Whirlwind (26 page)

“What things?”

“About Dad.”

Alyssa's smile faltered.

Liza hastened to continue, saying, “I know I threw some pretty terrible accusations at you the other day—about not helping Dad before he died. I've always been angry about that, I guess, but Cliff said...”

“What did Cliff say?”

“He thinks I'm trying to save him the way I wished I could have saved Daddy.”

Alyssa sat back, her gaze filled with pain. “We all wish we could have done something to save your father, Liza. His friends, his family—all of us. But we couldn't. He kept his secrets until the end. He didn't want our help.”

“Asking for help was so bad?”

Alyssa nodded. “I think so. He had to admit terrible failure. He let down so many people, and he couldn't stand it.”

“Cliff's trouble is different. There's nobody depending on him.”

“Except you.”

Surprised, Liza exclaimed, “I'm not depending on him! I just want to love him.”

“Which means he's got to love you back. Maybe he's not strong enough to do that.”

Liza sighed. “Well, I know he's not strong enough to come for me. He's afraid to leave the lodge for anything. You should have seen him at the Dairy King last night. He almost flipped out.”

It was Alyssa's turn to look startled. “You got Cliff into the Dairy King? I didn't think he went anywhere but the grocery and the hardware store once in a blue moon. You must be doing something right.”

“Well, it all blew up in my face this morning,” Liza murmured. “I pushed too hard, I think. He panicked and wanted to get rid of me, so he picked the one subject he knew would get me furious enough to leave.”

“What subject?”

Liza licked her dry lips before answering. “Dad.”

Alyssa winced as if she'd been struck.

“Listen, Mom,” Liza said, “I know it's hard for you to talk about him. It's hard for me, too. My feelings are all over the spectrum.”

“Mine, too,” Alyssa said softly. “You can't imagine. I feel so guilty sometimes, Liza. If only I'd known. If only I had done something.
If only!
I can't live by those words. I can't go back and do things differently.”

“What would you do if you could?”

“I'd be more like you,” her mother admitted. “I'd force him to talk to me.”

“Mom—”

Alyssa shook her head, cutting off Liza's words. “I hope you'll never make a mistake like mine, Liza. It's an awful way to lose your innocence.”

For the first time in her life, Liza could see how deeply her father's suicide had affected Alyssa Baron, and she felt very guilty. How could she have been so blind? Had she
been too caught up in her own suffering to see her mother's pain? Suddenly Alyssa looked her age. The lines in her face deepened, and her complexion seemed to gray as she stared at the wedding ring on her hand—the ring she hadn't yet removed, even though Ronald Baron had been dead for years.

With a terrible quaver in her voice, Alyssa said fiercely, “Oh, Liza, hang on to love while it's in your grasp. Hang on to it with all your strength!”

Liza thought of Cliff.

“I wish I could hang on to him. But he won't let me get a hold, Mother. Sometimes he looks at me as if I'm a monster who's going to tear him limb from limb. I can see that I frighten him sometimes.”

Alyssa smiled tremulously. “You're a forceful person, Liza.”

“He needs some forcing, I think. He
should
be forced. I made him go up to the attic, for example. He's been haunted by noises up there, so I took him up. It seemed to help.”

“You went into the attic at Timberlake?”

“Yes.” Remembering their find, she said, “We came across a lot of things that belonged to Margaret, by the way.”

Alyssa paled. “What things?”

“Mostly clothes. A few papers and some photos—that sort of thing. And her diary. I almost forgot that. It was hidden in a drawer with some nightgowns.”

Alyssa's voice dropped to a strained whisper. “You found my mother's diary?”

“Yes, we thought we might learn more about her if we looked through her things.”

Alyssa's hand trembled so violently that she dropped her teacup with a clatter. It shattered on the tile floor, shockingly loud on such a quiet summer morning. But Alyssa
seemed not to hear. Her voice cracked. “What are you trying to find out?”

“Mom, are you okay?” Liza bent to pick up the broken pieces of the fine china cup. “What's wrong?”

“What are you trying to find out about my mother?”

Liza sat back, cupping the broken bits of china and staring at her shaken mother. “Take it easy, Mom.”

Alyssa fought to compose herself. “I'm sorry. I just...it felt odd to see the lodge the other day, and I—I've been thinking about my mother ever since. Now this...”

Liza narrowed her gaze on Alyssa. “What's going on, Mom? Both you and Granddad reacted in such a weird way—”

“I'm never weird,” Alyssa shot back, attempting to laugh.

“Mother, what do you know about Margaret that nobody else in town knows?”

The bald question threw Alyssa off balance completely. She stared at Liza, and her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Her beautiful features whitened so dangerously that Liza suddenly feared her mother was about to faint. Swiftly, she put out her hand to steady Alyssa on the footstool.

Alyssa looked away quickly, but Liza had time to catch a glimpse of the fear in her mother's eyes.

“What's wrong, Mom?” she pressed when Alyssa did not speak. “What's the secret of Margaret Ingalls? Is it so terrible?”

“You know as much as I do,” Alyssa whispered harshly, withdrawing her hand from Liza's grip. “She disappeared.”

“Do you believe that?” Liza demanded.

“Of course I do! What else could have happened to her?”

“Exactly the question I was going to ask,” Liza murmured, studying her mother. For years, their family had
kept secrets from one another. To avoid pain and confrontation, they swept important questions under the rug. But Liza wanted answers now. She thought she'd burst into flames if she didn't know the truth.

She decided to be blunt. “Did Margaret disappear, Mom, or did something else happen to her?”

“I—I don't know. I was only a child....”

“Seven years old, right? That's old enough to notice a few things.” Fiercely, Liza asked, “Do you remember the night Margaret ran away?”

“No.” Alyssa shook her head and hugged her own arms as if suddenly very cold. “I can't remember a thing....”

“But you remember other events that happened when you were even younger. Why, you used to tell me about the fancy dances they held at the lodge and—”

“I can't remember that night!” Abruptly, Alyssa buried her face in her hands. Her muffled voice quavered with emotion. “I know something bad happened—something terrible, but I—”

“Mom?”

“I've blocked it out, I guess,” Alyssa said softly, lifting her head to stare at nothing. The emptiness in her expression frightened Liza, who had never seen her mother lose control. Gradually her blue eyes fixed on Liza, and she said softly, “I'm not strong like you, Liza. I can't cope with everything that comes my way.”

Liza leaned forward and clamped her hand over Alyssa's wrist. It was time for answers, no matter how frightening. Steadily, she said, “Mom, Granddad came out to the lodge yesterday after Joe Santori dug up the body by the lake. He said some things that scared me.”

Alyssa looked fearful. “What things?”

“He didn't make any sense—not exactly. He talked about Margaret, though, and asked for forgiveness.”

“He loved her,” Alyssa said suddenly. “He loved her very much. I remember that.”

“Mom,” Liza said firmly, determined to learn the truth, “did Margaret disappear? Or did she die?”

Alyssa began to weep silently. Tears formed in her eyes and ran unchecked down her cheeks as she stared mutely at her daughter.

Liza clenched her mother's hand and said bluntly, “Did Granddad kill Margaret?”

A harsh sob escaped Alyssa's throat. “Oh, God.”

“Is that what happened, Mother? Did Granddad kill his wife and pretend she disappeared? Did he bury her by the lake?”

Alyssa shook her head frantically. “I don't know, I don't know! I can't remember! What does it matter now?”

“Mother, we've found a body. The police are involved....”

“It can't matter after all these years! Can't we just forget—”

“The police aren't going to forget.”

“Liza,” Alyssa said, trembling, “whatever happened—it was a long time ago. We can only break up the family by digging into the past. And you're home now—we could be a real family again! Please, don't start—”

“Mom, listen to me!” Liza snapped. “It's out of our hands. If the police decide the body
is
Margaret's, they're going to want to learn how she died. And if Granddad—”

“Judson didn't kill anyone!”

“How do you know?”

“I don't!” Alyssa admitted. “I just—it can't be possible!”

Liza frowned. Perhaps she was jumping to conclusions. Perhaps the body they'd found by the lake wasn't Margaret's at all.

But something told her otherwise. She knew in her heart that Margaret Ingalls hadn't quietly slipped away from Judson forty years ago and run off with one of her lovers.
She'd have tried to contact the family at least once in all those years. No, Liza felt sure her grandmother had died.

But how? Had someone murdered the flighty, reckless Margaret Ingalls and buried her in a secret grave? Who would have done such a thing? And why hadn't Judson Ingalls tried to locate his wife in forty years?

“We have to find out the truth before the authorities do,” Liza said at last. “If Granddad's guilty, we've got to protect him.”

Alyssa was too upset to talk anymore. Liza made her mother comfortable in a wicker chair and left her alone. Although she felt more frightened than she ever had before, Liza knew she had things to do. She intended to find her grandfather and ask him some direct questions.

W
HEN
L
IZA STORMED
out of Timberlake, Cliff hoped to feel relief. He was afraid of her—of how she forced him to talk and think and feel again. He should have been delighted when she left.

But the crushing weight that burdened his chest when he heard the Thunderbird go tearing down the driveway wasn't relief. It was too painful.

“I should be
glad
you're gone,” he snapped, leaning his forehead against the cool, cloudy glass of the boathouse window and watching the convertible disappear into the trees. “You were a pain in the neck from the moment you appeared in my life!”

Cliff spun away from the window and paced the length of the musty boathouse, where he'd taken refuge from Liza. He hadn't wanted to face another scene with her. He'd managed to send her on her way with a few well-chosen words, and he didn't trust himself to speak with her again.

Why not? Afraid you might change your mind?

“Shut up,” Cliff muttered to himself—to the voice of reason in the back of his head. “I'm better off without her. That woman was nothing but trouble!”

But, she's very beautiful trouble. Beautiful and smart and funny. And sensitive. Observant, too.

Liza had made Cliff see a lot of things he'd managed to forget about himself. She'd dragged him into the light and forced him to take a long, hard look at himself. He hadn't liked what he'd seen.

But oddly enough, he didn't despise himself anymore.

And Liza hadn't despised him, either. She hadn't feared him or hated him.

She's in love with you, you idiot! Doesn't that mean anything? You didn't have to throw her out of your life!

“What if something went wrong?” Cliff asked aloud, slamming his fist down on the upturned hull of an old rowboat. “What if I lost my head and hurt her?”

You didn't lose your head last night. And you had plenty of chances. You made love to her without holding back anything. And nothing terrible happened. It was terrific, in fact. What are you really afraid of?

“I don't know,” Cliff said softly. “Maybe I can't love her back. Not the way she ought to be loved.”

She could teach you. She's taught you a lot of other things in the past few days, you moron.

Cliff jerked open the boathouse door and walked into the sunlight. The grass was still wet from last night's rain, and the air was fresh and aromatic. The lake was hushed, but brilliantly blue. Stopping on the dock, Cliff looked up at the lodge, and for a moment he marveled at its beauty. The sunlight shimmered on the roof, and the surrounding trees played dappled patterns on the walls. Cliff's heart contracted. Timberlake had been his haven for a long time. It had been his fortress, his hiding place. It was the only place he'd felt at home.

So stay here,
taunted the voice in his head.
You're happy here, right? Safe and sound, all alone—that's you. No big deal. Waste your life, Forrester. Let her go.

To the voice, Cliff said, “She deserves something better than living here with a recluse.”

Right,
answered the voice.

Cliff climbed the hillside and went into the lodge, conscious of how his footsteps echoed. He had only himself to contend with now. It should have felt good.

But in the hallway, he was faced by an immediate re
minder of Liza. She'd ripped out the wall and left a tremendous mess behind. Bits of broken plaster mingled with lengths of old board and a scattering of dust so thick that her bare footprints were clearly visible.

“Trust that idiot to drive in her bare feet,” Cliff muttered.