The burden I left Jon with was a heavy one, and I hope to make it up to him by adding my assurances to his. It’s true, Elizabeth. Garvania, the Clanad, it’s all true.
It’s also true that I love you and will love you until the moment of my death. Thank you for giving me your love and letting me share your life.
Goodbye,
Mark
Elizabeth could feel the tears running slowly down her cheeks. Reading his poignant note was almost as painful as losing him a second time. Yet now the pain was partially diluted by shock.
Mark was the person whose integrity she had trusted most in the world and he had said Jon’s wild story was absolutely factual. If her judgment of Mark was a true one, then she must believe what he told her was also true. But how could a sane person believe a story that was similar to the plot of a Steven Spiel berg movie?
She sank down into the rocking chair, Mark’s letter still clutched in her hand. Her mind was whirling, but she had to think. She had to try to sift out the truth from the fable. Her gaze fastened on the slow turning of the paddle wheel outside the window. The steady, deliberate rhythm soothed her as it always did, and she settled back in the chair and leaned her head on its cushioned headrest. Love. Lies. Truth. Fantasy.
For centuries her forebears had steeped themselves in healthy Yankee pragmatism, but they’d still left ample room for vision. She was a Cartwright. She possessed the same qualities herself. She had the strength to accept or reject what she chose to believe as truth. She would sit here, and decide what she was going to do.
“Beth.”
He said her name softly, the sound floating into the dusk-shrouded room as gently as a shadow. Jon. She didn’t turn around, but kept her gaze on the paddle wheel. His presence there was no surprise to her. She had expected him to come. She knew he had to come.
“Beth, we have to leave. I’ve received word Bardot has left the farm and will be at the cottage within the hour. It’s not safe here any longer.” He came forward to stand beside the rocking chair.
“Hello, Jon.” Her voice was quiet, almost casual.
“Beth, I know you haven’t had much time but—”
“I’ve had time enough. Sit down, Jon. I want to ask you a question.”
“Later. I have to get you and Andrew out of here.”
“Now.” Her tone was edged with steel. “I’m not going to put you through an interrogation, but there’s one thing I have to know.”
He sat down on the cushioned window seat opposite her. The dimness of the room pre vented her from seeing the expression on his face, but she sensed his impatience by the charged tension in his body. “What is it?”
“In Mark’s letter he said he knew he would have only a few months with me. What did he mean?”
Jon didn’t answer for a long moment. “Mark had a heart ailment that was aggravated by the ordeal we went through in Said Ababa. If he hadn’t been killed in the accident, he would have died within a short time anyway. That was why he left the Clanad. The doctors told him he had only six months to live, and he wanted something we couldn’t give him. He wanted to live a normal life.”
“Oh, no.” Elizabeth closed her eyes. Golden, beautiful Mark. Her Mark.
“A martyr.” There was a thread of pain in Jon’s voice. “Not only perfect, but a bloody martyr. How can a man compete with that?”
“You didn’t have to tell me.”
“Yes, I did. He deserved to have you know. He was everything you thought he was. He was good, kind, and brave. I may be jealous as hell, but I won’t cheat him of his due.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
The only sound in the room came from the creaking of the paddle wheel outside.
“You believe me now?”
Her eyes opened. “I believe Mark. It’s going to take a long time before I can believe you again.”
They were both silent.
“I guess I’m going to have to accept that fact.” He paused. “For the moment. Can we leave now?”
“Not yet. I must talk to Bardot.” She raised her hand as he started to protest. “I have to do it. It’s one thing to accept impossibilities on a remote level of consciousness, but it has to become real to me. There’s too much at stake. I’m too tired now to comprehend all the ramifications.”
“If you won’t leave yourself, will you at least allow me to take Andrew? Gunner is waiting downstairs and can get the baby away from here before Bardot arrives. You know you can trust Gunner to take good care of Andrew.”
Yes, she could trust Gunner, but could she bear to part with Andrew? Of course she could. She had no right to put her son in danger because she needed more assurance. “All right.” She rose to her feet and went over to the bed where Andrew still slept peacefully. “Gunner can take Andrew. I’ll bring him down stairs right away.”
“Good.” Jon stood up and turned toward the door. “I’ll go give Gunner instructions about our rendezvous later.”
Five minutes later when Elizabeth came downstairs, Jon and Gunner were waiting in the foyer.
“Hi, I hear Andrew and I are going to have a chance to finish our book.” Gunner smiled as he took Andrew’s blanket-swathed body from her. “I had a hunch we would. I just happened to have brought old Einstein with me.”
“That’s wonderful.” Her hands lingered as she tucked the blanket more securely about her son. Heavens, she didn’t want to let him go. “Keep him safe, Gunner.”
“I will.”
“Someone may try to stop you when they see you leave the cottage with Andrew. There may even be a roadblock.” Jon met Gunner’s gaze steadily. “Don’t risk defending him by the usual means. While Andrew is in your custody, you have permission to ignore the raznal.”
Gunner’s eyes widened in shock. Then he gave a low whistle of delight and appreciation. “I was wondering if you’d lift the ban. It won’t be as much fun, but I guess it will be safer for Andrew. I’ll see you later when we rendezvous.” He turned away, his arms tightening around the baby. “Gome on, kid. Let’s go get ’em.”
Elizabeth watched as Gunner got into the truck and strapped Andrew into his car seat. “He will be safe, won’t he?”
“Perfectly safe,” Jon said. “I wouldn’t have let Gunner take him if I hadn’t been sure of his safety.”
“What does raznal mean?”
Jon hesitated. “It’s something like a taboo, only infinitely stronger.”
“What kind of taboo?”
“I’l explain later.” Jon’s lips twisted in a crooked smile. “I think you’ve had enough to absorb for the time being.”
Gunner started to back the truck out of the driveway, and she turned away with a weary sigh. “Perhaps you’re right, I do seem to have an overabundance of facts on my mind at the moment. But that doesn’t mean you’re going to get away with dribbling bits of information to me as you see fit. There are a hell of a lot of questions I need answered, and you’re going to supply the answers.”
“I have no objections.” He closed the door. “I want to answer your questions. It will be a relief. Once everything is out in the open, maybe you’ll be able to trust me again.”
“Perhaps.”
He flinched, and she felt a sharp twinge of remorse beneath the numbness she was experiencing. Is this what emotional burnout felt like? She had gone through so much upheaval that she couldn’t feel anything anymore.
The pain in his expression was quickly shuttered. “Well, shall we go into the sitting room and wait for Bardot? He should show up within the next ten minutes.”
She shook her head. “I’ll wait in the sitting room, you go upstairs and wait in my bed room. I’ll join you as soon as I’ve finished with Bardot.”
He frowned. “The hell I will. I’m not leaving you alone with that bastard.”
“You have no choice. This is my home and I’m going to face Bardot alone.” She gazed at him, her eyes blazing. “I won’t allow you to interfere any longer, Jon. I was catapulted int
o this situation without being asked, but now that I’m in it, I refuse to act like a puppet. I’ll never be manipulated by you again.”
He stood glaring at her. “Dammit, why the hell are you so stubborn? I only want to do what’s best for you.”
“Stubbornness is an old, revered Yankee characteristic, and so is independence. You ought to appreciate those qualities in my genetic makeup.” She smiled sadly. “You Garvanians seem very hung up on that kind of thing. Now leave me alone. Stay out of my battles unless you receive an invitation.”
“Beth …” He stood looking at her in frustration and anger. Then he whirled around and headed for the stairs barely able to control his violent emotions. “All right, fight your own battles. I’ll be upstairs with the door open. If I hear even a loud word, I’m coming back down.”
“I don’t suppose you have a gun?”
He looked at her in surprise. “Would you use it, if I did?”
“I don’t know. I once thought I could never tolerate the idea of hurting another human being. Now… Andrew …” Her expression reflected both her bewilderment and sadness. “I just don’t know.”
“I don’t have a gun, Elizabeth. We don’t need guns,” Jon said gently. “Someday I hope no one will.” He began climbing the stairs. “Don’t let Bardot give you too much flack be fore you bring your meeting to an end.”
“Come in, Mr. Bardot. I’ve been waiting for you.” Elizabeth glanced at the two men who flanked Bardot. “The invitation doesn’t include your friends. Tell them to wait in the car.”
“You’re damn cocky for a woman in such a vulnerable position,” Karl Bardot said with a growl. He looked over his shoulder, and spoke to his assistants. “Go wait in the car. You’ll get to know the lady soon enough.” He smiled un pleasantly. “In fact, you’ll practically be room mates.”
The shorter of the two men snickered, and then he and his cohort sauntered back to the sedan parked in the driveway.
“Satisfied?” Bardot drawled.
Elizabeth nodded as she stepped aside so he could enter. “No amenities this time, Mr. Bar-dot.” She shut the door and leaned back against it. “I’ll be very frank. I let you in for only one reason. I want answers.”
“You let me in because you knew you couldn’t keep me out. And I let you have your moment of power, because I want an answer too. What happened to my men?”
“Your men?”
“Don’t play innocent with me. I’m talking about the men I had watching this house. They radioed me that they had seen a man leave the cottage carrying a baby. I ordered them to intercept and capture him.”
Elizabeth felt the breath leave her body. “And?”
Bardot’s jowls firmed as he gritted his teeth. “Where are they, dammit? That was the last transmission we had from them. We can’t reach them on the radio, and there was no sign of anyone on the road. What have you done with them?”
“I have no idea.” She was almost faint with relief. Andrew and Gunner were safe. How in the world had Gunner managed it? She wondered.
“The hell you don’t. You came back here bold as brass with your brat in tow—”
“If you’re speaking about my son, please show a little respect. I dislike hearing him referred to as a brat.” She smiled coolly. “And why shouldn’t I come back? This is my home.”
“Not for long. Not after I prove what you are.”
“And what am I, Mr. Bardot?”
“An accessory to the plot.”
“What plot?”
“The plot to take us over.”
Elizabeth drew a deep, shaky breath. She had wanted the situation to become real to her, and she was certainly getting her wish. Nothing could be more real than the pale blue eyes that were glaring venomously into her own.
“You spoke of an autopsy report on my husband. Proof of his uniqueness. What did you mean by that?”
He laughed harshly. “You know what I meant. You know what the report said.”
“Do I? Why don’t you tell me?”
“Your husband wasn’t like us. He was a freak.”
“You’re saying he had physical abnormalities?”
“I’m saying he was a damn freak. There were actual alterations to the cells of his brain.”
“Perhaps the report was in error.”
“That’s what you want us to believe. That’s why you had Ramsey’s body cremated so quickly after the autopsy. The report wasn’t in error, but you didn’t want us to be able to double check the findings, much less to have physical evidence. We’ve been aware for years what those creeps in Said Ababa have been up to. We even knew when they began to infiltrate us.”
“I don’t believe you. Even if Mark was what you say he was, why would you try to persecute him? Why wouldn’t you welcome him?”
Bardot stared at her as if he were dumbfounded. “He was the enemy. He was different. If he’d meant to do good by us, why didn’t he march right up and knock on the White House door, instead of sneaking around under cover?”
“Perhaps because he realized the world has a great many Karl Bardots,” she said wearily.
“That’s what I’d expect from a slut who’d marry a freak like Ramsey.”
She straightened. “Mark was not a freak. He was everything kind and …” She stopped. It was no use. Bardot’s mind was closed too tightly to yield to either truth or reason. “I believe we’ve said all there is to say. Please leave.”
His lips curled. “Not this time. You’re coming with me. Do I have to call my men or are you going to come peacefully?”
Elizabeth had been expecting this reaction. “Since you put it that way, I’ll have to come. You offered to let me pack a suitcase the last time. Is the offer still good?”
He looked surprised and a little uneasy at her swift acquiescence. “I guess that would be all right.” He crossed the few feet to the front door. “But don’t think you have a chance of escaping. I have men at both the front and back doors. I’ll give you ten minutes, and then we’re coming in after you.”
Elizabeth held her breath until the front door closed behind him. Ten minutes. Only ten minutes. She ran to the front door and slid the safety bolt shut. Then she ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
Jon was at the bedroom door before she reached it. “Well, is it real enough for you now?”
“Yes.” Elizabeth ran to the window seat, kneeled and threw open the casement windows. “It couldn’t be more real, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let that idiot get his hands on you or Andrew or Gunner.”
He smiled. “I’m glad Gunner and I are on your protected list. However, I might remind you he doesn’t realize who Gunner and I are yet. You’re the one who is in danger.”
“From what Bardot told me, he may know more than you think he does,” she said. “How long do you think it would take him to find out you’re one of the Clanad after he captured you?”
“That’s a good point.” He was frowning as he watched her pull off her boots. “May I ask what in the world you’re doing?”
“We have to get out of here. You’d better leave your coat. It will only weigh you down in the water. Hurry!”
He automatically shrugged out of his jacket. “I assume we’re going for a swim. How are we going to get to the stream? It’s a two-story drop and someone’s bound to hear the splash if we dive.”
“We’re not going to dive. We’re going to ride the paddles of the wheel down.”
“The paddles?” He suddenly began to chuckle. “Now I truly believe the committee’s report on you, Elizabeth Cartwright Ramsey. Strength and initiative, they said.” His eyes danced with amusement. “I’d say your plan demonstrates that they hit it right on the genetic bull’s-eye.”
“Genes, again?” she asked tartly. “Here we call it good old Yankee know-how.” She balanced on the window seat. “Follow me.”
“Beth, we don’t have to do this. It’s not necessary. I can—” He broke off.
She glanced at him over her s
houlder. “What?”
He gazed at her silently for a moment, as a series of emotions showed on his face. “Nothing.” He smiled curiously. “Nothing at all. I’ll be glad to follow you.” He kicked off his boots and crossed the room in his stockinged feet. “Anywhere. Lead on, my dear Yankee.”
“PUT YOUR FEET ON A PADDLE FIRST, AND THEN as the wheel goes down, grab another paddle with your hands and hold on for dear life.” She scooted to the edge of the windowsill. “You have to hop a little to mount the wheel.”
“Your expertise in this area is truly amazing.”
“I grew up in this house. Do you think that as a child I could have resisted the temptation to play on a real oak paddle wheel? Every summer I would—” She jumped and landed on a paddle, immediately grabbing onto another, which was at eye level. The wood was wet and slippery beneath her palms. “Hurry,” she whispered.
The paddle creaked beneath her weight but held Arm. She felt the wheel jerk as Jon landed on a paddle somewhere above her.
The wind cut through the bulky wool of her thigh-length sweater. Gold. So cold. But not as cold as it was going to be. The still waters of the stream were just below her, coming closer every second as the wheel slowly rotated.
Finally the paddle she was riding entered the water.
She inhaled sharply as the icy water took her breath away and sent stabbing icicles of shock through her veins. She released the paddle and started to swim as quietly as she could away from the cottage. Her every movement was labored, as she forced her numbed arms to cleave through the water.
“All right?” Jon whispered. He was beside her now.
“Yes.” Her answer was slurred. “But I think we’d better get out of the water as soon as we can. It’s dangerous to be immersed in temperatures this cold for too long. Do you think we’re out of sight? I wanted to get to the woods but…”
“Hush. Don’t try to talk.” His arm was around her waist as he headed for the bank. “Lean on me. I’ll have you out of this water in a minute.”
His movements were strong as he swam easily through the water. The cold didn’t seem to be affecting him at all, she thought hazily. How could that be? He should be feeling the extremely low temperature of the water more acutely than she. He had said his country was warmer…
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