Sharley frowned. In the back of her mind a hazy impression had begun to form, and then vanished before she could grab at it.
She had walked into the tiny living room, and noticed the new leather loveseat, and the back of Spence’s head, and Wendy’s luxuriant hair cascading over his shoulder...
No, there hadn’t been any mistake about that, either. Wendy had been in his arms, for when Spence had leaped to his feet, she had almost gone sliding onto the floor.
Perhaps Wendy had planned it that way, Sharley thought. Perhaps she had heard Sharley’s approach, and thrown herself into Spence’s arms.
Sharley shook her head a little. You’re grasping at straws, she told herself, trying to excuse him.
There simply hadn’t been time for Wendy to manipulate the scene, and there had been nothing which suggested Spence could have been coerced into position, either. He’d been shocked when he first faced Sharley, all right, but obviously not by anything Wendy had done in the past few moments — for at the moment Sharley first saw him, before he even knew she was there, he had appeared quite comfortable. As a matter of fact, he looked as if he’d been sitting on the loveseat for some time, with Wendy snuggled against him.
And what was it he had said? “It can’t go on like this, Wendy” — something like that. No, obviously Spence had known exactly what he was dealing with. He wasn’t even trying to reason with a cast-aside lover; it was plain as could be that he was laying down the law.
Yet, somehow he hadn’t sounded as if he was issuing an order. There had been a note of terrible pain in his voice, as if he was making an agonizing sacrifice.
But if it was Wendy he loved...
Sharley’s head was throbbing. I have to stop this. I have to get off this roller-coaster.
She let her head fall back against the cushions and admitted that she could string together all the logical excuses she liked, but it still wouldn’t make any difference. If she argued it out inside herself for weeks, her head would still be telling her one thing and her heart another. And the cold fact was that she wanted to believe her heart.
Because I still love him. No matter what happened, or why he was there with her, I still love him.
She groaned in pain, and Spence roused from his chair and came across to her to put his hand on her forehead. “You don’t feel feverish,” he said. “How about some orange juice? I think it’s still drinkable.”
Sharley nodded. She pulled herself up till she was half-sitting on the couch. The effort left her head swimming, and when Spence came back he rearranged the pillows at her back to prop her into place.
The juice was barely cool, and hardly palatable. But it was wet, and she was thirsty. Sharley managed to swallow half of it. Then she realized that as long as she was drinking, Spence was likely to sit beside her, so she decided to sip the rest of the juice. Surely, if she dragged it out long enough, he would have to say something, wouldn’t he?
Her own mind wasn’t functioning clearly; she certainly had no witty repartee at her command, and no brilliant stroke of psychological insight into their problems, either. The lack annoyed her, and before she stopped to think she said brusquely, “I want to believe you. But how can I?”
She thought for a moment that he was going to ignore her completely. “I don’t have any answer for that, Sharley. Either you can, or you can’t. Are you finished with the juice?”
“No, I’m not.” She clutched the glass as if he was likely to snatch it. “Spence, please — just tell me what the hell happened!”
His mouth tightened, but his voice was quiet. “It wouldn’t do any good if I told you. In fact, it would make things worse.”
Sharley gritted her teeth to hold the tears back. “I hate it when you act this way. You sound so damned reasonable, Spence Greenfield — when the truth is you might as well be speaking Martian for all the sense you make.” Her hands were trembling so much that the orange juice threatened to slop over the edge of the glass.
He pried it out of her hand. “I know you think it’s ridiculous that I won’t tell you.”
Sharley shook her head. “It’s more than just ridiculous. You’re being hateful and offensive!”
His face paled. “Believe me, Sharley, it’s for the best.”
“And you’re the one who decides that? I don’t have anything to say about it?”
“I can hardly give you the truth and then ask if you’d rather I take it back and substitute a lie, can I?”
“The truth can’t possibly be any worse than this!”
“Yes, it can. And once it’s said, there’s no way to send the truth back into the darkness. Believe me, I’d like to try.”
The pain in his voice was undeniable, and it brought a lump to Sharley’s throat that was too big to let her speak.
Spence let the silence drag out for a moment. “Face it, nothing is going to patch this up between us. Why cause more pain for everyone? Let it go. Just break it off clean — call it quits. It never happened.”
She shook her head, but it was more a gesture of hopelessness than of disagreement.
It’s over, she told herself. He’s right about that much. Let it go with dignity, Sharley. It’s the only thing you can do.
“We’ve made enough mistakes,” Spence said quietly. “Why add one more?”
She had to clear her throat twice before she could speak at all, and then her voice was little more than a breath. “I suppose it hardly matters now.”
To have let herself hope that anything could be worked out, after all the hurt that had been done to both of them, was just as silly in its own way as believing that Charlotte could have arranged the whole thing just to keep Sharley by her side.
“Exactly.” He patted her hand and moved away to the kitchen with her glass.
Sharley sat very still and stared at the back of her hand. Where his fingertips had brushed the soft skin, every cell seemed to quiver with electricity. He had intended it to be a reassuring gesture, Sharley was sure, but it had made her feel incredibly sad instead.
*****
Sharley stirred fitfully as she drifted back toward consciousness, aware only that she felt terrible. She wanted Libby. Not Charlotte; despite her own illnesses — or perhaps because of them — Charlotte was no use at all in a sickroom. But Libby knew what to do. Libby understood how much better it felt just to have a cool pillowcase and fresh pajamas...
Yes, it was a good thing Charlotte didn’t know that Sharley was up here in the woods, alone — or as good as alone — and ill...
Sharley frowned as she tried to follow that line of thought all the way through. Precisely why shouldn’t Charlotte know? She would be concerned, of course, and it wasn’t good for her to worry. But still, Sharley was a grown woman. She had a right to be ill if she wanted...
She tried to smile at the sheer ridiculousness of that thought. Maybe Spence had a point about Charlotte; it was true that she was a bit possessive and over-protective. But no one could argue that Charlotte had anything but the best motives. She did what she thought was right, as anyone did. If keeping Sharley busy helped her get through this crisis, Charlotte was to be thanked. And of course she wanted Sharley to be nearby. Her niece was the only thing Charlotte had — along with Martin, of course.
No, Spence was just being too rough on her, blaming poor Charlotte when none of this was her fault at all...
Sharley drifted off to sleep again.
She didn’t know how much later it was when she roused to see a dim figure bending over her. Spence’s hands clutched her shoulders, and he was administering a shaking so rough that she felt as if fireworks were going off inside her brain. In sheer terror, she uttered a strangled little scream.
“Thank God,” a hoarse voice said. “You’re awake.”
Sharley squinted at him. It was almost dark, and her vision seemed a little blurry. “Congratulations, Spence.” Her voice slurred oddly.
“I couldn’t rouse you,” he said harshly. “I was trying to wake y
ou to see what you wanted for dinner.”
The mere thought of food made her feel like retching. “Don’t want...anything. I’m sick.”
“I know you’re sick. I didn’t realize before exactly how sick you are. Come on, Sharley. Get up.”
“I’ve got the flu. Let me... rest.”
“It’s not flu, Sharley.”
She frowned. “My... fall?”
“Your fault? What do you mean? Damn it, it doesn’t matter right now. I can’t think straight enough to argue with you. We’ve got to get out of here. It’s carbon monoxide, Sharley.”
She knew what he had said should be important to her, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember why. Carbon monoxide...? She’d simply have to lie still and think about it. Maybe she’d remember why it mattered, when her head stopped pounding.
Spence’s voice had a harsh edge to it. “Listen – if I have to, I will drag you by the hair. Damn it, Sharley, you have to help. I can’t carry you!”
That stung her pride a bit. “I’m not that fat,” she protested weakly.
It was bitterly cold in the cabin. She looked around groggily. Both the doors were open, she realized. And it looked as if someone had taken a hammer to the closest window, too.
“Spence,” she said with the little dignity she could muster. “Martin isn’t going to like what you’ve done to his cabin.”
“Damn Martin and damn his cabin. You’re not getting enough oxygen to your brain. What would you suggest I do? Fan you with a newspaper?” He pulled her to her feet.
She was too dizzy to keep her balance, and Spence practically dragged her to the door. She balked at stepping onto the icy porch, and despite what he had said about not being able to carry her, Spence simply picked her up. “Don’t wriggle,” he ordered, and strode the few yards to her car.
Sharley puzzled over that. She had just figured out that if she shifted her weight she might throw him off balance on the ice when he dumped her unceremoniously into the passenger seat. He left the door open and turned back toward the house.
Sharley leaned out, clutching the edge of the seat as best she could to maintain her balance. The world seemed to have started rotating faster. “Where are you going?”
“Back for the ashes I cleaned out of the fireplace.”
“But why do you want to take ashes?”
“I’m going to dump them on this slope. With a little extra traction, we might get the car out of here.”
Sharley frowned. “Now that we’re out of the cabin, it’s all right, isn’t it?”
“Not quite that simple, darling. You need medical treatment.” He leaned over her for a moment, pushing her hair back from her forehead. The warm brush of his fingers felt good against her face.
She supposed he was right, though she didn’t seem to be able to think it all the way through for herself. What was happening to her brain, anyway? Everything was still obviously working in Spence’s head, so why couldn’t she function?
“Don’t forget how to breathe,” he ordered gruffly.
Sharley didn’t know how long it was before he came back, shut her door, and slid behind the wheel. She noticed with detached interest that though his hands were covered with ash, his knuckles looked white as he turned the ignition key.
“What about you?” she managed. “You were in there too.”
“I’m okay. I wasn’t in it as long as you were.”
The engine whined for a moment before roaring into life. She saw Spence close his eyes for a second as if in gratitude.
“You mean because you were carrying wood this afternoon while I cleaned?”
“Exactly.” He took a deep breath. “Here we go. Say a prayer, sweetheart.”
Obediently, Sharley began to chant, “Now I lay me down to sleep, I ask the—”
“Not that one, damn it,” Spence said sharply. “Please, not that one!”
She didn’t quite understand, but before she could ask him to explain, he put the car into gear and gently hit the gas.
Almost instantly it skidded sideways on the hillside, and Sharley swayed wildly in her seat. “Whee! It’s just like a roller-coaster!”
“Yeah. You just keep enjoying the ride.” The momentum was slowing as the tires grabbed for traction on the ice, and Spence tried to steer the car back onto the ash-covered path. They eased over the hill with the last tiny bit of forward motion.
“You did it,” Sharley exulted.
“Only the first obstacle of many, I’m afraid.” The driveway sloped down toward the road, and the car began picking up speed. Spence carefully applied the brake, but it didn’t do much good. “Hang on,” he ordered, and the car skidded around and onto the road with an ominous thump. “Sorry about that. But keeping three wheels on the road, in these conditions, isn’t a bad record at all.” He looked ahead at the next hill and sighed.
Sharley yawned.
“Don’t start that,” Spence warned. “Please, just do your best to stay awake, Sharley. Damn it, I should have known something wasn’t right. The stuffy smell… but I thought the place was just stale and dirty from being closed up so long. And all the condensation on the windows should have made me suspicious, too. There was enough humidity in the air to make the drawers stick. That shouldn’t happen in this weather; you were right.”
“I was?” Even though she was shivering from the cold, Sharley was still feeling sleepy.
“Absolutely. When fuel doesn’t burn completely, it gives off moisture as well as toxic gases. It’s one of the classic signs — one of the only signs, since you can’t smell carbon monoxide itself. But I was so convinced the cabin was full of holes that it never occurred to me to look for the obvious.”
“What was it?” Sharley managed. “That poisoned us, I mean. The fireplace?”
“I don’t know. A cracked chimney could have let the gases seep back into the cabin, or a plugged vent on the kitchen range. Maybe a squirrel built a nest on top of the stove pipe. I wasn’t going to stick around and look.”
With agonizing slowness the car crept toward the ridge of the hill. Sometimes it seemed to move as many feet sideways as forward, but Spence steered cautiously and did not take his foot off the gas pedal. Eventually they crept over the top.
“Why wouldn’t Martin have noticed something wrong?” Sharley asked.
“Maybe there wasn’t anything to notice last time he was here. It’s been a year at least, hasn’t it?”
Sharley nodded, but he hadn’t taken his eyes off the road. “I suppose so.”
“And there wasn’t any reason for the caretaker to give the place a careful going-over, because he didn’t expect it to be used this winter. It was careless of him not to have taken a look when Martin called him, of course. But he probably thought the same thing I did — that the place was so leaky there could never be a problem with getting enough fresh air.”
Sharley looked at the next hill. It was higher than the one they had just managed, and halfway up, a fallen tree limb partially blocked the road. She closed her eyes and thought, Spence will handle it.
“I wonder if the ice is what sealed it up tight,” Spence mused. “Sort of like wrapping a plastic bag around the whole building. And the longer we stayed inside…” He turned his head sharply. “Keep talking to me, damn it,” he ordered. “Don’t cash in on me now, Sharley, stay with me!”
The car skidded the instant his attention was distracted, and he fought to get it back under control. Sharley opened her eyes and watched with mild interest. The roadside ditch seemed to be coming closer each time the car swung.
They missed the ditch by the width of a feather, but all their momentum was lost, so Spence had to back down the hill in order to make another run. That was the worst of it, though, and a few minutes later Sharley pointed at a house, little more than a dark shadow beside the road. “There’s where Joe Baxter lives.”
Spence grunted as he maneuvered the car off the road and into the narrow gravel drive. His hand was trembling as he s
hut the engine off. “Looks as if there’s no power here, either. Sit still.” He left his car door open and strode toward the house.
Sharley wanted to complain about the draft, but she didn’t have the energy. She began to slowly extract herself from the car instead. Her muscles were working a little better, but not much.
She heard Spence pounding on the door, and saw it open. A grizzly bear of a man leaned out.
Spence said sharply, “I need to get Miss Collins to a hospital.”
“Sharley? What’s she doing up here? Sure, come on in and we’ll call for an ambulance.”
“Can an ambulance get here?”
As she stumbled toward the house, Sharley listened with detached interest. An ambulance? For her? She’d never been sick enough to need an ambulance in her life. She started to protest.
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