Sitting up, J. B. shook Derek’s hand, then wrapped his arms around his knees.
“J. B.?” Sabrina prodded.
“Thought I’d visit.”
“Why?”
J. B.’s stare was as vacant as ever. It was joined by a noncommittal shrug. “I wanted to meet your new husband.”
“Mom and Dad sent you.”
“They told me to come. I told them to bug off. I came on my own.”
Derek snickered at his irreverence and was rewarded by a dirty look from Sabrina, who quickly refocused on her brother. “If you’re planning on making life miserable for us, you can get back in that Jaguar and leave.”
J. B.’s face split into a sudden grin. “Nice car, isn’t it? I’ve never driven one before.” He stopped grinning. “There’s a nor’easter forecast. I think you’re stuck with me for a while.”
She bowed her head and pressed the throbbing spot between her eyes.
Derek, who’d been standing to the side with one hand on his hip, curved that hand around her neck and said very softly, “Want to take some aspirin and lie down for a while? It’s been a long two days.”
She darted an unsure glance toward her brother.
“I’ll keep him company,” Derek assured her. “If it’s me he’s come to meet, we can spare you for a while.”
Sabrina knew she was being cowardly, but she didn’t care. It had been a long two days. She simply wasn’t up to dealing with J. B. just yet.
With a look of gratitude—and luck—for Derek, she left the room.
Derek watched her go, then tucked his hands in the pockets of his slacks and turned to J. B. “When did you get here?”
“A few hours ago.”
“How did you get in?”
“Window upstairs was open. I climbed the oak and dropped onto the overhang.”
Derek thought about that for a minute. “Like the snake did in Slither?”
J. B. stared at him soundlessly for a time. “Should I be impressed that you’ve read me, or dismayed that you identify me with the snake?”
“Impressed.”
J. B. didn’t acknowledge that one way or another. Derek wondered what he was thinking as he stared, wondering if he was picturing him behind bars. That staring made Derek uneasy. It was like his first day back in New York, when he’d felt that he had every one of his sins and those of his father plastered across his forehead. The past two days had been better, thank God. Between Sabrina’s loft and the hospital, he’d only met a few double takes. He could get used to that, he supposed. But J. B. Monroe’s endless stare?
Partly annoyed, partly stubborn himself, he stared right back.
That seemed to jar J. B. from his empty reverie. “Where’ve you two been?”
“New York. Nicky needed to have some tests done there.”
“How is he?”
“He’s been having more seizures. There’s medication for it, but otherwise…” He shrugged.
J. B. crinkled his nose to hike up his glasses. “The folks are having a real problem with this.”
“With Nicky?”
“With you. And Sabrina. And your marriage.”
“Then it’s just as well that they’re on the West Coast.”
“They’ll come East. They’ll want to see you for themselves.”
“What, exactly, will they want to see? I’ve got everything where it’s supposed to be.”
“They’ll want evidence that you’re as bad as they think.”
Derek sniffed in a deep breath and looked off toward the window. The snow was coming in great white clumps. Pretty. Too pretty to sully. He shouldn’t be faced with J. B. just now. He didn’t want the divisiveness in Sabrina’s world. But it was there, and it was his to deal with.
“Why did they decide I was bad?” he asked quietly. “Because of the murder? The prison term? My lack of social papers?” He blew out a snort. “Funny, I’d have thought that being a little eccentric themselves, they’d have been more liberal than that.”
“They’re more conventional than you’d think. And besides, Sabrina’s their baby.”
“She’s over thirty.”
“They worry about her.”
“So do I,” Derek said. He regarded his brother-in-law through sober eyes. “When I first met Sabrina, she was tired and tense, overworked and underappreciated. Lots has happened in her life since then that I can’t take any responsibility for, but I do know that since she’s been with me she’s been better. She eats. She sleeps. She smiles and laughs. She’s happy. I make her happy. So how can your parents begrudge me?”
“At this point it’s the marriage.”
“Me, the marriage—same difference. Sabrina and I didn’t have to get married. We could have just lived together. If they’re so conservative, they should be relieved.”
J. B. stared at him a minute longer, then swiveled toward the fireplace, grabbed the poker and began to push at the burning logs. When he had them rearranged to his satisfaction, he withdrew the poker and studied its forked tip. “It’s nice up here.”
Derek allowed him the momentary shift of subject mainly because it was so benign. “Sabrina said you’d been up several times.”
J. B. frowned at the poker. He turned it once, slowly, completely.
“When do you write?” Derek asked.
“Every few months. Intensively.”
Recalling what Sabrina had said about her family’s workstyle, Derek believed him. “You’re between books now, I take it.”
J. B. ran a finger along the tip of the poker. “I was thinking of staying up here for a while. Setting myself up somewhere to write.”
“What about your daughters?”
When J. B. looked up, his eyes held something vaguely akin to emotion. “What about them?”
“If you’re here, you won’t see them much.”
“I don’t see them much, anyway. They don’t like me.”
“Come on. All kids like their parents.”
“They love them. They may not like them. There’s a difference.”
Though Derek hadn’t thought about it quite that way before, he couldn’t argue. He’d despised his parents through most of his childhood, but still there’d been a certain other feeling that he’d been unable to escape. He supposed it was love, a blood-runs-thicker-than-water type of thing. Perhaps that was one of the reasons—albeit a minor one—why he’d been so angry about being set up for murder. His father had paid for his crimes both with his time and his life; it seemed unfair that mud should be slung at his grave.
J. B. was staring at him again, but the stare was less vacant. “Do you and Sabrina plan to have kids?”
Something flared in Derek. His first impulse was to tell J. B. that it was none of his business. Then he paused to consider his own reaction and realized that J. B. had hit a sore spot. “I don’t know,” he answered cautiously.
“Do you want them?”
“Yeah.”
“But she doesn’t. She’s afraid.”
“Given what she’s been through, I suppose she has a point.”
“That’s bullshit. She’d be a terrific mother.”
“I think so, too.”
“Then have kids.”
“She’s using birth control, so I can’t exactly trick her into it—even if I wanted to, which I don’t. She has to be willing to take the chance.”
J. B. said nothing to that. He raised the poker, lowered it, raised it, lowered it.
“Are you planning to hit me with that thing?” Derek asked.
J. B. looked up, seeming surprised to find him still there. “Hmmm?”
“The poker.” He stepped forward to take a closer look, trying to discover what J. B. found so intriguing. He’d used the poker himself. It was nothing spectacular, just another heavy iron poker. “Do you have plans for it?”
“No.”
“Then why were you studying it that way?”
J. B. seemed more puzzled than affronted by Derek’s blunt
ness. “Why do you want to know?”
Derek backed off. “Just curious. I’m a trained inquisitor.” It was true, but told only half the story. He sighed. “Maybe if I understand what you’re doing, I won’t think you’re so strange. Frankly, you make me nervous.”
Their eyes held. J. B. stared, but Derek stared right back. In the end, J. B. was the one to look away. He lowered his head, pushed himself to his feet and ambled toward the wing chair in the corner of the room. “Should I leave?” he asked without turning.
“Of course not. You’re Sabrina’s brother. You’re welcome here.”
“But you’re her husband.” Slowly he turned. “What are your plans?”
“Plans?”
“Aren’t you going back to work?”
“Eventually.”
“Here?”
“Possibly.”
“How?”
“I haven’t quite figured that out yet.”
There was a long pause before J. B. said, “Then you’re satisfied living off Sabrina for a while?”
Derek’s spine grew very straight. “I have never had, nor do I now have any intention of living off Sabrina. If you think I married her for her money, think again. With very little effort, I could probably buy her out.”
“You socked it away?”
“I invested it.”
“Dad’ll be glad to hear that,” J. B. said, and slumped into the wing chair. He stretched out his legs. “Have any plans for the barn?”
Derek frowned at the non sequitur.
J. B. cocked his head toward the side of the house. “The barn. What are you going to do with it?”
“Use it as a garage,” Derek answered, still frowning. “And a workroom. I was thinking of insulating it. Why?”
“I want a corner of it.”
“For what?”
“An office.”
“You’re going to write in the barn?”
With the tiniest shift of his eyebrow, J. B. indicated that he was. “I’ll need a Franklin stove, some lanterns and a typewriter. Think Sabrina will mind?”
“I don’t know,” Derek said. “I suppose not.” Then realization dawned. “You want to keep an eye on me, is that it?”
“I want to write a book.”
“Why here?”
“Because I like it here.”
“How long will it take?”
J. B. gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Two months. Maybe three.”
Derek lowered his head and rubbed his neck. He and Sabrina were newlyweds. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of having a chaperon. “Two months,” he muttered. He rubbed his neck some more.
“Give me a little more space and I’d have an apartment in the barn. You wouldn’t have to see me at all.”
“Still, two months is a long time.”
“Not to write a book.”
“Yeah, but you could make Sabrina miserable.”
“Me?” J. B. asked with such innocence that Derek scowled.
“It’s her decision,” he muttered. “Her farmhouse, her barn, her decision. I only pay the bills. You’ll have to ask her.”
* * *
Sabrina couldn’t say no. J. B. was her brother. He was a sad figure, very much alone—a fact all the more obvious by contrast to the life she now shared with Derek. When J. B. had visited before, they had been two people alone. Now things were different. She could afford to be generous.
Not that she gave in without a fight. She made it clear that Derek was no longer on trial, that she loved him, that he was staying. She told J. B. that if he intended to sit and stare and offer nothing more than the occasional acerbic remark, he could just pack up and head back west. And she informed him that he wasn’t to create a horror tale about her barn. She loved the barn, the farmhouse, the acreage surrounding it. She found peace there. Not even under the guise of fiction did she want that disturbed.
There was only one other condition she needed met to let J. B. stay. Derek had to approve. When he did, she was actually surprised. She knew he felt uneasy with her brother. But he, too, felt badly for J. B. He, too, was in a mood to be generous. Christmas was nearly there. J. B. was alone. And then, there was a tiny part of Derek that needed to be with family, too. He had none of his own, just Sabrina. He wondered what it would be like to broaden his family base even more.
Sabrina was still worried. She was prepared to find J. B.’s presence a problem, and she told Derek so.
“You’re worried that I’ll find his presence a problem, so you’re saying it first,” Derek was perceptive enough to point out, “but I’ll tell you if it happens, hon. I’ll tell you if it bothers me.”
Surprisingly, J. B. didn’t bother either of them. His presence was unobtrusive. Perhaps he’d taken Sabrina’s warnings to heart. Perhaps he’d sensed that Derek could be either friend or foe, depending on his own behavior. Whatever the case, he took over the guest bedroom, which was far enough from the master suite to afford Derek and Sabrina the privacy they wanted. But he did plan to move into the barn, and to that end he accompanied Derek to the building-supply house.
“Ever done this before?” Derek murmured to J. B. as they examined the various insulating materials. He spoke under his breath so as not to be heard by the salesman.
J. B., who was frowning behind his glasses, shook his head. “You?” he whispered back.
“Uh-uh.” Derek gnawed on the inside of his mouth. His eye jumped across the room to the wood paneling yet to be chosen. A little bewildered, he returned to the insulation and mumbled to J. B., “The guy says this is the best.”
“Looks to be the most expensive,” J. B. mumbled back.
“Most expensive isn’t always the best.”
“Don’t you know it.”
“Problem is,” Derek went on, talking now out of the corner of his mouth, “I don’t know much else when it comes to this stuff.”
There was nothing vacant about J. B.’s stare. He was eyeing the insulation as though it were truly alien. “A writer isn’t supposed to know much else.”
“Or a reporter. I flunked shop in high school.”
“Me too.”
“We need help.”
“Professional advice.”
“A carpenter.”
Of one mind, they turned on their heels and left the store.
They hired a carpenter to advise them on materials and teach them all they didn’t know, which was considerable. Fortunately, they’d matured since their high school days. Or maybe it was the motivation factor. Or determination. But they stuck with it and began to see progress.
Sabrina, who visited the barn often, bearing hot drinks and sandwiches, felt as though she were watching a trade-school class. When she dared say as much aloud, she was bombarded with snowballs made of insulation remnants. Laughingly she retreated, but she found herself smiling for a long while after. Turning the barn into livable space was providing a common interest for Derek and J. B., and that pleased her. Derek was engrossed in the project enough not to be thinking about Noel Greer. J. B. was engrossed enough not to be staring off into space. Though communication between them was never overwhelming, that was more because neither was an habitual talker than because they couldn’t get along. They did talk when so moved. They did get along. And that gave Sabrina a kind of inner pleasure that she hadn’t expected.
* * *
Sabrina spent Christmas morning with Nicky. She was accompanied not only by Derek, but by J. B., which made things easier. For the first time, she didn’t dissolve into tears at the visit’s end.
During the week that followed, while Derek and J. B. worked diligently on the barn, Sabrina entertained Maura, who had popped in unexpectedly and settled herself in one of the spare bedrooms. Her combination housewarming-wedding gift to Sabrina was, quite fortunately, a futon, which she proceeded to use as a bed in lieu of the floor.
“God forbid J. B. should share the four-poster,” she remarked, but playfully. Sabrina knew why.
“You two ne
ver did get along.”
“That’s an understatement. He’s a weirdo.”
“There are many who’d say the same about you,” Sabrina teased. She tipped her head to study Maura’s hair. “You’ve gone darker again.”
Maura grinned. “It’s working.” She’d already told Sabrina about the new man in her life. He was, incredibly enough, the one who’d been looking at her that day when she was at lunch with Sabrina. She’d long since learned that the tie tack had indeed held a diamond and that there were more where that came from.
Well aware that her friend had been sketchy on such specifics as the man’s name and occupation, Sabrina had decided that Maura was serious about him but was taking the cautious approach. Sabrina didn’t blame her. In some ways, she was pleased by Maura’s caution. It showed the maturity that Maura claimed to aim at.
At the moment, though, Maura was looking more mischievous than mature. Lowering her voice, she leaned forward. It was all for effect. She and Sabrina were alone in the second-floor solarium. There was no way the men could overhear their conversation from the barn. “Derek is gorgeous. You didn’t tell me that.”
“I thought you knew. He was on TV for years.”
“Oh yeah, I’ve seen him on TV, but, Christ, he’s even better looking in the flesh.” She sat back on one of the large cushions that were strewn about the floor. “Prison obviously didn’t do him any harm in that respect. He’s aging nicely. Life up here must be agreeing with him.”
With several swallows of white wine already under her belt, Sabrina was feeling mellow enough not to pick up on the harm that prison had done Derek. Instead, she finished slicing the Cheddar cheese into small squares, passed one to Maura, popped one into her own mouth. Then she too sat back. “I think so. We’re very happy.”
“God, I’m glad,” Maura said with comical relief. “But I have to say that it amazes me.”
“What?”
“That you can be happy up here in the middle of nowhere.”
“I’m not in the middle of nowhere. There are other people, and stores and inns and restaurants.”
“Still, it ain’t New York.”
“True,” Sabrina conceded with a crooked grin.
“But you were always a city person. What happened?”
Commitments Page 31