All Who Are Lost (Ashmore's Folly Book 1) (57 page)

Any thought she had of coming out into the light, asking what had happened, vanished. She had never seen her father look that way before. He looked exhausted; he looked, beneath the grimness, strangely vulnerable, and she thought that, maybe, something terrible had happened to him too.

He looked – he looked as if he had lost something precious.

Diana? Was she dead? Oh, God, no….

He crossed the floor to his office area. He always checked his messages when he came in; he’d log in and read his email, and of course he’d see the sign taped on his monitor. Trapped in the darkness, she huddled as he called Tom, and gradually she realized that, whatever had happened earlier, that wasn’t the urgent matter that had so alarmed Tom.

And what she heard, she tucked away.

That birth certificate… Plane crash? What plane crash? That’s not what she told me… I saw Francie then… She’ll lie if she has to testify….
Richard hanging up, covering his face in his hands, and after a while, pulling a notepad towards him. The second phone call.
File for divorce… she drops any threat of custody… I’ll waive any claims of adultery against her, if she’ll do the same for me… will not have Laura harassed… Have her served. It will scare the hell out of her… No fake suicide attempts.

Fake suicide attempt. Julie, sitting at her piano, felt sick.

And divorce. He was actually doing it. He was divorcing Diana.

Whatever had happened today, Diana had finally pushed him too far.

Had she tried to kill herself? Had she tried to kill Laura?

Was she all right? Was she dead?
Well, of course, she isn’t. He wouldn’t be filing for divorce if she’d killed herself.

When he rose from his desk and went upstairs, she seized the moment. The moment his door closed, she sprinted into the kitchen and ran up the kitchen stairs to the landing. Ten short steps, and she was in her bedroom, breathless, heart pounding, tears streaming down her face.

She flung herself down on her bed and cried.

~•~

During the firestorm – grief at the end of the whole sorry saga of her parents’ marriage, heartbreak at the death of any hope for a fairy-tale resolution – she had barely registered the sounds in the house. She heard the shower running, heard her father moving around in his room. Later, as her sobs faded and she buried her hot face in the cool pillows, she heard him going back down the stairs.

And then – shock – the front door closed, and the Lexus purred as it left the driveway.

Julie kept vigil, but her father did not return all night.

~•~

She fell asleep finally, so his early morning return caught her off guard. She scarcely had time to dive under the covers before he knocked lightly and opened her door. She pretended to sleep through his low “Julie?” and held her breath until he closed the door again, gently.

Dawn was filtering in through the blinds. Julie squinted at the clock. 7:05. Where had he been all night?

An unpleasant thought intruded, and she shoved it away.

It came back again.

He’d spent the night somewhere else, and now a divorce – oh, no.

Another woman?

Richard Ashmore hadn’t had a relationship with a woman in over three years. For a few years before that – Julie thought maybe since she was about ten – he’d dated that rare book dealer who kept sending home Judy Bolton and Nancy Drew volumes, so that Julie ended up with an impressive set of out-of-print girl sleuth books. Judging from the number of times he whistled that annoying song “Jennifer Juniper,” her name was Jennifer; judging from the rare times that Julie answered her phone calls, Jennifer had a sweet disposition and a great deal of patience. Judging from the conversations she’d overheard as the relationship wore on, Jennifer had eventually run out of patience and presented her lover with an ultimatum.

Julie thought he’d taken the breakup hard. For several months, he’d seemed at loose ends. If he’d liked Jennifer that much, why hadn’t he divorced Diana and married her?

“Because like isn’t love,” Lucy had said. “I’m not sure he’ll ever divorce your mother. If he does, then someone important has happened to him.”

I have to tell Lucy about this.

No problem with calling Lucy in private, though. Within half an hour, Richard left again. This time, his daughter observed from a window, with an overnight bag in his hand.

~•~

The summery hills of Virginia stretched out below them like a verdant tapestry. Woods guarded the ribbons of highway running through the Peninsula; small neighborhoods broke up the landscape; an occasional great house stretched before an expanse of land running down to the James. From the air, it looked like a grassy quilt laid on the earth.

Air space over much of the Peninsula was restricted, Richard had explained. They’d fly a zigzag course along the Peninsula to avoid the military bases until they drew closer to Richmond, and then they would turn north. “You’re going to think we’re flying too low,” he’d added, “unless you’re used to flying in private aircraft. Don’t worry.”

Laura nodded; she’d flown with Cam numerous times back in their early marriage. Even so, she discovered once they were airborne and climbing in the Bonanza, she’d forgotten how truly close to the ground they seemed, compared to the distance seen outside an airliner window. They swooped first over Edwards Lake and then Ashmore Park. From the air, the Folly seemed like a model; Ashmore Minor looked like a dollhouse in the morning sunlight. She saw the gardens and the steps leading up to Ashmore Magna, the enormous stable block, the back gardens stretching out for acres, the family graveyard next to the old slave chapel with the oddly slanting roof.

Richard spoke into the headset. “We’ve got an hour of flying time ahead of us. Try to get some rest before we get there.”

Her throat still ached and her hand still stung from the day before, so she nodded. Richard gave her a slow smile before turning his attention back to the instrument panel. Laura donned her sunglasses to block out the glare and settled back in her seat.

But she couldn’t sleep. She’d never been able to sleep on an airliner or a private jet; her manager had learned never to book her on a flight the day before a show. The Bonanza was smaller, noisier. She was closer to the vibrations of the engines now than she ever was in first class. Still, the warm sun spilling in through the windshield lulled her into a quiet dreaming wakefulness.

Her body felt more alive than it had in years. The warmth of the sunlight touched her lightly, as he had touched her. She felt the light cotton of her dress lying on her body, across the breasts he had kissed, across the thighs he had explored.

She wondered if he felt the same acute awareness this morning. His hands, now competently guiding their plane through the skies, had known her skin as the sun now knew it. His lips, now set in concentration on his flying, had drawn down her spine. His body, now decorously hidden in the weekend wear of the suburban professional, had pressed her into the featherbed.

She let her fingers trail towards her locket, in remembrance of his fingers trailing across her, and felt a moment of pure joy, in remembrance of his head against her breast that morning.

Tentatively, exploring her new rights, she touched his sleeve. His quizzical glance softened and warmed as she stroked him through the sleeve and then leaned over to kiss the spot she had stroked.

She felt his lips against her hair, and then he returned to flying, and she settled back.

But sleep was still an impossibility, so she turned her face towards him and watched him through her lashes. Unexpectedly, she felt the dissonance she had felt earlier, that a stranger had stepped from behind the familiar mask. She had accused him of never seeing her, Laura thought, was she herself guilty of never truly seeing him? Had she always seen him through the prism of Diana and Francie?

But, of course, he was now hers as he had never been Diana’s or Francie’s. She had her own acknowledged claim on him, and not only from the language of passion of the night just past.
The best moments of my life… the air and the sun
. Moments of innocent friendship, and to this man, so terribly betrayed by the woman he loved, friendship had become more important than love. Still, the best moments? Shouldn’t his best moment be like hers, the moment he first held his child?

Richard’s hand moved the stick lightly, and the airplane began to bank.

But Julie was not his child.

Laura felt a mental jolt at the thought.

And, then, from the past, she remembered that moment in time.

~•~

Diana was coming home from the hospital with her baby. Peggy had gone up to Charlottesville the day before, so Laura and Francie had ridden up with Philip and Dominic. Francie had spent the entire ride buried in a book. “Aren’t you excited?” Laura had asked, and Francie had shaken her head sharply.

Okay, so Francie wanted to sulk. Fine. She was thrilled. She was now a bona fide aunt, and no longer the youngest one in the family. And a girl! Just as well. Diana, intensely feminine, wouldn’t know what to do with a son, and Richard would adore a daughter. She couldn’t wait to babysit her niece.

Everyone went to the hospital to visit before Diana was discharged, and strangely, Richard had not been in the room with his wife. Laura went in search of him, and some instinct drew her to the nursery window. He’d been standing there alone, hands jammed in his pockets, staring through the glass. The spinning wheels of fortune had carried him farther away from her than ever. Her Prince Charming was now not only a husband; he was the father of his very own little princess. His world now only tangentially intersected with hers.

But she’d never expected anything else.

“Richard,” she’d whispered, touching his arm, and in the second before he turned to face her, she’d realized that he wanted to be alone.

“Laurie,” he’d said quietly, and gave her a half-smile. “Great to see you.” And he’d meant it. Whatever solitude he’d sought, he seemed eager to cast it away. “Where’s everyone?”

“They’re in Di’s room.” They stood companionably side by side, and she looked for a bundle tagged “Ashmore.” “Which one is she?”

“Second from the right, last row.” He pointed. “Can’t see very much of her from here.”

She’d pressed close to the glass, trying to see this small scrap of life that was, amazingly, her own sister’s baby, and she was only vaguely aware that Richard had stepped back. She had the most discomforting feeling then, almost a disappointment in him, because surely he ought to seem happier or more interested in his own child, and he certainly shouldn’t have left his wife alone in her hospital room. Was he upset because Julie was a girl? Maybe he’d wanted an heir for Ashmore Park, and Diana had failed to deliver the goods.

The notion of Richard as Henry VIII in modern dress made her giggle, and she turned around to share the joke with him. He’d laugh and tell her what a silly goose she was, and the tension she’d felt would vanish. Instead, her sense of unease increased as the three grandparents came walking down the hall and Richard moved to greet them, with that grave expression still on his face. Peggy and Philip made a beeline for the window, but Dominic stopped in front of his son-in-law and held out his hand.

And Richard pointedly ignored the gesture and walked past him.

Later, at the small apartment Richard and Diana called home, she found time to talk to him again. Most of the family gathered around Diana and the baby, leaving him apart and alone. Diana seemed in high spirits, not at all exhausted from childbirth, and more than willing for everyone to take turns holding her baby. She held court on the sofa, letting Peggy tuck a blanket around her, accepting Lucy’s offer of a cup of tea, and apparently not minding at all that her husband was sitting alone across the room. Unable to compete with Diana’s undeniable triumph, Francie spoke briefly to her and retired to her book, so Laura went to sit by Richard while Lucy and Peggy argued over who got to hold Julie next.

“What’s it like?” she asked. “You know, to be a dad?”

Richard gave her a curious look. “I don’t know yet,” he said slowly. “I’m still getting used to it.” As if he hadn’t had nine months warning. “Why do you ask?”

She said honestly, “Because it must be the most tremendous feeling, to know there’s this little person and you’re the center of the universe to her. I envy you and Di.”

“You’ve never talked like this before, Laurie.” Richard seemed more relaxed now, not so stiff and distant. “Don’t tell me you’re going to chuck your great operatic career for kids. I thought you were going to set the world on fire, not tie yourself down,” and his voice sounded strained, “to motherhood.”

That last phrase told her a great deal. Diana must have complained that a baby might thwart her career plans. She said quickly, “So who says I can’t do both? Have kids and set the world on fire? Women can do it all these days.”

“I’d better not hear of you having kids any time soon.” This from the college senior who had just become a father. “And you watch those boys in your class, Laurie. Not a one’s good enough—”

Peggy came over to them, Julie nestled in her arms, and sat down. That stopped his warning dead in its tracks, thankfully before she had to admit that she was still too young to date. He must have forgotten that she wasn’t even sixteen yet. And she forgot him, as Peggy put Julie in her arms.

She gazed down into Julie’s tiny pink face and fell in love. Not only was this little creature Richard and Diana’s offering to the future, this was her own flesh and blood. And how lovely and natural it felt to hold Julie against her. She knew she was glowing as she never did, she knew that Francie might mock her later for her sentimentality, but she didn’t care. She loved holding her niece, and someday, she was going to hold her own child just so.