“I promise, T.J. I know how important this is to you.”
T.J. rose to leave, stretching tired and cramped muscles. Pausing in the doorway, he turned to look back at Erika one more time. Her stillness clenched his heart. His fiercely protective nature screamed to stay.
“Go, T.J. I’ll be here every second.”
With a grateful smile, he slowly turned to go. He wondered as he made the long trek back to the lake how different their lives would be when he returned.
Chapter Fifteen
It was ten minutes until noon when the elevator bell announced T.J. Morgan’s arrival on the top floor of the Crawford Industries building. Purposefully striding toward Lawrence Bancroft’s private office suite, T.J. mentally cleared his mind of the overwhelming fatigue to focus his energy on solving the Crawford security leak as quickly as possible.
The receptionist’s desk was empty, as was the desk of Lawrence’s secretary Earlene. After consulting his watch and noting the hour, T.J. moved toward the partially closed mahogany door leading into the private sanctum of Lawrence Bancroft. Silently pushing the heavy door until it afforded him a view of the interior, T.J. glanced into the tri-level office, spotting its occupant slouched in a corner leather chair with his head resting heavily in his hands.
“Lawrence?” T.J. questioned with concern.
Immediately Lawrence looked up, trying to hide the devastation lurking in the corner of his kindly eyes. “T.J.,” he responded while rising to greet the younger man. “I expected you yesterday. I wish you would have called,” he said gruffly trying his best to dissipate the lingering emotion in his eyes.
“There were, ah, circumstances that prevented me …”
“I know,” Lawrence said gruffly while crossing the immense Oriental rug to his carved desk.
At T.J.’s raised eyebrows Lawrence grimaced at his rebuke. “I’m sorry,” he said raising his hand in supplication. “I’ve no right to question you when you are so graciously giving your time to help us.”
T.J. crossed to the leather wing back chairs flanking Lawrence’s desk. Dropping his Italian leather briefcase onto one of the chairs, he faced the man who looked as if he had aged beyond his years in the space of a few days.
“Has there been further developments at Capital Textiles?” he questioned.
“No … no not really. Except … Caslin is back. The plans can now proceed as discussed,” Lawrence replied sharply.
Turning from his massive desk, Lawrence expelled a long sigh while gazing out the panoramic windows, which afforded a bird’s eye view of L.A.’s noon hour traffic below.
“I can begin the subterfuge then,” T.J. said attempting to engage the obviously troubled man in conversation. “As we discussed, I will approach Caslin about the patent that I’ve recently uncovered at Crawford. I will, of course, need his help and expertise and will offer him millions of dollars to help me obtain the very patent Capital is filing. Because, as he well knows, I am worth billions and can readily afford it” T.J. finished with a confident smile.
“Yes,” Lawrence replied. “I think all will go as planned,” he said distractedly. “I trust you explicitly. Remember, I want to be apprised on all new information as it happens…” he said turning to haphazardly sort through some files on his desk.
“Lawrence,” T.J. said with a note of concern, which finally gained the elderly man’s attention. “I’ve been thinking about your niece, Erika. I don’t think it would be wise for her to be aware of our plans. She is too close to the situation … she might inadvertently give something away …”
Lawrence’s face blanched at T.J.’s comments. His entire composure cracked, revealing his vulnerability and intense heartache. Lawrence quickly glanced down at his desk, attempting to hide the raw fear in his eyes. But in one brief glimpse T.J. saw straight through to his soul. Concern etched T.J.’s eyes as he contemplated reasons for Lawrence’s sudden emotion at the mention of his niece’s name.
For the first time since he walked into Bancroft’s office, T.J. began to mentally backtrack. Perhaps Lawrence had discovered his niece’s involvement in the entire scheme. He had been absolutely convinced of her innocence in the beginning. That she had been engaged to Caslin left her suspect in T.J.’s mind.
Cautiously he raised the issue. “Lawrence, I have told you from the very beginning that my success in uncovering your security breach was tied directly to the information you made available to me. I … I sense something is terribly wrong. Now I don’t want to pry … but does your concern have anything whatsoever to do with this case?”
After a space of several seconds, Lawrence’s whispered reply was barely audible.
“She … Erika was supposed to return two days ago,” he said, striding to the bar on the upper floor of the office suite. Lawrence’s composure slipped further as he continued, “No one has heard from her … and her cell phone just rings and rings.”
“Well, perhaps she is just delayed,” T.J. commented through a haze of anger as an image of the young, perhaps spoiled, heiress unwittingly causing such terror in her uncle emerged in his mind. That he had never seen a picture of her did not matter. They were all the same to T.J.
And as Lawrence caught the unguarded look of disgust cross T.J.’s chiseled face, he hastened to explain.
“No, you don’t understand. Erika would never just be … delayed. We’re very close. She tells me everything. Everything, I tell you! She would never just deliberately make me worry. Something is terribly wrong … and I don’t know what to do about it!”
“Have you checked with her hotel or friends?” T.J. asked simply.
“That’s the problem,” Lawrence boomed, pounding his fist solidly on the bar. “She’s not staying at a hotel or with friends! I pleaded with her to stay at a resort … anywhere safe. But no, she had to go off and stay in some god-forsaken wilderness cabin …. And I can’t find her!”
“Can I help,” T.J. offered.
“No … you don’t need to get involved in this. You’re already doing enough.”
“Well, if there is anything I can do,” he replied.
“No … thank you, though,” Lawrence said, almost as an afterthought.
“You will tell me when she has returned?” T.J. questioned. And at the exasperated nod, he turned to make his way toward the heavily carved doors. But before he could exit, he felt compelled to offer this man his sympathy.
“I’ll be praying for your niece’s safe return. I know how hard it is to worry about someone you love. I was delayed yesterday because someone who has become very dear to me had a terrible accident. I couldn’t leave her until I knew she would be all right.”
“Your girlfriend?” Lawrence asked kindly.
“No … she doesn’t even know that I … that I’ve fallen in love with her.”
“You’re a good man, T.J. Morgan. Your parents did a good job raising you. Any girl that you would choose would have to be special. I’m sure this one is.”
“I think she is,” he said with a crooked smile before turning to leave.
“T.J.,” Lawrence called from inside the room. “If she is special … don’t wait too long to tell her.” After gaining T.J.’s attention once again he continued. “I loved someone once. Her name was Elizabeth. She was my sunshine,” he said smiling, a tear glistening in the corner of his eye. “I waited too long. She contracted Leukemia and died shortly after. She never knew how much she meant to me.”
T.J. smiled and nodded to Lawrence as he exited the office. Something buried in the far corners of his mind was bothering him … an insistent memory that called for attention. Shaking off his thoughts, T.J. concentrated on the matter at hand. There was too much work to do to be bothered by memories. Expediency was imperative. He must return to the lake as quickly as possible.
The afternoon light was beginning to wane as Maime gently tucked a soft cotton napkin under Erika’s chin.
“You must eat, darling. I know you’re weak, but you’ll never git b
etter iffin you don’t start taking in some nourishment,” she gently admonished.
Erika had woken mid-morning. Though she took interval catnaps, each hour had brought renewed strength and revitalization. Maime had been amazed at her swift recovery. Though she was still too weak to even sit up in bed much less stand on her feet, Maime was encouraged by the alertness evident in her eyes.
All afternoon Maime had simmered a consommé broth she had created from twelve vegetables selected for their healing properties and seasoned with some of the mountain’s best know curative herbs. It was the best medicine she could come up with.
After several sips, Erika glanced at Maime with a dull twinkle. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to cook like you,” she whispered wearily. Maime’s smile lit the room.
“Of course you will, my dear. But it will take a few sick babies to get this recipe down,” she said.
Erika waved away Maime’s attempt to give her the last spoonful of the amber broth. Her stomach now full from the warm liquid caused a sweet sleepiness to finally claim her once again.
Maime quickly wiped droplets of consommé from Erika’s pale lips and exited the room quietly. For the first time in days she felt as if she could breathe freely. Her constant prayer vigil was coming to fruition, her patient was on the mend.
Glancing into the living area she grinned at the two faces that anxiously awaited word. Amusement tickled the corner of her kindly lips as she excitedly reported that Erika had taken all but one last sip of the first nourishment she had been given since the accident. Relief washed over the two elderly men’s faces causing great smiles to glisten through their heavily lined faces. Sam Wyatt who had camped out in Harry’s front room now stood and announced his departure.
“Jus’ wanted to see if the gal was gonna make it,” he said gruffly retrieving his heavy parka. “Think I’ll make my way back now afore the snow sets in again. Iffin you need me,” he said to Harry in particular, “you’ll know where to find me.”
“Yea, Sam, I’ll know where to find ya. Take care out there,” Harry responded unnecessarily, “only a few hours of daylight left.”
When Sam left, Maime looked at Harry with renewed concern. “Do you think the weather will hold?” she questioned anxiously.
“I hope so,” he responded in kind. “How soon will she be strong enough?” he asked tilting his head toward the closed bedroom door.
“Hard to say, Harry. Maybe sooner than we think,” she answered with a shrug from her capable shoulders. “One thing’s for certain, though, I need to call T.J. and let him know that she’s on the mend. Mind if I use your phone?”
“Naw. Let me set it up for ya.”
While Maime was delivering the good news to T.J.’s voice mail at his L.A. penthouse, Harry slipped into the darkened bedroom and took vigil beside the patient.
She was sleeping soundly now, but Harry was encouraged just to hear her breathing becoming more normal, not as faint as it had been. His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he thought once again of how much she reminded him of his daughter. Slowly, he set the rocking chair into motion as he once again allowed himself to travel back in time and relive a few memories.
T.J. was exhausted when he returned to the Penthouse apartment his family owned in Beverly Hills, California. Roughly loosening his silky bronze-colored necktie, he quickly crossed the soft pile investment rugs littering the sophisticated dwelling.
Intent on only one thing, he casually dropped his Italian suit jacket carelessly over the back of an imported leather armchair. T.J. did not notice the wonderful aroma wafting from the kitchen, indicating their L.A. chef had outdone himself once again. Neither did he notice the stack of mail and overnight express packages that awaited his attention on the barstool across the room. Only the red flashing light claimed his attention.
Without realizing it, T.J. held his breath as he emphatically pushed the message light on the black telephone in the office adjacent to the living area. Within seconds a dear familiar voice filled the cool sophisticated interior. His Maime. Sweet dear Maime.
‘T.J. dear,’ she had begun. ‘I’m not gonna give you a lot of details cause I don’t want to run up Harry’s bill … so I’ll git right to the point. Let’s see … you know how I hate talkin’ on these things. Hope you can hear me,’ she had said while T.J. impatiently drummed his pencil on the teak wood desk. ‘Got some good news I have,’ she continued. ‘Our patient is much improved. Wouldn’t say she’s completely out of the woods yet … but she’s on the mend! She drank almost a full bowl of potent consommé soup I made for her today. She’s very weak but with some nourishment I think she’ll be her old self in no time. Now don’t you worry one bit. Everything here is under control. So … over and out,” she concluded to T.J.’s constant amusement at her customary way of concluding telephone calls.
Finally, T.J. let his breath slowly expel as sweet relief washed over him. Of course, Maime hadn’t answered some of his most curious questions, like … had she asked for him … did she remember what had happened to her … did she remember their conversation that precipitated the event … did any family need to be notified … and most importantly … did she hate him.
As T.J. wearily ran both hands roughly through his black wavy hair he told himself that it didn’t matter. All that mattered was her safety. And apparently, that would no longer be his concern as she became well again. He glanced at the antique wall clock, almost out of place in the sleek, sophisticated dwelling. In two minutes, it would chime the midnight hour. Too late to return Maime’s call. Tomorrow, he promised. He would make time for it tomorrow.
As the days began to pass, T.J. worked long hours foraging and auditing Capital Textiles. The unrest among the employees was almost tangible as each now knew him to be a member of the illustrious Morgan family and the world-class playboy newspapers reputed as the most sought after bachelor in present-day history. Whispers of hostile takeovers and buyouts were audible concerns and Erika Crawford’s absence only magnified the unrest.
T.J. was pleased that it had taken so little time for the rumors to spread. In no time, he was certain Caslin would approach him about a deal and the mysterious patent that no one seemed to have any information about except Caslin, Hillston, and Erika. The more quickly he could bring Caslin into the open, the more quickly he could return to the lake. In his mind’s eye, the minute Miss Crawford returned, the whole business would begin to unravel.
T.J. wasn’t at all convinced of Erika’s innocence in the entire scheme. It seemed almost impossible that she wouldn’t have had a hint of Caslin’s treachery. But to be fair, he was investigating her practices as well. To date, he wasn’t at all pleased with a trend he was tracing to her assistant, Ellie. Her loyalty to the family seemed somewhat divided as T.J. followed her one night to a rendezvous with Caslin himself. Until he knew exactly who the players were, Erika was still suspect. In fact, he was so disgusted with her absence that he promised that if she hadn’t shown up in a few days, he would send his detective to find her himself. The fact that she remained hidden only incriminated her in T.J.’s mind.
Erika lay starring at the knotty-pine ceiling above. Her lower back cramped and she was generally sore all over. The last several days, however, saw much improvement in her returning strength. Maime had promised that in a few days, she would be well enough to begin the trek back to the Lake. They did worry, though, the threatened snow could fall any day, leaving it impossible to traverse the trails back to the main road. It could be a week or more before anyone could get in to plow the snow.
Erika, however, knew it would not take a few days to begin her departure. She promised herself that by tomorrow morning, they would leave Harry’s cabin and return to the Lake. And then shortly after her arrival, she would need to make hastened arrangements to return to Los Angeles and her old life.
As the morning light began to filter through the wooden shutters, Erika began to piece together her accident and the following convalescence. She co
uld not quite remember how many days she had spent in bed or of her expected return to Los Angeles. But of one thing she was certain, Maime and Harry had saved her life. Maime had given selflessly to her for days on end.
Once again, Erika searched her mind as to ways to thank the woman that had become such an integral part of her life. Wincing, she remembered her debacle over the Queen Victoria soup tureen. It was yet another mess she would need to attend to once at home.
Finally, almost reluctantly, her mind traveled to T.J. and that journey of thought brought a knife-like pain that sliced through her heart. Erika was certain he had not even tried to contact her since the cruel words that had passed between them. A hot tear slid down her cheek as she relived those moments on that lush hilltop. Erika knew from the beginning their growing relationship could never last. As another tear slipped from her eye and rolled down her cheek, she knew that even though the pain was excruciating, she would never regret the moments they had shared. Though it caused tremendous heartache now, those memories would last a lifetime.
“Oh, my dear,” cried Maime as she silently slipped into the darkened room. “You’re awake!”
Erika turned tear-stained eyes toward Maime’s kind and concerned orbs. “What’s troubling you, my dear. Are you in pain?”
“No ... I guess ... I guess,” she stuttered, reluctant to explain her melancholy. “I guess it’s just that I’ve been cooped up here,” she said sniveling. “I ... I can’t even remember how many days I’ve been here.”
“Well, sweetheart,” she began, pulling the worn rocking chair closer to the bed. “You’ve been here a number of days. Do you remember anything at all?” Maime asked tenderly.
“Yes,” she responded weakly, pulling herself into a position where she could comfortably recline against the goose down pillows. “I remember everything,” she said sadly.
“Would you like ... well ... would you like to ... talk about it?” Maime asked tentatively, aware that what now bothered her patient was the apparent disagreement between her and T.J.
Whispers of the Heart Page 26