Eloquent Silence

by Sandra Brown

  He paused for a moment and rubbed his hand across the back of hers, which was still resting on his bare stomach. "That's where I met Susan – at that audition. She came up to me afterward and said she was glad that I hadn't gotten the part. She would have hated seeing me dye my hair."

  The pain in Lauri's chest squeezed with increasing intensity. His voice had dropped in volume as well as pitch. Susan was still a very integral part of him, though she had been dead for three years. Knowing the answer already, but somehow having to verbalize the question, Lauri asked softly, "Was she beautiful?"

  "Yes," he said without hesitation, and shut his eyelids like a curtain over the green eyes. "She was a dancer, a serious pupil of ballet. No matter what show she auditioned for, she was too classic in her style to be in the chorus. She always went back to ballet. Finally she got chosen for American Ballet Theatre."

  A ballerina! That was worse than Lauri had anticipated. She would have been dainty and feminine and graceful and, as he had said, beautiful.

  She had to change the subject. It was suddenly vital that the mood of moments before be restored. "What is your favorite work, Drake? What role would you most like to play?"

  "Brick in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, without qualification," he said. "I did him once in acting class. It's a magnificent character. Every relationship in Brick's life is explored in that two and a half hours. With his wife, his father, his mother, his brother, his friend." His voice was becoming excited. "But I'd love to direct it too. Can you imagine drawing out all the nuances of those wonderful characters? God, what a challenge." He was quiet for a moment while he stared into space, as if seeing an imaginary stage with the actors standing in readiness for his direction. Then he glanced up at her and stared for long moments.

  Her hair framed her face as she looked down at him. The firelight made it glow and shimmer. Her complexion, still dewy from her bath, was soft and inviting where her robe gaped open at her throat.

  "You don't look like a tutor," he said softly.

  "You look exactly like an actor," she whispered back. He raised up slightly and braced himself by placing his arm on the other side of her hip. "Could you be a bit more specific?" he asked. "I mean, Ernest Borgnine is an actor, and Robert Redford is an actor."

  She was laughing. "I see your point. Well, let me see," she squinted her eyes as she perused his face and chest. "I'd say you're somewhere in between."

  "Oh, yeah?" he teased. "May I audition for the romantic male lead, Ms. Producer? Please? It will be an audition I'll enjoy."

  While he was talking, he tugged on the belt of her robe, and it fell away under his fingers. "As you can see I'm already getting into character." His hand slipped inside the robe and cupped her breast. "All I need now is a supporting player," he said as his lips sought hers and found them willing.

  The kiss was deep and long. While one hand continued to caress her breast, his other threaded the burnished auburn hair through his fingers. Her arm went around his naked shoulders and smoothed over the hard muscles. The other hand traced each lean rib until it rested on the curve of his waist.

  His mouth finally lifted from hers long enough to murmur, "I hoped I'd find nothing but you under this robe." He slid the robe from her shoulder and nipped at the fragrant skin. "When you're warm and pliant and serene like this, there's a maternal quality about you that I need." His lips trailed down her chest to the top curve of her breasts, which he brushed with his mustache. Slipping his arm inside the robe, he drew her closer against him. "Nurture me, Lauri," he grated huskily.

  When his mouth closed over the bud of her breast, Lauri clasped his head and arched against him. His tongue played havoc with her, circling, darting. thrusting. He nibbled her with lazy leisure. She moaned deep in her throat when he nuzzled the undersides of her breasts with his nose and mouth only to return to that which he could never get enough of. He suckled her gently, delectably.

  She rested her cheek on the top of his head and explored his chest and stomach with a light but eager hand. Timidly she placed it at the waistband of his jeans. He buried his head between her breasts and rotated it in a suppliant gesture of mingled torment and ecstasy.

  "Oh, God, yes. Please, Lauri," he rasped in an uneven voice that was muffled further by the soft flesh under his lips. "Touch me."

  She unsnapped the jeans.

  The doorbell sounded like cathedral chimes over the sound of their labored breathing, the strains of violin music on the stereo, and the hissing and popping of the flames in the fireplace.

  Drake cursed expansively as he struggled into a sitting position and hung his head over his knees. "Who the hell—"

  "Maybe they'll go away," Lauri said hopefully.

  The ringing bell announced that whoever it was, wasn't giving up. Drake cursed again, but stumbled to his feet and crossed to the alcove, which prevented Lauri from seeing the front door. She was about to remind him that he was shirtless but didn't have time before she heard him open the door.

  "Oh! We didn't expect to see you here. This is certainly a surprise."

  At the sound of the familiar voice Lauri bolted off the couch. Trembling legs almost failed to support her. With useless fingers, she straightened her robe and secured the belt at her waist. "Oh, Lord," she cried silently, and barely stifled a sob.

  "Who—" Drake started, only to be interrupted.

  "I'm Reverend Andrew Parrish, Lauri's father. Is she here?"

  * * *

  Chapter 9

  «^»

  "Uh, good evening," Lauri heard Drake say. "I'm—"

  "We know who you are, young man. Lauri's told us all about you. Mother has been flittering around like a moth, telling everyone that her daughter works for Drake Sloan."

  "I can't believe that I'm talking to you in person. The ladies back home will—"

  "Mother, please, can't you see the man is shirtless and we're keeping him out in the night air. May we come in, Mr. Sl – I mean, Mr. Rivington?"

  Lauri had listened to this exchange in a state of shock as she stood rooted to the spot in front of the sofa. Her impulse was to run up the stairs and hide, but they were in view of the front door. There was no way she could reach them without her parents seeing her.

  What were they doing here? They would think – they would know— What could she do? She straightened her robe as well as possible and smoothed an ineffectual hand over her hair, which was helplessly mussed. She had no more time. Drake was escorting her parents into the room.

  "Mother! Daddy!" she exclaimed with false enthusiasm and rushed across the room to greet them. She would just have to brazen it out. Don't act guilty, she cautioned herself.

  "Lauri, my dear girl. How are you?" Alice Parrish hugged her daughter in a tight embrace, and Lauri knew her mother could feel that she was wearing nothing under her robe. She glanced at Drake over her mother's shoulder. He shrugged helplessly and looked a trifle pale himself. His hair, Lauri noted in anguish, was as mussed as hers. In addition, wearing only his unsnapped jeans, he was announcing his aroused sexuality as blatantly as a flashing neon sign. Oh, God!

  Her mother her on the lips, which were abraded from Drake's kisses of moments ago. Could her mother taste Drake on her mouth? She wondered. Then she was being embraced by her father, and Lauri submitted to his hearty hug.

  There was an awkward silence when they pulled apart, and her parents surveyed the room. It spelled seduction as if the word had been emblazoned on the walls. The soft music still wafted from the record player, stereophonically tempting. The firelight, bathing the room in soft hues and deepening shadows, intimated secrecy. The wine cooler and the half-drunk glasses pointed at them from the coffee table like accusing fingers. Further incriminating were the rumpled cushions of the sofa. One had even been kicked to the floor when Drake had adjusted his long legs on the couch.

  Had Lauri not been so mortified by the situation, she would have been glad to see her parents. She had always been close to them and knew she was fortunate t
o have parents who had shown her nothing but love all her life.

  She looked at her mother, who was petite, barely reaching her husband's shoulder. Alice Parrish's hair was the same russet shade as Lauri's, but had faded with age to a less vibrant hue. Her face was virtually unlined, and what creases were there were laugh lines, testimony to her happy disposition.

  Andrew Parrish carried his height with distinction. His dark, gray-streaked hair swept back from his high forehead in well-trimmed waves. He had steady gray eyes that were benign and kind, and spoke with as much spiritual depth as did his deep, reassuring voice. He was a great comfort to his congregation, but he was unswayed in his convictions on morality, no matter how modern the times.

  Their initial joy over seeing their younger daughter had been dampened by the scene that now confronted them, and Lauri could read the disillusionment sweeping over those faces that she loved. It broke her heart to see it and know what they must be thinking.

  "You met Drake at the door, I believe," she said for lack of anything better and to break the ghastly silence. "What are you doing here? Not that I'm not glad to see you," she added hurriedly. "It's just that I—"

  "We thought we'd surprise you, dear. Mother and I are attending a pastors' conference that begins tomorrow night in Santa Fe. We decided to come a day early and spend some time with you."

  "I'm delighted you did," Lauri said.

  "We didn't expect to find Mr. Rivington here," Andrew said, looking toward Drake. He had picked his sweater off the end of the couch where it had been flung and pulled it over his head.

  It was characteristic of her father to get right to the heart of the matter, though Lauri wished she had more time now to come up with a feasible explanation. But would time give her one? She doubted it. Was it her imagination, or was her mother's bottom lip beginning to quiver? Why had they shown up tonight? What if they had arrived fifteen minutes later? Lauri shivered and wrapped her arms around her body. That was too dreadful even to think about.

  She licked her lips and said with as much poise as she could conjure, "Drake … he came in a few days ago to see Jennifer. Wait till you see Jennifer, Mother," Lauri said shakily. "You'll adore her." When no one said anything, she continued. "He missed her so much, you see… He took time off from the television show… She was so glad to see him…" Laurie trailed off. She wasn't saying anything that made any sense and was skirting the issue she knew was uppermost in everyone's mind.

  Andrew eyed the two wineglasses on the coffee table. "He's been staying here with you." She saw the pain in her father's eyes as he said the statement. She wished she could take away that pain. They would never understand. Lauri closed her eyes against the wounded accusation she read on each of her parents' faces.

  "Lauri, darling, we may as well tell them," Drake said smoothly, and came to her, putting an affectionate arm around her shoulders and drawing her close. She looked up at him in tenor of what he might say. His smile was tender, as he gazed down at her. "I know we agreed to keep it a secret for a while, but when we made that decision, we didn't know that your parents were going to surprise us this way. I'm afraid they're thinking the worst."

  And they're right, she wanted to say, but was held mutely spellbound by Drake's words and solicitous manner.

  "Sir," he said with formality as he faced her father, "Lauri and I were married today in Albuquerque. You've caught us on our honeymoon."

  Lauri would have collapsed to the floor if Drake's arm hadn't supported her. Every ounce of blood in her body rushed to her head, and she could feel each pulse-beat as it pounded through her veins. Her ears were roaring with a cacophony that shut out her parents' exclamations, though she could see that they were delighted and relieved at the news.

  They were laughing and stuttering their astounded congratulations. Her mother came up to Drake and unabashedly embraced him, kissing him on the cheek and saying, "Welcome to our family, Drake." Andrew was thumping him on the back and saying, "You had me going for a minute there. I don't even want to tell you what I was thinking."

  Then they were hugging Lauri, and she was swept along in the tide of their love and renewed trust. She was still too stunned to speak or react.

  "Andrew, do you realize that we have another grandchild now?" Alice clapped her hands at this exciting thought. "Can we see her, Lauri? I promise not to wake her, but you've told me what a precious child she is. I was so eager to see her anyway, and now she belongs to my family." The lights in Alice's brown eyes were dancing, and Lauri didn't have the heart to disillusion her again.

  "She's upstairs, Mother. The smaller bedroom. Why don't you and Daddy go up and see her? I'll put on some coffee. I'm afraid you took me so unawares that my hospitality has been lacking," she said lamely. Her brain could barely form a coherent thought, much less articulate it.

  "Come on, Andrew." Alice had her husband by the hand, and he rolled his eyes heavenward in feigned exasperation. "This woman is crazy about children, Drake. You'll have to get accustomed to her overindulgence."

  "I'm looking forward to that, and I know Jennifer will." He spoke warmly. Why wasn't he showing signs of stress? Hadn't he realized that this charade couldn't last? What was his motivation for saying what he had?

  As her parents climbed the stairs and disappeared down the hall at the top, she narrowed suspicious eyes on Drake, who gazed at her guilelessly. Her hands balled into fists at her sides. Something in that arrogant tilt of his head sparked her anger. He was enjoying her discomfiture!

  "Why, Drake?" she demanded in a stage whisper, not wanting her parents to hear this conversation. "Why did you tell them such a ridiculous lie?"

  "It was an Academy Award-winning performance, wasn't it? I should think you'd be thanking me for saving your neck, Lauri. The evidence was stacked against you. They were jumping to the correct conclusion, and I don't think you wanted that, did you? And it's a little late for that," he remarked as she switched on the lamp. "You'd do better to leave it off. It's obvious that you've been thoroughly kissed and—"

  "Will you stop?" she hissed, and stamped her foot. "Drake, what am I going to do? My parents think I'm married to you! What will we tell them when they discover the truth?"

  "Tell them that things didn't work out and that we've separated," he said blandly.

  She slumped down on the couch and covered her face with her hands. "They were heartbroken when Paul and I separated. I don't want to put them through that again."

  He was quiet for a time and then said slowly, "Then I'll tell them that I was only teasing you. You can explain the circumstances of my living here with you. Surely they'll understand. Isn't your father in the business of forgiving?" His bantering voice irritated her more than his bald lie.

  "Don't, Drake." Her eyes were fiery, and it wasn't the reflection of the fireplace that caused that dangerous glow. "Don't you dare mock me or them," she warned him in a low, hard voice.

  When he saw her cold, forbidding look, he was instantly serious. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to treat your father's occupation or your predicament lightly."

  She could read no insincerity in his face, but she sighed and said with resignation, "It doesn't matter. I'm sure this seems like a scene out of a romantic farce to you, but it's real to me. I couldn't stand to see them hurt."

  "Lauri, you're almost thirty years old," he reasoned. "Your life is your own to live as you see fit. They may not like everything you do. No parent does. But they live by their standards and you by yours."

  "You don't understand." She groaned. "I've never done anything to betray their trust. If I chose to do something I knew they wouldn't approve of, I'd keep it from them to protect them, not me. I'd never flaunt my indiscretions in their faces."

  "But you haven't done anything!" he said sharply, then lowered his voice. "Believe me, I know how chaste you've been. I ache with that knowledge."

  In spite of her conflict his words caused her heart to skip a beat. She shifted her eyes away from him. "My conscience is cle
ar, and if I told them the facts of the matter, they'd believe me. It's just that" – she waved her hands as if looking for the right words – "it would make a difference, that's all. They're from a different generation. They'd never accept my living with a man under any circumstances. You've never loved anyone enough to care what they thought of you."

  It was the wrong thing to say, and she realized it as soon as the words left her mouth. The planes of his face had gone rigid, and his mouth contorted under his mustache. He crammed his hands in the pockets of his jeans and turned abruptly on his heels to stare into the dying fire.

  They heard the Parrishes coming out of Jennifer's room, and Drake said quietly without facing her, "I'll leave it up to you. I'll follow your lead and ad lib."

  Alice started talking before she reached the bottom step of the stairs. "Drake, she's an absolute angel. I love her already and can't wait until she wakes up in the morning so I can play with her." Alice's face was radiant with happiness, and it constricted Lauri's heart to continue the deception.

  "I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I haven't started the coffee yet." She made a move toward the kitchen, but her father stopped her.

  "Don't make any on our account. We're too old to drink it late at night. It keeps us awake. We'd better be finding a place to stay tonight. We'll be back in the morning if that's all right."

  "Nonsense," Drake said. "You'll stay here in my house. We have plenty of room."

  "Oh, we couldn't," Alice protested. "You and Lauri are on your honeymoon."

  "I don't mind, if Lauri doesn't," Drake said with a shrug. "Do you, darling?"

  "I – yes. I mean, no, I don't mind," Lauri stammered as she tried to analyze Drake's intentions.

  "There's a small bedroom on the other side of the kitchen. That's where I've been sleeping for the past few days. I was going to move into the master bedroom tonight anyway."