Whirlwind (20 page)

Cliff said, “Your mother isn't an ogre.”

“I know that.”

“So what's the big deal between you two?”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“Why not?”

“Look,” Liza snapped, releasing her anger. “I don't push you for details of your most painful memories, do I? Just leave it alone, okay?”

Cliff wasn't ruffled by her rising temper. “What did you tell me last night? That maybe I needed to hear myself say what was bothering me?”

Lisa sighed. Summarizing the history of her family would be a tough job, especially since no member of the family ever did anything the easy way. Nor did the family communicate. Maybe they were all repressed, or maybe just
unfailingly polite, but Liza couldn't remember any of her relatives actually fighting. Except when she was around. Liza prided herself on her ability to start open warfare within ten minutes of encountering any of them.

But her conflict with Alyssa was the most complicated of all.

Liza sighed. “It's my father, I guess.”

“Your father? I thought he was dead.”

“He is. It's the way he died that—that...” She let out a faint laugh when she realized she couldn't say it. Perhaps she had some of Alyssa's genes after all!

“Liza,” said Cliff, patiently waiting by the door. “How did your father die? What's gotten you and Alyssa so furious with each other?”

“My father killed himself,” Liza said. “Simple as that. And it was my mother's fault.”

She didn't want to say more. There was no use, really. And oddly enough, she found she wasn't capable of speaking after that, either—her throat closed up completely. Liza brushed past Cliff, hurrying to put some distance between herself and her grandmother's bedroom. Suddenly it seemed too full of ghosts.

* * *

C
LIFF FELT THE STORM
coming long before he heard the first rumble of thunder. The warm summer air was heavy with moisture, yet charged with the kind of electricity that sent birds chattering to their nests. Though he wanted to seek out Liza and press her for the truth, he waited, hoping she'd return of her own free will. She didn't come, however.

At seven o'clock that evening, Cliff began to wonder if she had decided to go back to Chicago. He couldn't find her anywhere. Not in the lodge, not sitting on the veranda, or knocking down walls in the hallway.

He began to worry, and then he found himself beyond worrying. Where could she have gone?

Finally, he laughed at himself. “What is this? A week ago you'd have been scared to death of having somebody around the lodge. Now you go
looking
for her?”

At last, he found her, skipping stones on the lake from the boathouse dock. With her back to the lodge, Liza seemed oblivious to everything but her own thoughts. Cliff's relief at seeing her slender frame silhouetted against the low-hanging sun that shone through the bank of oncoming storm clouds was like a huge rock being lifted from his shoulders. And dropped on his chest.

God, she's beautiful.

Her stone-skipping technique was good—lots of body English and a quick flick of the wrist. Her hair cascaded around her shoulders with each throw.

Cliff stopped at the edge of the lake and put his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, watching. Not only was she beautiful, but a kind of energy surrounded her like an aura. She was full of fire inside. A formidable woman. An irresistible force.

She must have felt his gaze, because she turned a minute later and examined him from the end of the dock.

“I'm sorry,” she called. “I'm a jerk.”

“You're not a jerk.”

“I feel like my whole life's blowing up. I thought I came back to Tyler by mistake, but so much is happening. I feel—I feel like I'm coming apart.”

“It's okay.”

Cliff waited while she sauntered the length of the dock toward him. She was barefooted like a woodland sprite, and the slanting evening light illuminated her pale complexion in an oddly incandescent way. It took Cliff's breath away. She was winsome, yet womanly.

She stopped a yard away, frowning. “No, it's not. My family's a mess. And now this body's been found.”

“Maybe that has nothing to do with your family.”

“But maybe it does. Oh, Cliff, maybe I'm all messed
up. Finding that body has upset me. But tonight, I've been thinking about you.”

“Me?”

“Well, you in the context of me. It's true, I think, that a person needs to get all the ugly stuff out. Say what's bothering you. Speak your mind. Let it all hang out. If you don't, things just fester.”

“Okay,” Cliff said warily. “So?”

Liza took a deep breath and said slowly, “I don't hate my mother, you know. Not really. But I'm mad at her for the way she handled things before my father died.”

“You said this afternoon that he took his own life.”

Liza nodded. “He did. And when he did, my mother...well, she didn't seem to grieve for him.”

“Some people grieve differently.”

“But she didn't even cry, Cliff. And she could have stopped him from doing it.”

“Is that what you meant when you said she killed him?”

Liza nodded. “My father needed help. Financial help, mostly. And she could have fixed everything for him with her money.”

“Alyssa had money?”

“Oh, yes. She inherited a lot from an aunt in Margaret's family, and she certainly could have asked Granddad for a loan.”

“Maybe your father was too proud to take her money.”

“That's stupid! I... Oh, hell, I can't explain.”

“Yes, you can. Talk to me.”

Cliff took Liza's hand. She resisted for a second, but he remained firm. He pulled her to a patch of grass beneath the tallest oak tree, and they sat down together. Liza folded her limbs and sat cross-legged, facing him attentively.

Cliff started slowly, feeling his way carefully through his thoughts. “Maybe you just never saw things objectively. I wasn't here at the time, but I know a lot of men would have a hard time asking their rich wives for financial help.”

“I can't accept that. If she'd really loved my father, she would have forced the money down his throat. To save his life, for Pete's sake! Shouldn't she have offered, at least?”

Cliff still held her hand and had linked his fingers through hers. “Liza, it's impossible to guess the circumstances. You were young when all this happened, right? Maybe your perspective wasn't as clear as you think.”

She pulled her hand away and muttered, “I should have known you'd take her side.”

“I'm not taking anybody's side!”

“Aren't you?” Sparks flew from her eyes. “Exactly what goes on between you and my mother, anyway?”

“We're friends,” Cliff said. “Maybe she's my only friend.”

Liza looked tart, stretching out her legs and bracing her weight on the outstretched arms. “Thanks a lot. I thought I had made a little headway with you, but I guess—”

“That's not what I'm saying, and you know it. I'm glad you're here.”

She laughed. “I never thought I'd hear that!”

Cliff had to agree. Until Liza showed up, he hadn't wanted anyone trespassing on his privacy. Even Alyssa had kept her distance, and he'd been relieved that she stayed away from the lodge. But he said, “Alyssa's been good to me. I think we've come to understand each other a little. And I can't imagine that she'd deliberately ignore your father's troubles to—”

“Maybe she didn't love him.”

“Don't talk nonsense.”

“I'm serious,” Liza insisted, sitting up straight. “I never felt as if they had a grand passion.”

“A grand passion?”

“You know. The kind of love that just burns you up! It didn't exist between them.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I just am.”

Cliff couldn't help smiling a little. “What does a grand passion look like?”

“It's marvelous,” Liza said impatiently, clasping her hands to her chest in an unconsciously romantic gesture. “It looks...it's like—like... Oh, I can't explain it!”

“Try.”

“Well, it's... To be honest, it's like the way I felt last night.”

Cliff fell silent.

“And the way you looked at me this morning,” Liza said, her gaze suddenly smoldery in the slant of evening light. “It's sex that comes burning out of a person's soul. I saw it in your face today.”

“Liza...” Cliff began, then couldn't finish.

She smiled. “Are you embarrassed?”

“No, I just—I don't think we ought to pursue this line of conversation, that's all. We were talking about your mother and father.”

She studied him whimsically for a long moment. “I'm tired of talking about all that. It makes me sad. I'd rather talk about us.”

“There is no us!”

“Maybe there should be. You're the only thing that kept me from going nuts today.”

“Liza, I must be ten years older than you are....”

“So what?” She allowed her long forefinger to draw an imaginary line along his kneecap, and her voice dropped to a soft murmur. “I want us to be together, Cliff.”

“I thought I made myself clear on that.”

“You said you're afraid you could hurt me.” She slanted an inquiring look up at him.

“I'm not the most stable person you've ever met.”

“You'd be surprised,” she said dryly, snatching up a piece of grass and chewing on it. She sat back and contemplated him with amusement written on her face. “I've been
living in the big city, you know. Have you ever spent an evening in a singles' bar?”

“No.” Making his voice as neutral as he could manage, Cliff said, “Look, I just don't want to ruin what we've started.”

“What have we started?”

“I don't know! But for the first time in a lot of years, there's someone for me to talk to and...well, it's okay.”

“Just okay?”

“Frankly, it's been downright terrible from time to time, but—”

“All right,” Liza intervened. “But I could be your lover and still talk to you.”

Cliff's mouth went dry. Quietly, he asked, “What if things go bad?”

Languidly, Liza climbed to her knees. Bracing her hands against Cliff's shoulders, she toppled him onto his back in the cool grass. She straddled his torso in a trice and stayed there, pinning him to the ground and smiling that odd, exciting smile that was purely her own. The longest tendrils of her hair teased Cliff's face as she leaned close.

“What could go bad?” she whispered, her lips brushing his.

She kissed him on the mouth. Cliff couldn't suppress a groan, and Liza laughed. An instant later, her tongue probed his, swirling erotic messages that arrowed directly into the part of his brain he had been trying to ignore. He felt the softness of her breasts against his chest and the long length of her legs clasping his hips, and he found himself responding. He ran one hand into her hair, holding Liza inescapably to the delicious kiss. With the other, he found the hollow of her back, the smooth curve of her hip, the round shape of her bottom. She smiled against his mouth and breathed some words of encouragement as he explored her body. She arched like a cat against his caressing hand.

In time, Cliff felt her tug his shirt from his jeans, and then Liza's long fingers slid up his belly, tracing a tingling path through the hair on his chest. All the while, her tongue played hide-and-seek with his own, and he could feel the heat of her body beckoning him closer, deeper.

“What could go bad?” she murmured again.

A lot.

Cliff felt his brain shut down—he almost heard the click as a deluge of memories suddenly swam up from his subconscious. He tightened his grip on Liza's head and heard her sharp intake of breath.

Cliff grabbed her and rolled. Liza flailed once, and then he pinned her roughly to the grass. He trapped her legs with the weight of his body, spreading her thighs so that he rode hard against her and making no secret of his superior strength. He didn't kiss her into submission, but trapped her arms over her head.

“You don't understand,” he muttered.

Liza blinked once, trying to catch hold of her courage before it fled. “You won't hurt me,” she said, but didn't sound convinced.

“I can. It's possible.”

“No, it's not. You're no rapist.”

“I've hurt people before, Liza.”

“Not women.”

“No, but—”

“And not for this reason,” she said, relaxing in his grip. “You're attracted to me, Cliff. You
want
to make love with me.”

“But if we start, if things get out of hand—”

“You're afraid you'll lose control.”

“You can't expect any man to keep his head during sex.”

“Cliff,” she said, slipping one hand free and touching his face, “sex isn't about control and power and who's
going to win. It's about pleasure. It's about love.” Her voice turned husky. “Let me give you pleasure.”

“I can't,” he said.

She stroked his face gently. “I can be kinky, if that's what you want.”

He closed his eyes and cursed. “That's not what I want at all. I need...I just want some peace.”

Then, revulsed by his own behavior and the kinds of thoughts that rampaged through his mind, Cliff got up quickly.

Liza sat up and seized his hand before he could leave.

“Don't run away from me,” she commanded. “Talk to me. Tell me what was so terrible in Cambodia.”

“It will make you sick.”

“I'll get over it. And so will you. But not if you let it eat you up, Cliff. Just say it.”

“I
NEVER HAD TO KILL
a human being until I went there,” Cliff said eventually. “It never entered my head.”