Still Waters (20 page)

She put her arms around him and held him close. When she spoke, her voice was muffled against his slender shoulder. “I guess I couldn’t handle it after all.”

* * *

Outside on the sidewalk, Jenna broke down. She couldn’t help it. She hadn’t known what to expect when she started out today, but she definitely hadn’t thought that the day would end like this. She felt as if she’d gotten to the end of a long journey, only to find she was right back where she had started.

Evidently alarmed at standing on the street next to a weeping white woman, Alex ushered her to her car and opened the door for her. He slid in next to her, on the passenger side, and gave Jenna a handkerchief. “Dry your eyes,” he said. His voice was brusque but not unkind.

She took the neat square of clean white cloth and dabbed her eyes, trying to pull herself together. “I’m sorry,” she managed to say. “This isn’t like me. I never cry in front of strangers.”

His face took on a glint of irony. “We’re not strangers, Mrs. Appleton. We’re practically in-laws.”

Jenna managed a small smile. “Practically,” she said.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

“Are you sure you want to hear it?” Jenna twisted the handkerchief tightly between her hands.

“Probably not. But you can tell me anyway, if it will make you feel better.”

And Jenna did. In a quiet, direct voice, she laid out the truth as if she were setting a table. She didn’t spare herself any sympathy or try to excuse her actions. Place the blame to the right of the plate. Forks go on the left.

When she was finished, she looked him square in the face. “Your sister was right,” she said. “I had no call to bring my troubles to her doorstep. I was trying to make myself feel better, to give Bill and Kitty a substitute grandchild, or something like that. It was unfair.”

Alex offered no solace, but neither did he force recriminations on her. He merely looked at her with sympathy and waited for her to continue.

But Jenna had nothing left to say for herself. She touched his hand. “Thank you for listening,” she said softly.

He pulled away and glanced around automatically, looking to see if anyone was watching them. When he looked back at her, Jenna felt a flash of heat, a sudden awareness that this man she was sitting with was attractive and intelligent and very much like her in many ways. But she also felt the danger they could be in, just by sitting there together.

Alexander must have felt something too, because he reached out impulsively and clasped her hands in his own. “We live in dangerous times, Jenna.” His voice was low and fervent. “If you want to find happiness, you have to first find the things that make you feel safe. Grab them tight, and never let go.”

He released her abruptly and turned to look out the window. “You know how to get in touch with me,” he said roughly. “If you need anything, you can call me.”

And before she could say good-bye, he was gone.

Jenna sat slumped behind the steering wheel, clutching and un-clutching Alexander’s handkerchief in her trembling hands.
Find the things that make you feel safe,
he’d said.
Grab them tight, and never let go.

She sat and wondered if she would ever know what that meant for her.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
T
WO

S
EPTEMBER MOVED BRISKLY FORWARD AND BECAME
October. The warm damp of late summer finally gave way to the cool crispness of autumn, and across the Virginia landscape, the trees began to change.

Standing on Adam’s newly built back deck, Midge Geddes looked out over the riot of color that had erupted in his backyard. Tawny reds, golden yellows, flaming oranges. It was, she thought, as if the trees were dressing themselves up for the final joyous revelry of fall, before winter came and they retired in bare grace to await the spring. Or maybe they were just as excited about tonight as she was.

Midge had been anticipating that evening ever since she’d first heard that Adam Balentine had been hired to work on the Hollin Hills project. His house had been finished less than a week ago — in fact the paint was still tacky in places from recent touch-ups. But the completed house meant that Hollin Hills was still very much a dream that was being brought to life. And after the housewarming party tonight, the mystery plaguing her would be solved, and the world would look like a different place.

Or was that just the wine talking?

Midge drained her glass and set it carefully on the railing. Behind her, strains of music floated out through the open windows, carrying with them the sound of laughter. Though not yet dusk, already the party was going full-force, promising to carry forward through the night.

Midge had always considered herself a sensible girl. Her own lofty dreams were still firmly grounded in reality. The first thing she’d wanted for herself was a career that she enjoyed and that satisfied the restless artist that lurked in her soul. Second, she wanted a marriage that would provide her companionship, laughter, and good sex on a regular basis. Since she was willing to work as hard for the former as she would for the latter, she had no doubt that both would eventually be within her grasp.

But though Midge was ready and willing for her career to take off, she wasn’t yet prepared to commit herself to a marriage, or even to a serious romantic relationship. And that was why she was determined to get to the bottom of the mystery that had surrounded Adam since the day he had walked into the office.

If there was one thing in life that Midge understood, it was men. Most of them fell into two simple categories: Interested and Uninterested. Interested men flirted, bought you drinks, gave you the occasional friendly pat on the rear. Uninterested men had you filed in the “little sister” category, or they were homosexual or just too bored with life to care. But Adam didn’t seem to fit in either category.

Much of the time, Adam appeared to be Interested. Oh, there had been no overt flirtation, no “casual” touching. But Midge could tell in other ways. The way he looked at her when he thought she didn’t know he was looking. The special glimmer he sometimes got in his eye when she smiled at him. During the few times that they had gone out for drinks after work, Midge always had his undivided attention. His gaze didn’t wander or attach itself to the chest of the other women who walked by. Plus, he asked her questions about herself: about her family, her parents, her dreams. Oh yes, Adam definitely had all the marks of someone very Interested.

Except.

Except that if that were the case, he really should have asked her out by now. On an actual date, with flowers in his hand and candles on the table. Of course, it was always possible that Adam had reservations about dating someone that he worked with. But Midge’s feminine intuition told her that something else was going on. And her instinct had been confirmed a few weeks ago, when an exquisite painting had arrived at the office for Adam.

He had been out when the package was delivered, so Midge had signed for it in his absence. When the deliveryman was gone, she’d propped it up by her desk and stared, nearly eaten up with curiosity. She had never been the type to wait patiently to open presents; as a child, the days leading up to Christmas had been like torture for her, with all those mysterious packages under the tree. This one was no different, except that it was wrapped in plain brown paper, and from its shape, it could only be a certain number of things. Oh, and it wasn’t addressed to her, not that logic mattered in this particular situation.

The upper corner had a return address — some place in Arlington — but no name to go with it. She’d prodded the package shamelessly and had even run her fingers over its seams, wondering if she could “accidentally” unwrap a corner and catch a glimpse of what was inside. But no such luck. She’d had to wait several hours before Adam had returned to the office. When he’d removed the packing and Midge had seen the painting for the first time, her breath had caught in her throat. It was a remarkable piece of work: cool and beautiful, evoking a strange elation whenever she looked at it.

Adam had looked at the canvas for a long time before opening the note that had come with it. After reading the note he’d looked so sad that Midge’s first thought was that someone must have died.

She put out a hand and touched his arm. “Is everything all right?”

“The painting is from a friend,” he’d said. “It’s a farewell gift.”

Ah. Midge had understood what that meant: this present was from a woman. Someone that Adam cared for. Someone he couldn’t be with. Although it cleared up some of the mystery around him, in many ways it only deepened his inscrutability. But something told Midge that the woman would be at the party tonight. After all, how could she stay away?

From behind Midge came the sound of a door opening, and a familiar voice spoke. “Well there you are, my love,” Ray Ferguson said. “Everybody’s looking for you.”

“Is that right?” Midge smiled despite herself. Ray was already three sheets to the wind, but that was okay. He was a good drunk: sweet and funny, never mean or maudlin. She turned and slipped an arm through his. “Well, let’s go find everybody and see what they want.”

Outside, the light was fading, and the air was cool and sweet. In comparison, the inside of the house felt like a neon-lit steam oven. But allowing her eyes to wander over the clean lines of the rooms and furniture, Midge felt the harmony of her surroundings pervade her skin, and she quickly became comfortable.

She sighed with pleasure. She had helped create this place, and that knowledge gave her great satisfaction. The living room was long and narrow, with a wall of glass that overlooked the deck where she’d been only a moment ago. The other side of the room had built-in shelves, which had been stocked just that day with books Adam had bought on his travels, as well as an old set of encyclopedias from 1917, which had belonged to his father. That side also opened to the slate-floored foyer, where guests were continuing to arrive. The one guest in particular that Midge was waiting to see — the woman who had sent Adam the painting — had not yet arrived.

Midge’s arm was still looped through Ray Ferguson’s. He gave her hand a pat and smiled soddenly. “Come on, love,” he said. “I’ll fix you a drink.”

She extracted her fingers from his grip and gave him her most patient but no-nonsense look. “I have a better idea. Why don’t you have a cup of coffee? I made a fresh pot before I went out on the patio. It’s in the kitchen.”

Ray considered the suggestion carefully, swaying gently on his feet. “Okay,” he said at length. “Maybe it is time for a little jolt of java.”

“Good boy.” She grasped his shoulders and turned him in the direction of the kitchen, giving him a gentle push. He wandered happily off. Midge knew she would have to go check on him in a few minutes, but in the meantime, she should probably circulate and chat up the party guests.

She looked around, trying to decide which group to attach herself to. Let’s see, she’d already spoken with the man from the newspaper, and the mayor’s aide. Some of the other Hollin Hills residents were congregating around the bar, so maybe she should start there. Adam was standing in the corner with Mr. Davenport and one of his investors. He caught her eye and smiled. He knew was she was up to, and the twinkle in his eye told Midge that he was pleased she was here to play hostess.

A gust of cool air blew through the long room, announcing the entrance of another guest. Midge started toward the front door automatically, with a greeting already formed on her lips. But her words died when the latest arrival walked into the living room. Because this, without a doubt, was The Woman.

Later, Midge would ask herself how she knew that the new arrival was the woman who had given that painting to Adam. And truth be told, she wasn’t sure. She only knew that here was a person so unusual, so exotic, that she and the painting seemed to belong together.

On the surface, the woman’s appearance was not that extraordinary. She was beautiful, yes. Short, silky black hair was combed back from her face, with only a fringe of bangs to accentuate her remarkable eyes. Her dress was a burgundy brocade, cut close to hug her slender figure, with a shawl collar that narrowly brushed the edges of her shoulders. She wore a wrap made of black fur — mink, by Midge’s guess. But underneath that shimmering porcelain beauty was something dark, almost foreign. Midge had the sudden unpleasant feeling that if she stared at this woman long enough, another picture entirely would emerge: one of shadowy sadness and murky mysteries.

No wonder Adam’s so caught up in her, Midge thought. What man could resist that combination of blatant loveliness and secret sorrow?

Recovering her manners, Midge once again moved forward, her hand extended. “Hello, I’m Midge Geddes. I work with Adam. Can I take your wrap?”

“Thank you.” The woman smiled and removed her stole. “My name is Jenna Appleton. It’s lovely to meet you at last — Adam has said some wonderful things about you.”

Midge blushed, caught off-guard. “Well, that’s very kind of him.”

Jenna looked around, her face quiet with awe. “This is Adam’s house?” she whispered. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s magnificent.”

Midge followed her gaze, feeling fairly puffed with pride. “Yes.”