Deception

by Carolyn Haines

  “Connor?”

  She looked up to find Clay’s blue gaze worried and perplexed. “What?”

  “Do you need some time to think about marrying me?”

  Clay’s voice tried to cover his hurt, but she could hear it, see it. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she couldn’t agree to such a thing as marriage, not after what had occurred. “Time, yes, I have to have some time.”

  “Surely it doesn’t come as a surprise that I want to marry you?”

  Connor tried to meet Clay’s direct gaze, but she couldn’t. She looked down at her hands again. “But I am surprised.” In the hours she’d fantasized about marrying Clay, the proposal had been nothing like this. She felt as if they’d both been backed up against a very hard wall by one small, obnoxious little girl.

  “I want to go to my room,” Renata said.

  Clay looked from his daughter to Connor. “I’m sorry.” He stood up. “Go to your room, Renata. Stay there until I send for you.”

  Renata slid from her chair and walked to the door. As she opened it, she turned and smiled at Connor. Then she was gone.

  The fire had burned almost to embers and Clay added more wood and stoked it before he spoke. “I handled that miserably.”

  “It wasn’t the best of circumstances.” Connor felt as if her bones had jellied. She wanted to stand. She wanted to seek the comfort and solitude of her room, but she wasn’t capable of walking.

  “Can we talk about this later, after we’ve both had some rest?”

  “That would be best.” Tears stung her eyes. They were acting as if they were very bad amateur actors going through the painfully stiff dialogue someone else had written for them.

  “I have to leave for Emelle by noon.”

  “I hated to call you, Clay, but I didn’t know what else to do. Did you find out anything?”

  “Not much.” Clay shrugged. “Benedict stayed in Emelle. He was meeting with Mitch Wolfe and his henchmen early this morning. I’m expecting his call any time now.”

  “Maybe it won’t be as bad as you thought.”

  “Maybe not.” He smiled, a crooked, tired twist of his lips. “What really matters is that you and Renata are okay. The rest we’ll deal with as we have to.” He stepped closer. “I haven’t ruined things between us, have I? I know I should have talked with you first, but I wanted Renata to understand that she can’t manipulate you into leaving. I wanted her to know that I love you, and I guess I …”

  Connor was across the room and in his arms. She stopped his words with a kiss. “I love you, Clay. I do love you. But I have to think about what’s best for me and you and the children.”

  “I know.” He closed his arms around her and hugged her tightly. “I know. Just get some sleep and we’ll talk in a few hours, okay?”

  “Okay.” Connor slid from his embrace. She left the room without turning back because she knew if she looked at him she’d stay.

  In the hallway she almost ran down Willene, who was carrying a tray with a pot of coffee and cups and saucers.

  “Where’s Mr. Clay?” Willene asked.

  “He’s still there. Maybe a cup of coffee will help him, and then again, maybe what he needs is a measure of brandy.”

  “And Miss Renata?”

  “In her room.” Connor touched Willene’s shoulder. “Things are going to be fine, Willene.”

  “Did Mr. Clay find out what really happened in the garden room?”

  Willene’s face was pale, her hands shaky enough so that the coffee cups rattled slightly.

  “I think we’re all too tired to talk about this now. It’s best to let it lie. You know Renata, she’s as stubborn as her father ever dared to be.”

  “Then she never said anything?”

  Connor shook her head. “Let me take a cup of that coffee with me. I’m going to soak in a hot tub and sip some brandied coffee myself. After a few hours’ sleep I’ll feel like a new woman.”

  “You already look a little spryer,” Willene commented. Some of the worry was gone from her face, and she assessed Connor with open curiosity.

  Connor smiled. “Clay asked me to marry him.”

  Willene didn’t move. The smile remained on her face as her eyes searched Connor for some clue. “To marry him? What did Renata do?”

  “It pulled the rug out from under Renata.” Connor took the tray from Willene, holding it steady because the cook’s hands were shaking. “You’ve had a hard night, too.”

  “I’m fine.” Willene eased the tray from Connor. “It’s been a night of shocks. That child …” She shook her head. “She’s tormented, she is. Possessed by the very devil, I’d say, to make up things about you like that. There’s got to be something done to curb her imagination.”

  “If she learns she can’t have her way by lying and tricking people, that might well put a bridle on it.” Connor picked up a cup and poured a steaming cup of coffee. “I’m going on to my room, if you’re sure you don’t want me to take this in to Clay.”

  “You go on. I’ll leave it for him and then I’m going to bed, too.”

  Connor was halfway up the stairs to her room when she remembered the brandy. The coffee would be good, but it was really the liquor she wanted. She retraced her steps, stopping in the main hallway. Willene was disappearing slowly up the stairs to the second floor.

  Willene loved Renata as if she were her own. For a moment Connor listened to Willene’s tread on the stairs, slow and tired. If only Renata and Danny’s mother had cared for them with one ounce of the devotion Willene felt for them. If only they had been a little older. If only …

  She went to the antique bar in the dining room where Clay kept an abundant supply of various kinds of alcohol and poured herself a good measure of brandy in her coffee.

  The world was full of “if-onlys.” What she had to make certain was that what she felt for Clay didn’t turn into one.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Connor awoke to the sound of incessant knocking on her bedroom door. The bright shaft of sunlight that struck her full on the face confused her, and she squinted her eyes. As she fought her way to wakefulness she found that she was turned sideways in the bed, her head hanging off the right side. In the light of midday, her room was strange and unfamiliar.

  “Connor, I have something for you to eat. Can you open the door?”

  She recognized Sally’s voice, and in a few seconds she was on her feet and opening the door. The smell of bacon made her mouth water.

  “Willene thought you might feel like a little something.” Sally held the heavy tray with all the strength of her arms and back.

  “Here.” Connor pushed open the door and indicated the table in front of the fireplace. “Put it there. It looks like Willene sent enough food for a small country.”

  “She made French toast for Renata, and we thought you might want some. And everybody knows French toast isn’t any good without bacon.”

  Connor looked at the stack of toast, coated in confectioner’s sugar, and the bottle of maple syrup beside it. There was at least a quarter pound of crispy bacon, and orange juice, coffee, and jam.

  “I’m starved,” Connor confessed, her stomach growling at the sight and smell of the food.

  “Eat.” Sally waved her into a chair. “Do you mind if I visit with you for a while? Willene’s on the warpath today, and I’d rather stay up here with you.”

  “Not a bit.” Connor took a seat on the sofa and motioned Sally to make herself at home. “I only missed breakfast and I feel like I’ve gone days without food.”

  “Breakfast and lunch.”

  Connor looked up as she was pouring syrup. “What time is it?”

  “Three. In the afternoon. Mr. Clay said no one should disturb you, but you know Willene, she thinks if you don’t eat every five hours you’re going to die.” Sally grinned.

  Connor stopped with the syrup container in her hand. The steam trickled down to nothing. “Clay is still here?”

  “Oh, no. He had to
get on back to that little dump town. But he didn’t want anyone disturbing you.” Sally’s grin broadened. “I hear he popped the question.” She leaned forward, her long hair brushing her knees. “I think it’s wonderful. I’ve never heard of anything so romantic, Connor. Think of it, you’ll be Mrs. Sumner now. When you came here, I knew you were different. You were always going on about how you were just another of the hired help, but I knew that wasn’t true. I could see the way Mr. Clay looked at you. Everyone knew how much he wanted you, and now you’re going to be the lady of the house.” Sally leaned forward. “I know I’m just running on, but have you told your friend Elvie? I’ll bet she’s about to wet her pants.”

  Connor swallowed, a gesture that took all her coordination. “I haven’t told anyone. When did Clay leave?”

  “Well, he and the children had an early lunch. Well, really more of a late breakfast. Then his car came for him about eleven-thirty, I guess. He was tired out, poor fella. He looked like he’d been wrung out wet and hung on the line to dry.”

  Connor lifted a forkful of food to her mouth. She didn’t taste the sugary syrup or the fried toast. She ate because Sally was watching her.

  “What happened up here last night? Willene tells me to hush whenever I ask, but everybody looks like it was either a great party or a long wake.”

  “Sally, have you ever been here when a storm knocked the electricity out?”

  “Sure enough. This place is scary, too.”

  Connor forced a smile on her face as she lifted her coffee cup and sipped. “How often does that happen around here?”

  “July’s the worst. Thunder boomers come up every afternoon. Pine trees get popped by lighting real regular. That fire will shoot straight across the ground, hopping and skipping in a great big ball, and blow up anything that gets in its way. Happens pretty regular during the summer. Not so much now, but we can always get a good storm. Now, that thing last night, that was something else again. They come out of the sky without anybody knowing nothing. But one hasn’t ever hit Oaklawn that I’ve heard tell about.”

  “Last night the power went out. And the telephone.” Connor watched Sally’s face. It didn’t change expression. “Is that common?”

  “If a tree goes down on the power lines, lots of times it gets the phone lines, too. It’s a lot better out here than it used to be. And Mr. Clay had that generator put in.” Sally’s smile was tinged with possessive pride. “Jeff says the generator can run this entire house during a emergency, like a hurricane and all. He said we’d never be caught out here again without running water.”

  “That’s right,” Connor said softly. “There has to be electricity to run the pump.”

  “Right. And everything else. When Hurricane Frederick came through, my family didn’t have running water for five weeks. Tree took down all the power lines. You’d think those people would smarten up and bury the lines, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes, you would.” Connor picked up a piece of bacon and ate it.

  “Something wrong with the food?” Sally leaned closer to examine the French toast. “Looks good. It’s one of Willene’s best things.”

  “Have some.” Connor indicated the plate. “I can’t eat all this.”

  “I’ve already had some,” Sally said, but she didn’t look away from the stack.

  “Have some more,” Connor pushed the plate toward her.

  “Well, one little bite.” Sally picked up a piece with her fingers. “Don’t tell Willene or she’ll have a fit. She’s always after me about how I eat, or when I eat, or how I dress, or what I say. Or the men I like.” She sighed. “And now you’re going to marry Mr. Clay and become Mrs. Sumner. Maybe if I’d paid more attention to all the things Willene says I do wrong somebody would marry me.”

  Connor’s sympathy for Sally won out over the panic she managed to hold at bay. “Oh, Sally, for heaven’s sake! You act like you’re uncivilized. You take Willene’s criticisms too much to heart.”

  “How can I help it? Everytime you’re not around she’s fussing at me. She didn’t used to be that way. Now she’s just plain mean. It’s as if she begrudged the fact that I can stop in the garden and enjoy the sight of the camellias all blossomed out. Used to be that she’d come up and tell me their names. Now she just yells and tells me to get back to work.”

  “Maybe she needs more help.” Connor hadn’t even considered it, but the cook was at least fifty, and she ran an entire household with a lot of special pandering to the children. “I’ll speak with Clay about it.”

  Sally rolled her eyes in happiness. “You already sound like the lady of the house.”

  Connor started to argue, but she sighed instead. Sally meant no harm. She was delighted with Connor’s “fairytale” story. And under other circumstances, Connor knew she’d be happy, too. Very happy. It was what she’d dreamed about for the last several months.

  That thought was so upsetting, she forced it away and concentrated on eating enough food not to arouse Willene’s eagle-eyed vigilance. Intuitively, she understood that she had to present a happy, contented facade at Oaklawn. The household was so delicately balanced that any hint of instability on her part would send everyone into orbit. And any hint of weakness would be an invitation to Renata to try another trick. A more desperate trick.

  “That’s better,” Sally said, nodding with approval. “Mr. Clay don’t want to marry no stick.”

  “Sally, can you show me the generator?”

  “Sure.” Sally’s enthusiasm faded. “But why? Jeff handles all that.”

  “Curiosity. When I was living in California, I was responsible for all the stables. We had a man in charge of the plumbing, but one night the pipes broke and the hired man was on vacation. Water’s extremely valuable in California. We lost a lot of it because I wasn’t certain how to cut everything off. I guess I just learned that it pays to know as much about a place as you can learn, in case of emergency.”

  “That’s right,” Sally agreed. “Connor, were you always that smart? I mean when you were my age, did you sometimes forget to think about things like that?”

  “When I was your age, Sally, life was much different for me. I had parents and all of that. I suppose I didn’t think much of the bad things that can happen. I thought my folks would always take care of me.”

  “Or a husband.”

  Connor paused a moment, watching the expectation and dreams in Sally’s eyes. “That’s a bad miscalculation, Sally. Don’t ever expect anyone to take care of you.”

  “But surely you can let Mr. Clay take care of you.” Sally stepped forward and took Connor’s hands. “I know you’ve always done for yourself. That’s why he likes you so much. But now you’re going to marry him.”

  Connor’s smile hid a host of other emotions. “Listen, Sally, if that means anything at all, it means I’ll probably be taking care of him.” She laughed. “Women nurture, men provide. It’s not exactly fair, but it seems to be the way of relationships.” She turned her hands in Sally’s and tightened the grip. “Don’t ever expect a man to take care of you. You’re your own responsibility.”

  “Mr. Clay tried to take care of Ms. Talla, she just wouldn’t let him.”

  Connor tensed. “How do you mean?”

  “He tried to make her act right.” Sally looked over at the tray. “I’d better get back to the kitchen. Willene will be ready to snap my head off.”

  “Wait a minute. How did Clay try to make his wife behave?”

  “I wasn’t here.” Sally tugged her hands, but Connor kept the grip on them. “Willene said that he did everything under the sun.”

  “Sally, tell me what you know.” Connor pulled the girl a half step toward her. “It’s important that I know.”

  A red flush crept up Sally’s neck. “It was just talk, Connor. I’d say ask Willene, but then she’d know who told you. I should learn to keep my big mouth shut. No wonder everyone fusses at me all the time. I’m always messing up.” Tears welled in her eyes.

 
“I have to know, Sally.” Connor increased the pressure of her thumbs slightly.

  “It’s nothing, really.” She blinked away her tears. “Willene just said that there were nights, when the children were in town, when Mr. Clay would come out here and get into it with Ms. Talla. Things got back to Mr. Clay about Ms. Talla. She’d have people out here, even when the children were here. There were parties, out in the gardens and mostly down in that garden room. Things went on … not normal things. Mr. Clay was afraid the children would see them.”

  “I’ve heard most of this before,” Connor encouraged her. “So what did Clay do to try to take care of Talla?”

  “He put her in the hospital.”

  “Which hospital?”

  “Beausonge, in Lake Charles. It was a big secret. No one is supposed to know.”

  Connor didn’t have to ask about the hospital. It could be nothing else except a facility for disturbed people, people with emotional problems, dependencies.

  “He had her institutionalized against her will?”

  “I don’t think she wanted to go, but Beausonge is the finest institution available. They do wonderful things to help people.”

  “Help people? Do what?”

  “Learn to behave. But it backfired, anyway. That’s when Ms. Talla started getting all the drugs. She had prescriptions. Willene said it only got worse after that. Ms. Talla was so furious with him that she did more bad stuff out of spite. Ms. Talla said it was unjust that Mr. Clay could behave however he chose, and she could be imprisoned for doing the same things.”

  Connor eased her grip on Sally’s hands until they slipped from her grasp. “How long was she in the hospital?”

  “A long time. Mr. Clay did everything he could to help her. Money was no problem, and that hospital is several thousand dollars a day. He said it was worth anything to get the children’s mother back.

  “How long was she there?” Connor repeated.

  “At least six months.”

  “And the children?”

  “They were told their mother had gone to Europe to rest. That’s what everyone was told. To this day, everybody thinks she went to Switzerland to get some beauty treatment. And when she came back, she did look younger.”