by Diana Palmer
“We probably won’t,” Elissa said, “but thank you for the wish.”
She grabbed up her carryall and started downstairs. When she reached the hall, she heard voices in King’s study. They stopped, quite suddenly, as she started past the open door, and a moan drew her attention. She glanced into the room and saw Bess in King’s arms, smiling up at him.
It hurt, if possible even more than what had already happened, and she hurried past the room to the front door.
“Who was that?” King said, frowning as he heard the front door slam.
He moved away from Bess to open the curtain and look out, just in time to see Elissa dive into the waiting cab and slam the door before it roared off down the driveway.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” he grumbled. “I’ve got to go.”
“Must you?” Bess asked, uncertainty in the soft eyes that looked up at him. “We were just going to talk.”
“And we will. Later,” he replied. He let out a slow breath, sensing that she’d already come to the same conclusion that he had; that his near involvement with Bess had been a sense of responsibility and tender affection on his part and desperate loneliness on hers. They’d work it out later, he was sure, without any hard words being spoken. He touched her blond hair lightly. “You’re a lovely woman, Bess,” he said gently, “but I’ve got a bad case on the woman who just walked out the door.”
Bess sighed. “I guess I knew that already.” She looked up at him. “It’s just … well, I …” She faltered, trying to explain her own confused intentions.
“Don’t fret,” he said, smiling at her. “When I get back, we’ll have that nice, long talk, and then we’ll go see Bobby. Okay?”
She smiled wanly. “Okay.”
He got into the Lincoln and proceeded to set new speed records driving to the airport. Damn. Elissa had probably seen him with Bess and drawn all the wrong conclusions. He was going to have to do some fast talking to smooth over this misunderstanding. He could only imagine how much her conscience was smarting over what they’d done together. Vividly remembering, he went hot all over.
Almost two hours later he caught up with Elissa while she was waiting to board her flight.
She looked up, her broken heart cracking all over again at the sight of him, ruggedly jean clad and visibly impatient. The image almost shocked her into smiling, but the pain was still too sharp. She didn’t get up. She sat there, her dark glasses in place, and looked at him as if he were some insect.
He sat down beside her, glancing at the flight attendants who were just entering the walkway to the plane. “I have to talk to you,” he said curtly.
“We’ve talked,” she said calmly.
“What you saw wasn’t what you think,” he began.
“Your private life is none of my business,” she said simply. “I’m not interested.”
“Will you listen,” he gritted. “We’ve only got a few seconds.”
“Then you’d better make your speech short,” she replied.
He drew in a steadying breath, gripping his temper tightly to keep it from exploding all over again. All in all, his patience was being sorely tried. He seized upon the first thing that came to mind. “If you won’t marry me, fine. But if you find yourself pregnant, I want to know immediately,” he told her. “Promise me this minute that you’ll get in touch with me, or so help me, I’ll phone your parents and tell them the whole sordid mess.”
Sordid. So that’s how he thought of it. Perhaps it was sordid. A little back-alley overnight affair that he’d forget soon enough when he and Bess were married. Her heart was breaking. She had only a little pride left, and it was in tatters. He knew that she loved him, and that hurt most of all.
“I’ll get in touch if anything happens,” she said finally, the words dragged from her. “And in case you’re afraid I’ll be eating my heart out over you, save your pity. Whatever I felt for you, it certainly wasn’t love.”
He stiffened and felt himself going cold. “That’s a lie,” he said, his voice quiet and deep.
“Love isn’t part of sordid affairs,” she said, her voice starting to break. “That’s all it was, just a … a cheap little roll in the hay!”
“No,” he said softly, his eyes fierce. “Never that.”
She turned away, clutching her bag. They were calling the first-class passengers aboard. She was next. She got to her feet. “I have to go.”
He caught her arm, but she moved away and wouldn’t look at him. “Elissa, damn it …”
“I have to go,” she repeated. “So long, cowboy.”
“For God’s sake, will you listen to me?” he demanded, oblivious to the curious stares they were getting as they faced each other.
“No.” She laced the single word with mocking contempt, and her blue eyes dared him to make her change her mind.
He let go of his temper with a word that turned her ears red, and she walked away without looking back. He took off his hat and slammed it to the floor, damned it to hell, damned her with it and stomped back down the concourse. Let her go. What did he care? She didn’t love him—she’d said so. It was just a “cheap little roll in the hay.” His dark eyes got darker, and his pride felt lacerated at her careless reference to the most beautiful experience of his entire life.
Still cursing, he came home hatless and ran head-on into Margaret, who looked like an entire invading army about to launch an attack. “So you ran her off, did you?” Margaret glared at him. “Congratulations. The first woman who ever cared anything about you and not your money, and you get rid of her. I don’t know what’s come over you. And here’s Bobby’s wife, and—”
“Shut up!” King threw at her, his eyes dangerous.
“Jackass!” she tossed off. “You don’t cow me! Maybe Bess is scared stiff of you, but I ain’t!”
He glared back at her. “What do you mean, scared stiff of me?”
“She took off upstairs the minute she saw you walk in the door. And she never once opened her mouth at the breakfast table when you and Elissa got into it.” She harrumphed. “That poor little thing’s got no spirit at all. Not like Elissa. You’d have Bess crawling in a month’s time, if she didn’t cut and run first. Or don’t you remember what a hell of a mean temper her father had when he drank? Of course, you can control yours, most of the time, but that child is carrying deep scars. A man like you is the last thing she needs!”
As if he hadn’t realized that already, he thought furiously. Elissa was gone, and he felt sick, and here was Margaret, giving him hell. He glared at his housekeeper with black frustration.
“And where’s your hat?” she demanded.
“At the airport,” he retorted. “Catching mice.”
“Your hat probably could,” she muttered. “It would have to be pretty damned mean to sit on you!”
He sat down with a cup of black coffee, which he wished were whiskey. He felt empty and hollow and cold. Bess was still upstairs, and he thought about what Margaret had said. Perhaps Bess was afraid of his temper, he thought idly. But Elissa wasn’t, he recalled with a faint smile. She was more than equal to his angry outbursts, most of the time. She was equal to him in other ways, too. He closed his eyes and saw her, felt her, as she was that night, her body lifting to his, her eyes wild and passionate, moaning as he held her to him, crying out his name in aching fulfillment.
He got up, his body on fire. Bess paused at the doorway, hesitating. He glanced at her. She was blond and beautiful, but when he looked at her, he saw only Elissa’s laughing blue eyes and black hair.
“Well?” he asked curtly.
She hesitated. “Are you angry with me?” she asked.
The harshness left his face. She was a child, after all, in so many ways. He went to her, taking her gently by the shoulders, smiling.
“No, of course I’m not,” he said gently. “I couldn’t stop Elissa. She thinks I’m out of my mind over you and that you’re leaving Bobby to marry me. I couldn’t make her listen, and I’m frustrat
ed, that’s all.”
“It’s my fault, isn’t it?” she asked, searching his eyes. “I’m sorry. I was so lonely. And you took me places and talked to me and even listened,” she added with a wistful smile. “I guess I got drunk on attention. But I’m sorry if I’ve messed up your life.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll sort it all out somehow,” he said.
She stared at his shirtfront. “Elissa loves you, doesn’t she?”
“I thought she did,” he replied quietly. “Now I’m not sure.”
She looked up again, smiling at him. “I liked her. She isn’t the least bit afraid of you. She bites back.”
He laughed. “Yes. She gives as good as she gets. That’s one of the things I like best about her.” He searched her face. “Do you really want a divorce?”
She sighed. “No,” she said finally. “I love the stupid man to distraction. If only he’d wake up and realize that I never married him for money. I wanted him—I still do—and he’s too busy making money to notice.”
“Then why,” he asked slowly, “don’t you tell him?”
She blinked. “Tell him … that?”
“Of course.”
She shifted restlessly. “Well …”
“Chicken,” he taunted, his dark eyes sparkling.
She burst out laughing. “All right. Why not? Things can’t get any worse, can they?”
He took her arm. “Where there’s life, there’s hope,” he muttered. He was still wondering how to deal with Elissa’s defection. She’d tried to reduce what they did together to something sordid and wrong, and he wished he’d gone about things in a more conventional way. He should have picked her up and carried her off to a minister. Now she was determined not to care about him anymore, was determined to put him out of her life. Did she still think he wanted Bess? How could she be so crazy?
He followed Bess out the door, frowning fiercely. He’d have to give her some time to cool off, to figure out that they couldn’t live without each other, that they needed each other. And knowing Elissa, she’d have to come to those conclusions her own way in her own sweet time.
Chapter Eleven
Elissa didn’t go home to her parents. She wasn’t quite ready to face them just yet. Instead, she boarded the next flight to Jamaica. Since King was going to be busy with Bess now, it looked like the best time to tie up a few loose ends.
She went to his villa first and got Warchief, then left without a backward glance. She wasn’t ever going to see the villa again. She’d made plans.
Warchief made eyes at her and flapped his wings while she packed. She couldn’t accomplish everything in one day, so she took her time. There were forms to fill out to allow her to take Warchief back to the States, and there was the real-estate agent to see. She was going to put the cottage up for sale. After what had happened, she never wanted to come to Jamaica again.
It was like leaving home, because she’d grown to love it, but she’d have to find someplace else for a second home. Especially since pregnancy was a real possibility. She still hadn’t decided what to tell her parents. She just couldn’t bear telling them the truth.
She stayed in Jamaica for three days. Then, with the necessary forms filled out, she took Warchief to the airport in a sturdy pet carrier and left the island behind. Warchief was the one reminder of the past that she couldn’t bear to give up.
Hours later, she pulled up in front of her parents’ home. Her father was busy in his study, working on his sermon, which he always started on Fridays. Her mother was in the kitchen, and her head jerked up when she saw what Elissa was carrying.
“Oh, no!” Tina wailed. “It’s the green mosquito!”
“Now, now,” Elissa said gently. “He grows on you.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Tina muttered, nibbling her lip and frowning.
Elissa set his carrier on a chair. Warchief took one look at Tina and began to whoop and blaze his eyes and make cute little parrot noises.
“I love you!” he cried. “Cute, you’re cute!” He gave a wolf whistle, and Tina, who’d never seen a parrot except in exotic pet shops, was charmed.
She dropped to her knees and peeked into the carrier. Warchief wolf-whistled again and blazed his eyes, and Tina laughed.
“You gorgeous bird,” she enthused. “I’d love to hug you.”
“I wouldn’t,” Elissa murmured dryly. “He gets excited when he’s close to people. You could lose an ear, a nose—”
“I get the idea.” Tina chuckled and rose. “What about his cage?”
“It’s outside, in the car.”
Tina looked out the window. “How did you squeeze it into that subcompact rental?” she asked.
“With great difficulty,” came the reply. “But I did.”
Tina cocked her head and stared at Elissa. “Wait a minute. He was in Jamaica, wasn’t he?” she asked, nodding toward the parrot. “So how is it that he’s with you, when you were in Oklahoma? And where’s Kingston?”
“This is going to be an interesting story,” Elissa said. “So do you mind if I get the things out of the car and change clothes? You can make coffee, and then we’ll talk.”
Tina sighed. “Uh-oh.”
Elissa nodded. “That’s one way of putting it.”
“I’m sorry, darling.”
“It’s just as well I found out now,” Elissa replied, looking and sounding worlds more mature than she had when she’d left. “I might have married him and ended up ruining his life.”
“He asked you to marry him?” Tina asked.
Elissa nodded. “He gave me a ring,” she said, smiling at the memory of the fragile thing. Then she burst into tears. “Oh, Mama, I had to give it back,” she wailed, going into the taller woman’s outstretched arms. “He’s in love with his sister-in-law, and she’s getting a divorce, and he only found out after he’d given me the ring. I had to let him go—don’t you see? He’d have hated me for tying him down!”
Through all that muddled speech one thing was clear: that Elissa loved her man desperately and had given him up for love of him. Mrs. Dean smiled. “There, there, darling,” she cooed, “you did the right thing. Loving isn’t loving unless you have the strength to let go when you have to.”
“I’m so miserable,” she said brokenly. “I went to Jamaica and arranged to sell the cottage and got Warchief. Is it all right if I stay here for a while?”
“Honey, of course,” Tina said, shocked. “Why wouldn’t it be? This is your home.”
Elissa lifted her tear-stained face to her mother’s. She wanted to tell all, but she didn’t know if she could bear to. Her eyes filled with new tears.
Tina Dean brushed the damp hair from her daughter’s eyes. “I think this would be a very good time for you to have a talk with your father,” she said with a smile. “Do you know the old saying that you never really know people until you’re in trouble? Well, you’re about to get an education in human frailty. Come on.”
Elissa puzzled over that on the way to the study, where her father was sitting behind a desk, glaring at a legal pad and frowning.
“Look who’s home,” Tina said brightly, exchanging a pointed look with her husband.
“Hello, my darling.” Her father beamed. “Home for a visit?”
“Maybe to stay awhile,” she said. And then she burst into tears again.
“Uh-oh.” Mr. Dean sighed and glanced at his wife. “Trouble in paradise, I guess?”
Tina nodded. “I thought it might help if you told her about that young minister and the unmarried couple. You know the one?”
He smiled, reminiscing. “Oh, I do indeed. Make some coffee, will you, dear?”
“I’ll do that little thing.” She went out and closed the door.
Mr. Dean came around the desk to hug his daughter and deposit her in an easy chair. He perched himself on the edge of his desk and studied her wan, tear-stained face. And then he smiled warmly.
“Elissa, I want to tell you about a young man I k
new, oh, about twenty-five years ago,” he began. “He was a cocky young brute, just twenty-three at the time. He was good with his fists and not very concerned with the world or even his own future. He came back from Vietnam half out of his mind on alcohol, and he robbed a grocery store and had the bad fortune to get caught.”
He studied his neatly shined black shoes. “Well, to make a long story short, he went to jail. And while he was there, sure that God and mankind had given up on him, a young visiting minister took an interest in him. Now this young hoodlum,” he added brightly, “had an eye for beauty, and he liked the ladies. And there was a lovely young girl with whom he was deeply in love. They’d gone, as the saying goes, a bit too far of an evening, and she’d gotten into a family way. So there she was, all alone, her lover in jail and a baby on the way.”
He sighed. “The young minister found a capable lawyer to defend the young man. He got him off, since it was a first offense, then proceeded, in turn, to find the young man a job, get him married as quickly as was feasible to the young lady and move them into a small apartment.”
Elissa smiled, her tears drying, sure that the young minister had been her father. “What a nice fellow,” she murmured.
“Yes, I thought so, too.” He sighed, returning the smile. “To finish, the young man was so grateful for what the minister had done that he entered a seminary and undertook to repay the man by carrying on his good work.”
“And the minister, I daresay, was delighted with his handiwork.”
Her father had a sad, faraway look in his eyes. “Well, not exactly. You see, the minister was in a reserve unit, and it was called up for duty in Vietnam. The young hoodlum I mentioned came out of combat without a scratch, but the minister stepped on a land mine the very first day he was in Da Nang.” He sighed, a sound resonant with regret. “He was killed before that young man he’d rescued could get in touch and tell him that he’d decided to take the cloth.”
Elissa felt a chill down her spine. “It was you,” she whispered.
He nodded. “Me and your mother. I was twenty-three, she was twenty.” He leaned over and took her hand, holding it tightly. “And now you know why we’ve sheltered you, don’t you, my girl? How well we understand the passions of youth. All too well, I’m afraid.” He smiled at her gently. “Now tell me all about it, and maybe I can help.”