Tempestuous Eden (34 page)

He stood silently in the chill morning for a moment, watching as the silver car became a tiny speck. “I’ll be damned,” he muttered finally, brooding motionlessly despite the sting of the chill against his bare damp flesh. He was furious, but also touched by a dry admiration. She hadn’t made a single mistake; she had coerced him, manipulated him perfectly. She had lied with the sweetest of smiles.

And as she had expected, he understood her message.

Tensing his jaw, he moved back into the house. He picked up the phone and touched a single digit; a pre-set number. “Taylor here,” he said tonelessly. “I need a pickup.”

He set the phone down and began to dress. He stuffed all necessary papers into the pockets of a short ski jacket, noticing without a blink that his trench coat was gone.

At least she hadn’t lit out stark naked, he thought with a certain jealous relief. He almost smiled, wondering how Huntington was going to react when Blair walked in like a flasher.

He had a feeling Huntington wouldn’t even lift a dignified brow. Huntington was on his side. Well, maybe not on his side, but Huntington loved his daughter above all else. If Huntington had his way, Craig believed, he would be gift-wrapped right now. One C. Taylor, tied up in bows.

He was glad Huntington didn’t have complete control. Blair was right about one thing; he couldn’t handle it that way. He did have to be his own man; he had to make his own choices. It would have been nice if she would have believed in him.

He had a little time left after packing. He picked up the clothing scattered around his living room, then sat down and stared at the ashes of the fire, unable to stop the memories of how rampantly it had burned through the night.

He found the small tiara that highlighted the coiled piles of her hair the night before. Twisting it in his hands, he felt his lips curl into a grim lock of determination. He shook his head half tenderly, half fiercely.

“It’s not over, princess,” he murmured. “Not by a long shot. I will be back.”

He heard the car coming for him and carefully placed the tiara on the fur before the ashes of the fire. Walking to the door, he glanced back to the room once more.

“I will be back,” he repeated softly aloud. “And princess, you won’t be able to find a place in heaven or earth to hide.”

It was with a trace of dry amusement that he closed his door. Little witch. Stole his damned car. She was surely going to pay for that one. Another one for the boys in S.S. if the story ever got out. Taylor bested by a slip of a girl.

Taylor, he decided wryly of himself, had been bested by a slip of a girl.

A woman.

His
princess.

A
NDREW HUNTINGTON WAS EVERY
bit as cool about his daughter’s appearance as Craig had expected.

Blair was a bit ruffled. She had forgotten all about her father until she was unlatching the door and entering his living room.

But he didn’t say a word. He didn’t even blink. He said a brisk good-morning and mentioned that there was coffee in the kitchen. He brushed her forehead with a kiss and promised to be home early for dinner before leaving in his customary quiet suit and tie, as if she were clad in everyday leisurewear.

As a father, Blair decided with drained relief and gratification, he was definitely an A-plus with gold stars.

Alone in the house, Blair poured herself a cup of coffee and climbed the steps to her room, intending to shower. But she didn’t, not right away. Although memory carried the sting of torture, she wanted to remember. She wanted to hoard the night; she couldn’t bear the thought of immediately washing away the scent that was Taylor, which still clung to her skin.

Blair stayed in the town house for three days straight, functioning, walking, talking, breathing, sitting quietly with her father at night, playing chess, sometimes merely reading with him in his study while he worked.

She didn’t cry. She was empty. At night she would stare long at her ceiling, and no matter how she tried to convince herself that she had taken the only course possible, she would be unable to prevent herself from plaguing her mind with ifs.

But Craig was gone. She had firmly slammed a door in his face. It was now really unlikely that she would see him again, at least not for years, and then they would meet as strangers at some casual function; their love would be a distant thing of youth and passion, something they might both smile over with a futile poignancy.

If he lived that long.

She didn’t want to know if and when Craig made a mistake and paid the highest price his country could ask.

And she didn’t want to know where he had gone—no one would tell her anyway, she was sure—and she didn’t want to know when he would be back. Not at first anyway.

On the fourth day after his departure she forced herself to meet a few friends from nearby Johns Hopkins for lunch. During the meal she was urged to accept a post in research under a well-known psychologist.

Explaining that it would have to be temporary, Blair accepted. She was going crazy with little to do but care for the town house and her eternally busy father. And all her free hours were plagued by images of Craig and all that she had determined that she had to throw away.

Still, time passed slowly. Her research was tedious, her contact for the project was limited to rats. She had never been overly fond of lab work, and she had already spent years studying the behavior of the little rodents, also chimps, rhesus monkeys, and so forth.

She longed to return to the Hunger Crew. Miles and miles away. A place where she had once found solace because she had been so needed that her life had consisted solely of constant, rewarding work. But she had made her father a promise, and neither was she a witless idiot. She had to sit tight and wait.

Craig’s car had disappeared from the town house garage the day she had brought it home.

She had known it would, quietly and efficiently. Nothing was ever said to her by her father or Merrill, who joined them occasionally for dinner. She wondered sometimes if she wished Craig would make another surprise appearance, and she admitted that a part of her prayed such a thing would happen. There were times when she desperately wished she could get a message to Craig. She had composed its contents in her head a million times.
I can’t marry you, I can’t wait for you, but oh, God, other than that, I’d take anything, give anything just to see you, just to hold you close occasionally.

No, the clean split had been right. Craig never appeared, and Merrill never once mentioned his number-one man.

Nor did Andrew Huntington ever bring up the name.

It was a day in late June when Andrew Huntington returned home from work to seek out his daughter with both a certain pain and a happy relief. He was going to miss her terribly, but he knew that she needed to go. Her delicate face had been growing more and more pale and gaunt; although she always maintained a cheerful demeanor for him, he knew that she was lonely and miserable.

And it wasn’t in his power to reassure her. Only Craig could do that, and only when the time came. He hadn’t known what had passed between the two; he could only believe that Craig did love his daughter and that the man was attempting to set things straight. But although he was a perpetual optimist, Andrew Huntington had long ago learned that false promises and guarantees were far more painful than silence and truth.

And he couldn’t promise her Craig’s return.

But he could give her an all-clear to return to Central America. The relief and happiness in her haunted eyes at his announcement helped relieve the pain in his heart that she would be leaving him again.

She was an adult, he knew. He couldn’t hang on; he couldn’t live her life.

“I’ll make arrangements to get you back in a week or so, okay?” he inquired, forcing a cheerful smile.

“Wonderful,” Blair murmured. “Thanks, Dad.”

They dined out that night, danced, then played chess until two
A.M
. They were lucky, Huntington finally admitted to himself. Love wasn’t limited by the miles, but by the heart. And no father in the world could be more blessed, or more proud.

Blair announced her resignation the following morning, and then tried to set to work as usual. She was even able to feel a bit more amiable toward her rats. She felt like one of the tiny rodents—caged. Would the miles help to break the barriers of the caged constriction that was her heart? Surely. Time, she told herself, time and distance—the healers of wounds.

She was surprised and puzzled when the friendly doctor she assisted announced that she had an emergency phone call.

And then she felt as if the constriction around her heart had become a boa that squeezed and squeezed. She felt faint, a blackness spinning before her eyes, an illness gripping her stomach. Her body felt like liquid. It was rubber; it wouldn’t function.

Craig. Something had happened. Someone had decided to let her know.

She could barely get the receiver to her ear; she had to struggle and swallow several times before rasping out a simple hello.

Relief overwhelmed her at first, making her, if possible, even weaker. Perhaps she did black out for a single second. She had to swallow again before issuing a stunned “Kate!” and asking her friend to slow down and repeat what she had said so far.

“I’m here, Blair, in Washington, and I need you! We only have a few hours. Brad is being shipped back out, and, oh, can you get here right away? It has to be you, Blair. I’m going to just be a wreck when it’s over. Perhaps we can go back together ourselves. What do you think? Oh, please, Blair—”

“Kate!” Blair finally managed to whip her shaking thoughts and weak-kneed relief and confused surprise together. “I’m here! I’ll help with whatever you need, but calm down. Brad
who
is being shipped where? What’s going on?”

She could hear Kate breathing deeply, trying to collect herself. “Brad, Blair, you remember him. He was with us when you disappeared. Brad Shearer. Oh, Blair, I am sorry. I should be asking how you are, except that I know everything is fine.”

“I am fine, Kate,” Blair assured her with a dry tug at her insides. “Go on.”

“I’m marrying him, Blair. Oh, God, I’ve never been so happy in my life! But you have to stand up for me. In two hours. We have so little time.”

Why was she surprised? Blair wondered. She had known Kate for years; she had known that when her friend did fall in love it would be impetuous, but hook, line, and sinker all the way.

“Kate,” she said cautiously. “You do know what Brad does for a living, don’t you?”

“Well, of course I do!” Kate exclaimed reproachfully. “Blair, I’m marrying him today. Why?”

“I—” Blair hesitated. She had no right to instill her own fears upon her friend, no right to ruin the blissful happiness. “I—I’m sorry, I guess I was just worrying for you.”

Kate was silent for a moment with empathy; she knew Blair was thinking of Ray. Or was she? Perhaps it was Craig that Blair feared for now. “Blair,” she said, suddenly quiet and serious. “How are you doing? Are you and Craig seeing each other now that all this is over? Did you know who he was all along?”

“No, I didn’t,” Blair said briefly, “and no, I’m not involved with him.” She tried an off-hand chuckle. “You know me, I go for the shy retiring type …” She paused for a second, unable to resist the question. “Kate, is Brad planning on quitting?”

Kate replied with a dry chuckle. “Brad is army, Blair. You don’t just quit the army.”

“No,” Blair murmured, “I suppose not.” She stood with the receiver still in her hand. “Tell me where you are, Kate. I’ll be right there. We’re holding up a wedding.”

Within an hour she had been excused by her easy-going supervisor and drove the short distance back to D.C. from the Maryland research institute. She stood witness to Kate’s wedding along with a friend of Brad’s, then shared a glass of champagne with the newlyweds, promising Kate discreetly that she would return when the few remaining hours the pair had together were over.

For all her bravado, Blair knew, that would be when Kate needed her.

Wandering the streets aimlessly to fill her own time, Blair decided to call her father and tell him the good news. She wasn’t surprised to have to wait for quite a while before he came to the phone, and in that time she thought of his work. He had kept her sheltered for so many years. Of course she hadn’t lived with him, except sporadically, for years. She had been with the crew, before that with Ray, before that in college.

She closed her eyes tightly for a moment. Her escapade had really drawn them close. Then she heard his voice, gentle as always when he spoke to her. She told him about the wedding, and that she would be out late, keeping Kate company. They chatted for a moment, then Blair found herself pensively silent, recalling what Kate had told her right before the service.

“I know there’s danger, Blair, but it doesn’t matter. I would rather have my time with Brad, whatever it is, than any guarantees for a lifetime. I know I haven’t been on the losing end as you have, Blair”—she had smiled with rueful sadness—“but I love Brad. And think about it. Yes, you lost Ray, but even for that pain, would you have given up all that the two of you did have?”

“Blair, are you there?”

Blair suddenly snapped back to the present at the sound of her father’s query. “Yes, Dad, I’m here. I—uh, nothing, Dad. See you in the morning.” She hung up the receiver, dismayed to find herself shaking. She had wanted to ask about Craig—and then she hadn’t been able to. No, she couldn’t question her father. She couldn’t allow him to know how she worried.

She glanced at the phone again. She could discreetly ask Merrill. She bit her lip, then decided to do so, only to be disappointed when a feminine voice told her Merrill was out of the office.

“May I take a message?” the girl asked politely.

“No … no … I guess not—”

“Is this Blair?” the girl suddenly inquired.

Startled, Blair frowned and hesitated. “Yes, this is Blair Teile.” She paused again, baffled. “Who is this?”

“Lorna. Lorna Patterson. We’ve met at several occasions.” Lorna didn’t mention that they had just met briefly at the chief’s party, that she had watched Blair that night, that she deciphered Craig’s problem.