I haven't reached the age of thirty-four without having been involved with a few women. In the years before I took over Falconer Engineering, there were more than a few. But there has never been anything more than friendship between Diane
and me."

  Garth jumped to his feet and stalked the width of the room and back before he stopped, standing with one elbow propped on the mantel to glower down at her. A vein throbbed angrily in his temple.

  "Dammit, Julie," he exploded. The side of his fist came down forcefully on the mantel. "Diane's like a sister to me!"

  No sooner were the words out than his angry scowl was replaced by his boyish grin, and he relaxed, sitting on the hearth with his long legs sprawled out in front of him.

  "Now I know how you must have felt when I accused you of being in love with Dan," he admitted sheepishly.

  Julie's laughter was as carefree as if she'd been relieved of a huge burden, but when Buck's nap was disturbed by her fit of giggles, he lifted his head, got stiffly to his feet, and moved to Garth's side of the fireplace, where he showed his teeth in a conciliatory grin before he settled down again with his head on Garth's thigh. The bemused, vaguely disbelieving way Garth watched this transference of affection was touching.

  "I may find it hard to sympathize with you, but apparently Buck doesn't," she teased. "If it's any comfort to you, he's a very discerning animal."

  "So he is," Garth remarked, returning her smile. "I must say I admire his taste too!" He stroked the shepherd's grizzled head. "When I was a kid, I always wanted a dog."

  "Do you have one now?"

  "No. My work takes me away from home too much for that to be practical. Dogs need a closer companionship with their owners than I can provide."

  "How long have you been in charge of your company?"

  "About three years."

  "Mrs. Jenkins said you'd taken control when your father died."

  Garth nodded. "Things were in bad shape at that time. There'd been a sharp cutback in highway programs and other construction, and Dad had some archaic theories about how the business should be run. He hadn't kept up with the latest advances in design and engineering either. What really kept the firm afloat was the momentum my grandfather had provided."