The Silken Web

by Sandra Brown

She avoided the most important question, the one that plagued her more strongly than the others. Would he recognize Theron as his son? If he did, what would he do about it?

  She toweled dry and padded into her bedroom with a bath sheet wrapped around her. Standing at her closet, she selected an ensemble, discarded it, then moved to another until she finally settled on a pair of white silk evening trousers. The accompanying strapless blouse was multicolored stripes in metallic colors. Her waist was swathed by a shocking-pink cummerbund. She slipped into white high-heeled sandals and put gold disks into her pierced ears. Two dainty gold chains encircled her suntanned neck.

  Putting on makeup had never been so difficult. Her hand shook with the effort, and she smeared mascara that had to be wiped away before she could apply more. Since her butterfingers couldn’t quite cope with intricate clips and combs, she decided to let her hair hang free and loose on her shoulders.

  She had learned that in the Kirchoff household it was customary to dress for dinner. In the almost two years she had been here, she had rather come to enjoy that tradition. Besides, Seth liked to see her wear fine clothes.

  When she was ready, she dressed Theron in a navy-blue playsuit with “Ahoy, there!” appliquéd in white letters on the front. As she brushed his thick cap of blond curls, she marveled again at the miracle of his birth. She had known before Dr. Peters had made the proud announcement in the delivery room that the child was a boy. Her early visions of him had been mystically accurate. She shuddered whenever she thought back to the time when she had contemplated abortion. What a tremendous sacrifice it would have been never to have known the joy of loving Theron.

  Would Erik feel that affinity that she did each time she looked at Theron? Did fathers have that same oneness with their children that mothers did?

  She swung Theron down from his padded changing table and took his hand. “Are you ready?” she asked, the question really directed to herself. The unqualified answer was “no.” She was torn between her burning desire to feast her eyes on Erik once again and the anguish of seeing him dangerously near his son. But if she didn’t hurry, Seth would wonder what was keeping her. She couldn’t arouse his suspicions in any way. At all costs, she must remain cool and collected around Erik, for Seth must never know their former relationship. He must never be hurt. She prayed he wouldn’t see the resemblance between Theron and their dinner guest.

  They descended the stairs hand in hand. Kathleen slid open the glass door that led out to the patio, and, released from her restraining hand, Theron barreled past her toward the man sitting at the round, umbrella-shaded table sipping a drink.

  Erik, taken by surprise, laughed and reached down to ruffle the curls on the head pressed against his knee. “Ahoy there, Captain. Where’s your—”

  At that moment, he glanced up and saw Kathleen standing in the doorway. God, she’s beautiful, Erik thought, and impatiently swallowed the lump in his throat. He had considered himself cured, able to take anything fate threw in his path, but when he had seen her coming up out of that pool this afternoon, his heart sang with joy while his mind cursed the gods who had played this despicable trick on him.

  From the back, he had thought the young Mrs. Kirchoff looked familiar. Her hair had a radiance that he had seen only once before. When she had turned around and he saw the face that had haunted him for years, he had ridiculed the desire that coursed through his veins like a raging fever, threatening to ignite him from the inside out until he disintegrated to ashes. Standing as she was, wet and glistening, time rolled back to another time he had seen her coming out of the water. He still had that tape of her. Only on the most depressive days did he indulge—and torture—himself by watching it. Today she had been no image captured on electronic machinery.

  Somehow he prevented himself from vaulting past Kirchoff and taking her in his arms and devouring her with a mouth that was still hungry for the taste of her lips. But the other man was in the way. The man in the wheelchair. The man whom, over the past few weeks, Erik had come to admire and respect for his courage, integrity and shrewd business acumen.

  Seth Kirchoff had talked about his wife endlessly, praising her talents and beauty to the hilt, but had he ever called her by name? No, surely not, or Erik would have reacted to that name. But who would have thought that Kathleen, his Kathleen, would end up as the wife of this San Francisco entrepreneur?

  That was when his previous flare of joy at seeing her turned to bitter bile in his soul. Of course. She had run away from the struggling videographer when she had been given a golden opportunity. She had probably been disgusted with herself for allowing his hands to taint her. She obviously aimed for higher things. How had she felt about giving away her most valuable bargaining asset? It hadn’t mattered to Kirchoff, Erik supposed, because she had gotten him to marry her. Congratulations, Mrs. Kirchoff. You’re a very wealthy woman.

  Seth had every reason to be proud of his wife, Erik thought as she crossed the patio toward him. She was lovely, graceful, motherhood having smoothed away some of her coltish angles and replacing them with feminine curves.

  She was still slender, almost too much so. No one looking at her would believe that she had carried a child. Her stomach was flat, the results of fifty faithful and vigorous sit-ups a day. If it weren’t for the generous fullness of her breasts, no one would ever know that she was a mother.

  Her heels tapped on the patio. He heard the rustle of her clothes as she knelt down to pick up the child at his knees. The silk covering her breasts gapped slightly and blessed him with a glimpse of the smooth, bare flesh beneath. Her fragrance wafted up to him as she stood. Passionate longing raced through his body and centered in his loins, making him throb with desire.

  “Mitsouko,” he spoke aloud, though he hadn’t intended to.

  Kathleen stood stock-still and stared at him. “Yes,” she answered. Moving away from him, she took a chair across the table, keeping the boy on her lap. “I see you have a drink,” she said breathlessly. She didn’t look at him.

  “Yes.”

  “Where is Seth?” she asked, almost in desperation.

  “He went inside with George to change clothes. He said he’d be out shortly.”

  “Hazel?”

  “Hasn’t made an appearance.” He took another sip of his drink and said, “So we’re all alone, Kathleen.”

  Her head snapped up. He looked rakish in his crisp white shirt and navy blazer. The shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest and provided a view of the tanned column of throat and hard, hair-matted chest. Her fingers tingled in remembrance of how that hair felt over the contour of muscle. His beige slacks hugged the hard thighs and molded over taut hips and…

  She raised her eyes quickly, hoping he hadn’t noticed the direction of her gaze, but he had. He insulted her by tipping his glass in a mocking salute.

  “I must congratulate you, Kathleen. You’ve come a long way from the camp counselor in the Ozarks. How long has it been now? Let’s see.” He squinted his eyes, feigning concentration. “Two years? Yes, two years. There was an accident at the airport in Fort Smith. It was costly in lives and equipment, but I managed to survive. It happened on July sixteenth at two forty-three in the afternoon.” His tone was hard, intentionally hurtful, and Kathleen felt the tears swimming in her eyes.

  “I’m glad… you… you survived.”

  “Yeah. Your concern at the time overwhelmed me,” he said sarcastically.

  What gave him the right to be angry with her? “I couldn’t very well join the crowd around your bed, could I?” she asked tersely.

  Crowd at his bed? What in the hell was that supposed to mean? There had been no one there except Bob and Sally, and she had never even met them. He had quizzed them enough to know that.

  Before he could pursue her enigmatic question, George helped Seth onto the patio. Erik had noted that everywhere there were steps, ramps had also been built to accommodate Seth’s wheelchair. Light switches and thermostats on the walls were also
placed low so Seth could easily reach them.

  “Well, I’m glad to see that you two are getting better acquainted. You look ravishing, darling.” He wheeled over to Kathleen and she got up, setting Theron on the patio. Placing both hands on Seth’s shoulders, she leaned over to meet his chaste kiss. He held her hands as she straightened. “Isn’t she gorgeous, Erik? I’ll bet you thought I was exaggerating about her, didn’t you? Have you ever seen coloring like this, or skin so soft?”

  Kathleen paled by several shades. Erik had seen much more of her skin than Seth ever had. Since he had brought her to this house, they had gone to separate bedrooms each night. He had only been in her room once, and that was when George had carried him up the stairs to see her completed redecoration. They kissed a warm goodnight each evening. But she went up to her room, while Seth went to his with George, who would get him into bed for the night.

  “Your wife is indeed beautiful, Seth,” Erik said, but Kathleen could hear the underlying mockery in his voice.

  “George, would you please tend bar? I’ll have a scotch on the rocks and Kathleen her usual spritzer.”

  Involuntarily, Kathleen’s eyes went to Erik, who, unnoticed by Seth, again saluted her with his glass. They both remembered another time. Kathleen’s recollections were warm. Erik’s were obviously those of the triumphant seducer.

  * * *

  The scene on the patio set the mood for the remainder of the evening. If anything, Kathleen felt more strain when Hazel joined them for predinner drinks. As usual, she was polite and played the sweet sister-in-law and aunt like a grand dame of the theater, but Kathleen knew it to be an act. When they were alone, Hazel vented her hatred and resentment on Kathleen. Sometimes Kathleen would catch Hazel with a malevolent look directed toward Theron. She refused to leave Theron alone with the woman, whom Kathleen considered to be pathological in her possessiveness toward Seth.

  By the time Alice announced dinner and relieved Kathleen of the squirming Theron, she was a tangle of nerves. Often, she had noticed Erik staring at the child. For once, she was thankful Theron always ate dinner in the kitchen in a high chair under Alice’s supervision. Kathleen had disapproved of this banishment, thinking that he should be included with the rest of the family. But early after his birth, Hazel had made clear her wish that he not be at the table with them. Seth had agreed by saying, “I think you need that time to relax and enjoy your own dinner, Kathleen. Hazel’s only thinking of you.”

  They went into the dining room, and Kathleen was disconcerted to find that Erik sat directly opposite her, since Seth sat at one end of the table and Hazel at the other. The delicious food that Alice served so aptly stuck in her throat, and she was barely capable of eating a third of her portion.

  She hated this room. It always seemed to stifle her. The walls were covered with dark blue moiré, a fabric she had always disliked. The furniture was dark and heavy, the china overpatterned, and the chandelier too ornate.

  “Exactly what is this project that you and Seth are working on, Mr. Gudjonsen?” Hazel asked in her unctuous tone.

  Erik laughed easily, in the manner Kathleen remembered so well, lifting the corners of his mustache and teasing at the possibility of a dimple hiding beneath it. His eyes shone a brilliant blue in the softly lit room. In spite of her earlier anger, her heart turned over at his masculine beauty.

  “I’m sure that you, Ms. Kirchoff, and you…” he hesitated before he said, “Kathleen, are wondering why I suddenly burst upon the scene.”

  “This is your show, Erik. You tell them what we want to do,” Seth said.

  “Well,” Erik said slowly. “I’m a photographer, working mainly with videotape instead of film. I worked at a network affiliate television station for a while.” He darted a quick glance at Kathleen. “Last year, I went to Europe and knocked around for a while. Missing the States, I came back with hopes of establishing my own production company and thought that the Bay Area was a good place to settle. Some financial backers, whom I was lucky enough to find, referred me to Seth. Not only has he agreed to invest in my new company, but he has also dubbed Kirchoff’s as my first major account. We plan to produce commercials for the stores that will be innovative and unique. Hopefully, when they begin to air, they’ll generate more clients for my company. Kirchoff’s is, after all, a very prestigious name to have in one’s portfolio. Eventually, I’d also like to do industrial films, documentaries, things like that.”

  “That’s wonderful, Erik!” Kathleen cried, her enthusiasm for his new venture bubbling forth before she could stifle it. The other three at the table turned to her in surprise. Flushing, she looked toward Seth and said, “This is what we’ve needed to do, Seth. I couldn’t be more pleased with your decision.”

  He grinned and reached for her hand. “I knew you’d feel that way. I’m counting on you to help Erik.”

  Her eyes flew to Erik, then back to her husband. “In… in what way?” she stammered.

  “I want you to act as a consultant for him. He knows a lot about production, but he claims not to know a lot about fashion. He wants your expert opinion on all that before each commercial is made.” His dark eyes shone with excitement and, despite her own misgivings about Erik’s sudden resurgence in her life and the prospect of their working together, she couldn’t help but be glad to see Seth’s exuberance.

  “Hazel, what do you think?” Seth asked. She had remained ominously silent.

  The older woman smiled sweetly at Erik and said, “I’m afraid I am ignorant about television commercials. I’ll reserve judgment on Mr. Gudjonsen’s craft until we’ve had time to see the results of his labors.” On that dim note, she suggested that they go into the living room for coffee.

  Erik ushered in Hazel, while Kathleen walked beside Seth’s chair, holding onto his free hand. No sooner were they settled than George carried in a large silver tray with a coffee service and china cups and saucers on it. He set the laden tray on the coffee table. Alice came in with Theron straddling her broad hip. “The little prince is ready for bed, but he wants to kiss everyone goodnight.”

  Kathleen noticed Hazel’s expression of stern disapproval, but Alice set the toddler on the floor and he immediately ran to Erik after his mother had given him the first goodnight kiss. With a naturalness that surprised Kathleen, Erik picked up the pajama-clad boy and hauled him onto his lap. With the indiscrimination of a child, Theron wrapped his chubby arms around Erik’s neck and gave him a smacking kiss on the mouth.

  Theron pulled away and rubbed his face comically. The mustache had tickled and he was instantly intrigued by this new, fun toy. His fingers reached up and plucked at it.

  “Ouch! That’s attached, Captain,” Erik said, but he didn’t deter Theron’s curiosity. He laughed and stroked Theron’s back, staring down into eyes that Kathleen knew were mirror images of his own.

  She watched Erik’s face in suspense. At first she read incredulity, then bewilderment, then enlightenment. Her heart stopped. Erik raised his eyes over the top of Theron’s head and she shook under their piercing accusation.

  Theron clambered down and toddled on his sturdy little legs to Hazel. She accepted his kiss with a gushing falsity that sickened Kathleen. Then he was beside Seth, climbing unassisted onto his lap.

  “Isn’t he wonderful, Erik? Was ever a man so lucky to have a son like this?” Theron got down from Seth’s lap and went once more to Kathleen, who knelt and hugged him to her fiercely. He indulged her by allowing her to cover his face with soft, quick kisses before he was again handed over to Alice.

  “Thank you, George. I’ll serve the coffee,” Kathleen said quietly as the couple left the room to carry Theron to bed before eating their own dinner in the kitchen, another custom that irked her. Why couldn’t they all eat together like the big family they were?

  Seth extolled Theron’s virtues and recounted escapades for Erik while Kathleen poured the coffee, first serving Hazel, who drank hers black. Both Erik and Seth had ordered theirs with a splash
of brandy. When she handed Erik his cup, her fingers had momentarily made contact with his, and it was like an electric bolt that ran up her arm and aimed directly for her heart.

  Shakily, she poured Seth’s coffee and was carrying it to him when Erik said, “He’s quite a boy. How old is he? When did you say his birthday is?”

  That was when Kathleen’s trembling hand lost control of the cup. It slipped off the saucer and into Seth’s lap, splattering it with scalding coffee.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Kathleen stared stupidly at the hot liquid being absorbed by the fabric of Seth’s trousers. Finally, conditioned reflexes took over and she cried, “Oh, Seth, darling, I’m sorry.” She lunged for the tray and picked up a linen napkin, then came back to him quickly, blotting up the hot coffee in his lap before he could protest.

  “Kathleen,” he said, laughing. “Dear, don’t bother yourself.” Anguished moans were coming from between her tense, colorless lips. “The one good thing about my paralysis is that it takes something pretty painful to even bother me. Remember?” he asked gently, taking the stained napkin out of her hand. “Go drink your coffee. You look like you could stand some.”

  She walked like an automaton to the couch and sat down, but she didn’t pour any coffee. She didn’t think her shaking hands could handle it, so she clasped them tightly in her lap while Seth wheeled over and served himself another cup.

  He was chuckling under his breath. “I think the dry cleaners can get this stain out, but if they can’t, I’ll buy a new suit at Kirchoff’s. I hear their fall lines are terrific.”

  He looked toward his guest with a broad grin, but Erik didn’t share the humor. He was staring at the spot on Seth’s lap that had just been doused with scalding liquid and yet displayed no feeling. No feeling.

  A half-hour later, Erik stood up and said his goodnights. “I’ve enjoyed the evening. I was getting tired of eating out. Thank you, Hazel. Kathleen.” He crossed the room with his long-legged stride and stopped in front of Seth’s wheelchair. Shaking hands with the man, he said earnestly, “I’m looking forward to doing business with you.”