“I think he left. I saw a car drive off.” She stood up. “I’ll go back now, David. I’m sorry I disturbed you in the middle of the night.”
“Not at all. I work all kinds of odd hours when Krysta isn’t here—whenever inspiration strikes. Sometimes I wonder how long it will take me to adjust once she’s back to keep me on a schedule.”
Krysta had not been home in quite a while. David had mentioned in his Sunday morning announcements that she was filling in as mission cook for a few weeks, as well as taking full charge of Sascha and Talmo—stating frankly that she had grown so attached to them, he didn’t know if she would be able to give them up when another family was found for them.
Then he stood up from his desk. “You’d better stay at my house tonight,” he said authoritatively, as if he was her father. “There’s nothing to keep Willy from coming back tonight.”
But Sevana shook her head. “I’ve got to go home. I left a brush with paint drying on it. It’s one of my best ones,” she added lamely, seeing his look of amusement.
“I’ll drive you over so you can wash out your brush—” David’s mouth quirked again. “Then I’ll take you over to the house. We have plenty of extra room.”
At the apartment, David gave the place a once-through, much as Willy had done when he was looking for Ryder. But as he stood waiting for her to finish swirling her brush in the paint thinner, she said: “I’ll stay here tonight, David. Willy won’t come back, I’m sure of it. Even if he did, the door will be locked and he couldn’t get in.”
David hesitated. “What about tomorrow?”
“I’ll go back to work.” She shaped the bristles into a precise point with her fingertips. “That wasn’t Willy tonight. He’s—a different person when he’s sober.”
“So you’ll be all right until the next time he gets drunk.” David looked serious. “I don’t know what to say. But I guess you’re right; he’s not likely to break down any doors tonight…although I’ve seen stranger things happen.”
“I’ll be all right. Thanks for your help tonight, David.”
Still looking unconvinced he left her alone, and she secured the door behind him. Then she turned off the lights and threw herself across the bed without bothering to get into it. She cried a few tears into the crook of her arm before she fell into an exhausted sleep.
In the morning, her face wan and shadowed, she chose a tailored wool dress suit and coiled her hair into a businesslike twist before she opened the shop. She was on-edge, waiting for Willy to come in. Every time the door opened, she started nervously. When Willy did arrive, about midmorning, she laid aside the aimless sketch she’d been penciling and stood up as he came over to the counter. He looked pallid under his spring tan, but well-dressed and meticulously groomed as usual. “Morning, Sevana.” His eyes were on hers, but with a curious lack of expression. “Much business?”
“Only a little.”
He didn’t respond, but made no move away from her. Sevana took his square hand with the ornate gold ring resting on the counter and held it in both of hers. “Willy,” she said earnestly, “all night I wanted to see you again so I could tell you I’m sorry for the dishonorable way I treated you. I only lied because I was afraid. I take no pleasure in hurting you, Willy.”
“I would rather you had slapped me in the face!” said Willy, taking away his hand, “than to make me a king one moment and a beggar the next. But I can’t talk about what is honorable and what is not. Sevana, will you forget last night?”
“I forgive you, Willy. But forgetting will not be as easy.”
“I’m sorry, believe me, I am.” He still had little emotion to show for it. “I acted the fool.”
“A dangerous one, at that. Don’t you think it would be wise to cut back on your drinking before you get in worse trouble?”
“It did occur to me this morning,” he said cynically. “Well, you won’t have to worry about me for a few days. I’m going back to Calgary. Could you cancel Thursday’s class for me—let everyone know?”
“Yes, I will,” she began, then dropped all pretense. “Oh Willy, don’t go if it’s because of me. I don’t mind being around you. I still like you, Willy!”
“Do you? Even if you knew all those things I said last night, I feel that way even when I’m not drunk? Even though I wouldn’t ordinarily suit action to it?” His eyes glittered menacingly. “I’d say the farther away from you, the better. Confound you, Sevana!” And he stalked out of the shop.
Sevana sank down on the stool and hid her face in her hands. But the door opened again directly, and she jerked upright. It was David. “What happened?” he exclaimed. “I was crossing the street to see how things were going this morning, and I saw Willy come out the door like the devil was after him.”
“Oh, David, it was awful,” she said darkly, and told him what Willy had said. “I’m hurting him so!” she finished, almost in tears.
But David was not so sympathetic. “Sevana!” he remonstrated, “Willy is a nice person, admirable in many ways, but don’t you see how he plays life like a game? Have you ever thought it might be a challenge to him to see if he can win you? Not to say he isn’t attracted to you—what man wouldn’t be?—and you are an artist like him, besides! But perhaps the thing driving him most is the thought he can’t have you. No man wants anything worse than the thing he can’t have.”
Sevana regarded David. She was sure Willy was in earnest in loving her, sure it was more a matter of the heart than David gave him credit. But it was an observation she hadn’t considered before, and it did put things in a slightly different light. “Oh David,” she said with a sigh, “I do hope you’re right. I hate to think of him being brokenhearted.”
“Sevana, listen to me. I know a little about Willy’s kind. Loneliness is not one of his especial traits. He won’t linger long over a lost love, mark my word.”
Someone was coming through the door—Jillian, there to pick up a check for the sale of Celestia, a swirl of colors Sevana wouldn’t have expected anyone in the galaxy to voluntarily choose to own…the $500 she had ready to hand to her proving her diametrically wrong. David glanced at Jillian and said to Sevana in a lower voice, “Well, I’m on my way. Don’t fret. Things have a way of working themselves out.”
She tried to smile for his sake. “Thank you. Have you heard from Krysta?”
“Yes, she’s not on kitchen detail anymore, but she’s staying at the mission on weekends to keep Talmo and Sascha’s schedule from being disrupted any more than necessary. I’m going up to visit her in a few weeks. And then school will be out just a month after that, and she’ll be home to stay.”
“That’s wonderful,” Sevana said.
“Yes. My only hope is if she brings Sascha and Talmo home with her, she’ll ask the mission board first, instead of just flat-out kidnapping them.” With a humorous look he made his exit.
“Are you all right?” As soon as David was gone, Jillian came over, her brown eyes wide with an uneasy wondering. “Ralf told me Willy went over to your house last night stewed to his eyeballs.”
“Yes—but nothing happened.” Sevana wanted to protect his image as much as possible to his friends.
Jillian looked serious—or as serious as someone can whose face is finely misted with tangerine flecks from spray-painting a car in their private garage. “That’s not quite what I heard. Ralf said he was pretty much off his rocker, showed up at their house in the dead of night raving how he wasn’t going to give you up.” To the relief of one and all, after saying almost nothing for weeks on end, she had gone back to freely speaking her mind—except around her boss.
“You know how he is when he’s drunk,” Sevana said dismissively. “I did have to ask him to leave.” She still wasn’t prepared to spill the whole story for the edification of his closest comrades, but she needed Jillian to understand something. “But it isn’t that I don’t care for him, Jillian. Sometimes I’d even like to give in to him.”
“Look, Sevana, I’v
e known Willy for a long time,” Jillian said crisply. “If you did give in, all you’d get is your heart broken when he found the next version of the love of his life. All I can say is, I’m glad you’ve had the sense to stay disentangled. Goodness knows he’s been working hard enough to get you. That little stunt he pulled in Calgary! I could have cheerfully strangled Len for letting him get away with it. Len, of all people. I guess it proves he’ll do anything for Willy, but sometimes his loyalty goes too far. I told Len it was like throwing meat to the wolves. I even painted a picture and mailed it to him anonymously because I was so mad…a wolf with blood dripping from its fangs…and if you look really close, there’s a few strands of blonde hair trailing from its jaws.”
“Jillian, you didn’t!” Incredulous, Sevana doubled over in an attack of laughter.
Her change in disposition was not lost on Jillian. “Oh yes, I did. It was a fast job, just to make a statement, you know, but quite a good likeness.” Upon a moment of critical reflection, she looked rather pleased with herself. “Len asked me if I was missing any of my artwork, and I said no—because it was his by then, not mine. I’ll show it to you sometime.”
Frank Larkin, former conservation officer and father of Len’s new girlfriend, was coming in the door with a new wildlife painting of which he was particularly proud—a fine black timber wolf in bushy winter coat. He was never to know why Sevana made a little choked sound in the back of her throat the moment she saw it—although she immediately became professional and complimented him gravely at length; nor why Jillian spun from it after one glance, looked helplessly at Sevana, and made a beeline for the door.
CHAPTER 49
In the days during Willy’s absence Sevana considered Mr. Thane’s offer. It had fallen into her lap right after she’d decided to pursue a degree, and she felt attracted by the idea. She discussed it with Jillian one night, inviting her over for a dinner of home-cooked beef stew—the two of them drawn closer together through recent events. They renewed the discussion another night over dessert in Jillian’s condominium, the bare beige walls and no-nonsense furnishings suggesting someone who required an uncluttered counterbalance for the dizzying multicolored creations that must surely be swirling in her head. Jillian, dishing up warm apple cake with whipped cream, thought Vancouver sounded outstanding, and was still urging Sevana to do it right up to the end of the evening when she showed off the roadster polished to a professional luster in her garage.
Walking home through the spring twilight, vaguely troubled that of all the colors available for the roadster, Jillian had chosen firecracker orange, Sevana was still favoring Adriel’s class. Joel and Chantal would be in the same city—an unsettling thought—but it was a big place, she would probably never run into them. It wasn’t the rural town she was hoping for, but maybe she could still find a place to keep the sheep. Finally she decided to call Mr. Thane for more information on the program. She would put off making a final choice until she had all the details.
But as excited as she should have been to have this new opportunity opening up before her—instead, for every day Willy stayed away, the worse she felt. Despite David’s sound counsel, and a private showing of the wolf picture Jillian had shamelessly stolen out of Len’s house for the occasion (all the more impressive because it proved once and for all that Jillian was capable of producing realistic art if she wanted to)—Sevana felt she had lost one of her closest friends when Willy had stalked out the door.
Of course his out-of-bounds display the other night hadn’t been in good character; but on the other hand, the severity of it had shocked her into seeing how much he cared for her. Who else did she know, who would be so upset if she refused them her heart? She had trouble thinking of anyone who cared for her at all. Her father loved her deep down, she was sure, but he had never expressed it except to provide well for her and try to persuade her—albeit out of well-meaning concern—from being who she was. Fenn certainly didn’t love her; he could barely tolerate her. Joel—she knew he valued her friendship, but he had never once hinted it might rival the soul-involving way he felt about Chantal. Len might have had a crush on her, but it wasn’t as strong as his regard for Willy. Even Trick, with his proposal to set up housekeeping together, hadn’t been in love with her, hadn’t even known her; she was simply the only girl from which there was to choose.
The truth was, she was completely alone. And she had scorned the devotion Willy offered her, without counting in the fact that he was the one person who truly desired her in his life. Had that been a wise thing to do? How rare was love, anyway—and would she ever find someone else who regarded her the same way? Jillian had said Willy wouldn’t stick around for the long term—but Jillian didn’t know Willy had told her he loved her, or seen the look in his eyes when he’d said it. It still sent tingles over her skin whenever she recalled it. It was true Willy had his share of faults, but so did she, so did everyone.
She played a game in her mind, to name a fault of Joel’s. Too serious and inward, maybe, until she remembered his ringing laugh and how his earth-brown eyes could dance with such warmth. Too methodical, perhaps—his outdoor tools consistently honed and hung in orderly rows on the barn wall, his ropes coiled in exact twists, his kindling split in uniform sticks, his woodworking chisels and gouges oiled and stored in a hinged, clasped box he’d made himself. But she admired his precision and industry. No, the only fault she could fix upon was his emotional indecision—for he had said no to Chantal and then taken her back. And at that point, she realized it was exactly what she was thinking of doing with Willy, and criticized him no more. Emotions were not easy to define or simple to deal with—black or white, good or bad, yes or no. They were complex; they occupied more than one level. She could not fault him for what he had decided in his life, nor was she to say he was wrong.
These reflections occupied her day and night. Granted, she didn’t love Willy as she loved Joel; that had been the sticking point all along. She doubted she would ever love anyone else with such singleness of heart. But should she discard a chance for a good relationship just because she was permanently in love with a man she couldn’t have? In spite of her earlier conclusions, she was starting to think Willy’s esteem a more desirable thing than she’d originally believed. Even her own response while in his arms had proven her very real attraction to him. And in a complete about-face, she was beginning to regret that she had so bluntly and unambiguously turned him down.
Saturday afternoon Willy came bursting into the shop, and he had news. He had found a shop, just what he’d had in mind. It was in an excellent location, and the rent—well, it was higher than Lethbridge, of course, but very reasonable for Calgary. As enthusiastic as he was about it, however, he didn’t try to persuade her to come see it as he once would have done. There was a perceptible reserve in his manner toward her, a wary look in his smoke-colored eyes.
Nevertheless she was relieved he had returned in such a better frame of mind. “What are your plans?” she asked, searching his face for the friendliness that used to light his eyes before she had so carelessly thrown it away.
“I’m going to move after class ends. But I’ve already put money down, and I can start remodeling now.” He paced to the window before turning to her again. “I’ll be pretty busy going between here and there. It’s going to be asking a lot of you, taking responsibility of the shop during the times I’m gone. You don’t mind, do you?”
“No, I don’t mind. I’ve managed all right this week.”
“Yes—and done a fine job of it, I’m sure.” An unreadable look flickered across his face before he hurried on: “I’m going back tomorrow—I have a little more business to tie up, but I’ll be back for class Tuesday. Anything you need before I go?”
Her heart stopped for a second, then began to race. Maybe she should tell him what she’d been thinking. Uncertain, agitated, she only said, “I’m making out a new paint order. Do you want to look at it?”
He waved it off. “I’ll leave
it to your good judgment.” He crossed briskly to the back room with the stride of a man going places, and ironically, Sevana felt a twinge of being left out, that his new direction did not include her—though it had been by her choice alone.
She hadn’t meant for Willy to see the course information Mr. Thane had sent her, but when he discovered it under the counter and asked about it, she admitted she might enroll. He said it couldn’t be a better opportunity for her, but that was all. She knew it was still hard for him to accept, and fully understood why he was so quiet.
She didn’t see him all day Tuesday and wondered if he really would make it back in time for class. She went down early to unlock the shop in case he didn’t; but the door was open and he was at his desk, looking all the latest fashion in an open-throat striped shirt and short new haircut. He glanced up from his papers with a smile—but in his eyes, still, that guarded look for her. “Hi, Sevana. I’ve got the deal wrapped up. It’s mine, for fame and glory.”
“I’m so glad, Willy. I have no doubt it will be.”
“How have things been here?”
She told him of the day’s business, and then there was a little loss of words between them before they heard the first sounds of students entering the building. She took a place at the table, wishing they could talk but not knowing what to say. His reticent manner hurt her—she wanted to get past it and find the old Willy again. Helplessly she watched him stack his papers together and rise to greet the arriving pupils with his natural aplomb.
Perhaps it was her state of mind more than the subject, but class was hard for Sevana that night. She struggled with the assignment, and Willy was so busy that he bent down and whispered as was his custom that he’d help her after class. When they were alone in the room, he cradled his chin in his hand as he considered her dilemma. “Let me see.” He seized the brush and sat beside her to try his hand at it. He then explained what he’d done, and had her take over.
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