Hold Back The Dawn

by Duncan, Judith

  She tried to smile at Steve. "I thought this was supposed to be a dry camp," she whispered weakly.

  His smile didn't reach his eyes as he sat down beside her. "Strictly medicinal." He gathered her into his arms and lay down on the sofa, her trembling form nestled protectively against his. The heat from his body eventually penetrated the iciness that encased her, and she was finally able to relax. The liquor acted as a sedative, and her body seemed uncommonly heavy as she shifted slightly so she could look at Steve's face.

  She stared at him, her pupils dilated, her eyes dulled with shock, her voice husky with an inner anguish. "Don't be angry," she whispered.

  His arms tightened around her; then he tenderly smoothed his hand across her cheek and cradled her head against his shoulder. "I can't help being angry. That was one hell of a cruel way for you to find out."

  She took a deep shaky breath and closed her eyes.

  "Not that..Don't be angry because I didn't tell you Luther was my stepfather."

  He had been stroking her hair, but abruptly he stopped, and Leslie felt him stiffen. That fact had obviously not registered before.

  The tone of his voice frightened her. "Why didn't you tell me?"

  Her mouth was so dry that she had to swallow several times before she could answer him. "I didn't think you'd have anything to do with me if you knew. I was so afraid that you would mistrust me and question my motives if you found out. In the very beginning I didn't want you to know because it might jeopardize the project. Then, later, I thought you might loathe me because of it."

  Steve didn't reply for a long time and Leslie knew he was seriously considering what she had said. Finally he kissed her forehead softly and his embrace tightened. "If I had found out right away, I probably would have been incredibly suspicious." He kissed her again, his voice a gentle reprimand. "But did you think that I valued you so little that I wouldn't understand?"

  Leslie pressed her face against him as she whispered, "I didn't know what you'd think. What Luther had done was so unforgivable."

  Laying his hand on her head, he buried his fingers in her hair. He was silent for a moment, but when he finally spoke there was an edge to his voice that was slicing. "To think you had to survive in an environment like that incenses me. I could break his neck..."

  Her arms tightened around him convulsively, and she pressed her face against his shoulder. "Don't, Steve. It doesn't matter now."

  "It does matter—he's victimized you all your life and you didn't even know why."

  Leslie raised herself on one elbow, then took his rigid face in her hands, her voice soft. "He can't hurt me anymore. He can only hurt me through you—by making you doubt me."

  Steve stared at her briefly; then his face relaxed and became immeasurably tender. "I care too much about you to ever hurt you intentionally, Leslie. You are the most incredible thing that's ever happened to me." Her eyes filled with tears and his arms tightened around her fiercely, his voice resolute and sure as he murmured gruffly, "I love you so much."

  Their solitude was marred by the crunch of footsteps outside the trailer. "Damn it," muttered Steve, kissing her softly before he lifted her into a sitting position. He was standing up when the knock sounded at the door.

  It was John. "Frank wants you over at the rig. They're having trouble with the mud pumps."

  Steve exhaled sharply, then glanced at Leslie, his eyes intense with regret. He snatched up his parka and slipped it on, then picked up his hard hat. "I won't belong, Les."

  She managed to smile at him before he went out the door.

  John stared out the window, watching his nephew walk across the lease. He appeared to be preoccupied by thoughts that concerned him deeply, however. Leslie wondered what he was thinking about.

  She brushed back the lock of hair that was clinging to her face and tipped her head back slowly. She was so dizzy.

  John turned and focused his attention on her. "You look a little out of it. What did Steve give you, anyway?"

  "Medicinal Scotch," she retorted dryly.

  He smiled. "I'm sure it was." He stretched out on a chair, then folded his arms across his chest.

  Leslie raked her fingers through her hair, her eyes somberly reflective as she stared into space. A singsong verse from her childhood popped into her mind: "A time has come, the walrus said, to talk of many things." But the talk would not be "of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings." She opened her eyes and looked at John, her voice low with resignation. "So...it's time to talk."

  John nodded, his face solemn. "Yes, I guess it is."

  She closed her eyes briefly as a feeling of total hopelessness settled upon her. This was the beginning of the end. Then she rubbed her forehead with a defeated gesture. "You knew my grandfather?"

  John gazed at her for a moment, then sighed and nodded his head. "Yes, I did. It was actually through your father that I met him."

  "When did you realize who I was?"

  He leaned back in the chair and stretched his legs out in front of him. "Right from the beginning. I had a hunch when Steve told me about you on the phone before I came to Calgary, but I wanted to find out for sure before I said anything to him. I don't know if you remember, but Ted called you 'Leslie Jordan Kairns' when he caught you standing on the map. I knew then, but I must admit I got one hell of a shock when I saw you. You resemble your father very much, Leslie—it's uncanny."

  "Why didn't you tell Steve then?"

  "I probably would have if you hadn't been so much your father's daughter. When I started questioning you about Redwillow, it was as though I was watching him in action. You have so many of the same mannerisms—the way you lift your chin when you're being pressured, the way you chew your bottom lip when you're thinking about something. I felt I owed you a chance to prove yourself. Since I knew who you were, and your relationship to Luther, there would be little risk in playing a waiting game."

  "Why didn't you confront me?"

  "I intended to. But when Steve phoned and told me that Kaidon Industries had contacted him about financing the exploration program here, I realized you were depending on your identity remaining a secret. After Steve left Vancouver, I confronted Gordon and asked him what in hell was going on. He leveled with me. And when I realized how you felt about Steve, I decided it would be best if I kept my nose out of it."

  Leslie's face was a study of misery as she mulled over everything that John had told her. When she finally spoke, her voice was devoid of expression. "Does Ted know the whole story?"

  John shook his head. "The only one who knew outside the family was Gordon Donner."

  Leslie closed her eyes. Her game was over. Her anonymity was no more.

  "Why didn't you tell Steve at the beginning, Leslie? What made you decide to keep your identity a secret?"

  She made a helpless gesture with her hands as she looked at him. "When Ted first went to Ramco about Redwillow, I was sure that Steve would be suspicious about the scheme if he knew I was Luther Denver's stepdaughter."

  John frowned as he considered her explanation, then nodded his head slowly. "Under the circumstances, you were probably assuming correctly.'' He pursed his lips, and his brow creased with consternation. "Did you know what had happened in South America then?''

  "No, Ted and I didn't find out about that until a little later—after Steve decided that Redwillow had potential. After he told me the whole horrible story, I was determined that he wouldn't find out about Luther until my theory was proven."

  "Why didn't you tell him who your grandfather was?"

  "It wasn't pertinent at the time. My wealth had nothing to do with my being involved at Redwillow."

  "Until we had our financial backing yanked out from under us."

  Leslie rubbed her forehead again with a gesture of weary dejection. "That's right. I couldn't just sit there and watch the program collapse because of a lack of money."

  A heavy silence filled the room, permeated only by the monotonous drumming o
f the rig. Leslie thought about Steve, and how he was going to react when he heard the whole story. She had no choice—she had to tell him now. That was the grim unalterable reality.

  "You love my nephew very much, don't you?"

  The pain was nearly intolerable as she whispered, "So very much."

  John stood up and leaned on the desk, not facing Leslie. "You're going to have to tell him the truth about you and Kaidon. He's bound to find out sooner or later. Too many people know now, and someone will make a slip...and Steve isn't stupid. He's apt to put the whole story together himself if he ever stops to think about it."

  "I know I have to tell him, but I also know how he's going to react."

  John turned to face her, his features creased into a perplexed frown. "He's going to be furious, all right, but perhaps he'll come around."

  Leslie closed her eyes against the hollow feeling of impending doom. She knew that Steve would be furious, but she had no illusions about what the outcome would be. He would be angry about the deception, true. But the insurmountable barrier was the fact that Kaidon, and more specifically, Leslie Kairns, was supporting Ramco's extensive drilling program with millions of dollars. Steve's pride and independence would not permit him to accept that kind of assistance from his future wife. He would avoid her like poison after he found out. And now she was going to have to tell him.

  "You have every right to be involved with Ramco, Leslie. It was your father's driving energy that established this company in the first place. This was your birthright, your legacy, right from the beginning.''

  Leslie opened her eyes and looked at John, her eyes dark with wretchedness. "Steve could accept that line of thought, providing the Kairnses' millions hadn't floated this operation. As Ted said when he found out what I had done, 'He's going to feel like you bought him, Leslie'—and I know it's true. He'll never forgive me for deceiving him."

  John didn't argue. He couldn't; what Leslie said was the truth. He shook his head sadly. It was too damned bad.

  Fate had dealt her a nasty hand: a father who had died before he could protect his child with the honor of his name; a stepfather who despised her because she was the living proof of his wife's love for another man. Then her grandfather, the only member of the family she was close to in her life, had died, leaving her an immense fortune that was going to bring her nothing but heartache and loneliness. He'd felt sick when Gordon Donner had told him the whole story.

  He studied Leslie as she sat on the sofa, staring blindly at her clenched hands. She certainly wasn't helpless, but she was so very vulnerable. Her obscurity would be blown to bits, and she would suffer the exposure of harsh and brutal publicity. For someone as shy as she was, that would be an agonizing ordeal. She wouldn't be able to breathe without the fact being documented by the press. Yes, the media would have a field day with her—young, enchanting, single...and rich. He smiled wryly. Rich was a weak word to describe her immense wealth. She would definitely be marketable news, and Leslie Jordan Kairns would shrink away from it all, just as some blossoms fold and close at darkness.

  She would build a wall, a fortification around herself. John could see her eventually secluding herself away in some remote part of the world, her privacy protected by high fences, guard dogs and security police. And she would wither up and die.

  John turned and stared out the window, his face grim. Steve would be so enraged that he would never consider this aspect of Leslie's life. He would walk out on her and leave her to the wolves.

  Yet John couldn't condemn Steve, either. Had he, John McRory, been faced with the same circumstances when he was thirty-two years old, he would have felt exactly the same way—that he had been betrayed. But he had suffered a terrible loss when Nora died, and the experience had given him a different perspective on life. Some things, like money, didn't really matter a bit if you had to live your life alone.

  He rubbed his hand wearily across his face and sighed. It was one hell of a mess, and he didn't know if he could do anything to help sort it out.

  He turned and walked over to the sofa, then sat down beside Leslie and took her cold hands in his. "You don't have to tell him immediately, Leslie."

  She looked at him and nodded her head weakly. "Yes, I do. He leaves on Thursday for the Independent Petroleum Association of Canada convention. I'll have to tell him before he goes. Luther might be there, and if he ever suspected that Steve knows nothing about grandfather or about my ties with him, he would use that knowledge—you know he would. There's always the possibility that he may have pieced the truth together by now—Luther, I mean. You can never underestimate a man like him. We're being watched, and since the program is obviously continuing, he has to be suspicious about the financial backing."

  John studied Leslie, his eyes narrowed with concentration. "That IPAC convention—that's not until the day after tomorrow. I could make arrangements to go in Steve's place."

  Leslie smiled wanly as she withdrew her hands. "Thank you, John, but you know I can't keep putting it off. I have to tell him."

  "I'm so sorry about this, Leslie."

  Her voice was tinged with bitterness. "So am I."

  What could he say? She had said it all.

  "What was he like...my father?"

  He smiled warmly as he caught her under the chin. "You are so much like him—in the way you think, the way you do things. He was a geologist, too, and loved his work as much as you do. And then there's the physical resemblance—your coloring, your eyes, the same smile. He'd be so proud of you, Leslie. As proud as anything, and you would have been proud of him..."

  As John told her about his old friend, some of the pain in Leslie eased a little. Her father was no longer a faceless question mark, but a living breathing human being. If it hadn't been for her consuming dread about facing Steve, she would have found solace and consolation from her newfound knowledge. At least she was no longer a fatherless child. It was a heartbreaking trade-off, she thought dully. She was gaining the reality of her dead father and losing the man she loved.

  She glanced up and her eyes darkened. Steve was standing in the doorway, his somber gaze fixed on her with a look that spoke of his very real concern. She shivered. She didn't know how she would survive without him beside her.

  He moved across the room and crouched down in front of her, tenderly taking her pinched face in his hands. John stood up and murmured something, then left them alone.

  Steve studied her, his eyes filled with anxiety.

  Then, with a soft curse, he gathered her up in his arms and cradled her against him. He eased her down on the sofa beside him.

  Leslie closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around him with a desperate terrified strength that transmitted her despair. The time for her and Steve was running out.

  His arms tightened around her protectively. "What is it, little one? You're trembling and you looked so frightened.''

  Her breath caught on a stifled sob as she whispered brokenly. "Oh, Steve—I need you so."

  "Leslie, what's wrong?" Concern sharpened his voice, and he tried to ease her away from him.

  "Just hold me, Steve, hold me. Please...I need you so much and I'm so scared."

  His arms tightened around her and she clung to him, hanging onto these last precious minutes. As she lay in Steve's secure embrace, she suddenly understood what breed of desperation had driven Nora to take her own life. That alternative felt far more tolerable than the tortured and empty life that faced Leslie. Numbness settled over her, and she felt like her soul was withering and dying within her. She could put if off no longer; the truth that would destroy must be told.

  Without looking at Steve, she eased out of his arms and slipped off the sofa. He gazed at her questioningly, his face worried. She was deathly pale, and there was an agony of pain in her eyes that he'd never seen before.

  "Leslie, for God's sake, what's wrong?"

  She touched his lips with her trembling fingers.

  "No, Steve, don't. I have something to tel
l you, and when I do, you're going to despise me."

  She turned from him and moved to the window, her body stiffly erect. "But before I tell you the truth about myself, I want you to know that you are the most special, the most important person who will ever touch my life."

  "Leslie " He rose to his feet and started to come toward her.

  "Please, Steve—don't touch me or I'll lose the will to do what I have to do. It's going to be the most difficult thing I've ever done." Then, with no excuses, no embellishments, she told him the whole story. She omitted nothing.

  When she finished, there was a heavy frightening silence. Steve finally shattered it, his voice like brittle ice.

  "Get out."

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  WHEN GORDON DONNER went into the geologist's shack the next morning, he was shocked by Leslie's appearance. She had dark hollows under her eyes, her face was stricken and pale, and there was a frightening set to her mouth. But what alarmed him more than anything was her eyes—there was no sparkle of life in them at all.

  He hurried over to her and took her clammy hands in his. "Leslie, what happened?"

  "I had to tell Steve everything, Gordon."

  God, he thought, her voice is the same as her eyes. Out loud he said, "I see." He studied her for a moment, then released her hands and stuffed his in his pocket. He took a slow measured breath before he spoke. "Under those circumstances, I think you'd better come back to Vancouver with me."

  "Yes, I think so."

  "The Lear jet is in Grande Prairie. I'll phone that Bob Jansen and have him pick us up in a helicopter. How soon can you be ready to go?"

  "Now. My clothes are packed." She picked up a vial of rock cuttings and stared at it. "The financing stays in place, Gordon."

  He rubbed his nose, then nodded. "Yes, of course." He turned toward the door. "I'll have John make the necessary arrangements."

  "You'd better tell him what happened. It could be awkward for him."