Promises to Keep

by Maura McGiveny

  Her eyes filled. 'It means easily broken.'

  He stared up at her. 'I wouldn't let anybody break you.'

  'I know you wouldn't.' She dropped to her knees and took the flowers, putting her arms around him. 'Thank you, darling. It's so good to know I have a protector. It's your birthday but here you are, giving me presents. They're beautiful.'

  'Daddy said a present was going to be delivered for me today, but it didn't come before we left. What do you think it is?' Jon's eyes glowed with anticipation.

  'We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?' Kathryn looked past him to Logan, who stood with his hands on his hips, staring bleakly at her.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The rest of the afternoon went from bad to worse. Whenever Kathryn had a moment alone with Jon, Logan was right there beside her, listening intently to their slightest conversation. As if she would say anything to endear Paul to him, she thought despairingly, sickened by Paul's smirks and feigned unawareness of what was happening. Logan no longer trusted her and was making it painfully obvious. So many times she looked at him with a silent plea for understanding, but something flashing in his bitter blue eyes told her it was pointless. His mind was closed to her— just as hers had been to him all those years ago. When she had seen him with Carol she hadn't waited around for an explanation. Her trust had been shattered. Oh, the irony of it!

  Late in the afternoon Jon fell asleep in her lap, and for one poignant moment she held him in her arms like a baby, loving the way his lashes lay on his cheeks like long black fans. Logan watched her grimly, then with a cold protective fierceness snatched him away from her with a curt command that it was time to leave.

  'Protective devil, isn't he?' Paul murmured consolingly, watching the colour come and go in Kathryn's face as she got to her feet and bent to gather up the picnic basket. 'Let me carry that for you, my dear,' he said with a gallant bow, his fingers caressing hers when he took it from her.

  She shuddered, but there was no way she could avoid his touch without dropping it and spilling everything. Glancing quickly at Logan, she saw his face harden and with a guilty crimson blush knew he had seen the exchange and misconstrued it.

  Coldly, he turned away and ordered them to follow him.

  Jon was held easily in his arms and slept all during the long silent walk back through the woods. The outing had started with such promise, but how different everything was now, Kathryn sighed.

  As they neared the house Jon woke and blinked bemusedly, then grinned at Emma who was standing at the back door. 'It was super, just like you said it would be.'

  'Well, I'm glad somebody had a good time,' she said, looking slightly harassed. 'But I have to say I'm glad your birthday only comes once a year, young man. If one more delivery truck comes…' Her breath left her in a rush of exasperation.

  His eyes sparkled. 'My present came?'

  'Present? It's a wonder there's anything left in the toy stores for all the other children in the country,' she tutted as Logan set him on his feet.

  'What are you talking about?' questioned Logan, taking the picnic basket from Paul and setting it on the scrubbed butcher block countertop in the kitchen. 'I didn't order any toys.'

  'I did, old boy,' said Paul with a selfconscious laugh. 'Jon's birthday is special to me too. After all, I am—'

  Logan cut him off with a look. 'I told you before—'

  'And I told you,' Paul broke in coldly, taking a challenging stance, 'I have every right to buy him things. He's my—'

  'Nephew!' Logan grated with a daunting expression. The steely quietness of the word sent a shiver down Kathryn's spine. 'And don't you ever forget it.'

  'Oh, look!' Jon turned and ran across the shiny red tiles to a wicker basket with a perky yellow bow on its side. 'Oh, Mom! It's a dog!' His face was full of wonder and Kathryn was grateful for the diversion. They looked ready to come to blows.

  She crossed the room and dropped to her knees beside Jon to admire the German shepherd puppy. His coat was a warm shade of beige with distinguished black markings running all the way from his nose to his furiously wagging tail.

  Jon's eyes nearly popped out of his head when he put out a tentative hand to pet him. 'He's so soft,' he whispered.

  'Pet him gently, Jon.' Logan came to stand beside them and spoke with quiet authority. 'We couldn't have a pet where we lived before, but now that we're here, there's all the room you need for him to run and play with you.'

  When Kathryn gathered up the puppy to show Jon how to hold him, his wet pink tongue licked her face, and Jon giggled, pressing himself close to her.

  Paul watched them and shuddered delicately. 'A dog? Messy things, aren't they?'

  'It all depends on how you look at it.' Logan looked him coldly up and down. 'Drago wasn't messy.'

  Paul's eyebrows rose in surprise. 'Are you talking about the same Drago I remember? He was always at our heels. He chewed up my shoes, clawed my clothes, ruined everything he could get his grubby paws on!'

  'That's not what I remember about him. He was a friend.'

  'Maybe to you but not to me. It was a relief when Mother finally got rid of him.'

  'She was quite ruthless when it came to that, wasn't she?' Logan said conversationally, but there was a flash of deep-rooted pain in his eyes.

  'Do you blame her? After all, he'd just broken her new Sevres urn. She went to a lot of trouble and expense at that auction, and the very day she brought it home, he broke it.'

  'You had a dog, Daddy?' asked Jon, looking up at him with a flicker of sympathetic understanding far beyond his years.

  'Yes. My father brought him home when Uncle Paul and I were ten. He was a big dog, a German shepherd too.'

  'I like this little one.' Jon threw his arms around his father's legs. 'Thank you, Daddy! Can I call him Drago too? I like that name.'

  'Drago it is,' Logan smiled, squatting on the floor and putting an arm around him. He never looked at Kathryn. His unreadable eyes stayed on the puppy wriggling in her arms.

  'Well, I think I'll shower and change while you three make fools of yourselves over that dog,' Paul muttered resentfully. 'Maybe when I'm finished Jon will find the time to see what I bought for him.'

  Kathryn was the first to realise how rude that would be. She set the puppy gently back in his basket and looked at Jon. 'We really shouldn't slight your uncle.'

  Paul nodded, ignoring Logan's tight-lipped silence, and then turned to Emma standing at the sink. 'Where are Jon's things?'

  'They're in his room,' she said. 'I didn't know where else to put them.'

  'Very well,' he smiled, rubbing his hands in anticipation. 'Come along, son.'

  Jon dragged his feet as he followed Paul. He kept looking back to the basket where Drago whimpered softly.

  'It's all right,' Kathryn soothed, putting her arm across his shoulders as they climbed the stairs. 'Emma will make sure he doesn't get lonesome until you come back.'

  Jon stopped short and stared at the huge array of every imaginable toy piled high in his room without a smile. There were cars and trucks of every size and colour, a miniature space station with robots and tiny spacemen sitting at the control centre. A tiny toy train was still in its huge box and a bright red two-wheel bicycle complete with training wheels stood in the middle of the clutter, its chrome fenders immaculate and shiny.

  After a long moment Paul let out his breath harshly. 'Your enthusiasm overwhelms me, son.'

  'Thank you, Uncle Paul,' the little boy said solemnly, holding on to Kathryn's hand. He made no move to touch any of the toys or games still in their boxes. His wide eyes lingered on the bike, but he didn't go near it.

  'Think nothing of it,' Paul muttered through his teeth. 'Happy birthday anyway.' His tall body was rigid as he stalked past his brother standing silently in the doorway. 'You only think you've turned him away from me, Logan. But I'm not going to give up. Your turn's coming.'

  'Don't threaten me,' said Logan with a cold smile. 'You'll only come out the los
er.'

  'That's been the story of my life up to now, hasn't it?' Paul flicked a speculative glance at Kathryn. 'But don't become too complacent, old boy. I have a feeling the tide's beginning to turn. I'm finally going to see you come out second best.' Then he left them, whistling softly as he made his way to his own room.

  Kathryn heard this muttered exchange and looked sharply at Logan, but he avoided her eyes and spoke harshly.

  'I want you to give Jon a bath before dinner,' he seethed. 'He'll be eating with us tonight, since it's his birthday. It'll be formal—Paul's not used to anything else. Emma said seven.' He roughly rubbed a hand over his jaw and let his gaze travel around the room crammed with toys before flinging himself out the door in disgust.

  When he had disappeared down the hallway, Jon turned to Kathryn. 'There's an awful lot of toys here, Mom.'

  'I can't imagine what your uncle was thinking,' she agreed with an incredulous shake of her head. Even a five-year-old recognised a bribe when he saw one. 'We'll have to find a place to put them— but not now. Let's get you ready for your bath, shall we?'

  As she watched him splash about in the water a few minutes later, her mind was churning wretchedly. She had to come up with some plausible excuse to miss dinner tonight. Formal, he had said. There was no way she could sit there in her hopelessly home-made clothes. Oh, why had she been so stubborn to refuse them in the first place? It was one thing to try to show Logan she didn't need anything from him, but now a horrifying realisation shattered through her: She had tried to hurt him. That was what it had really been. And in doing so, she only succeeded in hurting herself. She still had her pride, but it was cold comfort now.

  Emma was waiting in the hallway outside the bathroom when Jon finished. 'I was going to put this in your room, dear, but it would probably get lost in the shuffle.' She held out a small tissue-wrapped parcel. 'It's not much, but I thought you'd like it.'

  He hitched his towel tighter around his waist and accepted the package, eagerly tearing it open. An ice-blue mohair sweater lay within the folds of tissue paper, and he beamed with genuine pleasure before giving her a warm damp hug. 'Thank you. I love it! But when did you have time to make it?'

  She smiled affectionately. 'Your mom's been such a big help with the house, I have lots of time to knit now. When your dad was little, I made him one too, but it took a lot longer then.'

  'Can I wear it now? Please?'

  'Of course you can,' said Kathryn, running her fingers gently across the soft sweater. 'Go and start getting dressed, darling, I'll be in to help in a minute.'

  When he had left them she turned to Emma. 'When Jon's through I'll send him downstairs, but will you make my apologies to Logan and Paul? I've got a headache and I think I'll just take a long hot soak in the tub and then go to bed.' It wasn't original, but in her frame of mind it was the best she could do.

  Emma was immediately all concern. 'I thought you looked a little peaked when you came home today. You go along to your room now. I'll see to Jon. Later I'll bring you a tray.'

  'Oh, please don't bother. You've got enough to do without having anything extra added to it.'

  'It's no trouble. I know headaches can be terrible things. Just go along,' Emma said briskly, 'and don't worry about a thing. I'll enjoy these few minutes with Jon.'

  Kathryn gave her a small selfconscious smile and did as she was told. She hated having to lie, but there was no way she was going to sit at the dinner table tonight in that huge elegant room and be an embarrassment to her husband.

  She stood at her bedroom window watching the lengthening shadows on the lawn turn darkly purple before jamming her hands in the pockets of her old blue robe. She had tried taking a soothing bath. Her hair was still piled on top of her head, but long black tendrils fell haphazardly about her pale face as her agitation increased. She felt so young and absurdly alone. If only she could go to Logan and explain things to him like an ordinary wife! But she wasn't, and he wasn't an ordinary husband. They were trapped in a marriage that was not a marriage with a child who was not their child. Or was he? She rubbed a hand across her eyes in despair. Now when she pictured Carol in the moonlight the scene was distorted. Who had been with her? Logan and Paul were so alike—and so different.

  A gentle tap on her door stopped her whirling thoughts. Emma shouldn't have bothered, she sighed, crossing reluctantly to open it.

  Logan stood in the hallway, dark and avenging in a midnight blue suit, frilled white shirt and impeccable blue tie, his hands on his hips, his face grim. 'You're keeping us waiting,' he said through his teeth.

  Kathryn's face whitened, but she managed to keep her voice calm as she instinctively backed away from him. 'Didn't Emma tell you?'

  'That you had a headache?'

  She nodded mutely.

  'Even I could think up a more original excuse than that, my dear wife. That one's a little overworked by women who can't face up to things. It's our son's birthday and I won't let you disappoint him. You've got five minutes to get dressed and come downstairs.'

  She straightened her shoulders and lifted her head without flinching. 'No,' she said softly.

  His expression hardened and his eyes took on the coldness of icy seas. 'Why not?'

  'Please, Logan.' She turned her back to him and pressed her hands to her face. 'I just can't!'

  His hands were bunched at his sides as he came to stand in front of her. 'It's your clothes, isn't it? Does Paul's opinion mean so much? How many meals have you shared with me without caring what you looked like?'

  'It isn't that I didn't care,' she said helplessly. 'Oh, if only I could explain!'

  'Try me.'

  She took her hands away from her face. 'I—' she wavered, 'I just can't.'

  Logan gave a short hard sigh and stepped to the built-in closet than ran the length of the room and flung open the doors on a dazzling assortment of brightly coloured clothing. There was everything here from evening gowns and daytime dresses to elegant pantsuits. On the floor, boxes were stacked containing shoes of every description. 'All you've got to do is put one on. Is that so hard to do?'

  'Where did they come from? When—'

  Kathryn's throat closed on a choked whisper.

  'I had them delivered this afternoon,' he said shortly. 'I knew you'd need them.'

  'Delivered? This afternoon?' The blank look on her face was slowly replaced by a swiftly mounting anger as her eyes widened. Instead of being grateful for his thoughtfulness she felt an unreasoning resentment. 'And I suppose the delivery men were falling all over each other trying to bring in all the toys for Jon and all these clothes for me. It must have been a regular circus! No wonder Emma was practically beside herself when we came home!'

  'Can't you just say thank you like any other wife and let it go at that?' Logan's jaw was tightly clenched and his face was full of white hot rage.

  Hesitantly Kathryn walked to the closet and put a shaking hand on a bright green shimmer of silk. Her fingers involuntarily clenched the costly material. She needed clothes; he had provided them. She should have been grateful, but all she felt was a sharp sense of angry humiliation. No matter how much she hated to admit it, she had been bought. 'Thank—you,' she muttered reluctantly, trying to swallow back her pride.

  His hands descended roughly on her shoulders, turning her to face him, and she couldn't help cowering away from the ferocity in his eyes. 'Like Paul said to Jon earlier, "Your enthusiasm overwhelms me". What's wrong with them?'

  'Nothing.'

  'Yes, there is. Tell me.'

  'Please—' She tried to twist out of his grasp, but he held her closer.

  'You think I've bought you, don't you? Go ahead and say it!'

  'Yes,' she whispered defeatedly. 'I feel bought.'

  She could see him shaking with rage. 'In order to buy there has to be an exchange of some kind. I paid for these things for you, but I don't expect a thing in return. They're simply a gift.'

  'But so many? They're just like the toys Pa
ul bought for Jon. Where's the difference?'

  Blue ridges sprang out at the sides of his mouth and his eyes bored through her. 'Let's get something straight right now. Those toys for Jon weren't just birthday gifts from an uncle with no strings attached.'

  'I know that. He's trying to buy Jon's affection, just as you're trying to buy me.'

  'No, dammit! It's not the same. Can't you see?' Logan's fingers tightened on her shoulders. 'I'm not at all like Paul. I simply bought you these things because you need them. You know you do, yet you keep on refusing them. Why? Tell me!'

  All at once his face was open. He really wanted to understand why she was fighting him. The sudden sting of tears burned the back of her eyes, forcing an unwilling admission from her.

  'I'm trying to hang on to my pride—it's the only way. If I refuse the things your money can buy, you'll never own me. But it's not working out that way. I'm only making myself an embarrassment to you.'

  Logan sighed defeatedly and dropped his hands to his sides. 'You're not an embarrassment to anybody. If you dressed in a burlap bag you'd be more beautiful than a hundred other women.' He rubbed the back of his neck warily. 'Change your mind. Accept the things I want to give you.'

  'Oh, don't!' Kathryn turned away from him, pressing a clenched fist to her mouth. 'Why does it always have to be you giving me things? What can I give you?'

  His face altered with sudden dawning comprehension and his voice took on a note of shock. 'I always thought you had pride, but I'm wrong. It isn't pride. You have an inferiority complex. You don't think you're good enough to wear the clothes! And that's why you said you don't belong in this house, isn't it? You feel you're not good enough to be my wife!'

  She turned back to him with a savage red stain on her face and neck, hating him for stripping away the thin veneer of false pride and exposing her gauche inexperience and unsophisticated vulnerability, but she straightened her shoulders and faced him without flinching. Her voice was a steady quiet whisper. 'That's right, Logan—I'm not good enough. I've never been good enough. It was always Carol. She was the one who fitted in, not me. You've both lived in a world I've never known. You've been to places, seen things, done things I've only dreamed about.'