Whirlwind (18 page)

“We don't have to talk about him. That's not where our problems began.”

“Maybe not. But that's what drove you away in the end, wasn't it? Your father's death.”

In the act of pouring boiling water over the tea, Liza splashed the counter and cursed softly under her breath. Sometimes her father seemed like a distant memory, almost as if he had never existed. His face, his voice, the way he walked or read his newspaper on the porch swing on summer evenings—those things Liza could hardly envision anymore. But the pain that squeezed up from inside her was real indeed.

She set the kettle down with a crack and faced her mother, suddenly ready to speak the truth. “Daddy's death didn't drive me away, Mother,” she said. “Your attitude did.”

Alyssa didn't speak. Her large eyes grew glassy with tears, though.

Liza planted her palms on the kitchen counter. “All right, I was upset when Daddy died. We all were! But
you
—you hardly shed a tear, did you? Sometimes I wondered if you ever really cared for him at all.”

“How can you say such a thing?”

“Because it's true!”

“Liza—”

“No, it's my turn to talk now! I've always wanted to say these things to you, but you never let me have a chance. Yes, I was angry with you, Mom! I couldn't believe the way you behaved when he died.”

“Was I supposed to throw myself on the pyre?”

“Of course not! But I expected some pretense of grief! A little compassion for—”

Still damnably cool-voiced, Alyssa said, “I don't expect you to understand how I felt, Liza. My relationship with Ronald was my business, not yours. How I grieved for my husband was—”

“Did you grieve at all?”

“Of course I did!”

“You never showed it.”

“Then you weren't very observant.”

“I was plenty observant! You played the charming hostess at the funeral. You even attended a charity dance the same week!”

“I could hardly avoid going. They gave your father an award for community service. It was painful, but—”

“You could have sent somebody in your place! It was a selfish, rotten thing to do to the rest of us. I hated you that
night, Mother. You left us alone with our grief and you got all dressed up and went to a dance! And Daddy hadn't been dead for a week! I hated you for that!”

A soft scrape sounded in the doorway, and Liza found herself whirling with her mother to see who had arrived in the kitchen. It was Cliff, standing stock-still ten feet away and looking comically guilty for materializing at such a melodramatic moment.

He cleared his throat and said, “Uh, hello.”

Alyssa backed up until she collided with the kitchen counter, then looked as if she wished she could melt through the floor.

Cliff said, “I'm sorry. I'll come back later.”

“No, no,” said Alyssa, collecting herself and going to his side. She drew Cliff into the room by slipping her hand around his arm. “Please, come in before one of us says something we'll regret.”

“At least it will be said,” Liza muttered. “I hate keeping things bottled up.”

Alyssa smiled at Cliff, which infuriated Liza even more. How could she pretend everything was all right? Cliff looked extremely uncomfortable and—as usual—as if he hadn't slept in months. His dark eyes were heavily ringed, and his illness had given him a slightly reddened nose.

Other than those details, however, he looked magnificent to Liza. His jeans hugged his narrow hips, and his plain, time-softened T-shirt gave her a chance to admire the ropy length of muscle in his arms and shoulders. He hadn't shaved yet, and the bristle on his face combined with his too-long hair gave Cliff a decidedly sexy, to-hell-with-it appearance on a summer's morning. Judging by the hammer that swung from his belt, he'd gotten in a few hours' work.

But just a few hours earlier, he'd cuddled Liza in his arms, kept her warm and safe through the night. Lying snug against his long body had felt better than she'd imagined.
And staring at him as he sauntered into the kitchen, Liza wanted nothing more than to throw her arms around his neck and kiss the stuffing out of him.

Not with her prim and proper mother standing there, however.

To Cliff, Alyssa said, “We're not an average family, are we, Cliff? Are you sorry you've gotten mixed up with us?”

“He's only sorry about getting mixed up with me,” Liza retorted, turning away before her mother saw how Cliff's arrival affected her. “Right, Forrester?”

Cliff heard the edge in Liza's voice and wasn't sure whom she was most angry with—Alyssa or himself. He'd walked in at exactly the wrong moment, of course, but he had a feeling she wasn't just furious with her mother. She refused to meet his eye.

With some surprise, Alyssa said, “
Are
you two mixed up with each other?”

Still sounding angry, Liza snapped, “That's my mother's polite way of asking if we've hit the sheets yet. No, we haven't, Mother.”

Last night shouldn't have happened,
Cliff told himself.
We went too far, and now everything's ruined before it even got started.

Liza turned her back on him, and the stiff set of her slender back sent Cliff all the message he needed. She wanted no part of him this morning. Why should she? She probably had men swarming all over her in Chicago. What would she want with a sleepwalking emotional cripple?

She thought he was a charity case, he supposed. She figured she could use her sex to ease his pain. Or maybe she really got her kicks from dangerous men. Clearly, Liza liked walking on the wild side. Which was it for her?

Part of him wanted to snatch Liza by her shoulders, whirl her around and make her understand how he felt. He
wanted
her, for God's sake! She was the first woman to affect him that way in a decade! Lord, how many hours
had he held her last night, listening to her breathe, aching to touch her body all over, wondering what her breasts felt like, fantasizing about the texture of her skin? But he'd settled for burying his face in her long hair and holding her tight.

And for the first night in hundreds, Cliff hadn't experienced a nightmare. It was magical. He'd actually slept for a while, then awakened early and decided he'd better get up before his desire for Liza overwhelmed both of them. She'd been so beautiful curled against his chest. So pliant. How easy it would have been to slip her clothes off, kiss her awake and slide himself into the sweet core of her soul.

But he'd played it safe, thank heaven, and crept out before she woke up. Good thing, too. Obviously, Liza didn't want any part of him this morning.

Alyssa flushed. “That's not what I meant at all! I only—”

“We're not mixed up with each other,” Cliff said gently. “We're just living under the same roof temporarily.”

Liza slammed a teacup down on the counter. “That's right. There's nothing going on between us.”

“Not a thing,” Cliff agreed.

Then he sneezed.

“Oh, Lord!” Liza groaned, spinning on him. “Don't do this again! Joe Santori already thinks we're passing germs back and forth—”

“It's your fault for bringing the germs in the first place!”

Cliff sneezed again and reached into his hip pocket for a handkerchief.

Liza said, “For heaven's sake, didn't you take a cold tablet this morning?”

“I forgot.”

She grabbed the bottle of tablets from the counter and pushed it at him. “What do I have to do? Shove the pills down your throat?”

“I can take care of myself!”

Their hands collided, fumbling for possession of the medicine bottle. Liza looked up, and at the moment their gazes clashed, Cliff realized he'd been wrong. She didn't despise him. Far from it. Liza was blushing like a teenager—a becoming pink that heightened the brilliance of her eyes—and her fingers began to tremble in his hands. Her mouth opened—that lovely, lush, delicious mouth of hers—but no sound came out.

Well, well,
Cliff thought, dazed by the desire he saw clearly in her eyes.
I've miscalculated again.

Liza drew back quickly, as if a spark had ignited when they touched.

Feigning a brusque temper she obviously wasn't feeling, she said, “Well, you're doing a lousy job of taking care of yourself. Did you have any breakfast?”

“Well...”

“You ought to be loading up on vitamin C, you know. I'll pour you some juice. Lots of liquids, that's important. I'll have to get some herbal tea, too, I suppose.”

“Don't do me any favors,” Cliff replied mildly.

“Favors! Who will suffer if you're sick for days?”

“I'm not going to be sick for days. I'm getting over it already. Stop fussing!”

“I'm not fussing!”

Smiling, Alyssa said, “You two sound like an old married couple.”

“We are not a couple!” Liza shouted.

Cliff couldn't help himself. He laughed at her.

Astonished, Alyssa looked at him and said, “Why, Cliff! I don't think I've ever heard this much conversation out of you at one time, and now you're actually—actually...”

“He laughs at me all the time,” Liza said in a grouchy voice. “Apparently I'm very comical.”

“You're not comical,” Cliff said. “Not all the time.”

She couldn't prevent a grudging smile. “I hoped to be taken seriously around here.”

“Believe me,” he replied, “I take you very seriously. And so does Joe Santori, by the way. He's been here for a couple of hours.”

“A couple of—! Why didn't you call me?”

“Because you needed some sleep. Joe started digging down by the lake to find out about the water pipes.”

“What did he find?”

“All kinds of stuff. He wants you to have a look. Maybe you ought to come, too, Alyssa. You probably know more about how things are laid out for the lodge.”

Alyssa's smiled faded. “Oh, no,” she said. “I don't know anything.”

“But the water pipes from the lake—”

“Really,” she insisted faintly. “I don't remember anything about Timberlake. I was a child. I just came to see Liza. I can't stay.”

“Well, how about the electricity?” Cliff asked, trying again. “Do you remember when the lines were installed—”

For once Alyssa's voice rose and cracked with emotion.

She cried, “I don't remember anything!”

Liza looked surprised by her mother's outburst, and Cliff found himself wondering, too.

“It's okay,” he said, surprised to find himself soothing her for once. “We'll figure it out, I'm sure.”

Alyssa reached a shaky hand for her purse. “I'd better be going. You obviously have work to do, Liza.”

“Mom—”

“I'm sorry I can't stay for that cup of tea, but I have things to do, as well.”

She turned to leave, almost rushing to get away, and Cliff did something he had never done before. He put out his hand and stopped Alyssa by touching her arm. In all the years he'd known her, he'd never initiated any physical contact, but this morning he found himself moved to comfort her.

She hesitated and turned her face up to his, as surprised as he was.

Cliff said, “Come back some day soon, Alyssa. It's good to see you here.”

She smiled fleetingly and broke the contact. Without a word, she led the way through the lodge to the veranda. Liza followed her mother, and Cliff brought up the rear, puzzling about many things.

When they arrived on the porch, a shout sounded from the yard.

“Forrester! Miss Baron!”

Joe Santori rushed up to the steps, out of breath and windblown. He grabbed the porch railing, panting almost too hard to speak. Obviously, he had run up from the lake.

Liza found her voice first. “What's wrong, Joe?”

The building contractor looked past Liza and straight at Cliff. He said, “You'd better come down. We've hit something.”

“Hit what?” Liza demanded. “Have you broken a pipe?”

Cliff read the expression on Joe's face and started down the steps at once. Something was very wrong, and Joe didn't want to say it in front of Liza and Alyssa. Cliff had seen the same expression before—on the faces of men trying to spare their women from terrible things. In Cambodia, that expression had been the forerunner to many atrocities. He steeled himself to cope with what lay ahead.

Liza caught his shoulder. “Cliff—”

He turned and held her arms tightly. “Stay here,” he ordered. “Don't move, understand?”

Liza hated being told what to do. For half a minute, she stayed on the porch and watched the two men hustle down the lawn. Cliff's easy stride matched Joe's as they ran down to the lake.

The suspense was too much. “I'm going down there,” she said.

“Liza, wait,” Alyssa begged, gripping the porch railing with both hands. “If there's something really wrong...”

“What could be wrong? Why are they acting so weird? I'm going.”

“Liza!”

She didn't wait around to argue. Leaving Alyssa on the veranda, Liza clattered down the steps and set off toward the lake, where Joe and his men had been working with the backhoe.

Four of them were hunkered down around the hole that had been dug. A pile of fresh earth lay where the equipment dumped it. Liza made a beeline for the spot.

Cliff looked up, hearing Liza's approach. He got up and moved fast, intercepting her on the lawn.

“Don't,” he said, blocking her path. His face was set.

“Don't what? Dammit, what's going on, Forrester?”

“Liza, don't look.”

She tried to brush past him, but Cliff caught her in his arms, stolidly preventing Liza from taking another step. “Stop,” he said. “You don't want to see it.”

“See
what?
Damn you—”

“It's a body.” Cliff's grip changed, turning gentle as Liza stopped struggling against him.