by Janet Dailey
"Alisa!" Zachary's harsh commanding voice broke behind her.
Almost unwillingly, she turned to him, the sharp edge of her anger dulling slightly upon meeting the shimmering brilliance of his. The fiery black eyes held hers for an eternity of a second before they moved to Renée. There was a shade of softness in his gaze as it rested on her. Alisa glanced back and was stunned to see two small tears trickling down Renée's cheeks. With a raised eyebrow, Alisa realized that she had underestimated Renée's ability as an actress.
"Would you excuse us, Renée?" Zachary asked with deadly quietness.
"I'm sorry, Zach. I never dreamed this would happen," she whispered in return.
Alisa's anger once again rose to its former peak as she watched Renée leave the room, knowing that little speech was for Zachary's benefit and he had fallen for it completely. As the door closed behind the tangerine silk dress, Alisa drew herself up arrogantly to face him.
"You have a headache, Alisa."
The strange statement momentarily stunned her with its tightly-controlled tone. "What are you talking about?"
"I said you aren't feeling well, so you'd better stay in your room," he repeated, his voice raising slightly in emphasis.
"You're partially right." Her brilliant blue eyes clashed fiercely with his. "I am sick! Sick of bowing to your mother's offensive comments, of hearing what a more perfect couple you and Renée would make, of answering Renée's questions about our sleeping habits! I'm sick, sick of it all!" She fairly screamed the last.
"I can understand how my mother can grate on you," he allowed. "But you had no business inviting Renée up here to your room. Whatever she said you brought it on yourself. There was no relenting in the fire of his gaze.
"I didn't invite her up here!" Alisa corrected him. "She charged up here on her own. The way she acts you'd think she was the mistress of this house as well as the mistress of its owner!"
"I will not have you talking about Renée in that manner!"
"You will not! My, how chivalrous of you," sarcastically. "You defend your mistress and not your wife. What about me? Look how you just humiliated me in front of her! Am I to stand idly by while you ask Renée to leave the room so you can reprimand me in private for speaking the truth?"
"I thought that today at least you could be civil towards my guests. The Gautiers have been my friends for years and I expected you to treat the entire family with respect."
"And how was Renée supposed to treat me–or isn't there any standards that mistresses are supposed to follow?" Alisa jeered.
His jaw clenched tightly together. At the side of his face, a muscle twitched to reveal the depth of his anger. "I want you to stay here in this room while I go down to explain to our guests that you're indisposed."
"I will not stay here and admit victory to that little tramp!" Alisa denied vehemently.
In one stride, she was imprisoned in his arms, his face glaring darkly inches from hers. "And I will not tolerate your insolence. You demand the respect of a wife, yet you're not willing to carry out the duties of a wife. But we can change that."
He crushed her to his chest, imprisoning her arms between their two bodies as his lips covered hers. Wildly she struggled to be free of his touch, but his hand clasped her hair and twisted her into stillness. The pressure of his kiss increased until her lips were ground against her teeth. Still mercilessly, it went on. At last, when she thought her very breath would be denied her, Zachary released her. Her hand went to her bruised and battered lips, attempting to wipe away the degradation and humiliation of his touch.
"You stay here," he muttered hoarsely, wiping the lipstick from his mouth with a handkerchief, "or I'll introduce you to more wifely duties!"
Alisa found her hand closing around the empty perfume bottle on the dressing-table. In the next instant, she had hurled it at the closing door, taking vicarious pleasure out of the explosive sound of its contact with the wood.
Chapter Five
"ARE you ready, Chris?" Alisa picked up a pair of white lace gloves, then discarded them since they couldn't go over her ring.
There was a flash of white-shoed feet accompanied by a whirling strawberry-coloured skirt as Chris danced into the room in excitement. "I'm ready!" she cried shrilly. "Oh, hurry, Lisa!"
"You're not starting to school yet," Alisa laughed. "We're only registering you today so that you can go."
But her hand was quickly taken by a smaller one that insistently led her out of the bedroom towards the staircase. At the base of the stairs Zachary stood silently watching their approach. Alisa stared at him, the surprise at seeing him at this time of day registering on her face.
"Zach, are you ready, too?" Christine released Alisa's hand and raced down the steps ahead of her.
"Are you going with us?" Alisa asked, reaching the bottom step and gazing into his inscrutable face with a combination of distrust and disbelief.
"We're going as a family today," Chris announced, now taking Zachary's hand and tugging towards the door. "Is everything ready?"
His pace was too slow for her, so Chris dashed ahead, out the door towards the waiting car. Alisa glanced puzzledly at him.
"Is what ready?" she asked.
"After the registration is over, we're going on a picnic," he said calmly, his gaze never once straying to see Alisa's reaction. "Harvesting will begin next week when school starts. As Christine pointed out to me, this will be the only time we can do anything as a family."
"How unfortunate that you ever promised her we would," Alisa said grimly.
"I don't mind. She's an exhilarating, uninhibited person, luckily not marred by the pessimism of her sister," Zachary jeered. "After all you've sacrificed for her already, surely an afternoon in my company can be tolerated."
She glared at him coldly. If only she could be sure this afternoon was for the benefit of Christine. There was no doubt in her mind that Chris had initiated the idea, but the question was why had Zachary consented to it after ignoring Alisa's existence since the disastrous dinner party.
They had reached the car when his questioning "Well?" demanded a response. She sighed heavily.
"You've left everything until the last minute, so I hardly have any choice in the matter, do I?" she retorted sharply.
"Does that irritate you?" Zachary opened the car door for her.
"Yes, it does," she hissed so that Christine who was already in the back seat of the wagon wouldn't hear.
Zachary smiled down at her as he closed the door for her, a wickedly smug expression that brought her teeth together. Before sliding into the driver's seat, Zachary removed his cream tan sports jacket and laid it on the back of the seat. The late August sun beat warmly into the windows of the car so that the tan print short-sleeved shirt was more than sufficient attire for him. Christine bobbed happily behind them as the car pulled out on the lane. Her chattering, interspersed with comments from either Alisa or Zachary depending on whom she was directing her conversation to, dotted the journey into St. Helena. Arriving at the school, she skipped ahead of them to the entrance.
"I believe we're both adult enough to lay aside our personal feelings," Zachary said in a low voice, "and make this an enjoyable afternoon for Christine's sake."
"I'm very willing to do it for her," Alisa replied. "As long as you can contain your jeering, I would hardly have cause to retaliate."
"Then it's a truce." Zachary held the school door open for her with an amiable smile. "We may even surprise ourselves and find the afternoon pleasant even to each other."
Alisa's dubious glance spoke clearly that she doubted such a thing could happen, but she didn't reply.
The transferring of Christine's records from her previous school, the enrollment in the third grade and the subsequent paper work that that entailed was quickly completed and the three were back in the car driving north of town. Their short journey took them past several vineyards welcoming visitors to tour their facilities before Zachary turned the car into a smal
l park. Christine bounded out of the car almost the minute it came to a halt, racing over towards an old wooden structure that dominated the grounds.
"It's called the Old Bale Mill," Zachary explained as he and Alisa joined the darting child. "It was built by a Dr. Edward Bale to grind grain for early Napa Valley pioneers. They're recently rebuilt it from its almost ruined state so that now it looks almost workable, although it's never been tried."
Alisa walked over the jagged stones to stand beside the huge undershot waterwheel that had once been the power that had driven the grinding stones. The branches of a nearby tree rested against the towering wooden wheel, emphasizing its lack of use.
"It's really quite impressive, isn't it?" Alisa commented as Zachary joined her, his tie removed and thrown over his shoulder and the top two buttons of his shirt unbuttoned.
"A necessity in its day," he agreed.
"I'm going to find us a place to have our picnic," Chris called before scampering away to investigate the rest of the park.
By mutual consent the pair made their way across the stones, Zachary leading the way a half step ahead of Alisa. Her white sandals had a small but slender heel, hardly made for negotiating the tricky rocks. As she stepped off the flat surface on to another, the first rock slipped, sending Alisa rocketing forward. Two tanned arms reached forward, and her fall was arrested by Zachary's broad chest.
"Are you all right?" His hands were firmly around her waist, supporting her shaky legs.
"Yes," she gulped. Her own hands were gripping his forearms tightly to retain her upright position. Beneath her fingers she could feel the erratic race of his pulse. "I think your heart is beating as fast as mine," Alisa said with a weak, jesting laugh.
"Probably at the surprise of finding you clinging so tenaciously to me." Her gaze flew up to his face at the amused yet completely serious tone of Zachary's voice. The ardent fire in his dark eyes mesmerized her. "Do you know, when you put aside that mask of cold reserve, you're a very beautiful and desirable woman?"
Her fingers immediately relaxed their hold on his arm.
"And you," her voice was husky and soft, with the barest tremble in it, "can show surprising concern when it suits you."
The soft curve of his lips broadened into a wide smile that emitted a quiet chuckle. "I think you just put me down," he said, releasing his own hold on her until only a hand rested lightly against her side. "Which means we'd better catch up with Christine."
This time they walked side by side, Alisa knowing no way to shake off his hand without arousing his mockery. The day was too peaceful and the park was too serene to let it be disturbed by their bickering. Besides there was Chris to be considered.
"I do admire the way you've insisted on having Christine," Zachary said. "I don't think of any other woman with the looks and wealth that you have who would have done what you have, especially for a halfsister who's so much younger than you. Have you considered exactly what the future will be like for you?"
"Are you trying to tell me what a liability she is?" Alisa smiled. "I'm not really making any great sacrifice. It can't really be considered a sacrifice when you're doing it for someone you love." She glanced up at him, expecting to see the mockery and cynicism on his face, only to find him regarding her with serious interest. "It's a terrible cliché, I know, but I want her to grow up differently from the way I did. I want her to know a sense of security, that I'll always be there if she needs me because I love her."
"And your childhood, what was it like?"
"One long string of Mother's male admirers and husbands. I think the day she died she couldn't have even told you what my father's name was," Alisa laughed, trying to be funny, but a bit of the bitterness peeped through.
"I assumed it was something like that," Zachary nodded. "That's the reason for your dislike of the male sex."
"No, I think it has more to do with my disbelief that love between the sexes really exists. I believe the magnet drawing the two together is the animal desire for sexual satisfaction."
"Which is the reason your magnet has been switched to the neutral position-right?" Zachary gazed down at her with quizzical thoughtfulness. "There is love, Alisa. I hope someday you'll discover it for yourself."
"You're speaking as if you know it for a facts," she replied after a short pause over the soft earnestness of his statement.
"Do you find it hard to believe there's such a thing as love, or that I could be in love?" Zachary teased.
Alisa stared up at him, her head tilted, trying to discover why he seemed so peculiarly different. His hair was just as ebony black as his eyes beneath their lazily curling black lashes. Her eyes reverted to looking at the ground in front of them.
"I don't find it hard to believe that you want Renée. I'm sure you find her a very beautiful woman."
"There you go again," Zachary laughed, "inserting, 'want' for love."
"It's practically the same thing."
"When you need someone because you love them, that's love. You're talking about the reverse when you love someone because you need them. They're two very different things, Alisa." He was staring off ahead of them when she looked up to see if she could read the expression on his face. The only thing she was able to determine was that he truly believed what he was saying. Feeling her gaze studying him, Zachary turned to meet it with the corner of his mouth lifting in a sympathetic smile. "I can see you don't quite believe me. And that questioning gleam in your blue eyes tells me that you're about to argue the point, so let's change the subject. This afternoon is for Christine, and you and I are supposed to be observing a truce."
Reluctantly Alisa agreed. But she found her thoughts reverting back to the subject with uncomfortable repetitiveness. Not even the exuberant Christine could completely pull her out of her contemplation as she gave in readily to her younger sister's demands that the picnic be held on the grass and not on the tables provided for such purposes. The hamper from the car was filled with food–cold roast chicken garnished with carrot sticks, cherry tomatoes, and celery sticks were in one box. In another there were buttered slices of egg twist bread. For dessert, there were fresh pears and Port Salut cheese. As Alisa spread the food out on the checked cloth, Zachary produced wine glasses and a bottle of wine.
"Unfortunately this is not a bottle of my wine," he said as uncorked it, pouring the ruby red liquid into the two glasses. "It's Cabernet Sauvignon from the Gautier winery. I promise you it's the very best of the California red wines."
"Can I have some grape juice, too, Zachary?" Christine piped from where she kneeled beside him.
"You aren't old enough to drink wine," Alisa smiled.
"Let her have a taste. She might as well know what it is that her new brother does. She's been at the winery often enough, she deserves to have a taste," declared Zachary, holding out his own glass for Chris to sip.
The red liquid had barely touched her lips when Christine pulled away, her mouth curling in the supreme expression of distaste. "It's rotten!" she exclaimed, staring at Zachary as if he had attempted to poison her. "It doesn't taste like grape juice at all!"
"No, Peanut, wine is made from grapes. Their aroma is there, but it doesn't taste like grape juice," Zachary laughed heartily.
"How can you drink that stuff?" The small shoulders shuddered.
This time it was Alisa who laughed. "You grow accustomed to it, Chris."
"Not me, I never will!"
"Nora must have known that little girls don't care too much for wine," Zachary reached into a second hamper and took out a thermos bottle, "because she also sent along some lemonade, if I'm not mistaken."
"Oh, goody"' Chris's sudden burst of elation halted as she turned her head to Zachary. "Do you suppose Nora will pack my lunch for me for school, so I can take it with me on the bus like the rest of the kids?"
"I think most of the children eat their lunch at the school," said Zachary, "but I'm sure if you want her to she'll arrange something with Mrs. March."
"I don't think Chris needs to ride on the bus." Alisa's head shook slowly back and forth as she spoke. "I can very easily drive her to school in the morning and pick her up in the afternoon."
"No, Alisa, I want to ride on the school bus," Chris protested with a wail. "I don't want to be different from the other kids. I want to ride like they do."
"That's a point to be well taken, Alisa," Zachary glanced at her briefly over the rim of his wine glass.
"Yes…" Still Alisa hesitated, her gaze on the pleading eyes that were staring earnestly back at her, the small lips forming the word "Please". "If that's the way you want it, Chris, you can ride in the school bus like the rest of the children."
Later, after everyone had eaten their fill and Chris had raced off to examine the Bale Mill more closely, Alisa and Zachary remained. Alisa had finished packing away the remnants of their meal while Zachary had stretched himself out on his side in the grass.
"I'm glad you agreed to let Chris ride on the bus," he said, as Alisa curled her legs to one side and straightened her skirt. "I think it will make her adjustment to her new school and her new friends that much easier."
"I hope so," Alisa murmured, gazing after the bright copper hair that was visible in the distance. "I hope she doesn't become too attached to her new friends, or it will be hard on her to leave at the end of the school year."
"She wouldn't have to leave." Zachary withdrew his cigarette case, lifted it towards Alisa, who nodded that she would like one.
"What do you mean, she wouldn't have to leave? You know at the end of the school year we'll be getting a divorce and I'll be leaving," Beneath the pale golden hair, her forehead was creased with a frown.
"You'll be leaving my house, yes, but that doesn't mean you have to leave the district, does it? I should think that if Christine were happy here, you would stay." The gold lighter flicked its fire to the tips of the cigarettes now between Zachary's lips.
