Call of the Mountain

by Macgregor, Miriam

  It was then that the revelation came, shocking her like an earth-moving jolt. The scene about her faded to a blur until even the mountain's bulk disappeared and she saw only the face of one man—the dark eyes, the firm mouth and jaw of Brett Arlington.

  `Is it true, Taranaki?' she whispered, still gazing towards the mountain. 'Do I really love him?' But even if it had been possible, there was no need for the mountain to reply, because she knew the truth without a shadow of doubt, and she also knew the fact must be kept hidden at all costs. The thought of one who scorned her knowing she loved him made her cringe inwardly.

  She didn't see Brett again until Catherine served the evening meal, and he was then only distantly polite.

  Not that his remote attitude towards her was noticeable, because conversation at the table was dominated by Catherine's enthusiastic description of the woolcraft displayed at the Institute meeting by the Hawera spinning and weaving group.

  `Beautiful garments—blankets, wall hangings and floor mats,' she exclaimed. 'And also a demonstration as well, because they'd brought their looms and spinning wheels. One of the women had borrowed her husband's farm truck, and I can tell you it was piled high!' She turned to Mary who had been sitting in silence. 'Didn't you think those homespun cardigans and jerseys were attractive?'

  Mary was startled, her mind appearing to be elsewhere. 'What—? Oh yes, lovely and warm,' she agreed half-heartedly.

  `Now that's something you could take up,' Catherine pursued. 'Would you like to learn to spin? We've got our own wool growing almost at the back door—some lovely fleeces on the younger sheep.'

  But Mary was not interested. 'Oh no, I don't think so.' She gave a small shudder. 'I wouldn't like handling the raw wool from the shorn sheep—it's so—so smelly and greasy.'

  `Greasy? My dear, that's pure lanolin,' Catherine assured her.

  Mary turned to Lisa, a question on her lips, her brown eyes anxious yet full of hope. 'Did the phone ring this afternoon? Was there a call for me—from anyone?'

  Lisa knew she was really asking if Paul had rung. `No, there were no phone calls, either inward or outward,' she declared firmly, her direct gaze including Brett as well as Mary.

  He returned her stare mockingly, his dark eyes accusing and plainly saying the word liar.

  She also realised he was waiting for her to admit to Mary that Paul had come to the house that afternoon,

  but she decided against it because it would involve too much explanation. In any case, Mary's question had concerned phone calls rather than visitors, and it would only add to her disappointment to know that Paul had been there during her absence.

  Further, if Brett insisted upon regarding her as a sneak and a liar, her pride would not allow her to plead with him to believe otherwise. She could only hope the time would come when he'd believe otherwise.

  That evening there was little of interest on television. Brett sat glowering at it for a short time, his long form stretched in an armchair, while Lisa watched him covertly from beneath her lashes. But at last, almost as though he knew he was being observed, he got up and left the room.

  His departure made the lounge seem empty, and, using the poor programme as an excuse, Lisa told Catherine she would like to do some work on the manuscript. She didn't admit she had had a disrupted afternoon, but this had been a fact, and she felt she would like to make up for lost time. However, when she reached the library she found Brett sitting at the desk and busy with accounts.

  He turned as she entered, then, seeing her hesitate and about to leave, he rasped, 'Come in—I want to talk to you.'

  The coldness in his voice struck a chill to her bones. `More discussion about Paul, I suppose?'

  `How did you guess?' His voice dripped sarcasm. `Don't you think it's time you came clean and explained to Mary the true situation between Paul and yourself?'

  `What, in your opinion, is the true situation?'

  `It's obvious you're taking up where you left off three years ago. She'll be upset, of course, but she'll get over it. Better to have a small hurt now than a much larger one later.'

  Lisa gave a sigh of exasperation. 'Haven't I made it clear that as far as Paul is concerned, Mary has nothing to fear from me?'

  `And didn't I see you in his arms? The kiss I witnessed wasn't a mere brush on the cheek, it was passionate.' His lip curled.

  She looked at him helplessly. 'It's a pity you couldn't have overheard our previous conversation. I'll admit he came to see me, and not Mary.'

  `Ah, then no doubt you'll also admit you rang him.' Her voice rose. 'I did not ring him! Why don't you believe me?'

  `How can I believe anything you say if you'll lie over something as small as a phone call?'

  For Pete's sake, how can I get it through to you that I'm telling you the truth? Really, I can't take any more of this

  Tears pricked her lids, but before her eyes could fill she went to the table, snatched up a chapter, her scribbling pad and a ballpoint pen. But before she could hurry from the room Brett jumped to his feet and grabbed her arm.

  `Lisa, I want to believe you, but every time I try I get a vision of you in Paul's arms, your face raised while he kisses you. Nor did I notice any struggles of protest from you.'

  She wrenched her arm free of his hand. 'No. There was a reason for that,' she told him stonily. `Good night. I'll do some work in bed.' And with that she hurried from the room.

  It was his lack of faith in her that hurt most of all, she realised, and then, as she sat up in bed, the desire to work eluded her as the tears fell and the words became blurred. It was also an effort to concentrate, but at last she succeeded, and it was almost midnight when she switched off the bedside lamp. Her tears then soaked into the pillow, and as Brett's accusation began a rhythmic beat in her brain

  recollection of the words liar and sneak made her want to scream with frustration.

  Nor did she sleep well. The emotional stress and late work had caused a restlessness that left her feeling anything but refreshed next morning. However, a hot shower helped to revive her, and when she went to the kitchen she found Catherine, Mary and Brett already sitting at breakfast.

  Catherine's sharp eyes examined her face. 'You look as if you worked late. There's no need for it, unless you're in a hurry to leave us. Now sit down and have a good breakfast—ah, here's Gwen. What a blessing she is!'

  Gwen came in through the back door, a smock over her round figure showing she was ready for work.

  Catherine greeted her cheerfully, then said, 'I didn't see you at the Institute yesterday. Isn't it something you never miss?'

  `Indeed it is,' Gwen declared almost wrathfully. `Please don't remind me I wasn't there.'

  `Yesterday was something special,' Catherine enthused. 'The Hawera spinning and weaving people put on a wonderful display of their work. You'd have been most interested, especially as you're such a good spinner. Actually, I was wondering if you'd teach Mary to spin. I'm sure it's something she could learn—'

  `I don't want to learn to spin,' Mary interrupted crossly. 'You're not going to manipulate me, Catherine!' she flared, glaring at her stepmother.

  Catherine ignored the outburst. 'All right, dear, perhaps at some other time.' Then, turning to Gwen, `But really, I was so sorry when I realised you weren't there, because I know you'd have been most interested.'

  Gwen began to stack the dishes on the sink bench. 'I missed it because I was anxious about my sister who lives in Inglewood,' she explained. 'She hasn't been

  IOC)

  well for weeks and I ring her every few days to see if she's making an improvement. She's changed her doctor and is on new pills, and I wanted to know if they were making a difference—but when I discovered the dratted phone was out of order I had no option but to drive to Inglewood to see her condition for myself.'

  Brett put his cup down slowly, then turned to look at Gwen. 'I presume you mean your own phone, Gwen? John didn't mention it.'

  `They were out all over the distr
ict—Paul Mason's, yours—everyone's. Didn't you know?'

  `You mean they were out of action only in the morning?'

  `No, they were out all day until about four in the afternoon,' Gwen declared in aggrieved tones. 'It took the linesmen ages to find the trouble.'

  `Are you sure about this, Gwen?' Brett persisted.

  She swept him a glance of surprise. 'Sure? It caused me to miss the Institute meeting, didn't it? You can bet I'm sure!'

  Brett did not pursue the subject, and although Lisa watched him steadily in an effort to catch his eye the brief glance he sent her revealed nothing of his thoughts.

  Later, when she was working in the library he came into the room and stood beside the mantelpiece. She forced herself to keep her head down, although she was well aware that he stood with his back to the fireplace, his long muscled legs astride, and his arms folded across his broad chest. When he spoke his words came as a surprise, causing her to look at him.

  `Okay, so I'm ready to believe you didn't ring Paul Mason.'

  `You are? That's mighty big of you. Thank you for nothing!' She turned away again.

  `I'm trying to tell you, I no longer consider you to be a liar.'

  `Is that a fact? It must be difficult for you to admit it,' she returned quietly, her eyes shadowed to the darkness of sapphires.

  `No doubt I wasn't thinking very clearly,' he admitted. 'You can put it down to a blinding rage. Do you understand?'

  `Perfectly. You were annoyed because you saw your sister's so-called boy-friend kissing me. That I can understand.'

  `There's more to it than that,' Brett retorted enigmatically.

  `Oh yes, there's my sneakiness to be accounted for. That's another charming trait you added to my character!'

  His mouth became grim. 'While we're on the subject perhaps you could clear up that point.'

  `Are you asking in what sneaky manner did I manage to get him here, considering the phone was out of order?' Lisa queried with a hint of reproach.

  `No, I'm not asking that at all—but you said Paul had come to see you, rather than Mary. Why would he do that?'

  `Because he wanted to talk to me—privately. He knew that neither Catherine nor Mary were home because he happened to see them in Eltham. I can tell you his arrival gave me a shock.'

  `So—he wanted to talk to you. What about?'

  She gave a slight shrug. 'I doubt that you'd be interested.'

  `Try me and see.' He left the mantelpiece to stand beside her.

  `It's really no concern of yours.'

  `Can't you understand that I'm making it my concern?'

  Lisa looked at him doubtfully, wondering if she should tell him the truth. Perhaps it would be better, she decided. Perhaps it would clear the air between them and lead to a better understanding, so she said,

  `Actually he—he tried to persuade me to continue our old relationship, to take up where we'd left off.'

  `I didn't realise you'd been engaged to him.' His eyes held a strange glitter that puzzled her.

  `I was not engaged to him—but I thought I was about to be given a ring,' she admitted. 'Instead I went off home to Auckland. Paul now pretends he couldn't understand my reason for doing so.'

  `Well, what made you do it?'

  `I'd lost respect for him. I realised I wasn't the only love in his life—I was just one of several. Mary is now in the same position, although she's unable to believe it.'

  `You've warned her about him?'

  `I've dropped hints, but so far they've had no effect. Naturally, it's something she doesn't want to know about, so I'm afraid it's something she'll have to learn for herself. People seldom alter very much, and I'm sure Paul will go through life telling himself it's time for a change.'

  Brett said with an edge to his voice, 'It's a pity Mary couldn't have seen you in his arms, as I did. I still consider that embrace needs a little explaining.'

  `Not really,' Lisa shrugged. 'It was merely a goodbye kiss for his promise not to pester me again. Or are you having difficulty in believing me?' she flared with a sudden burst of vexation.

  He looked at her searchingly. 'My word, you are tired and irritable this morning!'

  `I know exactly how I feel,' she snapped. 'Yesterday upset me more than you realise, what with being called sneaky and a liar!'

  `It's obviously something you'll neither forget nor forgive.'

  She looked at him in silence, longing to admit she was willing to do both. At the same time a lump in her throat warned that tears were near. Lack of sleep and the emotional strain of the last few hours were

  beginning to take their toll, and she felt drained. The sensation of weakness that came over her made her yearn to go to him, to put her arms about him while she leaned against him and lifted her face for his kiss—but to do so was unthinkable. And then his voice hit her ears.

  `Okay, so I'll get out of your sight.'

  As he moved towards the door she knew she didn't want him to leave, and, pulling herself together mentally, she made an effort to delay him. 'Brett—' she began.

  He swung round to face her. 'Yes?'

  `Yesterday you said you were crossing the lawn to see m

  `Yes. I was coming in to tell you I intended taking you up to Dawson Falls on Saturday. Naturally, when I saw you in Paul Mason's arms I presumed you wouldn't want to come with me.' He paused, looking at her in silence for several moments before he asked, `Do you want to come? You don't have to if you're beginning to hate my guts. I'll quite understand.' His mouth took on the grim line she was beginning to recognise.

  `Oh yes, thank you, I'd like to come.' A surge of excitement shot through her, making it difficult to hide her eagerness.

  `Right. We'll leave on Saturday morning and have lunch up at the Tourist Lodge. Weather permitting, of course.'

  Lisa's heart lifted, the depression vanished, and for the rest of the day she found no difficulty in putting her mind to her work. And as the next few days passed she was gripped by a fever of hopeful expectancy that caused her pen to fly as she pruned and rewrote some of Catherine's long, wordy paragraphs.

  Saturday came at last, and when Lisa woke she was conscious of an inner exhilaration—nor did she try to deny that it was caused by the anticipation of Brett

  taking her to Dawson Falls. Springing out of bed, she drew back the curtains, to discover the lawn white and glistening with frost, the sky cloudless and giving promise of a clear and sunny day. She showered quickly, took special care with her make-up and put on her warm royal blue track-suit because she guessed the air would be crisp and chilly up on the mountain.

  When she went into the kitchen she half expected to see Mary wearing her tan track-suit and ready to accompany them, but instead she was neatly dressed in her brown jersey and pleated skirt, which was not the best attire for scrambling along mountain tracks.

  `Aren't you coming with us?' asked Lisa.

  Mary smiled complacently. 'No, thank you. I've been up to the Falls and the Tourist Lodge many times.' Then, with a light of quiet satisfaction in her eyes, she said, 'Paul is coming to take me to Stratford. We're to have lunch with Tom and Beryl Walker. Beryl has just had her first baby„ she explained to Lisa. 'We were best friends at school. I was her bridesmaid and she'll be my matron of honour when ' She stopped abruptly, a flush staining her cheeks as she realised what she had been about to say.

  `Are you hinting you've had a proposal of marriage?' Brett demanded sharply.

  Mary's flush deepened. 'Well, as good as ' she muttered defiantly but without meeting his eyes.

  His gaze narrowed slightly as it rested upon his sister. 'Is this the plan you referred to?'

  `You'll know when the time comes,' she retorted. Lisa came to Mary's rescue by turning to Catherine. `You're not coming with us?'

  Catherine shook her head. 'Definitely not. There are several jobs I'd like to get out of the way before I start thinking about the book on early women. You and Brett will have a lovely day together. I'm sure it'll pro
ve to be a perfect one for you both, one you'll

  always remember.' There was a speculative gleam in the hazel eyes as they moved from Lisa to Brett.

  Lisa felt herself go hot and was unable to look at Brett. Had he caught the calculating expression Catherine had made no attempt to hide? She found herself groping for words. 'Yes, I'm sure you're right. The sky's so clear and—and a fine day usually follows a frost,' she finished lamely.

  `Never judge the day by the morning,' Catherine warned. 'That's an old Chinese proverb. The mountain draws the rain, and up on the slopes the weather can change at the drop of a hat. The clouds gather and the mist seems to arrive from out of nowhere. But you need have no fear of getting lost, because Brett will be with you. He'll take good care of you.' She smiled knowingly.

  Brett stood up abruptly, the sudden movement causing his chair to scrape the floor. 'You talk too much, Cathy,' he admonished. 'Natter, natter, natter—of course I'll take care of Lisa. What else do you expect? We'll return to this house exactly as we leave it, so don't get any ideas to the contrary.'

  Lisa looked down at the table, her spirits sinking. Had Catherine got the message? she wondered. To her it was now painfully obvious that Brett had caught the recent gleam in Catherine's eyes, and he had also been well aware of her trend of thought. And by pointing out that they would return to the house exactly as they had left it, he was advising her to forget any matchmaking ideas she might have in mind.

  `Come on, let's get cracking.' His tone was abrupt as the command was flung towards Lisa.

  Mary was aghast. 'Don't let him boss you in that way!' she advised Lisa. 'Paul never bosses me,' she added proudly.

  `He doesn't have to.' Brett's tone was scathing. `He's got you in the palm of his hand, right where he wants you.'

  Catherine gave a light laugh. 'When a man starts bossing a girl it's a sure sign he's determined to dominate her,' she put in smugly. 'If he doesn't try to boss her it means he doesn't care two hoots for her. It's all a matter of male possession.'