For the first time since she had entered the room Jane concentrated on the landscape outside. There wasn't a cloud in the sickly, yellowish sky. The sun had not yet set, it hung like a great red lantern, obscured by haze. Not a leaf moved on the huge trees at the bottom of the hill, not a blade of grass swayed. It was as if the whole of nature held its breath.
"We'll have a storm before morning," Simon said quietly.
"Oh, I hope not. I'm terrified of storms." The words were out before she could stop them. She realized how. childish they sounded, and tried desperately to explain them. "I don't know why, I can't even remember what happened, but when I was very young, around the time my mother left, there was a very bad storm and I was alone. I must have fainted. My father told me afterwards that he found me unconscious on the floor of my room when he returned. He hadn't been gone long, but the storm must have come up suddenly. I'm sorry, it sounds so childish, but ever since that incident I have been really frightened of thunderstorms."
Simon turned to her and put a finger under her chin, turning her head until she was looking into his face. She was amazed at the tenderness of his expression. "Don't worry, Jane. I promise you that if there is a storm while you're under my roof, you will not be alone."
A discreet cough in the background broke the spell. Mrs. Armitage was announcing dinner. As Simon led Jane to the patio outside the dining room, the gentle pressure of his hand on her arm made her feel that indeed she would have nothing to fear from any source as long as he was beside her.
Candles had been lit in small hurricane lamps on each of the half-dozen tables on the patio. Their flickering brilliance managed to dispel the gloom of the brooding, fading light.
"How nice," Jane said.
"Yes, I thought it would be nice to dine out here tonight. If a breeze should come up, we'll feel it here,"
Mrs. Armitage had prepared a perfect meal for a hot night. It began with chilled vichyssoise, followed by cold salmon steaks, then a crisp green salad. The entree was pheasant, stuffed with wild rice, which drew the comment from Simon, "Did you know we have a pheasant farm in the area? And speaking of the area, I haven't heard how you made out this afternoon. Did your journey into town go well?"
Mrs. Armitage, who was serving them at the moment, flashed Jane a conspiratorial smile and then hurried out to the kitchen.
"Well," Jane answered, "I bought an immodest dress at a local boutique, and I made a new friend."
Simon looked up in surprise. "Really, and who is your new friend?"
"A man named John Baxter. As a matter of fact, I stopped off at his house for a drink on my way back."
Simon frowned. "Well, you are a fast worker. One afternoon in town and you manage to pick up the wealthiest man in the district."
Jane was stunned by his implication. The angry colour rose in her cheeks and her reply was icy. "I assure you that I didn't pick him up. My car frightened his horse. I had to stop to see if he was all right."
Simon laughed. "My dear girl, John Baxter was practically born on a horse. I can't imagine even a woman driver causing him any trouble, unless of course you ran into the horse. And that still doesn't explain how you ended up at his house."
Jane struggled to keep her voice steady. "I did not run into them, and I went to his house because he invited me and I felt that he really wanted me to go. He seems like a lonely man."
Simon laughed again, harshly, "A lonely man—it seems a strange description for a man who owns one of the largest stables in the country, and who has had two Queen's Plate winners who are now out to stud. I can assure you if I had his money, I wouldn't be lonely for long."
"I don't doubt that," Jane answered, "but then you aren't the same kind of man as John Baxter."
"And what is that supposed to mean?" Simon was really angry now.
Mrs. Armitage who had come out to serve dessert, looked from one to the other in consternation, then hurriedly placed their crème de menthe parfaits in front of them and scuttled back inside the house.
Jane was now as angry as Simon, and her voice was icy. "I mean that John Baxter is a kind and gentle man and that is something that no one could ever say about you."
Even in the flickering candlelight Jane could see that she had gone too far. Simon's face was white and strained, and his movements were slow and precise. Jane was reminded of the lazy grace of a tiger as she watched in frozen fascination as he placed his napkin on the table, rose and came towards her. Without a word he pulled her to her feet. The grip of his hand on her wrist made her gasp with pain and she stumbled after him as he half dragged her across the patio and into a grove of small pine trees. The light was dying fast, the yellowish haze of sundown had been replaced by a murky darkness. There were no stars in the lowering sky, but the breathless hush of the past few days had been broken. Tiny eddies of air, like the hot breath from a furnace, billowed the skirt of Jane's dress as she stood trembling looking up at Simon.
When he finally spoke, his voice was shaking. "So, I'm not a kind and gentle man? Is that what you said, Jane? But is a kind and gentle man what you really want? Is it, Jane, is it?"
Jane could not answer. She stood, held in his iron grip and held too by his mesmerizing eyes that seemed to bore into her very soul.
His laugh was low and ironic. "No, my dear, I don't think it is. I think this is what you want."
His hand was at the neck of her dress and with one quick wrench he broke the tiny ribbon drawstring that held the dress in place, and it fell, in a cascade of pleats around her ankles. Then his hands were in her hair, loosening the pins that held it, until it was free. He stepped back and looked at her. Jane stood frozen, unable to move, while tendrils of hair blew across her face in the hot wind, captive in his gaze as it moved over her naked body like a caress.
Suddenly, the coiled tension seemed to leave him and his expression softened. "How lovely you are, how innocent and vulnerable, my sweet Jane." He took her face in his hands and gently kissed her lips. Then, stooping, he lifted her dress from the ground and helped her into it. The drawstring at the neck was broken and she stood clutching the dress at her neck looking at him like a stunned child, waiting for direction.
"Run along and change, then come back and have coffee with me, please Jane?" His last words were pleading.
She looked at him a moment longer and then shook her head and said, in a broken voice, "No… no thank you," and turned and moved towards the house. He took a few steps after her, his hand out to detain her, but then he stopped, and watched in silence as she disappeared into the house.
When Jane reached the safety of her room, she carefully closed the door, stepped out of her dress and reached into the closet for a light, flowing robe. Then she sat on the side of the chaise lounge looking out the window at the threatening sky and suddenly realized that despite the heat, she was shaking all over, like someone with a chill. Outside the light was almost gone, but she could still see the huge birch trees that clung to the side of the hill below her window. Their tiny leaves trembled too in the hot, fitful breeze, trembled and waited for the violence of the coming storm.
Jane had no idea how long she sat there staring out into the darkness. Little by little the trembling subsided and the overwhelming heat pressed in upon her. Her mind was a complete blank, she didn't want to think about what had happened. She couldn't bring herself to come to terms with the contradictory feelings that the evening's events had produced in her. She didn't want to admit to herself, despite what had happened, how reluctant she had been to leave Simon and return to her room. One part of her mind said that he was an animal, no civilized man would have done what he had done, and then she remembered the gentleness of his lips on hers, the pleading in his voice when he asked her to return and the memory of that kiss suffused her body with an aching pleasure. Finally, she went into the bathroom and ran a tepid shower. After towelling herself dry, she went back to the bedroom, turned down the covers and lay quietly, praying that sleep would come.
Eventually she fell into a troubled sleep, dreaming of her father's face looking at her without a word, that familiar loving, almost pleading look. Then the face changed to that of John Baxter's—the expression exactly the same. Then the face changed again and it was Simon's, as she had last seen it, saying the words, "please, Jane." Then cutting across the fabric of her dream, there was a blinding flash and a terrible, reverberating crash that brought Jane bolt upright in bed. Another flash, blue-white in its brilliance illuminated every corner of her room and every feature of the landscape outside, tortured and twisted under a gale-force wind. A perfume bottle on the dressing table was blown over and the sound of tinkling broken glass was immediately drowned out in another terrible crash of thunder. Jane sat huddled on her bed, her hands over her ears, trying desperately not to scream. Suddenly, the door of her room was flung open and as a series of lightning flashes illuminated the room, she saw Simon in a dressing gown, stride to the window, pull it closed and close the shutters. She started to sob uncontrollably and then his arms were around her, holding her, rocking her back and forth and stroking her hair and saying over and over, "It's all right, Jane. It's all right." And suddenly, incredibly, it was all right. The lightning flashed and the thunder crashed around them, but little by little Jane relaxed. She had never felt as safe as she did in the circle of those comforting arms. As she relaxed, she realized that she was naked. After her shower, the oppressive heat had made her decide to sleep without a nightgown. Now she fumbled for the sheet, but Simon only laughed and bent down to kiss her bare shoulder. "Remember, I promised that as long as you were under my roof, you would never be alone in a storm?"
The last of his words were lost in a strange, crackling sound and a terrible, blue-white light lit the room. It was followed immediately by a crashing roar that brought an involuntary scream from Jane. Simon held her even closer and then said, soothingly, "Dear Jane, it's all right. That hit somewhere close. Hold on while I look." Jane clung to him. "No, please don't leave me."
"All right, come with me then," he said gently.
"My robe…" Jane protested.
Simon chuckled, and in the illumination from another lightning flash, retrieved her robe from the bottom of the bed and held it out for her. Another, more brilliant flash illuminated the room and the naked figure before him, making the skin glow with a strange incandescence. He gasped and his hands trembled as he helped her with the robe. Then he took her hand and led her, like a child, to the window.
"I'm going to open the shutters and look out at this side of the house." She held tightly to his hand, but held back, as if his body could shield her from the fury of the storm. Finally, he stepped back and closed the shutters again. "Everything seems to be all right on this side of the house," he said, "let's have a look on the other side." Still hand in hand, they left her room, crossed the hall and he opened the door of the room across the hall. In the flickering illumination of the lightning, the room had a ghostly quality, the furniture swathed in dust sheets. Simon opened the shutters and looked out. What he saw brought a cry of dismay to his lips.
"My God, the MacDonald's house is on fire. It must have been struck." Jane, peering over his shoulder, saw the glow behind the edge of the ridge.
Simon turned to her. "Jane, go to Mrs. Armitage's room. You know where it is. Stay with her until the storm is over. I must go and see what I can do. There are three children in that house."
Jane held on to his hand as if she would never let go and tried to keep the thread of hysteria from her voice. "No, I'm going with you."
"No, you mustn't," Simon answered quietly. "It's dangerous and you're frightened. You'd only be in the way."
Jane had no idea where she found the strength, but she answered calmly, "Simon, you'll need help. I'm not frightened as long as I'm with you. I'll put some clothes on and be with you in two minutes," and she strode purposefully to her closet.
"All right," Simon called after her, "if you're going to be stubborn. Meet me at the car."
It didn't take Jane more than two minutes to get into a pair of jeans, a T-shirt and running shoes, and grab her hooded raincoat from the closet. Still, Simon was at the car before her, clad only in jeans. The lightning and thunder had abated somewhat, but the rain still fell in blinding sheets. Simon had the car started almost before Jane climbed in beside him. Despite her fear, Jane marvelled at his skill as he navigated the winding, dangerous driveway, which in places had been almost washed away by the storm. In minutes they were pulling up before the farmhouse, the roof of which was ablaze. They were the first on the scene, although headlights of other cars could be seen down the road. As the car stopped, Simon said quietly to Jane, "Stay here. Mrs. Armitage has called the volunteer fire brigade and they'll be here soon."
As Simon got out of the car, the front door of the farmhouse was flung open and a man, clad only in pyjamas staggered out to the porch. Billowing smoke poured out of the open door. Jane, forgetting Simon's instructions, got out of the car and followed Simon to the porch. Simon was clutching the man's arms and shaking him. "Pete, who else is in the house?" The man, almost unconscious and choking from the smoke managed to gasp, "The kids… Mary's away… the kids… two in the front bedroom… one in the side bedroom—the west side." Then he collapsed in Simon's arms. Simon dragged the man from the porch and laid him in the shelter of a tree. He turned quickly to Jane. "Do you know how to give mouth-to-mouth resuscitation?" Jane nodded. "Then look after him and give me your T-shirt." Jane looked at him in amazement. "God woman, quick—give me your T-shirt," Simon shouted. In a daze, Jane threw off her raincoat and quickly pulled her T-shirt over her head. Simon ran to the roadside ditch which was full of water and soaked the T-shirt, then wrapped it around the lower part of his face. He made for the front door. "No, Simon," Jane screamed, but he paid no attention. The smoke, blacker and more acrid now, drove him back. He ran to the side of the house and came back with a ladder, which he leant against the porch of the house and started to climb. Other neighbours were starting to arrive and Jane, with a terrible effort of will, turned her attention to the unconscious man at her feet. Kneeling she began mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, trying desperately to keep her mind on her efforts. The sound of breaking glass made her glance up quickly. Simon had broken the front bedroom window and was climbing into the room. With ail her heart she wanted to scream at him to come back, but she dutifully returned to her efforts. In a few moments she was rewarded. The unconscious man was beginning to stir. The eerie, flickering glow from the glazing roof illuminated the strange scene in the yard where half a dozen men milled around seemingly unable to decide on a course of action. Jane, clutching her raincoat around her ran up to one of them. "Please, please… Simon Wade is inside trying to find the children… Please, help him!"
The man seemed grateful to have someone direct him and he answered, "Right you are ma'am," and turning to a younger man, "Come on Joe… there's kids in there." The two of them started to climb the ladder and at that moment Simon appeared at the window holding, one under each arm, two small bundles. As Jane and the others in the yard watched mesmerized, Simon handed the two children over to the men who had clambered onto the porch roof. For a moment they seemed to be arguing with him and then they carefully descended the ladder with their precious cargo and Simon disappeared inside the house. Jane stilled a sob and whispered brokenly, "Simon, my darling Simon."
The two small boys, both unconscious, were laid gently beside their father, who struggled to sit up, crying brokenly, "My babies, oh God… my poor babies." Jane struggled to regain her composure. She said gently to the man, "It's all right. They'll be all right," and prayed that what she said was true. She turned to the younger of the two men who had brought the children down and asked, "Do you know how to give mouth-to-mouth resuscitation?"
"Sure do," he answered, and turning to one of the other neighbours, "Les, give dad a hand. That fool man is goin' to try to make it into the other bedroom to get the girl." His father was str
uggling to move the ladder to the other side of the house. The other farmers ran to his aid and Jane fought back tears as she and the boy struggled to breathe life into the small bodies lying on the grass in front of them.
After that everything seemed to blur into a kind of nightmare for Jane. She was scarcely conscious of what went on around her. Her concentration oh trying to revive the small figure in front of her, her terror for Simon, seemed to blot out the world. She was vaguely aware of the sound of the volunteer fire engine arriving, but didn't move from her task until someone gently lifted her under the arms and a quiet voice said, "All right, miss, we'll take over now." Her feet felt like iron as she tried to run to the side of the house. She looked up and saw two burly firemen gently lifting Simon's body through the side window. Cradled in his arms was the figure of a young girl. She tried to call out his name, but it came out as a whisper.
The terrible scene, the burning house, the flames flickering on the faces of the shocked neighbours, the distant sound of thunder seemed to form a kaleidoscope in Jane's mind and she felt herself falling. She must have fainted for a moment, and the next thing she knew Simon was lying beside her on the grass, an oxygen mask on his face, a fireman hovering over him. She got to her knees and bent over him; all the horror and terror of the past hour broke over her and she started to sob and cry out his name. "Simon, please… please be all right." The fireman said gruffly, "Now, now miss, don't carry on, he'll be just fine, you'll see." But Jane continued to sob, her long blonde hair covering Simon's bare chest. Suddenly, she felt a gentle hand stroking her head and as she looked up in disbelief, saw that Simon's eyes were open and that he was looking at her with such tenderness that it brought an involuntary cry from her throat.
"There, what did I tell you?" said the fireman. "You lie there quiet for a minute, sir. We've called ambulances to get all of you to the hospital, at least for observation."
Summer Storm Page 6
