by Rena McKay
He hung around Caverna Bay, working on his paintings for the busy summer season, postponing his usual trips out of town. He was helpful, unaccusing, sensitively attuned to her moods. Robyn unhappily wished she had fallen in love with him before she met Trev. She almost desperately wished she could fall in love with him now. But she couldn't. He was, and always would be, simply a very dear friend. In spite of her earlier thoughts that a quiet companionship might be preferable to the agonies of love, she knew she could never marry him on that basis. She tried to tell him as much, but he just shushed her and told her there was plenty of time. But Robyn unhappily knew that while time might dull the ache of her pain, it would never erase her love for Trev.
No one seemed to know exactly what had happened at the big house across the bay. Robyn, out of curiosity, drove up to the locked iron gates one day. Impulsively she climbed through the fence and walked up the driveway. She didn't approach the house. It had a deserted, unused appearance even from a distance. The redwood tree had been cut into several sections and heavy equipment evidently used to drag the huge pieces out of the road.
Beth Hylder stopped in a few days later and mentioned that her logger husband was the one who had been hired to clear the driveway with his equipment. It had been done a week or so after the funeral. Her husband hadn't seen anyone in the big house except the servants.
So what had been the "big fuss" the night she left? Robyn wondered, puzzled. She asked a few questions around town, but no one seemed certain. A lot of lights, someone said. Maybe a siren. So much had gone on in that storm; a carload of people had careened down a mountain road, a man had suffered a heart attack while trying to nail down his roof—the goings-on at the big house had been incidental.
Larry knew she was always thinking about Trev. She had confessed as much. He was patient and understanding for the first two of three weeks, then impatient, and finally angry. Robyn never defended herself. She found her hopeless love for Trev almost indefensible. But it was there.
She kept thinking she would hear from Trev's lawyer or be served with divorce papers, but nothing happened. She thought only briefly of filing for the divorce herself, then stubbornly decided that Trev had married her, he would have to divorce her. The only question was, why wasn't he doing it? It was possible, she supposed, that if he had gone out of the state or country to get the divorce that she wouldn't be notified. She felt as though she were drifting in limbo. She found she missed her former visits with Mrs. Barrone too, missed her cheerful, sometimes tart remarks. She tried to live from day to day, frightened by the bleak, lonely future that faced her.
Then one Saturday afternoon Larry walked into the shop with an odd expression on his face. He tossed a folded piece of paper on the counter. "It's Trev's address." Larry hesitated. "Or at least where he was a few weeks ago."
The unexpected information hit Robyn like a shock wave. A dozen questions ricocheted through her mind. What was he doing? Was Shauna with him? What about the divorce? In a strangled voice she finally managed to ask, "Where—where did you get this?"
"I sweet-talked it out of a pretty little nurse over at Redwood Valley Hospital. My charms work on some women," he added in a wry tone.
Robyn didn't notice the small jibe. "Hospital!" she gasped. "But what's wrong? What happened?"
Larry explained that he had done a little private sleuthing about what had happened at the big house after Robyn's departure. He learned that an out-of-town ambulance had gone up there that night and had taken Trev to the Redwood Valley Hospital. A short time later he had been flown down to a clinic in San Francisco at the address on the paper. "Of course, there's no telling if he's still there or not. It's been quite a while," Larry finished.
Six weeks and one day since she fled the house across the bay, Robyn knew without calculating. "But what could have happened to him?" she questioned. "Was he sick or hurt or—"
"An accident of some kind. The girl I talked to thought he was pretty badly off, but she didn't know exactly what was wrong. She got me the address of this clinic where he was taken. Daydecker, or something like that."
The Daydecker Clinic, Robyn thought, dazed. Yes, that was where Trev had wanted to take his grandmother. And then a horrifying thought hit her. After all this time, anything could have happened. He could be dead by now! She clutched the counter for support as her knees threatened to give way beneath her. Dear God, no—he couldn't be dead.
Larry looked alarmed. "Robyn, what's wrong? I thought you'd want to know where he was."
"I—I did—I do—want to know. Oh, Larry, thank you. I'm sorry. It was just for a moment there I thought of something."
"That he might be dead?"
Robyn nodded wordlessly.
"I guess if I ever had any doubts about how much you love him, I don't have any now. That look on your face says it all." He patted her shoulder sympathetically. "I hope he's okay. I really do."
"Thank you, Larry. Why did you do all this?"
He gave her a crooked grin. "I kept thinking that with him gone you'd turn to me. I finally got it through my head that it wasn't going to happen. For a while I was angry. But I still care enough about you to want you to be happy. I just hope it helps."
Larry left and Robyn sat on her stool by the counter, one hand on the telephone, afraid to dial, afraid of what she might find out. She was still puzzled by what sort of accident could have happened at the big house that night. She didn't want to know—and yet she had to know. Shakily she picked up the phone to dial the long distance number.
"Daydecker Clinic."
"Could you tell me if you have—or did have a patient by the name of Trevor Barrone?" Robyn had to struggle to force her voice above a frightened whisper.
The answer was prompt, businesslike. "Yes, he's in room three-twenty-eight. Would you like me to connect you?"
Relief collided with panic. He was alive—alive! But she couldn't talk to him yet. She wasn't prepared. She had to think, to collect herself. "No, I—I'll come in to see him," she said.
She hung up quickly, her hands trembling. He was alive! And yet, if he were still in the hospital after all this time, something must be seriously wrong. She had to find out.
She was on her way early the following morning. It had all happened so quickly that she felt dazed. But now that she was on her way, she wondered how he would feel about seeing her. Why hadn't he let her know what had happened? Was Shauna with him?
She arrived at the Clinic at midafternoon. It was a spring day. The parking lot was crowded with Sunday afternoon visitors. She walked inside and got a visitor's card from the receptionist. She took the elevator to the third floor and followed the arrows down a hall and around a corner.
The door was open. It was a private room. He was lying in the hospital bed, idly leafing through a magazine, a familiar half-scowl on his face.
Robyn's heart flip-flopped erratically. She wanted to run and throw herself on him and yet her legs felt frozen. He looked almost achingly familiar—lean, angular face, with the thin scar along the jawline, lock of dark hair falling negligently across his forehead, well-shaped hands restlessly turning pages. He looked pale, all traces of tan gone now. His eyes were deeply shadowed.
Suddenly he looked up, his glance catching her poised there in the doorway. His look of shocked surprise was quickly replaced by a carefully guarded expression.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Robyn asked. "Why didn't you let me know?"
"Obviously because I didn't want you to know," he said. His eyes narrowed. "How did you find out?"
"Larry did a little private detective work."
"Of course. Good old Larry."
Robyn took a few steps toward the bed, but his unwelcoming gaze stopped her. "But I don't understand. What happened?"
"I thought there was something a little odd about the way you rushed out to take care of something at the shop immediately after the funeral. I went up to your room and found your wedding rings on the dressing table. I knew then you weren't plan
ning to come back. I went after you but you had already started down the driveway. I ran after you, thinking I could catch up with you and stop you."
He paused, as if the effort of the explanation had tired him. Robyn watched him with growing horror. The scar stood out like a ragged white line on his tensed jaw.
He went on, his voice curiously flat and expression-less. "The storm blew a redwood down. One of the branches caught me when it fell. It injured my back." He laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. "That's ironic, isn't it? I made it through a couple of hundred miles of jungle hell only to be felled by a tree in my own backyard."
That voice she had heard! It wasn't just someone coming from the house to investigate the crash. It was Trev, trapped and injured under the tree. And she had driven away and left him lying there helpless!
"I suppose I shouldn't complain though," Trev added grimly. "A few more feet and I'd have been directly under the tree and wouldn't be alive to tell about it."
"I'm sorry," she whispered, white-faced, shaken by remorse. "I didn't know."
He shrugged. "It was fortunate for me that Shauna was still at the house. As I'm sure you're aware, she is an excellent nurse. She took care of me until the ambulance arrived. The road was blocked, of course, so they had to use a stretcher to carry me around the tree."
Shauna! In her agitation Robyn had forgotten about the attractive nurse. Now she looked around surreptitiously, wondering if Shauna was here caring for Trev. No wonder he preferred Shauna, Robyn thought unhappily. Shauna was there to help him, while Robyn herself had walked away when he needed help. The awful guilt of what she had done made her feel weak and dazed, and she clutched the foot of the bed for support.
"It wasn't fair of you not to tell me what had happened," she said, still unable to get her voice above a whisper. "I had a right to know."
"Why?" he asked harshly. "So you could rush down here and take care of me? Isn't that what you always do, whether it's your own sick aunt or somebody else's grandmother or just a stray seagull? You're always trapped by your own softheartedness. And I won't have a wife on those terms!"
Robyn lifted anguished eyes to his. "On what—what terms will you have a wife?" she asked tremulously, recklessly knowing that she didn't care what the terms were, she'd take them.
But he didn't answer. He just stared into space out the window at the patch of blue sky marked by a spreading jet trail. Robyn glanced around the room, absentmindedly noting the pleasant, beige walls, the television and the neat bedside stand. There were no flowers, nothing to personalize the room except a blue silk robe hanging on a stand by the bed.
"Have you disposed of the house yet?" Robyn asked finally.
"No," he answered briefly. "I told Luther and Marie they might as well close the house up while I was in here. I haven't decided what to do with it yet."
"Is Shauna here?" Robyn asked tentatively, glancing around uneasily again.
"No."
The brusque statement didn't completely answer her question.
"Do you mean she just isn't here at the hospital right now?" she asked uncertainly. "Or—"
"I believe she has taken a job nursing some wealthy rancher over in Arizona. There was no more need for her services, of course, after my grandmother died." His voice was coldly superior and he continued to look out the window.
"I was under the impression that Shauna's talents were not limited solely to her nursing abilities," Robyn retorted.
Trev's head snapped around to face her. "Are you implying there was something going on between Shauna and me while she was taking care of my grandmother?"
"I'm not blind. I could see what was going on!"
"Could you now," he said sarcastically. "And just exactly what did you see?"
Robyn hesitated. "You were always talking to her. Paying attention to her. And she always acted as if she owned you!"
"That's true," he said grimly. "And if there's one thing that turns me off it is a possessive, grabby woman who assumes a lot of things that aren't true."
Robyn hesitated, uncertain if he was referring to Shauna or herself. "Wh—what do you mean?" she faltered.
He straightened in the bed, roughly rearranging the pillow behind his shoulders. "I mean I hired Shauna for the sole reason that she is an extremely capable nurse and I wanted the best for my grandmother. But Shauna thought I had other motives. I had a hard time convincing her otherwise. But there was never, at any time, anything between us while she was there at the house." He hesitated, finally adding slowly, "I'm not saying there wasn't once, but it was for a very short while and it was over a long time ago."
"You could hardly blame Shauna if she thought otherwise," Robyn commented tartly. "You certainly had me fooled."
Trev scowled, rolled the magazine into a tight roll, then straightened and rolled it again. "I suppose she had reason to think what she did," he admitted grudgingly. "I was trying to make you jealous."
Robyn's eyes widened in astonishment.
"It was a cheap trick, I admit it, but you were so damned aloof and untouchable," Trev said.
"And you enjoyed making me miserable letting me think you were making love to another woman under my nose." Robyn walked around the bed to stand angrily by the window.
"If you were miserable about anything you thought Shauna and I were doing, you certainly hid it well," he snapped. "And I don't think you have any right to act so holier-than-thou. Weren't you carrying on with your 'friend' Larry behind my back?"
"I most certainly was not!" Robyn stormed, infuriated by the unwarranted accusation. "How dare you make such accusations? If it weren't for Larry, I wouldn't even be here now!"
"You shouldn't have come," Trev said dully. He paused when a nurse started to enter the room carrying a tray of medications, checked the room number, and went across the hallway instead. "I don't want any woman feeling sorry for me and thinking she has to stay with me and take care of me because I'm flat on my back and helpless."
Robyn caught her breath. Here they were, arguing and accusing and fighting, and she still didn't know what was wrong with him, how seriously he was injured. "Are you—helpless?" she faltered.
"What does it look like? You don't see me hiking around on the beach, do you? Or chasing the nurses, which is what you no doubt assume I'd be doing if I could."
She ignored the sarcasm, her eyes traveling slowly over his lean figure concealed by the hospital bed-sheets. Was he crippled, unable to walk? Her eyes lifted to meet his. "It doesn't matter," she said simply. "I love you."
He regarded her coldly. "See? You're doing it again. You don't love me. You just feel sorry for me. That was why I never wanted you to know I was here. I won't have a wife who says she loves me just because she feels sorry for me!"
"That isn't it—"
"Would you have come rushing down here if I were on my feet and healthy?" He answered the question himself without waiting for her reply. "No, you wouldn't have. You only came for the same reason you were trying to rescue that damn seagull the first time I ever saw you. Because that's the kind of person you are."
Robyn felt dazed and helpless. She stared with unseeing eyes at the city spread out below the hospital window, the bridge across the bay, the streams of traffic. In a way, he was right, she thought slowly. She probably wouldn't have come if he were not in the hospital. And yet that had nothing to do with the depth of her love for him. She loved him whether he was sick or healthy, strong or helpless. She loved him no matter what, and yet he thought it was only her overblown sense of duty that had brought her here and was making her say she loved him.
"That isn't fair," she protested helplessly. "Even if you can't walk, I should have the right to make my own choice. I love you. It doesn't matter to me if you can't walk."
"See?" he said contemptuously. "You're doing it again."
Suddenly Robyn's helplessness turned to cold fury. How dare he throw accusations at her and make her defend her love for him? It was he who had totally rejected
her once, he who should answer for his abominable behavior. Here she was pouring out her love for him, trying desperately to convince him she loved him. For what? To satisfy his monumental ego? What difference did it make whether she loved him or not? He didn't love her!
She squared her shoulders abruptly. "Have you filed for the divorce yet?"
"No. I've been a bit—ah—tied up, as you might have noticed," he answered sardonically.
"Do you want me to file and get the legal processes started?"
He shrugged. "Suit yourself. I suppose it would be the quickest way."
Robyn swallowed convulsively, struggling to keep her composure. "Very well then," she managed to say. "I'll probably need a copy of the prenuptial agreement."
He frowned. "I tore it up."
Robyn's composure cracked into surprise. "You did? Why?"
He hesitated, his voice little more than a mumble when he finally said, "Just a wild idea I had."
"Idea about what?"
He stared out the window again. "That maybe we could somehow make it together. But I realized I was wrong when you sneaked out the minute the funeral was over. You were free and you could hardly wait to escape and enjoy your freedom."
Robyn felt dazed again, as if things were turning all topsy-turvy around her. "But that isn't true," she protested. "I left because I thought you and Shauna— I couldn't stand to stay around while you and she were— You never said anything!"
"I told you just before you walked out that I wanted to talk to you. But you had other things on your mind, as I recall."
"You could have tried to reach me later."
"Do you think I'd try to trap you into taking care of a cripple? I'd already trapped you into a marriage you obviously detested."
"I loved you. I still do." She shook her head helplessly. "Why are you doing this to me? I don't understand."
"You don't love me. You only feel sorry—"
"I threw myself at you one night and you rejected me!" The humiliating admission made Robyn turn her head away, but Trev's words made her whirl back.
"And you rejected me on our wedding night!"
