SECRET OF THE WOLF

by Susan Krinard

  And this was the end of her hopes about finding Quentin a good, fully impartial doctor to continue his treatment. Transferring him to Bolkonsky was now out of the question.

  "Tomorrow is too soon," she said. "I must insist—"

  "I'm sorry, Johanna. You'll see the wisdom of this, I feel sure. I fear that if we do not do as he asks, Mr. Ingram may involve the law… and neither one of us wishes that."

  Johanna recognized a threat when she heard one. "There is one thing I will not allow, and that is May being hurt. If at any time I feel that she is harmed by this, I will stop it."

  Bolkonsky withdrew a step. "You do realize that her father has complete authority over his own child."

  "I meant what I said."

  "You could not do otherwise." He tossed back his golden hair in an arrogant gesture. "I continue to admire your professional devotion."

  This Feodor Bolkonsky was fully capable of mockery. "May and I will meet with you, as you requested," she said, "but I shall expect to see Mr. Ingram privately for an examination of my own. Then I shall determine if and when she is fit to meet her father."

  "Agreed. Shall I expect you and Miss Ingram here tomorrow at one o'clock?"

  May's voluntary appearance was a preferable alternative to her seizure from the Haven by force. "We'll be here."

  "Then I shall bid you adieu, so that you will have the time you need with Miss Ingram. I am sorry that our other business has been delayed, but I hope we shall have future opportunities to discuss your other patients." He tipped his hat, clicked his heels, and strode from the room.

  He was annoyed, the polished Dr. Bolkonksy, that she had dared to argue with him. But he expected to prevail. Why should he not, in dealing with a woman?

  He did not know her. And she was well aware that her most dangerous opponent was May's father, not this foppish physician who so excelled in manipulation and deception.

  Daisy seemed to sense Johanna's worry as they drove back to the Haven. Half-formed plans were already hatching in Johanna's mind, ranging from the deliberate to the desperate. Finding solid proof of Ingram's alleged improprieties with his daughter and facing the influential businessman in a court of law was certainly one of the more desperate, if it came to that.

  But deliberation won. The best scheme was to delay Bolkonsky and Ingram until firm arrangements could be made—arrangements for May's safety. Let Bolkonsky and Ingram believe she was cooperating. Resistance too soon would arouse their suspicions.

  If there was even a grain of truth in Bolkonsky's claims of Mrs. Ingram's madness, Johanna much preferred to err on the side of caution. May could always be returned—if, against all Johanna's instincts, Ingram proved to be worthy of his daughter.

  May was almost old enough to live on her own, but her mind was still that of a frightened girl. She was not ready for the world. She would do best residing with someone she could learn to trust, if she had to leave the Haven. Someone who could hide her as long as necessary.

  May's precarious situation would consume all Johanna's time and effort from now until this matter of Mr. Ingram was satisfactorily resolved. The other patients would have to wait. And Quentin…

  She had no choice but to put his treatment aside until she found another suitable doctor. That might take weeks, or months—every day a test of her will. She could only hope that his condition didn't worsen.

  She unharnessed Daisy, gave her a measure of grain, and started toward the house. May was not in the garden or, as far as she could see, in the orchard or vineyard. In the full heat of the day, the patients were apt to be resting in their rooms.

  Like a coward, she hoped Quentin remained in his. She wasn't to be so lucky. Quentin and May were together in the parlor, the girl reading to him in her light, hesitant voice. Mrs. Daugherty knitted on the sofa. All three looked up as Johanna entered.

  Quentin blanched. He must remember at least some of what had happened last night. How much did he remember?… That was the question. But he collected himself, spoke softly to May, and rose from his chair.

  "Good afternoon, Johanna," he said.

  "Good afternoon."

  "Back so soon?" Mrs. Daugherty asked. "Didn't expect you 'til evenin'."

  "My plans have changed." She smiled at May. "May, I'd like to talk to you, in my office."

  May glanced at Quentin, who nodded. "We can finish the book later," he said. "I do want to know what becomes of Avis."

  "You won't read ahead?" May asked.

  Quentin crossed his heart. "I promise."

  May set the book down and went to Johanna. Quentin took the opportunity to slip from the room.

  Relieved, Johanna took May into the office and shut the door. "You have had a good day?" she asked as the girl perched at the edge of the chaise longue.

  "We spent the afternoon reading." May's tremulous smile lit up her face. "Quentin said I have a lovely voice."

  "You enjoy Quentin's company, don't you?"

  "Oh, yes. He is wonderful."

  Wonderful. That was not the sort of word May was in the habit of using, when she spoke at all. And though she had been the most relaxed in Johanna's company, something in her was always held in reserve. Even after she had overcome the more blatant symptoms of hysteria, she remained fearful and bereft of real trust for the world.

  Today, May was happy. Genuinely happy, as she hadn't been since her mother's departure. Oh, there'd been moments of contentment and pleasure, but May had seldom reflected the joy of her name.

  Johanna had seen enough of human character to postulate that May's happiness was due to more than Quentin's kindness and gentle attention. The girl was just old enough to fall in love. Quentin was agreeable and handsome. What could be more natural?

  In other young girls, nothing at all. In May, it was a miracle.

  Quentin, of course, would never take advantage of such tender emotions. He behaved toward her like an affectionate elder brother; he did May much good by teaching her that not all men were to be feared.

  Those lessons were soon to be put to the test.

  "Why don't you lie back and be comfortable," she instructed the girl. May did as she was told, her thoughts clearly on something—someone—else.

  "May, this may be a difficult question, but I want you to answer it as best you can." She breathed in deeply. "Do you remember your father?"

  The answer was very long in coming. So long, in fact, that Johanna finally realized May hadn't heard her. She repeated the question, and still May was silent.

  "Tell me about Quentin," Johanna said.

  May began to speak with enthusiasm, smiling up at the ceiling. Her hearing was not impaired, nor was her understanding. She simply did not want to hear or think or speak of her father.

  She never had. But that was not the sort of proof that would hold up in court. May had not yet reached the age of consent.

  Johanna let May's monologue run its course, attempted without success to return to the subject of May's father, and then set her loose. May virtually skipped from the room. Doubtless she was going in search of Quentin.

  She was free to seek him out.

  After a half-hour of notations in her records, Johanna went to her father's room and sat with him a while. He slept peacefully on clean linens, hair combed and beard trimmed with loving attention. Quentin's work.

  In the hour before dinner, she went out to her favorite place in the orchard to think. She caught a glimpse of something moving in the wood on the hill—a flash of motion and color, red amid the green. A while later Quentin emerged from the wood. He carried his head and shoulders set low, a man bearing a burden he wanted no one else to see.

  She almost called out to him. In the end, her will—and her fear—were stronger than desire.

  Chapter 15

  The next afternoon, braced for the ordeal to come, Johanna took May into town.

  She had finally given May half the truth about their reasons for going; she said that she wanted May to meet a doctor frie
nd of hers, making sure that May understood that this "friend" was a man. She refused to be any less honest with her young patient. Had May reacted with a return to hysteria, or run off into the woods, Johanna would have postponed the meeting indefinitely and proceeded with the next move.

  But May wasn't unduly disturbed. She didn't freeze in terror at the prospect of leaving the Haven or meeting a stranger. It was a vivid mark of her improvement that she went willingly, even with a touch of enthusiasm when Johanna promised to look for new books at the general store.

  May had wanted Quentin to accompany them. But Quentin's presence would be a wild card in a very tenuous situation.

  So she and May went alone, the girl outfitted in her second-best dress, Johanna in her most sober gown. She found herself driving more slowly than usual, preparing herself for any eventuality and the absolute necessity of deceiving Bolkonsky, just as he'd deluded her.

  All too soon they were in Silverado Springs. May seemed not to notice the sometimes hostile stares of the townspeople; she simply hunched in her seat beside Johanna. At the hotel, she took hold of Johanna's hand and clutched it so emphatically that her delicate bones seemed in danger of breaking.

  "Don't leave me," she begged. "Don't leave me alone."

  "I'll be here with you," Johanna said. She gave the girl a quick hug. "It will be all right." No matter what I must do to make it so.

  A clerk in the lobby informed Johanna that Dr. Bolkonsky awaited their arrival in his suite of rooms, and offered to lead the way. Bolkonsky opened the door to her knock.

  His blue gaze immediately fell on May. "Ah, Miss Ingram. I'm so glad you could come today."

  May shrank behind Johanna. "I want to go home," she whispered.

  Johanna and Bolkonsky exchanged a guarded look. "Of course you do," he said gently. "And you will, soon enough. In the meantime, ladies, won't you come in and take refreshments with me?" He smiled at May. "I have some delicious biscuits and jam and cakes."

  May's wary expression matched Johanna's own feelings. She led May into the sitting room, unobtrusively keeping herself between the girl and Bolkonsky.

  Bolkonsky's suite was undoubtedly the hotel's finest accommodation, its furnishings rich and only a little out of date. Bolkonsky's practice must be very successful indeed, if he were not heir to some fortune that allowed him to spend money so freely. Johanna realized that she'd never inquired about his family or background beyond his educa-tion. Now she wished she knew a great deal more about him.

  "Please, sit down," he said, offering the women chairs near the window. He personally served the refreshments, but the biscuit May selected remained uneaten in her hand.

  "Well, May," he said. "As I said, I'm glad you and Johanna could come to see me today. She has told me much about you."

  May stared at him—openly, not with the brief, darting looks she ordinarily employed with strangers. "Why?" she asked.

  Bolkonsky glanced at Johanna in surprise. It was unlike May to be so direct. Johanna was no less startled, but also proud of the girl's courage. This meeting might be endured without disaster.

  "Johanna surely told you that I am a doctor, as she is," Bolkonsky said. "I know you've been staying at the Haven, and that you are familiar with Dr. Schell's methods. I had hoped you might talk with me, and perhaps allow me to hypnotize you. It would be a very great help to me, you see."

  May crumbled her biscuit between her fingers. She looked at Johanna with pleading in her eyes.

  "I would rather not," she said. "Johanna…"

  "I know I am still a stranger to you," Bolkonsky said, "but I hope to remedy that situation." He picked up a book from a side table. "I understand that you enjoy reading. I've brought a book for you—"

  "I don't want it." May bolted from her chair and moved behind Johanna's. "I don't like him," she whispered in Johanna's ear. "If Quentin were here—"

  "Ah. Quentin," Bolkonsky said. "Is he a friend of yours?"

  "Yes." May's face hardened into a mask of defiance. "You aren't my friend."

  This went far beyond remarkable behavior for a girl who feared nearly everyone and everything. Johanna hid a triumphant smile. This would not be such a one-sided battle after all.

  "Is there a place where I might have a word with May?" she asked Bolkonsky.

  "Certainly. Just through the door behind you." He smiled again at May. "Take your time."

  Johanna took May's hand and led her into the bedchamber Bolkonsky indicated. She closed the connecting door between the rooms.

  "May, I must ask you a question. Please answer honestly. Why do you dislike Dr. Bolkonsky so much?"

  May stood rigidly against the wall, her fingers curled into fists. "Do we have to talk to him? I'd like to go home now."

  Johanna rested her hand on May's dark head. "I know you would. Think of this as a sort of play, with you and me as the actors."

  "Like Irene?"

  "Perhaps not exactly like Irene. But I like Dr. Bolkonsky no more than you do." She smiled encouragement. "I need your help to make the doctor think that we are both happy to be here. I wouldn't ask you without good reason."

  "He knows Quentin, doesn't he?"

  The odd certainty in her voice took Johanna aback. "Only in the way he knows of you, as a resident of the Haven. Why?"

  She began to shake. "I'm afraid."

  It wasn't an answer, but Johanna could see that May had reached the end of her endurance. Damn Bolkonsky—and her own failure to find some alternative to bringing May to town.

  "I'll speak to the doctor and tell him you are not well." She cupped May's cheek in her palm. "You remain here until I come for you."

  For the first time May smiled. "Thank you, Johanna."

  "You're welcome." She left Johanna in the room and opened the door to the sitting room.

  Bolkonsky was no longer alone. Another man stood beside him, head bent toward the doctor in hushed conversation.

  Johanna stopped, misgiving blooming into alarm. The man was tall, large-boned, and well, if loudly, dressed; his features were heavier than May's, the eyes a muddy gray rather than dark brown. But Johanna knew who he must be.

  "Dr. Schell," Bolkonsky said, stepping in front of his co-conspirator. "I… something unexpected has happened. May I introduce Mr. Chester Ingram, May's father. Mr. Ingram, Dr. Johanna Schell."

  Barely inclining her head to the intruder, Johanna fixed Bolkonsky with a cold stare. "I thought we had agreed—"

  "Yes. But Mr. Ingram has expressed a reluctance to wait to meet his daughter again. It is understandable, after all…"

  Understandable—or planned all along? Johanna turned her gaze on Ingram. "Mr. Ingram, May has been under my care for the past two years, as you know. She is subject to hysterical fits if exposed to upsetting conditions." She fortified herself for the unaccustomed lies. "I brought her today with the expectation that she would have the necessary time to adjust to the prospect of returning to your care. I was to speak with Dr. Bolkonsky, and arrange a later meeting between you and your daughter."

  Ingram pushed past Bolkonsky. He carried himself with the air of a man who was used to command, and did not like being so addressed by a woman.

  "So Dr. Bolkonsky told me… Miss …Dr. Schell," he said. "But I have been wrongfully separated from my daughter, whom I love, for two long years." His eyes narrowed in calculating assessment. "I know that my wife brought May to you with crazy stories born of her own madness. I don't blame you for believing her; she is very persuasive. But now it's time for May to come home, for us to be a family again. I will brook no needless delays."

  "Needless?" Johanna fought to control her anger, and the instant hostility she felt for this man. Hostility, and fear—for May's sake. This was a man from whom a woman might flee in fear for her health. Or her life.

  "You do want what is best for your daughter, Mr. Ingram?" She stepped closer to him, looking up into his face. "I have worked long with May to overcome her fears—the fears she has shown ever since s
he came to me. If you wish her to become hysterical again, then by all means proceed as you have been."

  Ingram glanced at Bolkonsky in outraged amazement. "This is the doctor you told me was to be trusted? She—" He broke off, staring toward the door to the bedchamber. May stood on the threshold, utterly still. Her face had lost all color.

  "May," her father said hoarsely. He opened his arms. "May, my darling—"

  With a choking gasp, May bent backward at the waist, her spine forming a sharp curve. Johanna barely made it to her in time to catch her before she fell. The girl convulsed, her teeth clicking together.

  Johanna yanked a curtain cord from the window, eased May to the ground, and pushed the cord into her mouth to prevent her from biting her tongue.

  Bolkonsky dropped to his knees beside her and helped hold May down. In a few moments it was over. May's face was bathed in sweat; her body was limp. She kept her eyes tightly closed.

  "Gott in Himmel," Johanna whispered. One bout of hysteria, and all the progress of the past year was lost. She had been so sure that May was over the fits for good.

  Arrogance on her own part. Sheer arrogance, hubris, stupidity…

  May's father came toward them and crouched as if to take May in his arms. Bolkonsky forestalled him and carried May into the bedchamber himself. Johanna sat beside May, shielding her from any further male intrusion.

  "Move away at once. Let me be alone with her," Johanna said, adjusting the pillows under May's head. "She has not had such a fit in over a year; you will have to explain to Mr. Ingram the severity of her relapse. We expected too much of her, too soon."

  "I must concur with your analysis," Bolkonsky said.

  Johanna didn't allow him to see her surprise at his sudden cooperation. "Then make Mr. Ingram understand that he cannot take May with him until she has fully adjusted to the prospect, however much time that may require. Unless he wishes her to become even more ill." She twisted to meet Bolkonsky's gaze. "Surely you see that she fears her father. Do you still believe she belongs with him?"