by Janet Dailey
‘Shall we go into the living room?’ A fine thread of cold steel ran through his voice and Sabrina knew her barbs had pricked.
Paradoxically she felt remorse and satisfaction at hurting him. She loved him desperately, but she hated him, too, for seeing her only as an unfortunate blind girl and not as a woman with physical and emotional needs. She didn’t oppose the arm that firmly guided her forward. They turned at right angles and his steps slowed.
‘Why did you bring me here, Bay?’ Sabrina challenged coldly.
‘We couldn’t spend the evening in the hallway,’ he answered, deliberately misunderstanding her question.
‘You know very well I was referring to your home,’ she accused.
‘It offered privacy for the talk we’re going to have.’
‘Privacy could be obtained in your car, or for that matter at my house,’ Sabrina reminded him.
‘They wouldn’t do. In a car, you could lose your temper and possibly jump out the door before I could stop you and be run down by some passing motorist,’ Bay explained logically. ‘Your home wouldn’t work either. You know it better than the back of your hand. As stubborn as you can be sometimes, I would probably have found myself talking to the door of some room you’d locked yourself into. Here, in my home, you don’t know which way to move without running the risk of falling over furniture or banging into a wall.’
‘And you wonder why I’ve suddenly begun to dislike you!’ Sabrina protested, spinning away, but unable to move with any swiftness.
He had laid the trap too cleverly. The end of her cane raced out to search for any obstacles in front of her and banged against a solid object.
‘The sofa is directly in front of you. There’s a chair to your right,’ he said. ‘Take one step backward and turn to your right and you’ll avoid the chair.’
‘What’s in the way after that?’ she asked caustically.
‘Why don’t you see for yourself?’
Slowly Sabrina followed his instructions, putting distance between them as she crossed an empty space with the aid of her cane. Finally the ivory white tip touched what appeared to be a table leg. She carefully sidestepped around it only to find the table had been sitting against a wall. Or at least, it was something solid, maybe a door. Sabrina reached out with her hand to investigate, and sheer filmy curtains met her fingers.
‘The window overlooks San Francisco Bay.’ His voice came from the center of the room. ‘There’s an unobstructed view of the Golden Gate and the Harbor.’
Sabrina didn’t know what she had hoped to discover, a way out, possibly. Frustrated, she turned away from the window and partially retraced her steps, stopping before she came too near the area where she guessed that he would be.
‘Bay, take me home, please,’ she asked softly.
‘Not yet.’
The carpet was soft and thick beneath her feet. She wondered at its color, the type of furnishing that surrounded her. There was a desire to explore this place where he lived and slept. She shook her head firmly. She mustn’t think about that.
‘If you don’t take me home, I’ll just call a cab.’ She raised her chin defiantly.
‘Where’s the telephone, Sabrina? Do you know?’ mocked Bay. Averting her face from the watchfulness of his eyes, she released a frantic, sobbing sigh. ‘What’s troubling you, Sabrina?’
‘You’re virtually holding me prisoner in this house and you have the nerve to ask why I’m upset!’ she cried angrily.
‘There’s more to it than that and I mean to find out what it is.’
His voice was moving closer, the plushness of the carpet muffling his steps. Sabrina turned to face him, trying to use her sensitive radar to pinpoint his location.
‘Maybe I’m tired of being treated like a child,’ she suggested icily.
‘Then stop acting like one!’ Bay snapped.
With a start, she discovered he was closer than she had realized. His hands touched her shoulders, but before his fingers could dig into her flesh, she shied quickly away.
‘For God’s sake, Sabrina, why are you afraid of me?’ he demanded. ‘Every time I come near you now you tremble like a frightened rabbit. You’ve been like this ever since Pamela’s party. Is that what upset you? Why you’re afraid to let me near you?’
Her breathing was shallow and uneven. ‘It didn’t inspire me to trust you.’ Sabrina lashed back, unable to explain that it had precipitated the discovery that she was in love with him.
‘I was angry. I never meant to frighten you,’ Bay said forcefully. This time his hands closed over her shoulders before she could elude them. His touch was firm but not bruising.
‘Isn’t it a little late to be regretting it now?’ She lowered her chin so he couldn’t see into her face as she made the sarcastic retort. ‘We can’t be friends, Bay, not any more.’
‘Then I’ll undo the damage,’ came his low, clipped response.
He pulled her toward him. Her hands automatically pushed against the solidness of his chest. It was the last resistance Sabrina offered as his mouth closed over hers. It took all of her strength and will to keep from responding to the persuasive mastery of his kiss. At all costs she had to prevent him from discovering the effect he had on her. He mustn’t know the fiery leap of desire in her loins that nearly made her limp in his arms.
The kiss seemed to go on for ever. Sabrina didn’t know how much longer she could hold back the raging fire Bay had started. Before the shuddering sigh of surrender escaped, he dragged his mouth from her throbbing lips.
‘Sabrina.’ The husky, whispering tautness of his caressing voice was very nearly the final blow.
Her heart had a stranglehold on her throat, but she forced the words of rejection through. ‘Now, will you let me go?’ she demanded in a strained voice.
‘What is it, Sabrina?’ he asked guardedly. ‘My kiss doesn’t frighten you, nor my touch. I don’t think you’re frightened of anything, but there’s something wrong, some explanation why you don’t want to continue to see me.’
She stood silently for a minute, realizing he was not going to free her immediately. Sabrina took a deep breath and tossed back her head. She was about to make the biggest bluff in her life and the most important.
’do you want the truth, Bay?’ she challenged boldly. ‘Well, the truth is that when you first met me I was lost and lonely. I was nothing and my destination was nowhere. You pushed me out of my shell and gave me companionship. More important, you gave me back a chance for a career in a field I love more than anything else in the world. I’ll always be eternally grateful to you for that.’
She paused for an instant, feeling his stillness. ‘I wish you hadn’t forced me to say this, Bay. I don’t mean to be unkind, but I’m not lost or lonely any more. I have my career and a goal, and that’s all I ever wanted in life. I’ve enjoyed the times we spent together. But you tend to dominate and the only thing I want to dominate my life is my work. To sum it all up in one sentence, I simply don’t need you any more.’
‘I see.’ His hands fell away from her shoulders as he stepped away. His voice was cuttingly grim. ‘I don’t think you could have put it more clearly.’
‘It was never my intention, consciously or unconsciously, to use you, I hope you’ll believe that,’ Sabrina explained. ‘About two weeks ago I realized that I wanted to devote all of my time to my work, but I didn’t know how to tell you that without sounding ungrateful for all you’d done. All you were asking in return was a casual friendship, and I was too selfish to even want to give you that. So I tried to pick a fight with you, thinking that if you became angry, you might be the one to break it off. I’m sorry, Bay.’
A tear slipped from her lashes at the magnitude of her lie. Nothing was further from the truth, but his silence told her that he believed her.
‘Would you mind taking me home, Bay?’ she requested, her voice choked with pain.
‘I don’t think either one of us has much of an appetite,’ he agreed bitterly. �
��It really isn’t very surprising.’
An impersonal hand took her elbow. Not another word was spoken. Bay made no comment on the tears that ran freely down her checks. He didn’t even tell her goodbye when he saw her to the door, but his sardonic ‘good luck’ echoed in Sabrina’s ears all the way to her room where she sprawled on to the bed and cried.
Ten
* * *
‘Sabrina! Would you come downstairs a minute?’ Grant Lane called from the base of the stairs.
She sighed heavily. ‘Can’t it wait?’
‘No, it’s important,’ was the answer.
Reluctantly Sabrina covered the lump of clay just beginning to take shape. If she had persisted, she probably could have persuaded her father to postpone whatever it was that was so important, but she was simply too tired to argue. In the last two weeks, she had worked hard and slept little.
‘I’ll be right down,’ she said as she forced her legs to carry out her statement. ‘What did you want, Dad?’ Halfway down the stairs, she felt a prickling along the back of her neck. For a few steps, she blamed the sensation on strain and tired nerves. She stopped abruptly on the last step, her head jerking towards the stairwell door.
‘Hello, Sabrina. I apologize for interrupting your work.’ The sardonic derision in Bay’s tone cut her to the quick.
Blanching slightly, Sabrina dropped her chin, taking the last step and shoving her trembling hands in her pocket. ‘What a surprise, Bay,’ her own voice sounded anything but delighted. ‘What brings you here?’
‘Bay stopped to — ’ her father began to explain.
‘You might call it my last good deed,’ Bay interrupted blandly. ‘I want you to meet Howell Fletcher, Sabrina.’
‘This is the young lady you’ve been telling me about?’ a cultured, masculine voice said, stepping forward to greet her. ‘Miss Lane, I hope this is a pleasure, for both of us.’
Bewildered, Sabrina offered her hand. It was gripped lightly by smooth fingers and released. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand,’ she apologized.
‘Howell is here to see your work and give his considered opinion on your talent and potential,’ Bay explained. The total lack of warmth in his voice almost made him seem like a stranger. There was none of the gentle mockery or friendliness she was accustomed to hearing.
‘I don’t think — ’ Sabrina started to protest stiffly that she didn’t believe she was ready to have her work criticized by a professional.
‘You might as well find out now whether or not you’re wasting your time or building false hopes,’ the man identified as Howell Fletcher stated.
‘Good deed’ — that was what Bay had said his motive was. Sabrina couldn’t help wondering if he wasn’t wishing she would fall flat on her face.
‘I keep all my work in the studio upstairs.’ Her chin lifted proudly. ‘Are you coming, Bay?’
‘No, I won’t be staying.’ The outcome apparently mattered little to him as he took his leave of her father and Howell Fletcher. Sabrina he ignored.
Robotlike, Sabrina led Howell Fletcher to the studio. The man spoke not one word while he slowly studied each piece, but she didn’t mind. Strangely she didn’t care what his opinion was. There was only one man who mattered, and Bay had walked in and out before her broken heart could start beating again.
Her work was a way of filling the empty, lonely hours, providing a challenge and a reason to get up each morning. Some day, she hoped her labors would allow her to be independent of her father. She wanted him to marry Deborah and be happy. It was only right that one of them should have the person they loved. She would never have Bay.
‘How much of this work have you done since you became blind, Miss Lane?’ the man asked thoughtfully.
‘In clay? All of it,’ she answered absently. ‘The paintings were done before my accident.’
‘I understood that you’ve only known Mr. Cameron for a few months,’ he commented.
‘Yes, that’s right.’ Sabrina wearily rubbed the back of her neck.
‘How did you manage to do this bust?’
A wry smile curved her mouth. ‘A blind person sees with their hands, Mr. Fletcher.’
‘You haven’t asked what I think yet. Aren’t you curious, Miss Lane?’
‘It’s always been my experience that criticism comes without asking and compliments come without,’ she shrugged dryly.
‘You have a remarkable amount of wisdom,’ he commented.
‘Not in all things.’ Not in loving wisely.
Then Howell Fletcher began to talk, more correctly to criticize. He didn’t temper his words but sliced them into her, uncaring that it was her future he was cutting away. He dissected each piece. Every flaw, no matter how minute, was called to her attention. Each object was pushed into her hands so she could examine it for herself.
On and on the cultured voice droned until Sabrina wanted to cry out for him to stop. The weight of failure began to hunch her shoulders, trying to ward off the final, crushing blow. Her face, already haunted by the torture of unrequited love, became bleaker. Pride kept her chin up as the last piece was disposed of with the same analytical surgery as the others. A heavy silence followed his statement.
‘Well,’ Sabrina breathed in deeply, ‘I never realized I was such an incompetent amateur.’
‘My God, child,’ the critic laughed, ‘you’re not incompetent nor an amateur. Some of the pieces are clumsy, the inanimate ones that need work on the flow of their line. But the others are stunning. The pride and power that you’ve stamped in Bay’s face is unbelievable. The pathos of the madonna-like figure is touching in the extreme. Like your paintings, your talent lies in people. You bring them to life, heighten the qualities that attract people.’
‘Then,’ she couldn’t believe she was hearing him correctly, ‘you think I should keep working?’
‘If you can keep up this pace and this standard, I can promise you a showing within six months,’ Howell Fletcher declared.
‘You must be joking,’ Sabrina breathed.
‘My dear, I never joke about money. And if you’ll pardon me saying so, your blindness is going to attract a great deal of beautiful publicity. What we will do is combine a display of your very best paintings with the very best clay models and start out with an invitation-only showing for all the “right” people — ’ The plans continued to spew forth long after the shock of his announcement wore off.
‘You aren’t saying this because of Bay, are you?’ Sabrina interrupted, suddenly afraid that Bay had exerted his influence to arrange this.
‘Are you asking me if I was bribed to tell you this?’ he demanded, sounding indignantly affronted. She nodded hesitantly. ‘Bay Cameron did apply pressure to bring me here today, but I would never risk my reputation for anyone! If you had neither talent nor potential, I would have told you so in no uncertain terms.’
Sabrina believed him. The victory cup of success was within her grasp. She let the man issue forth his plans, knowing that the nectar from the cup did not taste sweet because she couldn’t share it with the man she loved. The triumph was as hollow as she was.
A private show within six months, Howell Fletcher had declared. After careful consideration, he had pushed the date ahead to the first week of December, timing it for the holiday season and loosened purse strings. Sabrina had silently realized that his appreciation of art went hand in hand with his appreciation of money.
‘I think you’ve done it, Sabrina,’ her father murmured so he couldn’t be overheard by the people milling about. ‘All I’ve heard is one compliment after another.’
Sabrina smiled faintly, not at his words of success but at the deep pride in his voice. She could imagine the beaming smile on his face.
‘Words of praise are cheap, Mr. Lane,’ Howell Fletcher put in from the other side of Sabrina, but there was triumph in his tone. ‘You’re a success, my dear Sabrina, because our guests are putting their money where their mouth is, to put it crudely.’
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br /> ‘Thanks to you, Howell,’ she said softly.
‘Always the diplomat,’ he chided. ‘It took both of our talents, as you very well know. Now, I must circulate. You stay here and look beautiful.’
‘Sabrina.’ A warm, female voice called her name, followed by the floral scent of violets. ‘It’s me, Pamela Thyssen. You were at my home some months ago.’
‘Of course, Mrs. Thyssen, I remember you very well.’ Sabrina extended her hand and had it clasped by beringed fingers. ‘How are you?’
‘A little upset, if you must know,’ the woman scolded mockingly. ‘It was dreadful of you not to volunteer any information about your remarkable talent. And wait until I get my hands on Bay. I’ll teach that godson of mine a lesson or two for keeping me in the dark.’
‘At the time, there wasn’t anything to tell.’ She swallowed nervously. Every time his name was mentioned her heart started skipping beats and an icy cold hand would close around her throat.
‘I should think Bay would be here tonight, helping you to celebrate your success. Surely he could have cut short his sailing trip to Baja for an occasion like this,’ Pamela stated.
‘Oh, is that where he is?’ Sabrina tried to sound unconcerned. ‘I haven’t seen him lately. I’ve been so busy getting ready for this show and all.’
Pamela Thyssen obviously wasn’t aware that she and Bay had parted company several months ago. Sabrina didn’t intend to enlighten her either.
‘The bust you did of him is positively stealing the show. Everyone is talking about how remarkable the likeness is,’ the woman observed in a faintly curious tone. ‘Howell must have realized how successful it would be, judging by the price he put on it.’
‘I’m merely the artist.’ Sabrina shrugged to indicate that she had nothing to do with the price of the items.
She had not wanted to exhibit the bust at all, but Howell had been adamant in his arguments, insisting that she could not allow sentiment to color her judgment. When she had finally given in, it was with the proviso that the bust would not be for sale.