If he lived that long.
She didn’t want to know if and when Craig made a mistake and paid the highest price his country could ask.
And she didn’t want to know where he had gone—no one would tell her anyway, she was sure—and she didn’t want to know when he would be back. Not at first anyway.
On the fourth day after his departure she forced herself to meet a few friends from nearby Johns Hopkins for lunch. During the meal she was urged to accept a post in research under a well-known psychologist.
Explaining that it would have to be temporary, Blair accepted. She was going crazy with little to do but care for the town house and her eternally busy father. And all her free hours were plagued by images of Craig and all that she had determined that she had to throw away.
Still, time passed slowly. Her research was tedious, her contact for the project was limited to rats. She had never been overly fond of lab work, and she had already spent years studying the behavior of the little rodents, also chimps, rhesus monkeys, and so forth.
She longed to return to the Hunger Crew. Miles and miles away. A place where she had once found solace because she had been so needed that her life had consisted solely of constant, rewarding work. But she had made her father a promise, and neither was she a witless idiot. She had to sit tight and wait.
Craig’s car had disappeared from the town house garage the day she had brought it home.
She had known it would, quietly and efficiently. Nothing was ever said to her by her father or Merrill, who joined them occasionally for dinner. She wondered sometimes if she wished Craig would make another surprise appearance, and she admitted that a part of her prayed such a thing would happen. There were times when she desperately wished she could get a message to Craig. She had composed its contents in her head a million times. I can’t marry you, I can’t wait for you, but oh, God, other than that, I’d take anything, give anything just to see you, just to hold you close occasionally.
No, the clean split had been right. Craig never appeared, and Merrill never once mentioned his number-one man.
Nor did Andrew Huntington ever bring up the name.
It was a day in late June when Andrew Huntington returned home from work to seek out his daughter with both a certain pain and a happy relief. He was going to miss her terribly, but he knew that she needed to go. Her delicate face had been growing more and more pale and gaunt; although she always maintained a cheerful demeanor for him, he knew that she was lonely and miserable.
And it wasn’t in his power to reassure her. Only Craig could do that, and only when the time came. He hadn’t known what had passed between the two; he could only believe that Craig did love his daughter and that the man was attempting to set things straight. But although he was a perpetual optimist, Andrew Huntington had long ago learned that false promises and guarantees were far more painful than silence and truth.
And he couldn’t promise her Craig’s return.
But he could give her an all-clear to return to Central America. The relief and happiness in her haunted eyes at his announcement helped relieve the pain in his heart that she would be leaving him again.
She was an adult, he knew. He couldn’t hang on; he couldn’t live her life.
“I’ll make arrangements to get you back in a week or so, okay?” he inquired, forcing a cheerful smile.
“Wonderful,” Blair murmured. “Thanks, Dad.”
They dined out that night, danced, then played chess until two A.M. They were lucky, Huntington finally admitted to himself. Love wasn’t limited by the miles, but by the heart. And no father in the world could be more blessed, or more proud.
Blair announced her resignation the following morning, and then tried to set to work as usual. She was even able to feel a bit more amiable toward her rats. She felt like one of the tiny rodents—caged. Would the miles help to break the barriers of the caged constriction that was her heart? Surely. Time, she told herself, time and distance—the healers of wounds.
She was surprised and puzzled when the friendly doctor she assisted announced that she had an emergency phone call.
And then she felt as if the constriction around her heart had become a boa that squeezed and squeezed. She felt faint, a blackness spinning before her eyes, an illness gripping her stomach. Her body felt like liquid. It was rubber; it wouldn’t function.
Craig. Something had happened. Someone had decided to let her know.
She could barely get the receiver to her ear; she had to struggle and swallow several times before rasping out a simple hello.
Relief overwhelmed her at first, making her, if possible, even weaker. Perhaps she did black out for a single second. She had to swallow again before issuing a stunned “Kate!” and asking her friend to slow down and repeat what she had said so far.
“I’m here, Blair, in Washington, and I need you! We only have a few hours. Brad is being shipped back out, and, oh, can you get here right away? It has to be you, Blair. I’m going to just be a wreck when it’s over. Perhaps we can go back together ourselves. What do you think? Oh, please, Blair—”
“Kate!” Blair finally managed to whip her shaking thoughts and weak-kneed relief and confused surprise together. “I’m here! I’ll help with whatever you need, but calm down. Brad who is being shipped where? What’s going on?”
She could hear Kate breathing deeply, trying to collect herself. “Brad, Blair, you remember him. He was with us when you disappeared. Brad Shearer. Oh, Blair, I am sorry. I should be asking how you are, except that I know everything is fine.”
“I am fine, Kate,” Blair assured her with a dry tug at her insides. “Go on.”
“I’m marrying him, Blair. Oh, God, I’ve never been so happy in my life! But you have to stand up for me. In two hours. We have so little time.”
Why was she surprised? Blair wondered. She had known Kate for years; she had known that when her friend did fall in love it would be impetuous, but hook, line, and sinker all the way.
“Kate,” she said cautiously. “You do know what Brad does for a living, don’t you?”
“Well, of course I do!” Kate exclaimed reproachfully. “Blair, I’m marrying him today. Why?”
“I—” Blair hesitated. She had no right to instill her own fears upon her friend, no right to ruin the blissful happiness. “I—I’m sorry, I guess I was just worrying for you.”
Kate was silent for a moment with empathy; she knew Blair was thinking of Ray. Or was she? Perhaps it was Craig that Blair feared for now. “Blair,” she said, suddenly quiet and serious. “How are you doing? Are you and Craig seeing each other now that all this is over? Did you know who he was all along?”
“No, I didn’t,” Blair said briefly, “and no, I’m not involved with him.” She tried an off-hand chuckle. “You know me, I go for the shy retiring type …” She paused for a second, unable to resist the question. “Kate, is Brad planning on quitting?”
Kate replied with a dry chuckle. “Brad is army, Blair. You don’t just quit the army.”
“No,” Blair murmured, “I suppose not.” She stood with the receiver still in her hand. “Tell me where you are, Kate. I’ll be right there. We’re holding up a wedding.”
Within an hour she had been excused by her easy-going supervisor and drove the short distance back to D.C. from the Maryland research institute. She stood witness to Kate’s wedding along with a friend of Brad’s, then shared a glass of champagne with the newlyweds, promising Kate discreetly that she would return when the few remaining hours the pair had together were over.
For all her bravado, Blair knew, that would be when Kate needed her.
Wandering the streets aimlessly to fill her own time, Blair decided to call her father and tell him the good news. She wasn’t surprised to have to wait for quite a while before he came to the phone, and in that time she thought of his work. He had kept her sheltered for so many years. Of course she hadn’t lived with him, except sporadically, for years. She had been with the cre
w, before that with Ray, before that in college.
She closed her eyes tightly for a moment. Her escapade had really drawn them close. Then she heard his voice, gentle as always when he spoke to her. She told him about the wedding, and that she would be out late, keeping Kate company. They chatted for a moment, then Blair found herself pensively silent, recalling what Kate had told her right before the service.
“I know there’s danger, Blair, but it doesn’t matter. I would rather have my time with Brad, whatever it is, than any guarantees for a lifetime. I know I haven’t been on the losing end as you have, Blair”—she had smiled with rueful sadness—“but I love Brad. And think about it. Yes, you lost Ray, but even for that pain, would you have given up all that the two of you did have?”
“Blair, are you there?”
Blair suddenly snapped back to the present at the sound of her father’s query. “Yes, Dad, I’m here. I—uh, nothing, Dad. See you in the morning.” She hung up the receiver, dismayed to find herself shaking. She had wanted to ask about Craig—and then she hadn’t been able to. No, she couldn’t question her father. She couldn’t allow him to know how she worried.
She glanced at the phone again. She could discreetly ask Merrill. She bit her lip, then decided to do so, only to be disappointed when a feminine voice told her Merrill was out of the office.
“May I take a message?” the girl asked politely.
“No … no … I guess not—”
“Is this Blair?” the girl suddenly inquired.
Startled, Blair frowned and hesitated. “Yes, this is Blair Teile.” She paused again, baffled. “Who is this?”
“Lorna. Lorna Patterson. We’ve met at several occasions.” Lorna didn’t mention that they had just met briefly at the chief’s party, that she had watched Blair that night, that she deciphered Craig’s problem.
“Oh, Lorna, yes! How are you?” Blair asked, remembering the pleasant, quiet woman. Her tone was polite and sincere, but inwardly she was wincing. She felt as if she suddenly announced herself to the world, and, ridiculously, she hadn’t wanted her call known.
“Very good, thank you.” There was a silence for a second. “Would you like George to return your call?”
“Ah, no, that won’t be necessary,” Blair murmured. She shouldn’t have called in the first place. “I’ll catch him later.”
“Blair?”
“Yes?” Curiously there had been a hesitance in Lorna’s voice, and now, again, there was a silence. Then suddenly Lorna rushed into speech.
“This is none of my business, I know. But I don’t know where Craig Taylor is, and I don’t know when he’ll be back, but”—again there was a slight hesitance and another rush of words, as if they had to come out quickly or not at all—“but I do know that he loves you very much, and he’s trying, he’s really trying.”
It was Blair’s turn for a stunned silence. She was sure Craig never confided in people, and that Lorna’s statement had been intuitive. She also knew that the woman must care very much to have spoken as blindly as she did.
Blair finally spoke. “Thank you,” she said softly. She returned the receiver to the hook of the pay phone and sagged against the glass booth. But that’s not the problem, Lorna, I do believe that he loves me.
That was smart, Blair, real smart, she chastised herself as she left the phone booth. She was now more plagued by misery than ever.
Tiring of walking the streets, she decided to drive around and kill the remaining two hours before the time would arrive when she had promised Kate to return. Without really knowing on a conscious level what she was doing, she found herself approaching Arlington. Once there, she was walking the velvet grass to the ridiculously simple plaque that announced unpretentiously the remains that were once the wonderfully complex Ray Teile.
What is the matter with me? she wondered. What am I doing here, dwelling on the past? She wasn’t intentionally being morose.
No, she wasn’t. She curled her legs beneath her and sat on the grass. Kate had been right; no matter how bad the outcome had been, she couldn’t begrudge the beauty of her time with Ray. She was a far better person for having known him, for having loved him. It was all sweet memory; it would always be with her. But it was faint and dim; her mind and memory had been overwhelmed by another man. Strangely she knew that Ray would be pleased, that he would understand.
“But I still don’t think I can do it again, Ray,” she whispered aloud, and then ruefully smiled to herself despite the mist of tears that veiled her. Wonderful. I’m cracking up. I’m talking to a headstone.
But she wasn’t talking to the headstone, she was talking to the memory of a wonderful friend; she was searching for an answer from his always judicial viewpoint.
“Maybe it doesn’t matter, Ray. Maybe he’ll believe that I never want to see him again and leave me alone.”
That, she finally decided with a painful tug of the heart, was the case. She glanced at her watch. It was time to return to Kate. And she would smile and be light; she would keep Kate from worrying, she would keep her from the misery that belonged to a bride of just hours who would spend her first night sleeping alone.
She was cheerful when she met Kate. If nothing else, the women could return to join the crew together. They could support each other; they could move back into the spare, rough way of life that was so important to others and themselves.
Three days later, the women were saying good-bye to Andrew Huntington and boarding a special transport plane. Kate said an affectionate and bright good-bye to Huntington, then discreetly disappeared into the plane, leaving Blair alone.
She clung tightly to her father. “I love you, Dad.”
He ruffled her hair, so like that of the wife he had lost long ago but never ceased to mourn, and hugged her close. “I love you, Blair.” He held her a little away to smile into her eyes. “I’m going to miss you, sweetheart.”
“I’m going to miss you, Dad.”
He pulled her back into his embrace again and they held tight for a minute. Then Huntington sighed softly. “Be happy, Blair. That’s what I want more for you than anything in the world.”
“I am happy,” she protested.
With a sad little smile he shook his head. “You’re afraid to be happy,” he said sagely, then took a deep breath. “I don’t like to meddle, Blair, so I’ve never said anything. But I know you’re pining for Taylor. I’m going to give you a word of advice—and warning. He never gives up. I think he loves you, and I think you should enter into honest negotiation.”
“Dad!” Blair exclaimed. “I can’t enter into anything! I have no idea of where the man is. And besides”—she bit her lip—“I’m not terribly sure he’s going to love me anymore. I think I made my decision rather clear. It’s unlikely we’ll cross paths again.” She paused for a minute. “Dad, do you know where he is? Do you know if … if he’s okay.”
Huntington looked acutely uncomfortable for a moment. “Taylor is fine,” he said cryptically. Then, unhappily meeting the puzzle in his daughter’s eyes he added, “He’s back in Washington. He came in yesterday morning.”
Why she should be stunned and agonized by the news, she didn’t know. She had done all she could to purposely assure them both that he would never call again.
But he should have called, he should have tried to see her. If only to let her know he was alive.
Don’t be ridiculous. What was the matter with her? She did want him, she didn’t want him. But in this case, absence had made the heart go crazy. And she couldn’t forget the things Kate had made her accept. If you love someone, time—any amount of time—with that person was important.
“Oh,” she said aloud to her father. “Well, I’m glad to hear that he returned.”
“Blair—”
“Please, Dad,” she protested, fighting back an absurd urge to cry over milk long ago intentionally spilled. “Kiss me good- bye, Dad,” she said, managing a rueful smile. “I’ve got to go.”
He brushed
her forehead tenderly. “Things will work out, Blair, they have a way of doing so.”
“Yes,” She couldn’t leave him worrying, and she managed a truly brilliant smile. “Things do work out. Now, you take care of yourself, okay?” The typical daughter, she straightened a perfectly straight collar for him.
“I will,” her father promised. “Go on before that plane leaves without you.”
Grimacing, Blair waved and moved away. She stopped just before the ramp, unable to prevent herself from asking a final question. “Dad … did Craig know I’d be leaving today?”
Huntington wasn’t much of a liar. His face gave him away even before his simple, “Yes.”
Blair grimaced, hiding the hurt. She began to mount the ramp backward. “I’ll drop you a line as soon as we get there!” she called cheerfully. “Of course, you know how long our mail takes!”
He grimaced in return and waved, and then Blair was seated in the transport plane, next to Kate. She no longer had to keep smiling, but she did. She was afraid if she let her mask crack, it would be all over.
Craig knew she would be gone and he hadn’t bothered to try to get to her. Well, that had been what she wanted. She hated people who said no to be encouraged into saying yes. And that wasn’t what she meant.
But I would have seen you again, she mouthed miserably to herself. For what? Another parting? How stupid. They were neither one a masochist.
But it hurt to believe his feeling for her was fading. Had, perhaps, already faded completely. Because her father was right. If Craig really wanted something, he went after it until he got it.
“Oh, Blair!” Kate suddenly gasped.
Blair glanced to her friend; Kate’s face was going chalky white. Her nails were gripping into the serviceable fabric of the armrests.
Blair had forgotten about Kate’s terror of flying. It was always worse at first, when the jets raced down the strip, shuddering for power to rise into the vastness of the sky.
“Close your eyes, Kate,” Blair advised, glad to keep herself occupied trying to ease her friend’s mind. She began to make crazy, ludicrous comments, designed to make Kate laugh. She eventually succeeded. Her psychology training did sometimes pay off. Once in the air, she ordered her friend a large scotch. Kate would be okay until landing
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