Dancing in the Dark (19 page)

What she’d told him about there being two Wendys was true. One had competed for medals; one had planned a future as a wife and mother. Neither had survived the accident. Now Dr. Pommier’s new technique offered hope that she might bring one of them to life again.

She had to take the chance or die trying.

Tears blinded her. She looked away from the trees and out the windshield...

And saw Jiminy Peak straight ahead, rising from the trees.

For a moment, she felt nothing. It was only a mountain and not a terribly high one at that. Jiminy was nothing but a steep hill compared with some of the places she’d skied in the West and in Europe, but it was where she’d learned to fly down a mountainside, feeling as if she could take wing and soar.

Something seemed to tear free deep inside her. Seth was right. She belonged in a place like this, where mountain peaks pierced the sky, where the snow was deep and all you heard was the sound of the wind and the whoosh of your skis.

Seth pulled into a parking space and shut off the engine. She felt his eyes on her, but she was riveted to the sight of the slopes and lifts ahead, and to a time when she’d felt truly alive.

He got out of the truck and came around to her side. He opened her door and looked at her, his face pale beneath its year-round tan. Tension narrowed his eyes.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. She knew that the next move had to be hers. Slowly, she stepped from the truck. Tears welled in her eyes. She bowed her head and tried to blink them away before Seth noticed, but she wasn’t quick enough.

“Oh, sweetheart.” His voice was rough with misery. “Baby, I’m sorry. I was wrong. I should never have—”

Wendy lifted her head. He could hardly believe what he saw. Yes, tears were streaming down her cheeks, but her eyes were glowing. Her smile was radiant.

“Wendy?”

She laughed. Or maybe she cried. All that mattered was that she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him, and he was sure that his Wendy had come home.

* * *

L
ARRY
COHEN
WAS
a great guy. He had a nice sense of humor and an easy way with the kids, who gathered around him on their skis, some of them so wrapped in parkas and pants that Wendy figured they’d never be able to get up if—
when
—they fell.

But they did get up, and laughed, and tried all the harder. At first, there were six kids and Larry. By noon, there were a dozen tyro skiers having fun with Seth and Larry.

Wendy stood around and watched. Then she offered a little help. By the time Seth suggested she put on skis and really get into things, she didn’t even hesitate. How else could she encourage the kids to try to do a snowplow, or sometimes just try and stand up?

How else could she really remember how much she loved this sport?

And when Ski Wee classes ended, what could she do but ride the lift with Seth, stand at the top of the Left Bank run, flash him a thumbs-up when he grinned at her, and then fly down the mountain?

In late afternoon, Seth said he was exhausted. Wendy doubted it. He looked wonderful, his cheeks ruddy from the cold, his eyes bright, his smile stretching across his face. She knew the truth—that he was concerned about her. Her leg did ache, yes, but it was a wonderful ache, the kind she hadn’t had and couldn’t get from therapy workouts, no matter how strenuous. She felt alive in a way she’d all but forgotten. Last night, making love with Seth; today, skiing with him...

Could life actually be like this? So filled with joy that you felt as if you might burst?

“Me, too,” she said. “Let’s call it a day.”

She sat as close to Seth as the bucket seats would permit all during the ride back to Cooper’s Corner. When he started to apologize for taking her to Jiminy without asking, she stopped him.

“You’re right,” she said. “You did a terrible thing...but I’m happy you did. I guess I’d blanked out how it feels to ski and how much I love it.” She lifted his hand from the wheel and pressed it to her cheek. “Thank you.”

“We can try a tougher trail next time, if you like.”

“If I like?” She grinned at him. “Is tomorrow too soon?”

Seth smiled back at her. It was wonderful, seeing her like this.

“You’re happy,” he said softly, “aren’t you?”

She nodded. “Yes. Very.” She took a deep breath. “Seth? I’ve been a coward.”

“No, babe, you haven’t. I understand why you didn’t want to ski. Anybody would have felt—”

“I’m not talking about skiing. I’m talking about...about how I turned away from you. How I sent you away when you came to Norway to be with me after the accident.”

“You don’t have to explain it to me, sweetheart.”

“Yes. Yes, I do. You’re entitled to know the reasons.”

“I already do.” Seth wound his fingers through hers and placed their linked hands on the gearshift. “The accident devastated you. If I hadn’t been so self-centered, I’d have figured that out right away.”

“It did, but that isn’t—”

“Babe.” They’d reached the town. Seth pulled into the driveway at Twin Oaks and parked next to the car Wendy had left there the night before. He shut off the engine and turned to her. “You want to talk about things? Fine. But let me go first, okay? I have something to tell you.”

Wendy smiled. “Not another surprise?”

“Yeah. Another surprise.” Seth cleared his throat. He took her other hand and held both tightly. “Why did you come back to Cooper’s Corner?”

“What do you mean?”

“What did you come back for, Wendy? What do you want that I—hell, let’s be blunt—that I tried to convince you not to want?”

“The operation?”

“Yes, sweetheart. The operation. Specifically, a chance to meet Rod Pommier and convince him to accept you as a patient.”

Wendy sighed. “I’m close to giving up hope. My father thought he’d be able to get me a few minutes of Dr. Pommier’s time, but—”

“I can do it for you.”

She stared at him. It wasn’t a joke; Seth’s expression was completely serious.

“You? I don’t understand. How could you connect me with Dr. Pommier?”

Seth hesitated. His news was going to make her happy. He just wished it was doing the same thing for him.

“I know him,” he said, after a minute.

“You know...” Wendy looked puzzled. “You mean, you’ve seen him on the slopes?”

“I mean we’re friends. Well, more or less. We’re not pals or—”

“What are you talking about?”

“Rod is—”

“Rod?” Wendy blinked.
“Rod?”

There was a note in her voice he didn’t quite understand. An edge. A hint of anger.

“Uh-huh. See, he bought a cabin. An old ski chalet up on—”

“
Rod
did,” she said coldly.

Seth frowned. Things weren’t going exactly as he’d anticipated. There was definitely an edge to her words and a look in her eyes he didn’t like.

“Yeah. And I’m doing the renovations for him.”

“Since when?”

“Since he bought it. I don’t know, maybe ten days, two weeks ago.”

Wendy jerked her hands from his. “Let me get this straight. I’ve been going crazy waiting for a chance to meet this man, and all the time you’ve been working on his cabin?”

“Well, yes.”

“I suppose you have coffee with him, too, and discuss the work as it progresses.”

The edge to her voice took on the sharpness of a paper cut. Oh, yeah. Something was definitely wrong here. Seth reached for her hands again but she pulled away and sat rigid, her spine tight against the door.

“He’s been out of town, babe. Your father must have told you that.”

“My father isn’t on a first-name basis with the doctor, Seth.”

Let that go,
he told himself.
Just let it go.

“What I’m trying to tell you is that I talked to him this morning.” She didn’t answer and he plunged on to fill the silence. “I called him on his cell phone.”

“You called him on his cell phone,” she repeated, so coldly that he almost shuddered. Slowly, the light began to dawn. She was upset because he hadn’t told her sooner.

“Babe,” he said gently, “you’re ticked off because I didn’t tell you about Pommier before now. But I had my reasons.”

“Which were?”

“Well, I thought you were making a mistake. You want the truth? I still think that, but I finally realized you have to make your own decisions.” He was quiet for a few seconds. “Okay. I guess I can see how this looks, but—”

“How it looks,” she said softly, far too softly for his comfort, “is that you could have helped me but you didn’t.”

“Babe, you’ve got it all wrong. I thought about this a lot. I even talked to Pommier about you.”

“How generous of you.”

“Damn it, will you try and see this from my viewpoint? I’ve already admitted that I didn’t think you should have the surgery.” Her eyes flashed with condemnation and he winced, suddenly realizing that this wasn’t coming out as the gift he meant it to be. “Try to understand, Wendy. I was afraid for you, and afraid you wanted the surgery for all the wrong reasons.”

“So you decided to eliminate that possibility by thinking for me.”

“Yes. No!” Seth slapped the heel of his hand against the steering wheel. “It’s not that simple.” She was still looking at him as if she’d never seen him before. “Okay. I blew it. I made a mistake, but I did it out of love. Doesn’t that count for something?”

“Love isn’t an excuse for trying to run someone’s life. Isn’t that what you once said when you were trying to convince me that my father was running mine?”

“It’s not the same thing,” he said, making an effort to sound patient when what he felt was that he was sinking deeper and deeper into a pit of his own making. “Howard’s willing to let you risk everything for a medal.”

“And you’re not willing to let me risk anything. Either way, I don’t seem to have much to say about what happens to me.”

“Sweetheart, I wanted to protect you, that’s all.”

“But you can’t. Don’t you understand that? The accident changed my life. Nobody can protect me, not unless they can find a way to turn back the clock.” Wendy wrenched open the door and stepped from the truck. She looked back at Seth, her eyes hot with anger. “The fall took everything from me. I’ve spent all these years trying to live with the realization that the Wendy Monroe who left Cooper’s Corner doesn’t exist anymore. Now I have this one slim chance of regaining at least part of who I once was, and you took it upon yourself to deny it to me!”

“That’s not the way it was, damn it!” Seth jumped down from the truck and strode toward her. “And it’s exactly why I think you’re making a mistake. The surgery’s not just experimental and risky, it’s wrong.”

Wendy slapped her hands on her hips. “I see.
You
know what’s right, not me.”

Seth grabbed her by the shoulders. “Listen to yourself! The fall took everything from you? Huh? Is that what you really think?”

“Let go of me!”

He didn’t. If anything, his hands tightened on her. She was angry? Well, so was he. And, damn it, maybe he had more to be angry about. He could feel it rushing through his blood, vibrating along his nerve endings, something live and palpable that he knew he’d kept bottled inside him from the minute he’d opened the note that told him the woman he loved didn’t want him anymore.

“You almost died,” he said roughly, “but you didn’t.” She tried to twist away but he wouldn’t let her. “They said you wouldn’t walk, but you did. The truth is that you came through that accident better than anybody could have imagined.”

“You have no right to say these things to me!”

“I have every right, damn it!” He lifted her to her toes, his face dark with anger. “When did you get so selfish? When did you forget the people who love you?”

“Damn you, Seth—”

“No. This time, you’re going to listen. Your mother still cries for you. Do you know that? Do you even care? Gina misses you, but you’d rather nurse your wounded pride, your ego, whatever you want to call it, than think about what it’s like for her to spend every day thinking about you, four thousand miles from home, and wondering if you’re okay.”

“That’s between my mother and me. It has nothing to do with you.”

“The hell it doesn’t!” Seth bent toward her until he was all she could see. “It has everything to do with me. You were the best part of my life. You
were
my life, my dreams, my future—and then you had that accident and suddenly nobody else mattered except you.”

Wendy shook her head. When she spoke, her voice trembled. “That’s not true.”

“It damn well is!
You
didn’t lose everything. It was the rest of us, the people who loved you, who came out the losers.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Oh, I know, all right.” Seth dropped his hands to his sides, the anger gone and nothing but emptiness in its place. “Well, I’m done trying to figure it out. Pommier’s meeting me at Twin Oaks tonight at seven. Figure on showing up at seven-fifteen or so. That’ll give me enough time to talk to him and get out of there before you show up, because you know what, babe?” The corners of his mouth curved down. “I don’t want to see you anymore. Hell, I don’t want to see you ever again.”

Wendy recoiled as if he’d struck her. A sob broke from her throat as he got into his truck and started the engine.

“Seth,” she whispered, “Seth...”

He drove away, the truck picking up speed as it went down the driveway toward the road. After a while, all she could see were the bright red dots of its taillights growing ever dimmer in the encroaching dark of the midwinter afternoon.

And then, finally, even those tiny beacons blinked out, and were gone.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

G
INA
M
ONROE
SIGHED
as she tied her apron strings and then turned on the kitchen lights.

The days were so short this time of year. Darkness crept in before you expected it.

She glanced at the clock. It was after six. Time to get dinner on the table. She’d spent the afternoon baking, something she’d done a lot more of now that Wendy was home.

She didn’t know how long her daughter would be here. The operation, assuming the doctor agreed... The risks...

No. She wouldn’t think about it. Not now. She’d think about how glorious it was to have her here—and what the protocol was for facing your adult daughter after she hadn’t come home all night.

“Isn’t Wendy here yet?”

Gina looked over her shoulder. Howard had been napping on the sofa. His hair was standing on end and his eyes were puffy. She knew he was upset, but she had no idea whether it was because Wendy hadn’t come home all night or because she’d been with Seth. Both, probably, she thought with a little sigh. Knowing that your daughter had spent the night with a man was a delicate issue for a mother, but it had to be twice as difficult for a father.

“Not yet, no.”

“You told me she called and said she’d be here for dinner.”

“I’m sure she’ll be here soon, Howard.”

“I don’t know how you can be so calm about this. Don’t you care that our daughter didn’t come home last night? Aren’t you concerned?”

“No,” Gina said, although that wasn’t entirely true. She was concerned about Wendy, but not about her safety. There was no reason to be. Howard wasn’t worried about their daughter’s safety, either, but it was easier to pretend that was what they were talking about. “Why should I be? Wendy’s fine. She called to say she wouldn’t be home, and then she phoned a second time to let us know she’d be back by early evening.”

“She stayed out the entire night!”

“Yes, she did,” Gina said mildly. “Sit down, Howard. How about peeling some potatoes?”

She put six small potatoes, a bowl and a paring knife on the counter. Howard shook his head as he sat down.

“It’s not right that she stayed out all night. What will people think?”

“They’ll think Wendy is old enough to live her life as she pleases.”

He took a potato from the counter. “That boy is taking advantage of her.”

“Seth isn’t a boy,” Gina said mildly.

“Our daughter is emotionally vulnerable right now.” A long paring dropped on the counter. Gina pulled some paper towels from the roll, put them on the counter and dumped the potato skin on them. “Being home for the first time in years, waiting for the chance to talk to Pommier... It’s the wrong time for her to get involved with that boy all over again.”

“He’s a man,” Gina said, “and our daughter is a woman, and if they want, as you put it, ‘to get involved’ all over again, that’s their business.”

“They’re wrong for each other.”

“Cut those potatoes in quarters, please.”

“Did you hear me, Gina? That boy—that man—and our daughter don’t belong together.”

“We had this same discussion years ago, Howard. I didn’t agree with you then and I don’t agree with you now.”

Howard dumped chunks of peeled potato into the bowl. “She shouldn’t be starting this nonsense with him all over again.”

“It isn’t nonsense.”

“Of course it is.”

“Are you done with those potatoes yet?”

“Is that all you can think about? Potatoes? I’m talking about something serious, for God’s sake!”

“I know you are, Howard. I just don’t see the sense in arguing.”

“Our daughter came home for a reason. An important reason, and that’s what she should be concentrating on.”

“The operation you want her to have.”

“The operation
she
wants to have!”

Gina opened the refrigerator and took out a pan of marinating chicken. “Please, let’s not argue. You know how I feel about this.”

“Gina, don’t you see? We’re talking about Wendy’s future!”

“We certainly are.” She turned to him. “This surgery terrifies me, Howard.”

“I know it does.” His voice softened. “It frightens me, too, but Wendy wants to get her life on track. Surely we should stand by her.”

“We have. We always will. But this operation...”

“The operation, the technique Dr. Pommier’s developed, is a miracle. Don’t you see that?”

“Our daughter almost died,” Gina said in a trembling voice. “Then her doctors thought she might not walk again. Well, she lived. And she can walk. Most people would say those things were miracles enough for one lifetime.” Her eyes beseeched him. “But Wendy is embittered and filled with anger. She lives for a past that isn’t half as important as the future she could build if she learned to accept herself as she is.”

“That our little girl lived and walked again is certainly a miracle, but if she wants to compete again—”

“Does she really? Or is it just that she doesn’t want to face something else?”

Howard put down the knife. “What something else are you talking about?”

“I don’t know.” Gina sighed and folded her arms. “I just get the feeling that Wendy’s hiding something.”

“From us?”

“From everybody, including herself. Oh, I know. I’m not making sense, but, well, sometimes I think she’s using this surgery as an excuse to run away from herself.”

Howard picked up the knife and attacked another potato. “You’re right,” he said coolly, “you’re not making sense. You just don’t understand the importance of having a goal you worked toward all your life.”

“Listen to yourself! Who are you talking about, Wendy or you?”

“That’s not fair. You know how much I love our daughter.”

“Of course you love her. But you’re so busy projecting your own wishes on Wendy that you haven’t taken a good, hard look at her. Howard. I’m telling you, she’s in denial. She can’t accept what happened to her and she thinks if she has this surgery—”

“There’s no ‘if’ about it,” Wendy said calmly.

Her parents, startled, swung toward the door.

“I
am
having the surgery, Mother—assuming I can talk Dr. Pommier into it.”

Wendy saw her mother’s eyes widen. Well, why wouldn’t they? She’d seen herself in the car mirror; she knew she looked as awful as she felt. She’d been driving around for over an hour, unwilling to go home until she got herself under control. She’d tried not to think about anything but Rod Pommier and what she’d say to him, because thinking about anything else, like Seth’s arrogance in assuming he knew what was best for her, or her own foolishness in almost telling him the truth, was the stuff of defeat.

“The doctor’s agreed to talk with me at Twin Oaks in half an hour.”

She could see the excitement flash across her father’s face. “That’s wonderful news, honey! I didn’t even know he was back in town. Did you meet him last night?”

“I haven’t met him at all.” Wendy hesitated. “Seth set it up. He’s remodeling a cabin the doctor bought.”

“Well,” Howard said coldly, “I suppose I’ll have to thank him for arranging this meeting.” He stood up. “Shall I go with you?”

Wendy nodded. “Mom? Will you come, too?”

No,
Gina wanted to say.
I don’t want any part of this.
But her adult daughter was watching her with a child’s hope in her eyes.

“Of course, if that’s what you want.” Gina took off her apron while Howard went to his den to get Wendy’s medical files. “Baby? Are you okay?”

“I’m nervous,” Wendy admitted with a quick smile. “That’s all.”

There was more to it than nerves, Gina suspected. When Wendy had called to say she was with Seth and wouldn’t be home until evening, her joy had radiated through the telephone. Now her eyes were red and swollen.

“How fortunate Seth knows Dr. Pommier,” Gina said.

“Yes. Yes, it is.”

“Has he changed his mind about things? He wasn’t very happy about you wanting surgery.”

Wendy’s eyes grew veiled. “What Seth wants isn’t an issue here.”

“I only meant—” Gina started again. “Well, then, are you sure this is what you want?”

“It’s what I came home for, Mother.”

It wasn’t an answer, but from the resolute expression on her daughter’s face, Gina knew it was the only answer she was going to get.

* * *

R
OD
POMMIER
LOOKED
at Seth over the rim of his brandy snifter.

The gathering room was empty tonight, except for the two of them. They were in front of the fireplace, Rod seated and Seth pacing the room like a caged bear. Rod figured that if Wendy Monroe didn’t show up in the next five minutes, Seth might wear a hole in the floor.

“I told her seven-fifteen,” Seth muttered, glancing at his watch.

“Uh-huh.” Pommier took a sip of brandy. “And here it is, seven-seventeen. The lady’s definitely late.”

“Yes, she is. And...” Seth narrowed his eyes. “I suppose I sound like an idiot.”

The doctor smiled. “You want an answer from Rod Pommier, M.D., or from Aunt Agatha?”

“Do me a favor, Doc. Can the Aunt Agatha thing, okay?” Seth jammed his hands deep into the pockets of his cords. “You might be one hell of a surgeon, but you’re a dud when it comes to advice for the lovelorn.”

“The only thing I told you was that you still had a thing for Wendy Monroe.”

“That’s what I mean. You were wrong.”

Pommier lifted his eyebrows. “The whole town’s buzzing about the two of you being back together as a couple.”

Seth gave a derisive snort. “You mean you stopped by at Philo’s to buy a candy bar and he filled your ear with gossip.”

The doctor grinned. “It was a bag of potato chips, and if you ever tell that to the blond nutritionist I met in Vermont, I’ll certify you as mentally incompetent.”

Seth laughed. “A blond nutritionist, huh?”

Rod smiled. “Yeah. Good-looking, and good for you, too.”

The easy remark lightened things, but only for a minute. Then Seth started pacing again.

“Not that it has any bearing on this, but Wendy and I aren’t together again. We had a major disagreement this afternoon.”

“And you still want me to see her?”

Seth nodded. “It’s what she wants, Doc.” His smile was tight. “This is a farewell gift, you might say.”

“I just hope Miss Monroe understands that all I’m doing is agreeing to talk to her. I’m not making any commitments.”

“She knows that. I just wish you’d see her without me around. She and I agreed that I’d leave before she arrived.”

“Well, you agreed without consulting me first.” Rod’s smile took the edge off the rebuke. “Look, I’m not trying to be a hard-ass about this, Seth, but I don’t know the lady. You do, and you’ve made a couple of interesting observations about why you think she shouldn’t have surgery.”

Seth looked puzzled. “Yeah, and you pointed out—and rightly so—that decisions about Wendy’s life were hers to make, not mine.”

Pommier shrugged. “True. But deciding whether or not a patient’s suitable for what I do isn’t strictly dependent on reading X rays and taking case histories. The dynamics of a situation are often as vital as the physical aspects.”

“Meaning,” Seth said wryly, “you think you can learn something about Wendy by watching us play off each other.”

“Yes,” Pommier said bluntly. “I find myself wondering if Miss Monroe’s feelings for you and her feelings about this operation aren’t somehow connected.”

“Only if you mean she’d rather have surgery than have—”

“Here she is,” Rod said quietly, looking past Seth. He put down his glass and stood up. “At least, I’m assuming that’s her coming toward us.”

Seth turned around and saw Wendy and her parents. Wendy was smiling, but her smile disappeared when she looked at him.

“What are you doing here, Seth?”

“I asked him to stay,” Rod said smoothly. He held out his hand. “How do you do, Miss Monroe? I’m Rodney Pommier.”

* * *

I
T
WAS
AS
IF
they’d all been cast in a play.

After introductions, Pommier led them upstairs. His room was one of the larger guest rooms and had a small sitting area in front of a marble fireplace.

Everyone but Seth took a seat. He stood to the side, a reluctant observer wishing he could fade into the wallpaper as Rod Pommier, easygoing Rod Pommier with a good sense of humor, turned into Dr. Rodney Pommier, world-renowned surgeon.

Wendy seemed to know her part, too. She made a point of turning her back to Seth as soon as the doctor began asking her questions. She referred to the accident with a detachment Seth first admired and then found troubling, referring to “the” injuries, “the” operations, “the” treatments she’d undergone as if they’d happened to someone else.

He tried not to listen. He didn’t feel detached at all. The terrible litany of what Wendy had endured took him back to the first weeks after the accident, when he’d almost gone crazy, imagining her suffering.

Pommier asked Howard for the medical files. They were all quiet as he scanned them. At last he looked up.

“Miss Monroe,” he said slowly, “surely you know that I’ve decided not to take on any new patients.”

Wendy nodded. “Yes, but I’m hoping I can change your mind. I can’t believe you’d turn away someone who’s a perfect candidate for your technique, Doctor.”

Pommier smiled. “Why do you want this surgery? At best, there’s a long and arduous recovery period.”

“I know that. But—”

“My daughter was a champion skier, Dr. Pommier,” Howard said. “She wants to ski again.”

“She
has
skied again,” Seth said. All heads turned toward him. Wendy looked angry. Her parents looked surprised. Pommier’s expression was resolutely neutral. Seth could feel his cheeks coloring. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t say a word. “Today, at Jiminy Peak.”

Howard’s brows lifted. “Wendy?”

“I skied a beginner’s slope,” she said impatiently, “that’s all.”

“It was a low intermediate slope,” Seth said coolly, “and she skied. That’s all I’m pointing out—that she
can
ski if she wants to.”