“For heaven’s sake, sit still,” Grant ordered. “You’re making a spectacle of yourself. Why don’t you grow up?”
Eleanor stared at Grant for so long his cheeks turned pink. “Why don’t you?” she asked. Then, she turned to Philip. “What’s the trouble, love? Is your chair uncomfortable?”
“I can’t see... anything.”
“What’s wrong with the view out the window?” Grant asked testily. “People pay good money to sit where you are and watch the paddle-boats and swans and ducks on the lake. Do you have any idea how much that lake cost me and—”
Eleanor patted his hand placatingly. “Grant, when you’re not quite seven, the view in the other direction is always more interesting. And he’s too short to see out the window and admire your lake. Would you consider changing places?”
Making no attempt to conceal his displeasure, Grant got up with ill-grace and Philip darted around the table, beaming. Instead of taking the chair the child had vacated, however, Grant swung another one out and sat opposite Eleanor. She suppressed a smile of amusement. He doesn’t like to have his back to the room any more than Philip does.
The meal arrived and while she ate, Eleanor was aware of her son smiling secretly now and then at someone across the crowded room. She glanced sideways but could spot no one familiar, not even the James family who had that sweet little daughter, Lorna, the Lorna who had taken up so much of Philip’s attention not long ago.
Eleanor, still looking out over the room smiled absently, thinking, Lorna this, Lorna that. Lorna said, did, is, was... And her son claimed he didn’t like girls much. But now it was Jeff this, Jeff that...
Suddenly, a pair of eyes caught her glance and for one heart stopping moment it felt like floor swooped out from under her chair. Something hitched in her chest as she looked right into the eyes of a strange man whose beard obscured most of his face. The feeling in her breast was almost a physical pain and she turned with difficulty to Grant, forcing a laugh at something he’d said, something she had failed to hear.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, annoyed. “I asked you twice if you wanted more coffee, and all you can do is laugh at me?”
“Sorry, Grant... Sorry. I was thinking of some... thing else.” Now why in the world had she almost said ‘someone’? “No. No more coffee, thanks. I have to get Philip home to bed. School tomorrow, and I have a hour’s drive ahead of me.”
“Let’s bed him down here,” Grant said, quietly but urgently. “We can put him in my spare room and come back down and dance for a while. I have a new disk-jockey. We can send the kid off to school from here tomorrow.”
With a quick glance at her son who was smiling giddily out into the sea of diners, oblivious to the conversation of his elders, she said quietly, “And do you have a spare room for me, Grant? I know you have a two-bedroom suite, but apart from that, didn’t you tell me not half an hour ago, you have a full house in the hotel tonight?”
Grant slowly raked her with a smoldering gaze from her hair to her breasts, to her narrow waist as she stood. “Ellie,” he said, reaching for her arm across the table, his firm fingers wrapping tightly around her wrist, “you know where I want you to sleep. Stay with me tonight. You know very well I had no intention of your sleeping anywhere but in my bed, so why be coy about it?” His fingers moved higher on her arm as he, too, stood, tightening, gripping her now just below her shoulder.
She jerked herself out of his clasp. “Grant, how many times do we have to go through this?” she hissed “You know my answer in advance, so why ask?”
His eyes narrowed and his round face took on an ugly expression. “Ah, hell, you’re probably frigid anyway!” he snarled.
“I guess you’ll never know, will you?” Eleanor said sharply. “Let’s go, Philip. Say goodnight and thank you to Grant.”
He did, then she took him by the hand and marched out, head held high. She said neither goodnight nor thank you.
Eleanor hustled Philip across the parking lot, her heels ringing angrily on the pavement. As she neared her car, she saw the broad shoulders of the bearded man whose glance she had intercepted in the dining room. She noticed with detachment that he had a limp and wondered briefly where he was from. He unlocked the door of a dirty, dented pick-up truck with a camper on the back. The truck looked as if it had been given some hard use on bad roads, although the camper looked pretty new.
He hitched himself onto the seat, slid back a bit then paused in the act of using both hands to lift his game inside. As Philip’s clear piping words rang out, “Mom, what’s ‘frigid’ mean? Why’d Grant call you that?” the man turned to face them, his teeth flashing white in a grin.
“Not now, Philip,” Eleanor snapped impatiently. “I’m too tired to explain, and besides, you shouldn’t listen to conversations that don’t concern you.” She bundled Philip onto the back seat of the, car strapped him in and drove away from the hotel, noticing the lights of the pickup following her as she made for home. He stayed with her until she turned off the main road then he continued on toward the Exley place. Maybe he’s a friend of theirs, she thought idly, turning out her headlights and shutting off the engine. It crackled and popped loudly in the still night as it cooled and Eleanor hauled her sleepy son out of the car, her mind still unnaturally occupied with the bearded stranger. She couldn’t for the life of her have said why his presence bothered her, except there were no campgrounds out that way and if he’d been staying with Ralph and JoAnn Exley, wouldn’t they have been out for dinner with him? I wonder if he’s freeloading on the Anderson place?
Eleanor pulled Philip’s sweater off over his head and asked, as he emerged from inside it, all tired and bleary-eyed, “Son, are there any strangers around? Have you seen anybody in the woods who didn’t belong?”
Philip yawned and shook his head. “Uh-uh.”
As she tucked him into his bed, he said in his I-can’t-keep-it-to-myself-any-longer voice, “Did you see him, Mom? Jeff? He had dinner with us at the hotel.”
So that’s what he’d been smiling at all evening. Not, as she thought, someone across the room, but at his own imaginary friend right across the table from him. “Oh, really, honey?” She smiled. “What did ‘Jeff’ eat for dinner?”
“Didn’t you see? The same as me. You looked right at him, Mom. You smiled.”
“Oh, yes,” Eleanor said, switching off the light. “I remember now.”
~ * ~
Eleanor sat at her desk beside the fireplace, blank screen in front of her, idle hands bracketing the keyboard, strappy sandals kicked off and lying halfway across the room. Why oh why did Grant have to start that business again? I thought he was going to give me more time to think. He’s never been stupid enough to proposition me right in front of my own son, so what was the problem tonight?
It must’ve been the dress... The perfume.
She had chosen the dress with care, wanting to look nice, to please Grant. It was a deep green silk which did marvelous things for her complexion and figure, and she’d piled her hair high on her head, leaving little tendrils hanging in front of her ears. Later, she’d felt one curl slide loose to lie on the nape of her neck. She should have tucked it back up. It was my own fault, she decided. If I don’t want to turn him on, then I should take care not to dress in a way he likes.
Immediately, though, she denied that notion. Grant had seen her dressed nicely before. He’d also seen her in jeans and a sweatshirt. It didn’t matter what a woman wore—if a man was going to make a pass, he was going to make it, regardless, and she hadn’t worn that dress simply to please him, but to make herself feel good.
I like dressing up. And I don’t see why I should have to go around in a gunnysack just so Grant can keep his hands and his eyes to himself. To say nothing of his thoughts. But why does his saying he wants me make me so angry? My goodness, we’re both adults. Maybe he’s right... Maybe I am frigid. But I don’t think so... With David I was anything but.
David... A sweet sm
ile of remembrance curved Eleanor’s lips and softened her eyes for a long moment. She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, unpinned her hair, tossed her head until it fell free and loose against her neck and shoulders. She leaned back, raised her arms and stretched, arching her back, feeling the silk of her dress play across her skin. Then, with a start, she leapt to her feet, the horrible conviction that she was being stared at from out of the night coming over her in a wave of goose pimples. She went to the window, wondering for an instant if Grant had followed her home. The motion sensor lights hadn’t come on. She stared out into the darkness for a moment then, realizing if there were someone out there, she was in a vulnerable position, she jerked the drapes closed.
Back at her computer Eleanor worked furiously for another hour or two, then shut it down and prepared to go to bed. That night, for the first time in years, she felt compelled to lock her doors. That night, too, for the first time in years, David’s face returned to her dreams. His gray eyes looked deeply into hers and his resonant voice, until now the only clear memory she’d had murmured, “Sweetheart, sweetheart...” over and over again.
When her alarm went off the next morning, Eleanor reached out and slapped it angrily on the back of its noisy head, silencing it. She felt as if her head a just touched the pillow, as if she had never closed her eyes all night. She stumbled into the kitchen after a wash in cold water, and turned on her coffee-maker. The sun peeked over the trees to the east and she stepped outdoors to breathe in the early morning scents. Golden light bathed one corner of the rose arbor in the glow of the new day and she walked, barefoot, to it, admiring the tender green shoots covering it, and the dainty yellow buds with the dew still fresh upon them. As she turned to go back inside before Philip caught her out here with no shoes, she looked down at the roots of the original bushes, the ones David had told her would never grow to cover the arbor. She gasped, looked closer, spun and ran for the house.
She sank weakly into a chair in the kitchen, her eyes wide with fright. For there, in the mud from the rain a few days ago, she’d seen big booted footprints, pointed in the direction which showed her clearly that her sensation of the night before had not been nerves brought on by Grant’s attempt to get her into his bed. Someone had been looking at her! And from the size of the prints, she knew it had not been Grant. Unbidden, the thought came to mind of the freeloader, if that’s what he was, who’d headed toward the Anderson place, or the Exley’s. But no... Why should a stranger come looking in her windows? Maybe Bill had been around during the day when she was working and she hadn’t noticed him. She’d asked him to spread some manure around the rosebushes. Of course. That was it. She was just being foolish, letting her imagination run away with her.
Still, she reflected later, it wasn’t that awful feeling of being stared at that had kept her awake all night or most of it. That’s it been the direct result Grant’s insulting comment. Wondering if she could be frigid had made her remember David so vividly she even dreamed of his face... No, she corrected herself, not his face, really... His eyes.
Well, if Grant is going to do that to me, then I’ll never be able to forget enough to even consider marrying him. The best thing to do would be keep away from him for a while, do a bit of soul-searching completely on my own. With this in mind Eleanor sent her son off to school and walked up to the farm to use the telephone. She’d never bothered to have a line brought down to the cottage. It would have meant putting in an extra pole which, to her mind, would have been an eyesore. She certainly couldn’t afford a buried cable like the one David had insisted on for the electricity. But then, he’d dug the trench for that himself, saving a great deal of money. Besides, she didn’t need a phone. The powerful Wi-Fi modem in the farmhouse gave her good Internet connection, and that was all that mattered.
Grant sounded surprised by her call, as well as cool and unforgiving. Though what he had to forgive her for she did not know. His had been the unforgivable behavior. He put up no argument when she suggested they not see each other for a few weeks.
“Okay by me,” he said. “I’m trying to get hold of a big tract of land on the North Thompson River, just outside Kamloops. I’ll be up there for a while. I’ll probably be back sometime in June... Around the middle, I’d say. If you change your mind about us in the meantime, feel free to give me a call. I’ll be in touch when I get back. So long, Ellie.”
“So long, Grant.”
So long, she repeated silently. So long and it didn’t bother me a bit to say it. What’s wrong with me that I don’t care about Grant’s going away, and going away mad, at that? He’s been the only man I’ve dated over the past four years, and for the three before that, I didn’t date at all, or feel the urge to.
I don’t need a man in my life, which explains why there hasn’t been one.
No... No man, save a ghost.
Chapter Four
A week and a half had passed since Eleanor had said “so long” to Grant, and she had yet to feel that she missed him, or to feel any nearer to a decision with regard to their future. She had worked hard during that time. She’d emailed off her latest manuscript, complete with sketches to guide the artist Appleton Publishing would hire. They’d offered her another contract, which she hadn’t yet signed, so she felt completely unburdened. Maybe, she thought, this would be a good time to take a much-needed break, or even seek out another publisher.
She’d give it some consideration. Perhaps she could get a more lucrative deal elsewhere. Appleton paid poorly, but she’d stuck with them out of loyalty. Loyalty to the company, and loyalty to Grant.
But she didn’t need to rush into anything. Besides, Kathy was coming to spend the afternoon with her sewing.
Eleanor went to meet the glowing mother-to-be. “My goodness, Kath!” she exclaimed. “I’ve never seen anyone quite as pregnant as you are.” She took the bundle of pastel printed flannel from Kathy. “We sure there’s only one in there?”
Kathy’s infectious grin broke out. “Nope,” she said cheerfully, “the doctor told me this morning she thinks we’re doing a double on her. She’s pretty sure he can hear two distinct heartbeats.”
“You’re kidding!” Eleanor gave the younger woman a hug. “Twins? She really thinks so? So now you’re going to have that ultrasound she wanted you to have a weeks and weeks ago?”
Kathy shook her head and sat heavily on the cushion Eleanor placed for her on a high-backed Adirondack chair at the end of the table in the arbor. “I am not.” Her tone firm, she added, “I told her and I told Bill, I refuse to expose my unborn child to any unnecessary radiation. Luckily, Bill agrees with me. Women had twins for many years before there was such a thing as ultrasound examination. I’m young, strong, and healthy and if I’m having two babies at once so be it.”
She laughed. “But the way I feel, I could be having a foal or a calf for all I know.” She folded her arms along the top of her protruding tummy. “All I know is that whatever is growing inside me, it, or they, better hurry up and get here soon. I’m sick to death of waiting.”
“Oh ho,” jeered Eleanor gently. “Where’s the girl who not so very long ago said she’d give it away if it came before the end of June? Still nearly six weeks to go, my pet.”
“Don’t remind me.” Kathy groaned, pulling a face. She reached for another tiny night gown which required a hem. “I really can’t take much more of this though, Ellie.”
“I know. I remember,” said Eleanor sympathetically. “Gosh, seven years ago. Sometimes it feels like forever, yet others, it seems like only yesterday. It’s Philip’s birthday on Sunday, remember. And you and Bill are coming for dinner. There will be a cake, with cherries in it,” she added as extra inducement.
“Oh, we’ll be here. Wouldn’t miss it for anything... Except accept perhaps for my own ‘whatever’s’ birthday. How goes the imaginary friend? Jeff, wasn’t it? All forgotten I imagine.”
Eleanor rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand. “Oh, no. He’s still very
much in evidence. I have to send extra cookies and things out into the woods for Phil to share with ‘Jeff’. Last week we had dinner at the hotel with Grant, and ‘Jeff’ even shared our table, eating exactly what Philip did. I have to say one thing for ‘Jeff’, though,” she laughed. “He’s a nice quiet guest. I didn’t even know he was there until Philip told me. And I even smiled at him,” she added in mockery of her son’s words.
“My, how wonderful,” Kathy giggled. Then, “But speaking of Grant, which you haven’t in the past few days, where is he? I haven’t seen him around at all.”
“Oh, he’s gone to Kamloops to wheel and deal. I think he’s trying to option some land up there. I don’t know when he’ll be back,” Eleanor replied with an off-hand shrug. “How many pairs of sleepers have you made so far, Kath?” she asked to change the subject. She was enjoying a vacation from Grant and his sometimes oppressive presence.
The two talked of many things for the next couple of hours, sipping iced tea, and sewing industriously until Eleanor broke up the work by saying, “Want some cookies?”
They left the shady arbor over which the buds of week before it burst into golden massive perfumed blossoms which bobbed on the breeze in thick, short-stemmed clusters, attracting bees and hummingbirds.
In the cool kitchen Eleanor poured more tea into tall, frosted glasses, added thin twists of lemon, placed the glasses on a tray with a plate of cookies and carried it all through to the living room. Kathy was sitting in an overstuffed chair, shoes off, feet propped on the coffee table, her hands clasped complacently over her belly. She grinned at Eleanor.
“Don’t mind, do you?”
“Of course not,” Eleanor assured her friend. “Have I ever?”
“Well, the last time we came for dinner, Grant gave me one of his looks when I put my feet on the coffee table.”
A Father for Philip Page 5