Thirty
Artemas was waiting by the doors to a private entrance below his rooms, and he flung them open before she stepped from the truck. She wore a simple gray dress and low pumps, with no coat. Snowflakes dusted the bright red mass of her upswept hair. He went down the stone steps to her, took one look at the fatigue and sorrow in her eyes, quickly put his arm around her, and led her upstairs. When they were inside an anteroom to the main suite, he brushed his fingertips over her hair and kissed her gently. “Rest a few minutes. I’ll get you a drink.”
“No, I’d just like to sit down a minute.” Her hand wrapped in his, they walked into the library, and she sat
on
a couch before the fireplace, rubbing her arms through the dress’s long, slender sleeves. He settled beside her and took her cold hands. “I wish I could make you feel more comfortable—that this could be easier.”
Lily leaned her forehead against his. “I’m fresh out of inspiration.” The defeat in her voice made him tilt her head back and study her shrewdly. “You’ve had trouble with Mr. Estes today.”
She nodded. She told him what had happened. He sat back on the couch, steepled a hand to his forehead, and listened, his eyes darkening. When she finished, he said,
“Don’t ask me not to fight this. I’ll talk to him. I’ll offer him money Whatever he wants for himself, or Joe—”
“My fight, my home, my decision,” she said, shaking her head. She stroked a hand over his hair to soften the words. “Stay out of it.”
“Not this time. You’re not going to lose everything again because of me.”
Lily grasped his shoulders. Staring at him hard, she said, “It’s just a damned piece of land. Just dirt and trees and sentimental stories”—her voice broke—“and I’m done with it.
Done
with it. It will never be more important to me than you are.”
Artemas stood quickly and pulled her up with him. “There’s one thing I
can
do, and it’s what I want more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life.” His eyes were harsh but loving. “After my grandfather died, my grandmother lived alone in this house with her dreams, believing that someday someone would love this place and fill it with the kind of happiness she’d lost.”
Lily rested her hands over the center of his chest and looked up at him tenderly “She found that someone. You.”
“No. You and me.” He reached inside his jacket and took something from the pocket.
The ring had the unusual hue of old rose gold. Filigreed tendrils of gold as delicate as willow branches held a cluster of small diamonds and sapphires. “This was my grandmother’s engagement ring.” When Lily made a low sound of distress, he touched a fingertip to her lips, a silencing caress.
“Don’t say it’s too soon—not when it’s been the path we’ve followed from the first day you looked up at me with those blue eyes.” Watching her reaction intensely, every nuance measured, loved, and, finally, assured, he took her left hand and slipped the ring into place. “Welcome home,” he said.
James and the others waited in a room that radiated comfort and old-world charm, evocative of class as well as money, dark woods soaring to high ceilings, soft old Aubusson
rugs covering the polished floor, and deep chairs as plush as a king’s robes. The snow filtered silver light through tall, arched windows.
Their conversation halted as a heavy door swung open with a slow, melodic purr of fine wood on well-oiled hinges. Artemas entered the room with Lily beside him. James watched the way they moved, close without touching, in sync, intimacy and strength wrapping them in an invisible bond. Grief stabbed him. He and Alise had been that way once.
Lily went to Elizabeth, squeezed her outstretched hand, then to Michael, and Tamberlaine.
Tamberlaine held out his hands to her. “I only pray you can forgive one well-intentioned breach of confidence.”
Arte mas watched, close by. Lily took Tamberlaine’s dark hands and gave him a pensive but affectionate look. His anxious expression relaxed a little. “I’ve waited years to make up to you for the part I played in hurting your relationship with Artemas,” he said. “Have I done it?”
Her throat tight, Lily nodded. “Thank you.”
“I see the concern in your eyes. Please trust me on this as well.”
“I’m trying very hard to hope for the best.”
He added softly, “I also see the remarkable strength and love you share with Artemas.”
Cass rose from the couch, faced Lily with a curious, almost pleasant expression in her eyes, and said, “I suppose Artemas explained what’s happened between Dr. Sikes and me.”
“Yes.”
“You told John Lee everything you knew about me, after that first, disastrous encounter we had. You gave him a lot of ammunition.”
“Looks like he hit the target.”
Cass’s eyes flickered with approval. Her pleasure over John Lee and their baby was impossible to contain. For the first time in her life there were no sharp edges.
Lily turned toward James. He returned her scrutiny
without a hint of warmth. She stepped closer to him. A muscle worked in her throat. “I want you to know something,” she told him. “Before anything else is said today.” She paused, wincing a little, then continued, “My husband was a good person, with good motives, but he could have prevented what happened at the Colebrook Building, and he didn’t. I’ll never ask you to forgive him.”
“Lily, don’t,” Artemas said, coming to her. He took her arm and gave her a troubled look. “Not this way.”
James felt as if a fist had slammed into his stomach. “Why the confession?” he asked. Regardless of all Tamberlaine had told them about her and Artemas, he’d gone too far to retreat now. “Second thoughts?” he said, his voice tight. “Or has it merely become convenient to demonstrate a change of heart?”
Her sharp inhalation cut through the silence. Artemas pushed between them. “You’ve walked a very thin line with me for a long time,” he said to James, his voice low and brutally controlled. “I’ve pampered you because of your leg. That’s not pity,” he added, as James tensed. “I made allowances for your bitterness, and I tried to understand it.”
“Don’t patronize me,” James answered through clenched teeth. “I despise it.”
“Then stop acting as if your injury excuses every goddamned cruel word you say to the rest of us.”
James went still as a statue, unyielding, his stony gaze shifting to Lily’s resigned one. He felt the truth in his brother’s assessment—it burned. A lifetime of rigid, defensive pride refused to let him say so. His silence was the only sign of truce. A veneer of disgust as hard as diamonds gleamed in Artemas’s eyes. Artemas turned from him abruptly.
James’s gaze remained locked on him as Artemas touched a hand to Lily’s back, guiding her to a chair. As she sat down, she and he shared a brief, private glance as loving as it was tormented. Any doubts James had about the nature of their relationship evaporated. What
Tamberlaine had said was true. They had loved each other since childhood.
“Begin, please,” Artemas said to Tamberlaine.
Tamberlaine went to a writing desk between the room’s windows and unlocked its shallow drawer. There were looks of bewilderment among the family as he removed a small, sleek answering machine and plugged its cord into a wall outlet.
Lily clutched the arms of her chair. Her nerves were brittle. Artemas positioned himself beside her. He rested a hand on her shoulder.
Tamberlaine faced James and the others. Then, his magisterial voice flowing with a measured cadence, he told them how she’d come to him with the tape, and whose conversations it had revealed.
“What kind of conversations?” Elizabeth asked. Her stunned expression mirrored Michael’s and Cassandra’s. James’s eyes had become even more chilling and alert.
Michael stared at the answering machine. “Julia’s voice is on that tape? Why?”
Tamberlaine hesitated. Sorrow radiated from him. He seemed to have trouble answering.
Artemas said for him, “There were discussions about possible hazards involving the bridge.”
Lily had to force herself to look at the others, as they realized the implication. Horror. Denial. Pain. It was as if Julia were dying before their eyes, again. James made a stiff movement forward, then halted. “Are you saying … you’re saying Julia knew it might not be safe?”
Artemas’s hand tightened on Lily’s shoulder. “Yes. She knew. She insisted on going ahead with the building’s dedication.”
Elizabeth cried out. Cass wavered, then sat down limply on the couch. Michael stared at Artemas in speechless supplication. James whipped toward Lily. “You think we’ll believe this? You drop some contrived revelation about Julia in our laps and expect us to accept it without question?”
“There’s so much more to the truth than simple blame
or exoneration. I’m not asking you to pass judgment on your sister.”
“Lily didn’t want any of you—or me—to know about this tape,” Artemas said.
Tamberlaine cleared his throat. “That’s true. I urged Lily to give the tape to Artemas, and she refused. I was the one who revealed its existence to him.”
Cass bent forward, her hands splayed toward Lily. “Why did you feel that way about it?”
Lily found herself looking at Elizabeth instead. “When you hear it, I hope you’ll understand. Julia was a complicated woman, and she was too emotionally involved to be objective. She didn’t see the danger. She despised Frank, but she wanted to believe him. He convinced her to ignore Richard’s warnings.”
The confusion drained from Elizabeth’s ashen face. The secret torment she and Julia had suffered as children hovered in the gaze she and Lily traded. She knew why Lily was protecting Julia.
James made a low sound of dismissal. “You seem to have developed the most mysterious intuition about our sister.”
“Be quiet!” Elizabeth ordered, her voice strained. She sat on the edge of her chair, trembling, her eyes filling with tears. “Play the tape. I have to hear what Julia said.”
Michael strode to James and gripped his arm. “Save your questions until we’ve listened to it.”
For the first time James seemed shaken. He pulled away from Michael and crossed the room to Tamberlaine. Leaning on the table, he braced his hands on either side of the answering machine. “Go ahead.”
Lily looked up at Artemas. He met her gaze. His large gray eyes were shadowed.
The tape whirred. Lily shut her eyes. The answers to nearly two years of terrible doubts and recriminations began to unfold. Frank’s angry, determined voice burst forth.
You stupid bastard, why did you tell Julia about the bridge
?
Lily glanced at each face around her. The drama played out in their eyes, and she saw the devastation. A half hour
later, when silence replaced the eerie voices, Tamberlaine turned the answering machine off and sat down, massaging the deep grooves of tension in his forehead.
Since no one else seemed capable of speaking, Cass bent her head to her hands and asked, her voice hollow, “What now?”
Artemas looked at them all sadly. Lily saw a lifetime of authority and grace, the leadership that had been pressed on him as a child, now coming to its harshest test. “We talk. We cry. We forgive.”
Michael leaned back in a chair and exhaled. “I’m glad we know.”
“What do we know?” James countered. He looked at Lily. “We know that your husband and the others convinced her that the bridge was safe.”
Artemas’s eyes narrowed. “We know that she ignored Richard’s warnings and badgered him to accept Stockman and Grant’s assessment of the risk.”
James cursed. “You can condemn her for accepting recommendations on technical matters no layperson could judge?”
“I don’t condemn her. She made a mistake—a mistake that turned out to be disastrous. I believe she was driven by reckless pride. Nothing mattered to her but seeing the building open on schedule. I wish to God I could understand how she justified it. I wish I knew why she didn’t simply come to us and explain that the opening needed to be delayed. No one would have accused her of mishandling the project.” Weariness settled on him, slumping his shoulders. “That’s the question we’ll never be able to answer—why she felt she couldn’t ask for our help and advice.”
James smashed a fist onto the answering machine. The plastic shell gave way with an ominous cracking sound. Artemas reached him as he pounded the device again. Slinging off Artemas’s hands, his face contorted with rage and grief, James limped to a window and stood with his back turned, gripping the handsome wooden casing, his head bowed.
Elizabeth moaned. “It’s hard—you become so accustomed to thinking no one can possibly understand your feelings—your feelings about
anything
. You become so afraid to admit any doubt. Your self-image is so fragile and confused. You think,
I have to keep everyone from knowing how terrible I am
. There’s no room to ask for help.”
Her rambling speech brought anxious looks from the others. James turned quickly, staring at her. Michael knelt by her chair and put his arm around her. “Easy now, Lizbeth,” he said carefully. “What are you trying to say?”
“I’m not losing my mind,” she answered with dull conviction. “I’m trying to tell you—God, I’m trying”—her gaze shifted to Lily—“I think I know why Julia couldn’t trust anyone in a crisis. Lily,
you
know what I mean. That must be why you don’t hate her. You understood.” Lily froze, recoiling from the tragic decision in Elizabeth’s eyes.
No, don’t, they’re hurting so much already
. But she couldn’t say that to Elizabeth, couldn’t ask her to hide the final piece of the puzzle.
“Lizbeth, what are you talking about?” Cass demanded brokenly.
Elizabeth got to her feet. Lily felt smothered by dread. There was no room to breathe.
There was only the crumpling of Elizabeth’s defenses and her low, raw voice. Certain words had a sick power that overwhelmed the rest.
Father. At night. Julia and I. Mother let it happen
. Even though Lily already knew Elizabeth’s story, each word stabbed her. How much worse was it for Artemas, who was hearing it for the first time? She went to him, watching his face, taking his hand gently.