by Janet Dailey
Ripples of moonlight danced over the river and the cobweb silhouettes of trees along the banks. A corner of the full moon was lopped off, making it look like a chipped silver dollar in a velvet sky. The stars were big and bright, so close Selena felt she could reach out and touch them. It was a warm and languid southern night with a moist breeze stirring the air.
"Don't you think this charade has gone far enough?" Chance issued the demanding question in a cold, hard voice that shattered the evening's mood.
Selena's eyes widened, partly in anger and partly in fear that they were back to the question of her profession. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm referring to the way you keep humoring Julia, of course," he snapped, impatient with her obtuseness.
"Humoring her?" she repeated, her resentment at his attitude at dinner returning to fuel her anger. "I am not humoring her! I'm glad she's found someone to love. And you should be, too, instead of trying to spoil her happiness. She's a warm, wonderful person. She doesn't deserve to have a family like yours!"
She didn't flinch under his piercing regard, his eyes narrowing to black slits as he searched deep into her soul as if testing the sincerity of her words. Turning, he said nothing in defense but merely escorted her up the stairs to the texas deck and her cabin.
He left her at the door with a brusque good-night, which, still simmering from their exchange, Selena didn't bother to return. As she closed her door she saw he had moved to the railing.
A lighter flamed in his hand. He cupped it to the slender cigar in his mouth, the lighter briefly illuminating his features and revealing an expression of grim thoughtfulness.
As Selena got ready for bed, the humid breeze carried the aromatic smoke from his cigar through her open cabin window. The scent lingered long after she had fallen asleep.
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Chapter Six
SELENA AWAKENED FAIRLY EARLY the next morning. The river was shrouded in fog when she stepped from her cabin. It seemed a white world with the sky paled to a pearl gray. Even the sun was a white glare in the east. The damp coolness seeped through her sweater to chill her skin, making her hurry down the stairs to the forward cabin lounge.
The first person she saw as she entered the lounge was Chance. He was standing at one of the windows and staring out, and as if sensing her presence, he shot her a glance. An impassive mask had been drawn over his compelling features, making his thoughts unreadable.
Then Selena noticed Julia, looking dejected sitting in one of the chairs. Selena's mouth tightened; she was certain that in some way Chance was to blame for his aunt's expression. She walked directly to the older woman to offer moral support and perhaps undo whatever damage Chance had done.
"Good morning, Julia," she greeted the woman quietly.
Looking up in surprise, Julia recovered to respond, "Oh, good morning Selena." But it was an absent greeting, her thoughts were obviously far away.
"Is something wrong, Julia?" Selena probed gently.
"The chief purser just brought me this message," was the sigh.
Selena noticed the crumpled slip of paper between Julia's twisting fingers. "From Leslie?" she guessed.
"Yes, he won't be able to meet me in Natchez." Disappointment, intense and painful, clouded her expression.
"Oh, no!" Selena breathed out, an instant frown of compassion drawing her eyebrows together.
"He said he'd meet me in Vicksburg instead." Julia attempted to fix a reassuring smile on her face, but she couldn't conceal her regret for the postponement.
"What happened?"
"His car broke down," Julia explained. "Something major, I guess, since he says it's going to take a couple of days to fix."
"I'm so sorry," Selena offered, knowing it was poor comfort.
"It's all right. We'll be in Vicksburg tomorrow, and the day after that Leslie will be there, so I don't have long to wait. It's you I feel badly about," she murmured apologetically.
"Me? Whatever for?" Selena exclaimed.
"My dear, I know you didn't book for the tour of Natchez because you expected to meet Leslie in the afternoon. Now it's too late and you're going to miss seeing it altogether," Julia sighed.
"I don't mind, really," she insisted.
"Of course you do," Julia dismissed Selena's protest. "You're on vacation. You should be going places and doing things instead of letting me interfere in your life, boring you with my troubles."
"You're not boring me and you aren't interfering," Selena stated flatly. "You've been listening to Chance too much." She flashed an angry glance in his direction, throwing invisible, flaming daggers at a point between his broad shoulders. "I enjoy your company and I'm excited about your wedding. Don't pay any attention to what he says."
"You're such a good girl." Julia patted her hand, adding, "And you're so good for my ego."
"I'm glad," Selena smiled, her affection for the older woman steadily growing.
"Before you came in the lounge, I was feeling so low. Now—" the other woman shrugged and smiled "—I even think I could eat some breakfast. Will you join me?"
Selena hesitated. "Not right away," There was something else she wanted to do first. "But I'll be down before you're through."
"Very well," Julia agreed, rising from her chair.
Selena waited until Julia had started down the steps to the Orleans Room before she walked to where Chance stood.
His glance and his voice were indifferent. "Good morning."
There were other passengers around the lounge helping themselves to coffee. Selena's mouth tightened into a hard line. She wasn't in the mood to exchange pleasantries.
"Would you come outside with me?" she requested stiffly. "I want to talk to you."
A brow lifted briefly at her request, his flat black gaze making an assessing sweep of her, noting the light of battle in her eyes, before he complied with her request.
The instant they were outside and out of earshot of their fellow passengers, Selena turned on him, her eyes flashing green sparks.
"Was this your doing?" she demanded.
Chance tipped his head slightly to the side. "I'm afraid I don't follow you."
One of the deckhands was polishing the brass kickboards of the stairs leading to the texas deck. Selena lowered her voice so she couldn't be overheard, but that didn't lessen the heat in her tone.
"You follow my meaning all right," she retorted. "I'm talking about the message Julia supposedly received from Leslie, the one saying he wouldn't be able to meet her in Natchez."
"That message," he nodded in understanding, his bland expression not changing.
"Yes, I know about it. What has it to do with me?"
"That's what I want to know," Selena challenged. "What was your part in it?"
"As I recall the message, Leslie had car trouble," Chance remarked with infuriating calm. "I've been on the boat with you ever since we left New Orleans, so I don't see how you could accuse me of possibly tampering with his car. That is what you're suggesting, isn't it?"
"That's presupposing, of course, that Leslie sent the message."
"Meaning, you think I did and signed his name to it?" His gaze sharpened.
"It's possible," she said grimly. "I saw you talking to the chief purser last night. You could have paid him to deliver the message to Julia this morning. I wouldn't put it past you—you're so determined not to let them get married."
"It could happen that way," he admitted. "But your theory has a flaw."
"What's that?" Selena didn't hide her skepticism.
"If I sent the message and not Leslie, then he'll be waiting at the landing when the boat docks in Natchez, won't he?" Chance reasoned smoothly, causing Selena's doubt in her suspicions to flicker across her face. "Unless you're going to accuse me next of sending a message to Leslie from Julia calling off the wedding?"
She hadn't thought of that. "You could have."
"Perhaps. But I didn't. The message Julia received this morni
ng was not sent by me," he said firmly. "Nor did I arrange to have it sent. I guess you'll have to assume it came from Leslie."
He sounded as if he was telling the truth, but Selena wasn't sure if she could believe him. "Maybe," she submitted grudgingly. "But if I ever have proof that you're lying, I'll—" She compressed her lips tightly, unable to think of the words to complete the threat.
"Yes?" Chance drawled the word, his eyes taunting her.
Her anger was now an impotent thing. Pivoting, she stalked to the lounge door and jerked it open. She had her temper under control by the time she joined Julia for breakfast. Chance had already eaten, she learned, so she wasn't forced to endure his company for the morning meal.
Three whistle blasts signaled their arrival in Natchez shortly before noon. Along with many of the other passengers, Selena moved to the starboard railing to watch the tying-up process. There was no indication of a city, just a few scattered, old buildings, mostly wood and a few brick, with a sheer bluff rising behind them. A treed, parklike veldt stretched several hundred yards downstream.
The boom swung the landing platform to the ramp running down into the river. Deckhands jumped off to drag the heavy ropes to the tie pins. Selena glimpsed the historical plaque identifying the location as Natchez-under-the-Hill, once the most wicked hellhole on the river, peopled with thieves, murderers, gamblers, prostitutes and cutthroats. The river had carried away most of the old town, leaving a row of ramshackle buildings as a representative of the town's sordid past.
On top of the bluff was the city of Natchez where the respectable citizens had lived. Selena knew the glory of its history was duly represented by the more than one hundred antebellum houses that had been restored to their previous grandeur. The Natchez Pilgrimage tours were some of the most famous in the country, and she regretted that she wasn't going.
A few curious townspeople had driven to the waterfront to watch the Delta queen's arrival. Some sat in their cars, while others, especially those with children, stood on the banks. The arrival of a steamboat was still an event in this river town.
But there was no middle-aged man alone on the landing, searching the faces of the passengers along the railing for a familiar one. Leslie was not there. Even though Selena didn't know what he looked like, she was certain he wasn't there. She sighed with relief, then wondered why. Because Chance hadn't lied to her? Selena shook her head. It couldn't be that.
When the boat was secured, she went ashore, strolling along the worn path in the parklike area. As the trail curved over a knoll, she stopped at the top to lean a shoulder against a tree and stare at the red paddle wheel of the Delta queen, framed by two trees.
The flags circling the top deck ruffled in the breeze against an intense blue sky and a warm, golden sun. Two deckhands were in a rowboat at the bow, applying a fresh coat of paint to the hull.
The leaf of a twig tickled her cheek. Unconsciously she pulled it off and fingered the green leaf. She was in an oddly silent and thoughtful. mood, and her mind seemed to be blank. Then she saw Chance coming toward her with slow, purposeful strides. She hesitated and finally stayed where she was.
"They're serving lunch. Aren't you coming?" he asked, stopping beside her.
"I'm not hungry." Her voice was low and flat.
"Watching your diet?" he returned with a teasing inflection.
"I'm just not hungry," Selena said, shrugging and looking away. She became aware of the leaf in her hand and released it, watching it spiral to the ground.
"What's bothering you, Red?" His voice changed to a serious tone.
"Nothing." She slipped the tips of her fingers into her pants pocket, indifferent to his searching gaze.
"Something is," Chance insisted.
Irritation flashed at his persistence. "If there was something, would you really care?" she challenged.
He continued his quiet study of her without offering a reply. Finally her gaze fell from his, her annoyance burning itself out.
When Chance did speak, he asked, "Were you considering going into town?"
"I thought I would," admitted Selena.
"It's a long walk up that hill." She shrugged her indifference to his comment. "I've hired a cab. You could come along with me, if you'd like, and we'll have lunch and drive around to some of the plantations," he invited in a calm, unemotional tone.
She was surprised and wary of his offer, certain he had some reason for asking her that he wasn't saying. A thought occurred to her.
"Is this your idea or Julia's?" she wanted to know.
"Do you really care?" Chance countered with mocking coolness.
With a painful jolt, Selena realized that she did. She didn't want Chance to be making this invitation out of a sense of duty prompted by his aunt.
"You haven't said whether you'd like to go," he reminded her.
Selena hesitated, then decided it didn't make any difference why he had asked her. This was her chance to see Natchez and she would be a fool to turn it down.
"I have to get my handbag," she said in the way of an answer.
"The cab is at the landing. I'll wait for you there."
"I won't be long," Selena promised, and started back to the boat.
After lunching at Stanton Hall, Chance arranged with the cab driver to take them by many of the antebellum homes. They stopped at three that were open to the general public and not restricted to private tours, giving Selena an opportunity to see the interior of these gracious homes.
They returned to the boat half an hour before it was scheduled to leave. As they walked onto the gangplank, Chance asked, "How did you like Natchez?"
"I enjoyed it," Selena answered with genuine enthusiasm. "Thank you for taking me."
"Are you going to your cabin now?"
She nodded. "I thought I'd freshen up and change for dinner."
"It isn't required, you know," he commented.
"Yes, I know, but I feel like it," she shrugged as they climbed the stairs to the cabin deck.
As they reached the top of the stairs, Selena turned toward the double doors leading to the outer deck, but Chance stopped. "Meet me in the texas lounge in a half hour for a drink," he suggested.
"All right." Selena was surprised at how quickly she agreed.
When she left her cabin to meet Chance, the boat was just getting under way. As its stern swung away from the river bank so the boat could back away from the landing, the calliope played a farewell concert on the sundeck.
Its music was interrupted by an announcement over the public address system requesting the passengers to move to the stern of the steamboat. The Delta Queen's bow was temporarily stuck in the Mississippi mud, and the captain wanted as much weight as possible to the rear of the steamboat.
Obligingly, Selena waited by her cabin, smiling to herself at the simple remedy. Soon the bow was free and the steamboat was reversing into the channel, once again heading upstream.
Chance was waiting for her at a table in the lounge when she walked in, a drink already in front of him. Greg, the bartender she had met the first day aboard, was at the table almost before she sat down.
"What will you have, Selena?" he asked with familiar ease.
Selena felt the speculative look Chance gave her. "I'll have a margarita," she decided.
"Good choice," Greg winked. "I make the best margarita aboard this boat." And he moved away.
"Do you know him?" questioned Chance, in a bland and impersonal tone that was at odds with the look in his eyes.
"I met him the first day," Selena explained somewhat defensively. "It's a very friendly crew."
"Especially around passengers like you," he added dryly.
Her chin lifted as she had the impression of something derogatory in his remark. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"That you're an attractive young woman, as if you didn't already know," he answered.
As much as she tried, Selena couldn't interpret that as a compliment. Chance had been stating what he saw as a
fact, not making a personal comment.
Greg returned with her drink. "The word is out that we'll be meeting the Mississippi queen on her way downstream," he said, referring to the Delta queen's new, modern sister ship.
"When?" Selena's interest was immediate.
"Sometime tonight. It will depend how fast we go upstream and how fast she comes downstream," he smiled. "The captain will be in contact with her by radio before we ever see her. He'll make an announcement ahead of time, letting you know when she'll pass. It'll be a sight to see," Greg declared.
"Where is she coming from?" Selena asked.
"Vicksburg, I think."
"That reminds me. What time will we get into Vicksburg tomorrow?"
"Haven't you heard?" Greg looked at her curiously. "We aren't going to stop at Vicksburg this trip."
"What?" She frowned and glanced at Chance who was studying his drink. But Julia was to meet Leslie in Vicksburg, she thought. "Why not?" she demanded of Greg.
"The river is high from all the spring rains and runoffs, which means the current is swifter, and it's going to take us longer to go up," he explained. "And no one wants to risk getting into Louisville late and missing the steamboat race."
"The steamboat race?" Selena repeated, thinking to herself, but what about Julia and Leslie?
"Yeah," he nodded, finding her blankness curious. "The one between us and the Belle of Louisville. We won it last year, and nobody wants to give up the golden antlers, especially by default." A passenger at another table called to him for a round of drinks. Greg excused himself and returned to the bar.
Selena darted an accusing look at Chance. "Did you know we weren't stopping at Vicksburg?"
Impassively he met her gaze. "I heard about it the other day."
"And you didn't say anything to Julia? You know as well as I do that she's planning to meet Leslie in Vicksburg!" She was angered by his indifference.
"She'll find out about it soon enough, if she hasn't already."