Sanctuary (50 page)

“Who else can? Who else will? I'm the only one left.”

“Nathan.” Kauffman let out a little sigh. “You were a bright, interesting child, and you have become a talented and intelligent young man. Too often when you were growing up, I saw you shoulder the responsibilities of others. You took on your brother's far too often for your own good, or for Kyle's. Don't make that mistake now over something you can neither change nor repair.”

“I've been telling myself that for the last couple of months. ‘Leave it alone, live your own life.' I'd decided not to dig into the past, to try to concentrate on the present and forge a future. There's a woman.”

“Ah.” Kauffman relaxed, eased back.

“I'm in love with her.”

“I'm delighted to hear it and would love to meet her. Has she been vacationing on that island you took yourself off to?”

“Not exactly. Her family lives there. She's spending some time. She's had . . . difficulties of her own. Actually I met her when we were children. When I saw her again ... well, to simplify, one thing led to another. I could have prevented it.” He moved to the window, to the view of Central Park, which was thick and green with summer. “Perhaps I should have.”

“Why would you deny yourself happiness?”

“There's something I know that affects her. If I tell her, she'll despise me. More, I don't know what it will do to her, emotionally.” Because the park made him think of the forest on Desire, he turned away from it. “Would it be better for her to go on believing something that hurts her but isn't true, or to know the truth and have to live with pain she might not be able to bear? I'll lose her if I tell her, and I don't know if I can live with myself if I don't.”

“Is she in love with you?”

“She's beginning to be. If I let things go on as they are, she will be.” A ghost of a smile flitted around his mouth. “She'd hate hearing me say that, as if it were inevitable. As if she had no control over it.”

Kauffman heard the warmth come back into Nathan's voice. The boy had always been his favorite, he admitted privately. Even among his own grandchildren. “Ah, an independent woman. Always more interesting—and more difficult.”

“She's fascinating, and she certainly isn't easy. She's strong, even when she's wounded, and she's been wounded enough. She's built a shell around herself, and since I've seen her again I've watched it crack, watched her open up. Maybe I've even helped that happen. And inside she's soft, giving.”

“You haven't once said what she looks like.” Kauffman found that to be the telling mark. Physical attraction had led him into three hot marriages, followed by three chilly divorces. More was needed for the long, often sweaty, haul.

“She's beautiful,” Nathan said simply. “She'd prefer to be ordinary, but it's impossible. Jo doesn't trust beauty. She trusts competency. And honesty,” Nathan finished, staring down into the brandy he'd barely touched, “I don't know what to do.”

“Truth is admirable, but it isn't always the answer. I can't tell you what choice to make, but I've always believed that love, when genuine, holds. Perhaps you should ask yourself which would be more loving, giving her the truth or remaining silent.”

“And if I remain silent, the foundation we build on will already have a crack. Still I'm the only one alive who can tell her, Doctor Kauffman.” Nathan lifted his gaze, and his eyes stormed with emotion. “I'm the only one left.”

 

 

NATHAN didn't return to the island the next day, or the day after. By the third day Jo had convinced herself it didn't matter. She was hardly sitting around waiting for him to sail across the sound and scoop her up like a pirate claiming his booty.

On the fourth day she was weepy, despising herself for wandering down to the ferry twice a day, hoping to catch sight of him.

By the end of a week she was furious, and spent a great deal of her time snapping at anyone who risked speaking to her. In the interest of restoring peace, Kate bearded the lion in Jo's room, where she had gone to sulk after a hissing match with Lexy.

“What in the world are you doing holed up indoors on such a pretty morning?” Moving briskly, Kate whisked back the curtains Jo had pulled over the windows. Sunlight beamed in.

“Enjoying my privacy. If you've come in here to try to convince me to apologize to Lexy, you're wasting your time.”

“You and Lexy can fight your own battles, just like always, as far as I'm concerned.” Kate put her hands on her hips. “But you'll mind your tone when you speak to me, young lady.”

“I beg your pardon,” Jo said coolly, “but this is my room.”

“I don't care if you're sitting on top of your own mountain, you won't bare your claws on me. Now I've been as patient as I know how to be these last few days, but you've mooned around and snarled around here long enough.”

“Then maybe it's time I should think about going home.”

“That's your decision to make. Oh, shake yourself loose, Jo Ellen,” Kate ordered with a snap in her own voice. “The man's only been gone a week, and he'll certainly be back.”

Jo firmed her jaw. “I don't know what, or whom, you're referring to.”

Before she could stop herself, Kate snorted. “Don't think you can out la-de-da me. I've been at it more years.” Kate sat down on the bed where Jo was sprawled under the pretense of selecting the final prints for her book. “A blind man on a galloping horse could see that Nathan Delaney's got you in a dither. And it's likely the best thing to happen to you in years.”

“I am not, in any way, any shape, any form, in a dither.”

“You're more than halfway in love with him, and it wouldn't surprise me in the least if he'd gone off like this to nudge you over the rest of the way.”

Since that hadn't occurred to her, Jo felt her blood heat to a boil. “Then he's made a very large miscalculation. Going off without a word is hardly the way to win my affections.”

“Then do you want him to know you've been moping around here the whole time he's been gone?” Kate lifted a brow as she saw the flush of anger heat Jo's cheeks. “There are plenty who'd be happy to tell him so if you keep this up. I'd hate for you to give him that satisfaction.”

“I don't intend to give him so much as the time of day, should he decide to come back.”

Kate patted Jo's knee. “I couldn't agree more.”

Wary of a trap, Jo narrowed her eyes. “I thought you liked him.”

“I do. I like him very much, but that doesn't mean I don't think he deserves a good swift kick in the rear end for making you unhappy. And I'd be mighty disappointed in you if you gave him the opportunity to crow over it. So get up,” she ordered, rising herself. “Go on about your business. Take your camera and go along. And when he comes back, all he'll see is that your life went on without him.”

“You're right. You're absolutely right. I'm going to call my publisher and give them the final go-ahead on the last prints. Then I'm going to go out, take some new shots. I've got an idea for another book.”

Kate smiled as Jo scrambled up and began to pull her shoes on. “That's wonderful. You'll have pictures of the island in it, then.”

“All of them. People this time, too. Faces. No one's going to accuse me of being lonely, of hiding behind the lens. I've got more than one facet to me.”

“Of course you do, sweetie pie. I'll get out of your way so you can get to work.” All but vibrating with the pleasure of success, Kate strolled out. Maybe now, she thought, they'd have some peace.

 

 

THE adrenaline carried Jo through that day and into the next. It fueled her, this new ambition. For the first time in her career, she hunted up faces with enthusiasm, began to study and dissect them. She thrilled at the way Giff's eyes twinkled under the brim of his cap, the way his hand gripped a hammer.

She hounded Brian in the kitchen, using charm when she could, threats when she couldn't, to draw the right expression, to produce the right body language.

Lexy was easy. She would pose endlessly. But Jo's favorite shot was one of Lexy and Giff, the foolishly happy expressions on their faces as Giff swept Lexy up to spin her in circles just on the edge of the garden.

She even trooped after her father, using silence to lull him into relaxing, then capturing the quiet thoughtfulness in his face as he looked out over the salt marsh.

“It's time you put that thing away.” Sam's brows drew together in irritated embarrassment as she aimed the camera at him again. “Run along and play with that somewhere else.”

“It stopped being play when they started paying me. Turn just a little to the right and look out toward the water.”

He didn't move a muscle. “I don't recollect you ever being such a pest before.”

“I'll have you know I'm a very famous photographer. Thousands cheer when I aim my lens.” She clicked quickly when a faint smile tugged at his mouth. “You're so handsome, Daddy. And you look so masterful out here.”

“You're so damned famous, you shouldn't have to flatter people to get their picture.”

She laughed and lowered the camera. “True enough. But you are handsome. I was taking some shots over at Elsie Pendleton's. The Widow Pendleton,” Jo added, wiggling her eyebrows. “She made a point to ask after you. Several times.”

“Elsie Pendleton's been looking for a man to replace the one she buried since she tossed the first handful of dirt on his coffin. It ain't by any means going to be me.”

“For which good sense your family thanks you.”

He found his lips trembling again, shook his head as much over the reaction as the cause. “You're awfully chipper today.”

“A nice change, don't you think? I got tired of myself.” She crouched down to change lenses. “And it occurred to me that a corner needed to be turned. Maybe coming here was the start of it.” She paused for a moment, just to look out over the shimmering marsh. “Facing some things, myself included. And realizing that maybe if I didn't feel loved, it was because I hadn't let anyone love me.”

She glanced up, saw that he was watching her, searching her face. “Don't look for her in me, Daddy.” Jo closed her eyes as the pain stabbed through her. “Don't look for her in me anymore. It hurts me when you do.”

“Jo Ellen—”

“All my life I've tried to stop looking like her. In college when the other girls were fussing and primping, I held back. If I fussed I'd have to look in the mirror. And I'd see her, just the way you do when you look at me.” Her eyes swam as she straightened. “What do I have to do, Daddy, to make you see who I am?”

“I do see. I can't help but see her too, but I do see you, Jo Ellen. Don't go spilling over on me here. I'm useless with that female stuff.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned away. “You get hold of yourself now. It's Lexy who leaks at the drop of a hat, not you. Damn girl'll leak if you look cross-eyed, and if she isn't leaking she's flouncing. She don't marry that Giff soon and get on with things, I'll lose my mind.”

Jo gave a watery chuckle. “Why, Daddy, I didn't know you loved her enough to let her drive you crazy.”

“ 'Course I love her. She's mine, isn't she?” He spoke gruffly and made himself turn back to face Jo. “So are you.”

“Yes.” She smiled and let the ache pass away. “So am I.”

 

 

WHEN the light no longer pleased her, Jo locked herself in her darkroom. There was excitement there as well. From film to negatives, from negatives to contacts. These she pored over, scrutinizing details, flaws, shadows through her loupe.

Out of a dozen she might select one that satisfied her strict requirements. Still, her drying line filled rapidly with prints she felt were worthy. When she came to an unmarked roll of film, she clicked her tongue in annoyance.

Careless of her, she thought. She set the timer, flicked off the lights, and began the developing process. The dark soothed her. She could move competently, even mechanically, by feel alone. Anticipation hummed. What would she see here, what would she find? What frozen moment would be preserved forever simply because she had chosen it?

She turned on the red bulb, washed the room in that eerie workman's lighting. And gave a choked cry that was part shock, part laughter as she stared at the negative of herself, nude, sprawled on Nathan's carpet.

“Jesus, that'll teach me not to mark film.”

She held up the roll, studying the other negatives. The ones she'd taken of the storm looked promising. And her mouth pursed as she examined the earlier shots, ones Nathan must have taken along the way.

There was one of dunes, across the meadow where the flowers were blooming and the sea beyond rolled in a high, frothy crest.

Decent composition, she mused. For an amateur. Of course if she bothered to take it to contact stage, she'd undoubtedly find several major flaws.

Her eyes were drawn back to the end of the roll. Her own face, her own body. Even as her hand reached for the scissors to destroy the negatives, she paused. Was she going to be that prudish, that stubborn, and not satisfy her own curiosity?

She was the only one who had to see them, after all.

On impulse, she set back to work. It couldn't hurt to make a set of contacts from the roll. She could destroy the ones of herself later. After she'd taken a good look at them.

She didn't hum along with the radio as she worked now. She felt too uneasy, and too excited, to hear the music that tinkled out.