Garth sighed deeply. "Mother asked Dad for a divorce but he turned her down, and for several years she went along with him. Occasionally she'd bring up the possibility of divorce, but he refused to even discuss it with her. It just wasn't done in either of their families, and I suppose initially that carried as much weight with her as anything. She hadn't much natural inclination to go against precedent. It was later, when she started to get desperate, that Dad played his trump card: He told Mother she was free to leave whenever she wanted to, but if she did, she could forget she'd ever had a son."
His mouth tightened ruefully. "Dad and Mother were very much of the old school. Displays of emotion were regarded as suspiciously tacky. Like most of their crowd, they'd rather have been accused of being an axe-murderer than be guilty of nouveau riche behavior, so through all of this they never once raised their voices to each other. The whole thing was conducted so politely, they might have been discussing the weather or something equally impersonal."
He opened his eyes and smiled wryly as he admitted, "The way I sound just now." He sat up and fished the keys out of his pocket.
"What finally happened between your mother and the young man she fell in love with?" Julie asked huskily.
"He got fed up with waiting for her and left the area. He didn't let her know he was going away, much less say good-bye, and even when Mother learned he'd gone back East, she took the news without turning a hair—except in the privacy of her own bedroom. Afterward she drifted aimlessly from one affair to another but she never fell in love again."
His mouth thinned to a hard line. "A few years later, when she heard that her former lover had gotten married, she attempted suicide. Dad was so shocked that she'd go to such a barbaric extreme that he agreed to a legal separation."
Although he started the car with an abrupt, angry jab, his voice was controlled to the point of gentleness. "Mother lives in Arizona now. She dabbles in ceramics and painting and now and then she 'discovers' a new protégé—always male, always young and good-looking—in short, always a stud. She seems fairly content, so I guess it was better late than never."
Julie shook her head in confusion. "I still don't understand your reluctance to tell me this last night."
Despite the concealing lenses of his sunglasses, the impact of Garth's cynicism struck her like a blow. His scrutiny of her was ruthless and openly disbelieving.
"There's an envelope in the console," he said. His tone was barbed. "You might find its contents enlightening."
She retrieved the envelope and was immediately overcome by an inexplicable feeling of apprehension. She held it without opening it for a few moments, at a loss as to why the mere idea of looking inside should fill her with such dread. The sour taste of fear dried her mouth, and in an effort to reason away her anxiety she examined the envelope as if it were vital that she memorize the smallest detail of its manufacture.
It was letter-size and made of plain brown paper, with metal prongs to seal the flap. The folds along the sides were partially torn and it was dog-eared, but apart from its somewhat battered condition there was nothing to distinguish it from countless millions of others.
Given all this preparation, it came as an anticlimax when she opened the flap and removed the thin sheaf of newspaper clippings the envelope contained. She leafed through them quickly and saw that they offered an account of the bribery scandal, her parents' deaths, and the clearing of her father's name.
More confused than before, she slid the articles back inside the envelope and methodically sealed it. Her eyes were dark and troubled when she looked up at Garth. Only then did she become aware that they had arrived at the supermarket and that he had been studying her reaction.
A smile softened the deeply indented corners of his mouth and he lifted a silky strand of hair away from her cheek to tuck it behind her ear.
"You really don't recognize any of it, do you," he observed gently.
Again Julie shook her head. "I'm sorry. I realize that I should, but I don't."
"I found the clippings in your suitcase along with your note after you left. They came as quite a shock since you'd always seemed to be so uninformed about your parents." He cupped her cheek with his hand and any desire she might have had to turn away evaporated.
"When you disappeared," he said in a low tone, "Charlotte suggested that the clippings established the motive for what you'd done. She theorized that it was all premeditated—that you'd married me in order to exact some kind of revenge for the slander your father had suffered."
Julie's eyes widened incredulously. "And you believed her?" she breathed.
"I didn't know what to believe," Garth replied honestly, "but it's another reason I was so ready to be convinced that you were in love with Dan." His fingertips moved slowly over her face, warmly caressing the delicate line of her cheek and exploring the little hollow just beneath her jaw. "I guess I didn't want to think that you could be so vindictive."
"Have you thought all this time that I've been faking not being able to remember?"
"I haven't been sure—not about that or anything else where you're concerned." His mouth compressed, and he withdrew his hand from her face. "Then last night…" He shrugged. "For a while, I wondered whether you were trying to start the whole thing all over again."
Deprived of his touch, Julie felt lonely and cold.
She shivered and stared through the windshield at the towering, slate-blue spire of Mt. Wilson. Its stark outline danced and shimmered through the mist of tears in her eyes.
"I used to—" She faltered into a stunned silence.
"What, Julie?" Garth tersely demanded.
She cleared her throat and made another attempt. "There's an aerial tramway that goes to the top of Mount Wilson," she said haltingly. "I used to like to ride it to the summit when I had some problem I needed to work out. The view is… magnificent. It's like the whole world is spread out before you, never changing, yet never the same. And it's so still… so infinite… even the biggest worries seem small. It used to help me to keep things in perspective."
"You're beginning to remember more about the past each day, aren't you, Julie?" Garth said quietly.
"Yes," she whispered shakily. "And—oh, Garth —I'm not sure I want to."
When she blindly reached out for him, his arms encircled her and gathered her protectively close to the strong bulwark of his chest.
"I'm so afraid," she cried. Her hands clutched almost violently at his shoulders. "Hold me, Garth. Please hold me."
Chapter Eleven
They drove to Jenny Lake Lodge for lunch and returned to Dan's house in midafternoon to find Dan was in high good humor, using only a cane for support as he hobbled around the yard. He promptly enlisted Garth's assistance in the chore of splitting and stacking a supply of firewood for the winter and they went off to one of the outbuildings together.
"Can I help with anything?" Julie asked Jessie.
"Not just now," Jessie replied as she stored the last of the groceries they'd brought from town. "Why don't you go have a nap? You look a bit weary."
"Maybe I will," Julie gratefully agreed.
First she had a long, relaxing bath. After hastily shedding her clothes, she pinned her hair loosely on top of her head and added perfumed bath salts to the water liberally. She eased into the steaming water and soaked until it became tepid, almost dozing off in the tub. She barely managed to wrap a fluffy towel around herself and crawl under the blankets before she fell asleep.
It was early evening when she awoke. She stretched luxuriously, feeling truly refreshed, and realized that she was not alone in the room.
"Garth?" she whispered. She could just make out the darker shadow of his head and shoulders framed by the night sky in the window.
He came to the nightstand on the far side of the bed and switched on the lamp. She smiled drowsily up at him and saw that he had recently showered and changed. His hair was slicked down, damp and glossy, and he was wearing finely tailored gra
y slacks with a darker gray sweater. He sat on the edge of the bed and smiled at her. His eyes were a clear green-gold and he seemed to radiate vitality.
"You look much better after your rest," he observed.
"You look better too," she murmured. "Woodcutting must agree with you."
"It's amazingly good medicine for a hangover," he said dryly. "In fact it's good medicine for whatever ails a man, body or soul, but it's tough on the unsuspecting hide!"
He chuckled and held out one hand, palm up, to reveal the bandages covering the base of his fingers. Julie exclaimed sympathetically and, leaning on one elbow, pulled herself partly upright to look at his injured palm. She lay a fingertip lightly on one of the smaller blisters that he'd left unbandaged.
"It must be terribly painful." She wished she could dare to kiss the injuries.
"It's not too bad," he drawled.
She heard the levity in his voice and cautiously raised her eyes to his.
"Of course," he reconsidered thoughtfully, "it might be too much for an ordinary man to take, but I think I can stand it."
Somehow she kept a straight face. "You must have split a lot of firewood," she said admiringly.
"Let's put it this way," he qualified, pretending to be morose, "if Dan and Jessie don't keep warm this winter, it won't be my fault."
She laughed. "I think Dan's flair for melodrama is catching. Some of it seems to have rubbed off on you."
"Thank you." Garth solemnly inclined his head. "I take that as a compliment."
"It was intended as one!"
"In their way, Dan and Jessie are two of the finest people I've ever known. And they certainly complement each other."
Julie nodded gravely.
"I might return the flattery," Garth said. "There's at least one thing you and Jessie have in common."
"What's that?" she asked breathlessly.
"Neither of you gives the impression of being overly concerned with being fashionably dressed."
His eyes wandered lazily downward over the flawless skin of her shoulders to settle on the full curves of her breasts, calling to her attention how much of her was left exposed by the precariously anchored towel. She colored to the roots of her hair and tried unobtrusively to hitch it up a bit.
"In Jessie's case, such an attitude is understandable," he mused. "She has a body most women in their twenties would give ten years off their lives to possess, so clothes to her are like gilt to the lily."
"Do you especially admire full-figured women?" Julie asked, hoping he would give a negative reply.
He nodded with daunting enthusiasm. "What man wouldn't admire a woman with a figure like Jessie's? She's a veritable goddess. I'd like to have seen her when she was young. She really must have been something."
Julie's expression was crestfallen and she hurriedly lowered her eyes.
"However," Garth asserted, "it's always been my contention that there are more important considerations than size." He ran one finger along the slope of her collarbone and continued audaciously, barely suppressing his laughter. "If a woman has the right instincts and she's a good armful and her, uh, measurements provide a nice handful, I've never been known to complain."
Julie's eyes flashed up at him. Her cheeks were vivid with embarrassment. "Did you wake me up just so you'd have someone to tease?"
"No," he denied evenly. "It's not that you aren't delightfully easy to provoke, but my primary mission was to let you know that Dan and Jessie have gone out for the evening and"—he paused briefly for emphasis—"in their absence, I have prepared dinner." He stood and walked toward the door. "It's on the table and if you don't hurry, it'll be cold before we have a chance to eat it, so I'll see you downstairs in a few minutes, okay?"
"Okay," she echoed faintly, taken aback by the idea of Garth slaving over a hot stove.
He nodded and went into the hall, only to lean back around the edge of the door and deliver a villainous ogle.
"Do me a favor," he said. "Wear your dress for dinner."
"If you l-like," she acceded diffidently.
"Oh, I like." He grinned meaningfully. "I like very much!"
After he had gone, she threw back the covers and hurried to get into her clothes. Her hands were made all thumbs by her excitement and she ruined two pairs of pantyhose before she gave up and slipped her sandals on over her bare feet. As she brushed her hair until it shone richly dark in contrast to her fair skin, she surveyed her appearance in the mirror.
The dress had a halter top and a simple, knife-pleated skirt. Its warm coral, gold, and pink hues suited her very well. She applied a little eye shadow and some peach-tinted lip gloss and she was ready. At the top of the stairs she stopped to catch her breath before she made a sedate descent.
Garth was waiting in the hall just outside of the kitchen. He was playing the role of maitre d' to the hilt and, without speaking, he led her to the table, where he seated her with a great show of formality. He filled her wineglass with Cold Duck and removed the warming cover from the plate at her place with a flourish. When she saw the submarine sandwich, the pickle, and potato salad that were arranged there, she burst into laughter.
Between giggles she asked weakly, "H-how can a s-sandwich and salad get cold?"
"It's pastrami," Garth revealed, pleased by how well his audience had received his joke.
"Mmmm, my favorite!" Julie said enthusiastically as she bit hungrily into hers.
"I remember," Garth said.
He offered her some corn chips and took a handful for himself. He seemed not to have noticed that she'd startled herself when she'd dredged up another memory, even if it was only about pastrami.
"Where did Dan and Jessie go?"
Garth grinned widely. "Would you believe a square dance?"
"With Dan's gout? That doesn't seem very likely."
"Exactly my reaction," Garth confirmed sagely, "but that's where they claimed they were headed. They particularly stressed the point that they wouldn't be home before we'd gone to bed."
"They'll probably skulk around outside until they see the lights go out."
"In that case, maybe we should make sure we have an early night."
His voice was suddenly serious, and Julie's heart skipped a beat before it knocked heavily against her ribs. She sought to hide the fact that he'd disconcerted her by taking a sip of wine, only to sputter when it went down the wrong way.
Except for this lapse, however, their meal was a pleasant one. They conversed easily and as they lingered at the table, he drinking coffee and she her preferred tea, it was the Cold Duck that launched Garth on the topic of how they'd met.
"This is the winery you used to work for." He indicated the label on the bottle. "Their Cold Duck isn't bad, but they have an exceptional Pinot Noir and a fine Gamay Beaujolais. Their reputation is based on the excellence of their varietal wines."
"How did we happen to meet again after all those years?" she asked.
"We were introduced by friends." His eyes glinted with devilish enjoyment, and he immediately contradicted his statement. "No. That's not the precise truth," he said. "That was how we met for the third time."
"Now you've aroused my curiosity!"
Garth chuckled. "I told you that you'd worked as a tour guide."
Julie nodded eagerly.
"Well, a friend of mine, Rod Parent, was dating another of the tour guides. Things were progressing satisfactorily between them until you came on the scene."
"How did I interfere?"
"You were assigned to share Betty's cottage," he replied, smiling nostalgically. "Rod asked me to agree to a blind date with you in order to get you out of their hair, so he and Betty could have the place to themselves for the night. I didn't place your name until later and I wasn't too keen on the prospect. I hadn't been on a blind date since Lord knows when, but I owed Rod a favor, so I caved in. Needless to say, since I was roped into it, my mood wasn't the best, and that's why I gave you such a hard time."
"A hard
time…" she repeated blankly.
"Rod and I arrived about four in the afternoon. It was Betty's day off, and they were getting an early start, so I had some time to kill. I decided to spend part of it going through the winery. They hadn't told me you were the guide on duty, and I was disruptive." He shook his head. "Perhaps I'm being too easy on myself, because you'd only just finished your training, and it was obvious you were nervous. At the time though, I was feeling so perverse, it seemed entertaining to heckle you."
Julie's eyes were round with disbelief. "That was an awful thing to do!"
"I know," Garth conceded, shrugging and trying unsuccessfully to look contrite. "But, never fear, you got your own back on me! Besides, you blushed so predictably. I'd never seen a girl as easy to embarrass as you. I kept interrupting you and every time I did, you had to go back to the start of your spiel. Apparently that was the only way you could recite it."
She laughed merrily with him. "It sounds funny enough now," she commented when she had sobered, "but I'll bet I wasn't at all amused at the time."
"No, you weren't," Garth said wryly, "and I have to admit that was a major part of the attraction for me. I was taking out my resentment on you. It wasn't a very nice thing to do, but I wasn't in a 'nice' frame of mind."
"You said I got even with you though," she reminded him.
"And then some," Garth exclaimed. "The last stop on the tour was the gift shop and tasting room. By then I was feeling fairly well pleased with myself. Actually, smug is what I was. You were passing out wine to the people on the tour and you served the other customers and opened a fresh bottle before you asked if I'd care for a sample. You were so damnably demure that I thought, This girl can't be for real! I couldn't resist making one last wisecrack—and frankly it was a more than usually explicit one—at which point you poured a whole fifth of Chablis right where it did the most to dampen my spirits."
Promises to Keep Page 11
