by Helen Conrad
Phyllis sighed, shaking her head. “I’m fully aware of that. And that is exactly the problem, as you very well know.”
Carly smiled faintly. She knew that was Phyllis’s problem. Maybe it was her own problem too. She wasn’t sure.
“Tell you what, Phyllis,” she said. “I’ll think it over. And I’ll do what I think is best for everyone.”
“Including me?” Phyllis asked archly, drumming her long, painted nails on the back of the wooden chair.
Carly didn’t feel much like grinning, but she managed to do it anyway, just because she didn’t want Phyllis to think she was being intimidated.
“Sure. You will be last on my list, but you’ll be included.” She rose and put her mug and the teapot in the sink. “Give me a call if I can help with dinner in any way,” she said brightly, then left the room.
At least the woman wasn’t cagey about what she felt. She came right out and let you know what she wanted. She was going to have to confront her about what she knew and get her to be as candid about that—but not right now. She wasn’t ready. She was feeling just a little shaky about everything. She wanted to be stronger before she made the final push for the truth. And right now she wanted to go to her room and lie down and stare at the ceiling and pray for inspiration.
But there was Joe, arriving in the yard. He was back! She ran out onto the porch and watched him, her heart beating. He started toward the house, looking like a man who hadn’t slept for two days—and she realized that was probably about right.
“You okay?” she asked him when he got close enough.
He nodded and kept coming, and then he was on the porch and she was in his arms and his mouth was on hers. Every bit of his pent up frustration and fatigue was in that kiss, along with a good serving of pure desire. It told her more than words could have done about how hard and tense his last few hours had been. Did it also tell her how he felt about the refuge she could represent to him and his life? Maybe—just a little bit.
“Did you get the job done?” she whispered, still pressed to his warm and wonderful body.
“We did,” he said. “We got eight moved and I showed the men who’re working with me a hidden way into the canyon. Everything went according to plan.”
He pulled away and she watched him with shining eyes.
“Come on in,” she told him. “I’ll give you something to eat.”
He nodded. “I’ll go take a shower,” he said, touching her cheek as he passed and headed for the stairway. And she glowed with quiet happiness—as though her man was safely home. If only she could really say that.
She stopped, questioning herself. Was that what she really wanted? Was that even possible? Shaking her head, she went back into the kitchen to fix the evening meal.
Phyllis ate with them and that ruined the mood entirely. She spent most of her time correcting the childrens’ table manners and the rest of the time letting Joe know that she’d heard the rumors about him helping the mustang protectors and she wanted it stopped right away. Luckily, she didn’t put two and two together and realize that was exactly where he’d been for the last two days. But she did enough to put him in a thoroughly bad mood and he stomped off in the direction of the barn as soon as the meal was over.
Carly sighed and cleaned up and thought about the things she wanted to talk to him about, then decided it wasn’t a good time to do any of that. She put the dishes into the dishwasher and then headed for her room. Turning a corner, she found Jeremy sitting on the bottom step of the stairs, his back to her. He was leaning against the wall and pulling on a loose piece of the wallpaper.
“Oh Jeremy,” she said sighing, letting her arms go limp with weariness. “Don’t do that.”
He didn’t turn or make any other sign that he had heard her. He just kept picking at the piece of wallpaper.
She stopped where she was and frowned. No matter what Beth had said at the beginning about how Jeremy would never mind her, she’d found him to be a very obedient child, helpful and cooperative. He was withdrawn and seemed to live in some private place he kept inside that was just for him, but he was not an unruly or disobedient boy at all. But she’d always had a feeling…
“Jeremy?” she said softly again, not moving a muscle.
He didn’t make a move. His little fingers still picked at the paper.
“Jeremy?” she said a little louder. “Can you hear me?”
He kept on peeling the paper off.
He couldn’t hear her. She was convinced of it.
“Jeremy?” she said a bit louder.
Still no response.
“Jeremy!” she shouted. This time the vibrations should bounce upon his skin as well as his eardrums.
And they did. He yanked his hand back and turned, wide-eyed, surprised to see her there.
Yes! That was it. He was definitely surprised. He hadn’t heard a thing until she’d shouted. He was hard of hearing. What was wrong with everyone for missing it?
She knelt beside him. “Jeremy, darling, do you have problems hearing me?”
He shook his head quickly, his eyes full of fear. “No,” he said, his gaze glued to her lips. “I can hear you.”
You can lip-read, you mean, she thought to herself. Oh Jeremy. The poor baby. He must have spent most of his life trying to pretend, working so hard at figuring out what people were saying so they wouldn’t figure out what was wrong.
Ignoring his stiffening, she threw her arms around him and hugged tightly.
“Jeremy, Jeremy, you dear thing.” She drew back and looked at him and smiled, but he didn’t smile back.
“It’s all right, you know. If you’re having trouble hearing, we’ll take you to doctors and see if they can…”
He shook his head violently. “No,” he said fiercely. “I can hear! I can hear.”
Struggling out of her arms, he ran up the stairs and slammed the door to his room, while Carly sat back and stared after him.
Instead of going to her room as she’d planned, she turned and went out the front door. She was pretty sure Joe was working in his office in the barn, going over some figures. She could hardly wait to tell him.
This was more important than the stuff about Phyllis and her father, she told herself, knowing she was rationalizing like crazy. That whole issue was coming to a head, but she found herself avoiding it. It was as though she had the pieces of the puzzle in front of her but she was scared to go ahead and put them together. So she thrust the whole thing into the back of her closet and took up a new toy.
She’d known from the first that there was more to Jeremy than people had told her. They said he didn’t listen. Didn’t they ever stop to think that that might be because he couldn’t hear? Maybe it was just that people who had grown up with him always around just took him for granted. Whatever it was, he’d fooled too many people for too long. Something had to be done.
Jeremy. She had to take care that things changed for him. She had a new burning issue to think about, an issue that shouldered aside the search for her father for now. She ran across the yard and arrived before Joe red-cheeked and breathless.
“Guess what,” she announced, eyes shining. “Jeremy is hard of hearing. I proved it.”
He looked up with a frown, obviously not amused at being interrupted. His face looked dark and hard in the shadows of his office. His hair was in disarray, as though he’d been running his hands through it, and thick strands fell over his forehead. There was nothing inviting about the look in his eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“Jeremy.” His cool response dimmed her enthusiasm only a little. “He can’t hear. That’s the problem. That’s why he’s so withdrawn.”
He threw down his pencil and grimaced, leaning back in his chair and looking at her from half-closed eyes. “Listen, Carly, you’ve only been here a week or two, you hardly know the boy.”
“I know this boy,” she insisted, refusing to back down. “He’s a good boy. He does what I tell him to do. And just now,
I came up behind him and spoke to
him several times. Joe, he didn’t hear me. I’m sure of it.”
He sat motionless for a long moment, then shook his head slowly. “He ignored you.”
“No. That wasn’t it. I was there, Joe, I saw him. And I’m sure of what I saw.” His hard face was unbending. She couldn’t understand how he could be so inflexible. She put out a hand in supplication. “Joe, please, I want to take him for testing…”
His face became even darker, almost angry. “No. No way. He’s been through testing. We took him for all the tests two years ago. They didn’t turn up a thing. I won’t have him go through that again.”
She was bewildered by his adamancy. “But, Joe, I’m so sure— “
He sat up straight and glared at her. “Leave him alone. He’s a quiet kid. That’s not a crime, you know.”
She stopped arguing. There wasn’t much use. She should have read the signs from the beginning and saved it for another time. There was something prickly about him today, a new wariness. She wasn’t going to get anywhere with him while he was like this.
“Okay,” she said, trying to smile. “Listen, we can talk about this later—“
“Later?” He rose from his chair and came out from behind his desk, coming up close to her in a manner that was more aggressive than friendly. “What ‘later’ is that, Carly? How long are you planning to stay? Another day? Another week?”
There was something in his eyes—was it pain? Was it anger? She couldn’t be sure. But as he spoke, he reached out and took her hair in his hand, letting it flow through his open fingers like sand at a golden beach, watching every nuance. Then his hand came in and curled against her neck, moving slowly down, fingers spreading against her skin, and his gaze followed the movement as though he were half hypnotized by it.
She stood very still, afraid to speak, afraid to move, not sure what was going on, not sure if she liked it, but not daring to do anything that might make him stop.
“You’re a visitor here, Carly. A transient. Passing through.”
His hand cleared her hair away and his face slowly descended to her neck. His lips were warm, but when he opened his mouth and tasted her skin, his touch was hot, searing, and she moaned softly, closing her eyes, letting the delicious warmth pour through her.
“You’re only here for a short time, Carly,” he went on, rubbing his rough cheek against her silky skin, his voice as rugged as gravel, as soft as night. “What do you want to do, tear my whole life apart and leave it in pieces on the ground when you walk away?”
His eyes were as hard and flat as tinted glass as he lifted his head. His hand slipped down inside her shirt, sliding beneath her bra, cupping her breast, fingers searching for the nipple, setting her pulse on fire. And his gaze still held hers, almost defiantly.
She didn’t push him away. She knew she should, but she didn’t seem to have the strength. Instead, she moved, gasping as the sensations stirred in her, and then she lifted her face to his, wanting his kiss, hungry for it, needing it with a new, deep, burning ache inside that she had never experienced before. Her lips parted and she sighed, leaning toward him.
But he only stared down at her, offering nothing. His hand moved away from her breast and clenched into a fist, and his eyes grew so dark that they seemed black and limitless.
“Go away, Carly,” he said softly, his face twisted in a tortured grimace. “Just go away.”
She stared at him, not sure if he meant for now or forever.
“Go.” He pointed toward the door, eyes burning.
Numbly, she turned and began to walk back to the house. When she looked back, he was heaving a sharpened ax up over his shoulder. She swung around, hand covering her mouth.
“Joe, what are you doing? Where are you going?” she called back.
His eyes were hooded as he looked at her. “I’m going to the upper orchard to split some wood,” he said, his voice as rough as a winter wind. “I feel a sudden need for some vigorous physical activity.”
He turned toward the truck. She bit her lip, wanting to insist on going with him, afraid for him. But he wasn’t hers. And now he wanted her off his property. Phyllis would have a good laugh over this one. Carly had barely finished telling her that Joe didn’t want her to leave. It seemed she’d made a small error in judgment.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
UNDENIABLE LOVE
Millie’s car was parked in the driveway. Carly hadn’t even heard her drive up, but she could hear the laughter now. While she’d been going through an emotional and physical experience that had shaken her to the roots, Millie and Phyllis were having a jolly talk in the kitchen. It was almost amusing. Almost, but not quite.
Still, facing them would be even less so. She hesitated, wishing there were a way she could gracefully avoid the two of them, but it was too late. They’d seen her. Millie called out a greeting, and she went in, forcing herself to don a friendly smile in return.
“Join us,” Millie insisted, offering a plate of brownies she’d brought over. Her voice was welcoming but her eyes were inquisitive, moving quickly over Carly, looking for clues as to what she was up to.
Carly sank into a chair at the table and looked at the two of them. They both loved Joe, each in her own, possessive way. Were they forming an alliance against her? She wasn’t feeling very strong at the moment. She wasn’t really up to a fight.
“I’ve just come from the community center,” Millie told her chattily. “They’re putting on a musical version of The Turn of the Screw. I’m trying to talk Phyllis into getting involved.”
Carly did a double take. “A musical version of The Turn of the Screw? Can they do that?”
Millie looked at her blankly. “Why not?”
Carly blinked. “Have you ever read The Turn of the Screw?”
“Oh, it’ll be cute—a little girl, a little boy, the governess—sort of a mystery Mary Poppins.’’
“As written by Stephen King,” Carly noted dryly.
Millie’s puzzled look showed that she still didn’t quite get it. “Anyway, Phyllis would be perfect for the job.”
Phyllis looked pleased, but she was shaking her head. “No, no, you’re a darling to even think of me, Millie, but you know my singing days are over.”
“Phyllis has a wonderful voice,” Millie explained to Carly. “And she’s done a lot of work with choral groups.”
It was amazing how they could sit here calmly talking about this and not see the connection, not remember that choir had been the root of all...what? Something. Something that Carly still needed to find out.
“Yes,” Carly said slowly, feeling numb. “I’ve heard about her choir-directing days.”
Both the other women froze and stared at her. So they did get the connection after all.
Carly knew it was time to confront them, time to lay her cards out on the table. But she felt groggy, listless. Her mind wouldn’t really focus. She wasn’t ready.
“You know what I think she should do,” she went on, speaking to Millie rather than Phyllis. “I think she should take Beth in hand and train her to try out for a part. The child seems to have inherited her voice.”
Millie blinked rapidly and stumbled over her words, having a hard time readjusting from the shock of Carly’s earlier statement. “Uh...yes, you know...I think Carly may have an idea there, Phyllis. I...uh, I mean, I’ve heard Beth singing. She does have a nice voice. Maybe you ought to—“
“She’s too young,” Phyllis said, glaring at Carly. “And I doubt I would have the patience for that sort of thing these days. As I said before, my choral days are over.”
An uncomfortable silence fell over the table. Carly thought of Joe, of his touch on her breast, and she shivered, but no one mentioned it. She had to get out of here, but for some reason she didn’t seem to have the strength to get up and do it. One of them would have to say something sooner or later. Then maybe she would have an opening to leave.
Millie beat her to it. S
he finally broke the silence when she pushed back her chair and said, “Well, I think I’ll go say hello to the children. Are they in the den?”
Carly looked up at her but she didn’t smile. “I think they’re in their rooms, doing homework.”
“Great.” That would give her even longer to stay away. “I’ll just run up and see them. Be back in a jiffy.” She escaped through the doorway.
Phyllis sat holding her teacup and looking at Carly over the rim like a cat who had a mouse between her paws.
“Millie is a wonderful person, isn’t she?”
Well, who could argue with that? “She’s very nice,” Carly allowed, looked at the woman warily.
“She loves the children as though they were her own.”
“She’s very good with them.”
Phyllis smiled as though she thought things were going well. “She’s done her best to keep things going here, keep things on an even keel, since Ellen left.”
“Yes, she’s been very generous.”
Phyllis reached out and put her hand over Carly’s in a move that made Carly want to yank her hand away. “She’s waited so long for Joe, poor dear. She’s worked so hard at it. You can see why it disturbs me to see you walking in and destroying everything.”
No one could ever accuse Phyllis of skirting an issue. Carly slipped her hand away, resisting the urge to wipe it on her pants. Sitting back, she looked the woman in the face, nodding slowly. “I can see your point, really I can. You want Millie and Joe to marry.”
“Of course I do. I always have.” She scowled for a moment, remembering. “They were meant for each other from the first. Her mother was my best friend, and we always planned how it would be. Gloria had her dress picked out for the wedding by the time Millie was ten years old. We knew where we would hold the reception. We had the service planned to the minutest detail.”
“And then Millie got pregnant?” She watched, knowing Phyllis would nod at that. But it wasn’t going to be good enough to silence her this time. “You know, from what I’ve seen and heard, I don’t buy it,” she said softly.