'There isn't a comparison,' Linc asserted, brushing her hand off his sleeve, and pouring the last of the wine into his glass. 'That would have been an entirely different situation.'
'It was the same damn situation—exactly!' she told him hotly.
He held her eyes momentarily; they were hard and implacable. They didn't soften when he suddenly laughed, not very pleasantly. 'Start being realistic, Allie. It isn't the same. Learning will come easy for Jason when he's in the proper circumstances. I'm sorry if you had a hard time when you were in school, but you can't compare your experiences with those that Jason will have. My son's a genius.' He savoured the word, his eyes derisive as they caught hers. She was no genius, they said. 'It would be irresponsible for me as his father not to give him every opportunity to develop the intellect that God saw fit to bestow on him.'
Allie knew that he had misunderstood her when she'd told him about going away to school. He thought that the special school she'd talked about had been for children of low intelligence. However, would it really do her any good to correct his misunderstanding? She studied his face. It was set in granite and his demeanour was just as hard. He'd made his mind up and she could see that nothing was going to change it.
Nevertheless, she made one final attempt. 'But does that mean he has to be sent away?'
'In this case, it does.' Pointedly ending the discussion, he crumpled his napkin and placed it beside his plate. 'Would you like some coffee?'
Allie hesitated only briefly. 'Yes, I'll go and make us some.' Hastily scrambling up from her seat, she left the room. He didn't try to stop her.
She took as long as she dared over the coffee-making, analysing what had happened between them. She felt so confused and unhappy. Was the argument her fault? Had she been butting in, offering advice, when really it was none of her business? Yet, how could she just have stood by without saying anything when the man she loved was heading for such a disastrous decision? Over the last few days, she'd grown to love Jason as well as his father. She didn't want him hurt, and they would both be hurt if Linc sent Jason to Montreal. Jason needed his father close to him, not half a country away.
And Linc ... didn't he need his son with him, too?
When at last she could tarry no longer, Allie placed the coffee things on a tray and carried it into the dining-room. She paused for a moment by the door. Linc had left the table. He'd opened the curtains and was standing by the window, staring morosely out across the water.
It broke her heart to be at odds with him. She hadn't meant to apologise when she'd left the kitchen. In her heart, she felt she was right about Jason's future, but she couldn't live with Linc's being angry with her.
Linc turned and saw her standing by the door. Immediately, Allie came all the way into the room and set the tray at the end of the table.
'I wanted to apologise for butting in,' she said, keeping her eyes down as she set out the coffee-pups. 'You're right. It's none of my business and you are Jason's father, so it's up to you to decide his future.'
'Don't worry about it,' Linc said flatly, coming up beside her to help himself to the coffee. 'You're entitled to your opinion.' There was rebuff in his voice, and the way he turned away from her to go back to stand at the window made Allie's heart sink. She could have saved her breath. He wasn't interested in her apology.
Taking up her own cup of coffee, she seated herself at the table with it. Silence swirled about them, oppressive and smothering.
After a few minutes, Linc turned back to face her. Leaning against the window, he said conversationally, 'I see your arm really is much better.'
Allie shrugged—the conventional words of a polite host.. He was going to pretend their argument had never happened. 'It is. I didn't even think about it when I carried the tray in.' She concentrated on stirring her coffee, although as she hadn't added cream or sugar it was a totally unnecessary occupation.
'Yes, you seem quite capable, of looking after yourself again.'
Only a few heartbeats passed before she looked up, but in that space she knew the blood had drained from her face. Her hands felt cold and clammy, the chill spreading to her heart. She had to swallow before she could speak. 'I guess I am. Maybe I should move back to my own place.'
Linc didn't say a word, but his eyes held her. She thought she saw a curious shadow cross over them, bleak and filled with sadness. But when she blinked that look was gone and his navy eyes were blank and unreadable.
He broke off the look first, concentrating his attention on his coffee-cup. 'That would probably be a good idea,' he said, casually lifting his cup to his lips and taking a sip of the dark brew it contained.
'Yes,' she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She cleared her throat and said stiffly, 'Perhaps I should go tonight.'
Linc afforded her a patronising smile, gesturing to the scene outside the window behind him. 'Don't be silly. The sun's nearly set and it will be dark soon.'
Allie bit her lower lip, then in sudden decision pushed her coffee-cup away and stood up. 'I might as well pack up tonight, at any rate,' she announced.
'Suit yourself.' He shrugged his indifference and turned his back to her to gaze out of the window once more.
Swamped by bewilderment, Allie stood where she was for several moments, staring at the broad expanse of his back. It couldn't just finish like this. Any moment now, Linc would turn around and smile at her, tell her that he had only been teasing. They had disagreed, but surely that wasn't enough to cause him to send her away?
'I really am sorry if you think I spoke out of turn about Jason,' she said suddenly, desperately. Silence greeted her. It was as if she'd never spoken. Hot tears filled her eyes as she stared at the man she loved. With one last throw of the dice, she whispered roughly, 'I love you, Linc.'
He started, then slowly turned around. His face was a savage mask of anger. In a low, harsh voice, he said scathingly, 'Get out of here, Allie. This is the end of it, so just leave me alone!'
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Allie carefully steered the Pontiac into the drive and drew it to a halt before the closed garage doors. For a moment, she sat regarding the substantial brick house that was the Smiths' family home. Her last bolt-hole, she thought bitterly. She would have to be very careful of the men she met while staying here. She'd no place left to run when things turned sour.
As she got out of the car, though, she didn't think she would be in any danger. Kevin had bruised her heart, but Linc had shattered it. It was going to take a long time to fit the pieces back together again. Even when it mended, if it mended, she didn't think she'd ever meet anyone she could offer it to with the same intense love with which she had offered it to Linc.
A wave of despair washed over her, and she had to pause on her way to the front door to overcome it before moving on. She hadn't spoken to him since the night they had argued about Jason's future. She'd spent that night lying sleepless in her bed, waiting. She'd been so sure that it was all a mistake, that he'd come to her, accepting her apologies, making everything all right again.
He hadn't come, though. She'd fallen into a heavy slumber around dawn and, when she'd awoken, he and the float-plane were gone. Mrs Dorcus had been in the kitchen when she'd emerged from her bedroom. Linc had already told his housekeeper that Allie was moving back to the cabin that day. There hadn't been much she could do but gather her things together and return to her own home.
That night, though, she'd planned to see him, to talk to him, to see if there wasn't some way back. The float-plane had returned in the afternoon, but she wanted to give him time with Jason, time to settle in after work, time to settle her own nerves. In the early evening, before setting out for his house, she'd gone up to the loft just to check that his plane was still there.
It had been, that and his boat. And Linc had been standing at the corner of the veranda staring out across the Strait. There had been something disconsolate in the stance of that solitary figure, and hope had risen within Allie, He was miss
ing her, regretting their argument, the same as she was.
Before she could turn from the window to go to him, another figure joined his. He slipped his arm about Elaine's waist and together they stood at the railing, Linc's hand lifting as he pointed out something to the woman.
Allie felt an eerie sensation of deja vu creep over her. Another night, Linc had stood at that railing, his arm around a woman. He'd talked of Brother XII, the man who was irresistible to women. Mrs Dorcus had told her more of the story. He was a man who'd romanced many of his feminine disciples, but, when he sailed away for good, had taken with him the one woman who'd been the constant figure in his life. She'd been known as Madame Zee, a theatrical alias that sounded as though she'd picked it out of a cheap paperback mystery. However, she'd been his right-hand, staying in the background throughout all his peccadilloes, but knowing whom he would always come back to in the end.
Allie had packed to leave that night and driven away the next morning. Coward that she was, she'd written a note for Clare, thanking her for the domestic equipment she'd lent her and apologising for leaving without seeing her. She couldn't have met with her friend again. Clare would have probed and pried, demanded some explanation for Allie's precipitate departure. After her affair with Kevin, Allie had wanted to spill out her unhappiness and disappointment, to purge herself of the experience. Talking wouldn't ease the pain of the wound to her heart this time, though. It was too deep and too shattered to probe.
The front door opened before Allie reached it. Laura Smith emerged and with quick, light steps came down the walk to meet her daughter. She was a tall, slender woman, with an air of grace and sophistication. Skilful tinting had kept her hair the same shade of blonde she'd had in her youth, the hair colour she'd passed on to her daughter. Her eyes, though, were a clear, pale blue, unlike Allie's grey ones, and her facial features were less refined.
'Allie!' she exclaimed, coming to a halt in front of the younger woman. She made a tentative movement with her arms, as though to embrace the girl.
Allie looked back at her, instinctively withdrawing from the gesture. 'Hello, Mother,' she said quietly.
Laura Smith's arms dropped to her side. 'Your father and I were so surprised when you called this morning to say you were coming,' she said with forced heartiness. Taking Allie's weekend bag from her, she started back up the walk at her daughter's side. 'You've hurt your hand,' she exclaimed, sliding a glance down at Allie's bandaged arm.
Allie gestured dismissively with her injured arm. She'd nursed and favoured it all during the long drive across the country, so it wasn't bothering her. Fortunately, her car had power steering with an automatic transmission, so it hadn't been that difficult to drive mostly left-handed.
Her mother was still curious. 'Is that why you're taking some time off from the Institute?'
The question reminded Allie that she hadn't been in touch with her parents since giving up her job. It seemed like years ago. She felt a stab of guilt, but then reminded herself that they weren't all that close anyway. She'd only come here now because she couldn't think of anywhere else to go.
'I left my job at the Institute several weeks ago. I went out west to see Clare for a while,' Allie explained when they had entered the house. That was a rather cryptic way of summing up the last few weeks, but she couldn't bear to go into greater detail.
'Clare ... that girl you were so friendly with during college?'
Allie nodded.
'So you've left your job?' Mrs Smith mused, her curiosity evident. She set down the luggage by the foot of the stairs leading to the bedroom floor and turned to face Allie. Her fine brow was pleated with a frown of puzzlement, questions hovering on the tip of her tongue. However, on seeing her daughter's closed expression, she asked instead, 'Have you had lunch?'
Allie shrugged. She was too depressed to be sociable, and just wanted to hide in her room and lick her wounds in private. 'I'm not hungry. I'm a little tired, though. I'd like to go up to my room and rest for a while.'
'Yes, of course, you've had a long drive.' Allie had only the briefest glimpse of her expression before her mother turned to pick up the case again to carry it upstairs. Surprise intruded into her state of lethargic despondency. Her mother seemed hurt that she wanted to escape from her company so soon after her arrival. She wouldn't have thought it mattered. If anything, the Smiths had spent so many years shipping her off to boarding-schools and camps that Allie would have thought her mother would be relieved she wasn't planning to linger underfoot.
'I guess I wouldn't mind a cup of coffee before I go up,' Allie suggested, still not really sure that, she had read her mother's expression correctly.
Mrs Smith was smiling when she turned back, her pleasure so obvious that Allie knew that she had been hurt. 'I'll put the pot on. Do you want to wait in the living-room while I get it set up in the kitchen?'
Instinctively, Allie moved to agree to the suggestion, then checked the impulse. It would give her a few minutes to herself, but suddenly Allie realised how selfish that would be. Her mother seemed so genuinely glad to see her. Smiling at her parent, she said, 'Let me come with you. A friend ... a friend was going to teach me to cook.' Allie's voice caught at the memory of Linc's housekeeper, and she had to swallow to clear it before she could continue. 'You always make such good coffee. Maybe you can show me how you do it. Whenever I make perked coffee it tastes awful. I've ended up relying on instant.' She slipped her arm through her mother's and gave it a slight squeeze.
If surprised by her daughter's unexpected demonstrativeness, Mrs Smith was also delighted. Her own arm tightened, drawing Allie closer to her side. 'Why, of course I'll show you how I make coffee, dear. In fact, I can teach you to cook while you're here. I never realised you wanted to learn.'
It was peaceful sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee with her mother. They weren't totally at ease with one another, but as they chatted about inconsequential topics Allie realised that the despair she'd lived with since leaving Vancouver Island had relented somewhat. Deep inside her, she knew there would always be a hard ache whenever she thought of Linc. As she relaxed in her mother's company, though, she felt more able to cope with it and able to go on living.
'I'm surprised to hear you left your job at the Institute. I thought you were very happy with it. I hope things didn't go wrong for you,' Mrs Smith said eventually. She didn't look at Allie, but concentrated on stirring her coffee.
'It was time for a change,' Allie hedged. Despite the warmth that was creeping into their relationship, she wasn't ready to impart confidences.
There was a slight tension in the silence that followed, and Allie realised that it emanated from her mother. She asked, 'Is anything wrong?'
'No, no,' Mrs Smith said quickly. 'I just... well, I guess you know your father and I never wanted you to take that job in the first place.'
'Yes, I do know,' Allie replied coldly, her jaw muscles tightening as she went on the defensive. 'You wanted me to take that job with the University of Toronto.'
Hostility crackled in the air, and Allie saw her mother nibble her lower lip. Finally she said quietly, 'I don't think you understood our reasoning. It seemed as if we'd missed your whole growing up, what with you always away at school. It was worth it of course,' she avowed fervently, her very passion almost suggesting that she harboured some doubt. 'You had the kind of education that someone of your potential deserved. But... well, of course we missed you. When you left university, we sort of hoped you'd find a job closer to home ... like the one at the University of Toronto. You could have lived at home and we could have got to know each other.'
'I see,' Allie murmured. She'd never thought of it like that. Her parents' home was located in a suburb of Toronto, and if she had got a job in that city's university she could have lived with them. She hadn't thought that they wanted her, though. She wished her mother had told her this back then, but there had been other considerations, too. 'I know Henning is a long way away, but the job was more wha
t I wanted. Besides, the Institute has some of the best minds in the country working there. I wanted to learn from them by working with them.'
'Oh, I know all that. It's a real brain trust, but your father and I wondered if maybe you might not have been happier at the university, where the students at least would have been more of your generation. You didn't have much of an opportunity to mingle with your peers when you were a child. I dare say all those great brains at the Institute were years older than yourself. It would have been nice for you to be around younger people, to date, that kind of thing.'
Allie sat silent, not quite knowing what to say. She realised that her parents had been more aware of her problems than she'd known at the time. She'd always thought it must have been an easy let-out for them to keep her in the educational programme that they had. She wasn't so sure now. Maybe they had wanted her with them, but had thought they were doing what was best. Unfortunately, she felt it had been the wrong course. A normal home life and loving parents on hand was far more important than all the 'enriched learning environments' in the world.
There would be no gain in telling her parents that now. They'd made a mistake, they were human. And Linc was going to make the same one with Jason, too, she knew, a lump forming in her throat. She hadn't been able to make him realise that, though.
'That sounds like your father's car,' her mother said, getting up to go look out the window. A few minutes later, he walked into the kitchen. Stopping in the middle of the room, he silently surveyed his daughter for several seconds.
'You're home early, Everest,' Mrs Smith said.
He pulled his glance from Allie to speak to his wife. 'I knew Allie was coming home, so I left work early. I'd hoped to be here when she arrived.'
He looked back at his daughter. Allie could sense the uncertainty in him, the shyness. She sensed that, like her mother, his first instinct was to embrace her, but he feared a rebuff. Realising that that was exactly what she had given her mother as a greeting, she knew she couldn't make the same mistake, again.
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