Magnificent Folly

by Iris Johansen

  "Nonsense. I'm a complete realist."

  Yet she knew he was right. She was far too content sitting there with the gentle breeze touch­ing her cheeks, teasing her with the scent of the flowering jasmine while she listened to the rip­pling sound of the fountain across the courtyard and to Cassie playing softly in the music room beyond the open French doors.

  "I wonder on which star a rose could grow. Have you ever read The Little Prince?" Andrew asked.

  "Yes, but I don't want to think of It right now. It's too sad."

  "Only if you look at it from the viewpoint of a realist like one Lily Deslln."

  "It's a sand-castle story."

  "Yes." Andrew reached up and took her hand, threading his fingers through her own. "It makes me sad that you don't believe in sand castles."

  "Sad? Why?"

  "Because there's so much In life that you can't reach out and touch, so many things you lose if you don't keep them alive inside yourself." His lips brushed her palm. "I don't want you ever to

  lose anything. I want you to taste everything and know everything and feel everything. I want life to be so damned good to you that you'll wake up singing every morning."

  Tenderness welled up in her, preventing her from speaking for a moment. "You'd soon regret it if I did. I can't carry a tune."

  "You know what I mean."

  "Yes." She wanted him to wake up singing too. She wanted his every hour to be golden, every wish granted, every foolish sand castle he built to last forever. "These last three days I admit I've come pretty close."

  He held his hand to her cheek. "Me too." He paused. "Thank you."

  "Thank you," she echoed softly. "It takes two."

  "I want you to know what youVe given me these last few days," he said quietly. "I used to think about how it would be to have you and Cassie here, but I didn't realize . . ." He stopped, and when he spoke again his voice was husky. "It's so good." He fell silent, and It was several minutes before he continued. "I want you to know that if everything else were swept away I'd still be rich, because I'd have the memory of what we built together these last three days."

  The faintest uneasiness rippled through her. "You're talking sand castles again. I don't like it."

  "Sorry." He kissed her palm once more. "I just wanted you to know. Lie back and look up at the stars, and 111 tell you all about the constellations. I was fascinated by them as a boy, and memorized practically all the legends."

  "Andrew." A troubled frown creased her brow as she looked down at him. She wished he'd look up again, so she could see his face. "Is something wrong?"

  "What could be wrong?" He didn't look at her. and his voice was low. "It's just that I love you, Lily. I always have. I always will."

  He was waiting for her to respond. She wanted to respond. For some reason she felt he needed those words of commitment from her that night. Dammit, why wouldn't the words come?

  He was silent for a long moment, and then tilted his head back to gaze at the stars again. 'That constellation is Leo, the lion." Andrew tilted back his head. "One of the stories I've read said that he angered Zeus by growling at him and ..." The words drifted on as Andrew gave her the story from his childhood.

  Gave. Andrew always gave to her, she thought in guilty anguish. He gave and gave. . . .

  But that night he had asked for something in return, and she had failed him. She hadn't given him the words he needed to hear.

  Next time she would do it, she promised herself.

  Next time she'd tell him she loved him.

  Nine

  As soon as Lily opened her eyes the next morning she realized Andrew was no longer beside her in the bed. His absence didn't alarm her. In the last few days she had learned he was a much earlier riser than she. He must be in the bathroom, she thought lazily, or out on the balcony. He loved to watch the sun rise over the desert.

  Lily reached over and with a caressing hand touched the indentation on the pillow where his head had lain. It was strange how many little things signaled this major upheaval in her life. The sight of the change from Andrew's pockets on top of the bureau, the sound of a shower running in the next room, Andrew's quick footsteps on the stairs or in the hall. Such little, unimportant things to engender such flowering feelings of warmth and security.

  The phone rang on the table beside the bed,

  and she reached over to pick up the receiver. "Hello."

  "Lily." It was Quenby's voice. "Listen carefully. I'm sending a car for you. Be out in front of the house in ten minutes."

  Lily sat up in bed. "Why? I'll have to ask Andrew what plans—" She broke off as the crackling ur­gency of Quenby's tone sank in. "What's wrong?"

  "Andrew."

  Blind panic seized Lily. Andrew wasn't in the bathroom or out on the balcony: Andrew wasn't In the house at all. Her hand tightened on the receiver. "What's happened to him?"

  "I don't know." Quenby drew a shaky breath. "As God is my witness, I don't know. He's at the hospital, and it's not going well. Gunner was plan­ning on being there this morning before Andrew arrived, but Andrew showed up in the therapy room three hours ago. He knew Gunner would try to stop him, and immediately started treating Kalom." She paused. "The doctors noticed some­thing wrong almost at once. Andrew went into convul—"

  "Save the rest of it," Lily cut in as she swung her feet to the floor. "I have to get dressed and get downstairs. Will you be at the hospital when I get there?"

  "I'm in the waiting room with Mariana."

  "She's there too?" Lily closed her eyes. Of course Mariana was at the hospital. They always called the next of kin in life-or-death emergencies. Dear God, was Andrew dying? She should have known something would happen to explode the dream.

  But it shouldn't have happened to Andrew. Per­haps she didn't deserve her happiness with him after the mistakes she had made, but Andrew shouldn't be punished. "Ill be right there."

  She put down the receiver, jumped out of bed, and ran to the bathroom.

  "Is he still alive?" Lily demanded as soon as she strode into the waiting room. "For God's sake, what happened to him?"

  "Kalom," Quenby said simply. "Gunner thinks Kalom is trying to die and wants to take Andrew with him."

  "I don't understand. Can that happen?"

  Mariana turned away from the window. 'They're joined telepathically. It can happen."

  "But if Andrew's trying to help him, why would Kalom want to kill him?"

  "Who kriows? He's twisted," Quenby said. "Gun­ner says his mind's like a desert where .nothing can grow but malice, and the malice is so bitter, he chokes on it. He wants to die."

  "Then let him die," Lily said fiercely.

  "But he won't let Andrew go," Mariana said. "Or Andrew won't let him go, we don't know which." Her teeth pressed hard into her lower lip. "An­drew's in a coma."

  Lily felt as if an iron hand were crushing her heart, stopping her blood from flowing. "Gunner," she said desperately. "Can't Gunner help?"

  Quenby shook her head. "Andrew's too deep." She gazed squarely at Lily. 'The vital signs of

  both men are weakening. They can't last much longer unless something changes."

  "You're telling me there's no chance?" Lily whis­pered. "I won't believe that. Andrew is so strong. He won't give up. I won't let him give up."

  "You can't help him." Mariana said dully as she turned away to look out the window again. "None of us can help him now. We've always been terri­fied this would happen to Andrew someday."

  They were giving up. She couldn't believe it. Mariana and Quenby were two of the strongest women she had ever met. Didn't they realize some­thing had to be done? 'The hell I can't. Where is this therapy room?"

  Quenby gestured to the double doors across the room. "Gunner's doing all he can, Lily. You're not even a telepath. You can't expect to—"

  "So I'm not some kind of mind wizard. You're an relying too much on this telepathy business. I can expect to do anything I damn well set out to do. I won't let
him go just because you say it's telepathicaUy impossible. To hell with telepathy." Lily whirled on her heel and strode in the direc­tion Quenby had indicated. "Do you think I'd let that slime bag take Andrew away from me?"

  She pushed through the heavy double doors and was immediately assaulted by the smell of antiseptic, Kalom occupied a hospital bed on the far side of the room, but Lily hardly glanced at him. Her entire attention was focused on Andrew's still form, lying in the bed closest to the door.

  She gave a low cry as she caught sight of his face. "Dear heaven."

  Pain. His features were contorted in the same terrible grimace she'd seen on the faces of Kalom and Baharas the day Andrew and Gunner had rescued Cassie.

  "You shouldn't be here." Gunner moved forward from the corner of the room, where he'd been standing. "You can't help him, Lily."

  'That's what Quenby said." Lily's eyes glittered with unshed tears. "He's hurting, isn't he? That bastard is hurting him."

  "Yes."

  "And you can't stop it?"

  Gunner shook his head.

  "All this psychic nonsense, all these superbrains running around the compound," Lily said in won­der. "And none of you can help Andrew?"

  "Lily—"

  She made a motion with her hand. "Oh, I know what you're going to say. Andrew told me that the Clanad's powers didn't make any difference. That in the end it was their humanity that mattered." She moved toward Andrew's bed. "Well, I don't know anything about this telepathic business, but I won't let Andrew go on hurting without trying to comfort him."

  She lay down on the bed beside Andrew, ach-ingly conscious of how stiff he was, the muscles rigid and unyielding against her. She put her arms around him and laid her cheek in the hol­low of his shoulder. "Andrew." She closed her eyes, her voice no louder than a breath. "I need you so. Don't leave me."

  Andrew didn't stir.

  "Do you remember how you told me I had to forgive myself for failing? Well, that's what you have to do too. If you can't help him, accept it and forgive yourself." Her fingers started to stroke the fair hair at his left temple. "Ill make a deal with you. Ill forgive myself if you'll do the same for yourself. Okay?"

  Bargains. Was it Andrew with whom she was trying to bargain or was it God? "You might as well come back, because I'm not going to let you die. I'm not letting you go anywhere without me ever again. Do you hear me?"

  No answer.

  She could feel Gunner's sympathetic gaze on her, but she ignored it. She knew he thought her efforts were useless, that she was building a sand castle that would be swept away by forces beyond her control.

  "I'm going to stay right here," she whispered to Andrew. "And soon you're going to open your eyes and smile at me. I'm going to stay right here and hold you and wait for you to come back." She would not cry. She had to concentrate on sending all the love and confidence she had to Andrew. She had no time to weep, when all her strength had to be channeled toward Andrew. "Please stop hurting, love. I can't bear it."

  Andrew didn't answer.

  But he would respond. She mustn't give up hope. Andrew wouldn't leave her to loneliness again. She had only to be patient and wait for him. She nestled closer, sharing her warmth, shar­ing her love. "Come back. ..."

  But it was not until over six hours later that Andrew's condition underwent a change.

  "Kalom's dead, Lily!" Gunner's voice cracked, lash-sharp, as he strode across the room, his gaze narrowed on Andrew's face. "Just now. Get up. I have to check Andrew."

  Lily sat bolt upright, her eyes widening in hor­ror. "Dead? But you said that could mean Andrew—"

  "Yes, dammit." Gunner's voice gentled. "I'm sorry, Lily, but a survival is very rare in cases—"

  Andrew opened his eyes!

  "Thank God," Gunner said thickty.

  "Andrew," Lily whispered.

  "I failed." Tears glittered in Andrew's eyes. "I couldn't keep him. I tried to tell him that every­thing could be different, but he wouldn't listen. ..."

  Joy illuminated Lily's face. "But you're alive. He didn't take you."

  "I failed." Andrew's eyes closed wearily. "So much pain and rage. He needed me, and I failed him."

  "It doesn't matter," Lily said fiercely. "For heav­en's sake, he wanted to kill you. He doesn't matter."

  "He matters. Everyone matters. That's what life is all about. ..." His voice trailed off as his breath­ing deepened in the rhythm of sleep.

  Lily's alarmed glance flew to Gunner's face.

  "It's all right. It's only exhaustion." He was smil­ing reassuringly. "Hell probably sleep around the clock."

  "He's safe?" she asked. She couldn't believe it.

  Gunner nodded. "He's going to be fine."

  "Then I want him home, where I can take care

  of him. WW you arrange for an ambulance?" She glanced at Kalom's stin body lying on the bed across the room, and a shudder ran through her. How could Andrew feel anything but hatred for the man who had tried to kill him? "I don't like it here."

  Gunner helped her from the bed. "That's not a bad idea. Andrew's not accustomed to falling, and it isn't going to be easy for him to face the fact that he couldn't help Kalom."

  "No one else would have tried. I don't know why he did."

  "Yes, you do," Gunner said quietly. "He told you. Everyone matters to Andrew."

  She nodded, and swallowed to ease the tight­ness in her throat as she glanced back at An­drew's face. Yes, she knew why Andrew had been compelled to try to help Kalom even if it meant endangering his own life. "Ill go tell Quenby and Mariana he's all right." She turned to leave, and then abruptly swung back to face him. "I did help him. didn't I?"

  A warm smile lit Gunner's face. "You bet. An­drew's vital signs began to steady from the mo­ment you lay down beside him. It surprised the hell out of me."

  "You shouldn't have been surprised. I just used a universal panacea that's been around a good deal longer than anything the Clanad's come up with." She grinned as she opened the door. "An­drew and I made a deal."

  Gunner was right. Andrew slept around the clock, woke for a few minutes, and then immedi­ately fell asleep again.

  "He's sad again. Isn't he?" Cassie whispered, edging close to the bed to gaze down at him.

  "Yes, something happened to make him very sad, love." Lily took Cassie's hand and held it tightly as waves of emotion spiraled through her. He looked more like a weary little boy than the virile man she knew so well, yet the boy was every bit as lovable as the man. "But Andrew's going to be fine. We're going to make sure he is, aren't we?" Cassie nodded.

  "And I know how," Lily said as the idea sud­denly occurred to her. "Will you help me?" "If I can."

  "Oh, you can." Lily propelled her from the bed­room and then down the stairs. "What I have In mind is definitely in your area of expertise. Call Mrs. Muggins and tell her well need a car to take a drive Into the desert." 'The desert?"

  "And well need some tools." Lily frowned in concentration. "Hurry, love. We may not have much time before he wakes up again."

  Cassie ran down the hall in search of Mrs. Mug­gins while Lily crossed to the telephone and picked up the receiver to call Mariana, Quenby, and Gunner.

  Andrew was standing on the balcony, framed against the scarlet-and-purple skies of the sunset.

  when Lily walked into the room. He immediately turned around when he heard the door open, and smiled at her. "I'm afraid I haven't been too socia­ble lately." he said lightly as he held out his hand to her. "Gunner was just here, and said I've been out of it for nearly two days." * "You needed the rest." She came onto the bal­cony and took the hand he held out, her gaze anxiously searching his face. His color was good, the lines of exhaustion gone, she noted with re­lief, but he appeared thinner. "Have you lost weight?"

  He shrugged. "I usually lose a few pounds after one of these sessions. Ill gain it back in a few days."

  "See that you do. No wonder Mariana gave you Muggins. You don't take care of yourself."

>   "That was no reason to inflict the 'irresistible force' on my hapless head." He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss on the palm. "But I promise 111 eat every one of my vegetables at your command. Gunner, tells me I owe you."

  "Gunner's right," she said crisply. "And I in­tend to collect."

  Surprise crossed his face. "With what kind of exchange?"

  "Exchange is the right term. This is a two-way street, you know. I don't want any more of this nonsense with creeps like Kalom. It's bad enough that you risk your life with people who have es­sential worth. I won't have you—" She found her voice was shaking, and was forced to stop to steady it I'd like to say, 'Don't ever do anything like that

  again,' but I won't. I know your work is too impor­tant to stop. All I ask is that you not take unnec­essary risks. Okay?"

  "Okay." His long fingers traced the line of her cheekbone with infinite tenderness. "But you're wrong about not trying to save people like Kalom, Lily. They need help more than the others." His expression became wistful. "Can't you see how tragic they are? We all start out the same, clean and shining and new. but then ugly things twist and corrode some people until all that wonderful shining is buried."

  She gazed at him in helpless exasperation. She was back at square one. "And you have to be the one to scrape off the corrosion."

  He frowned. "I hoped you'd understand."

  "Oh, I understand. I wish I didn't. I wish I could say, 'Sorry, Andrew, this is going to be too much of a hassle. I think 111 bow out.' " She shook her head. "But it doesn't work that way."

  He stiffened warily. "Are you trying to tell me something?"

  "I'm trying to tell you that I was probably better off with a five-star louse like Tait than with a man who's single-handedly trying to save the whole bloody world." She blinked hard to keep the tears from falling. "You're not practical or sensible, and you believe in dreams and people that shine in­side and—"

  "People do shine," Andrew interrupted. "You shine, Lily. Years ago, when I first saw you, I thought you shone like silver, but now it's more

  like burnished copper. Warm and deep and rich with—"

  "See? You don't even think like anyone else. You'd let me hurt you. You'd let anyone hurt you if you thought it would help that person." She took a step back. "Well, no one will do it,' she said fiercely. "I won't let that happen. Do you hear me? You're not going to be a damn martyr. You're going to live a long, long life, and you're going to be happy. You're going to, be so damn happy— Stop laughing. I mean it."