Forever Spring (22 page)

Obviously aware that her desire to get home had little to do with the weather, Charles didn’t mention it, either. In his frustration he took a verbal stab at her, striking her most vulnerable spot.

“He’s a grandfather,” he sniped nastily.

“So what?” Karen said, unconsciously echoing Paul’s bland tone of a few weeks earlier.

“He’s too old for you.”

Karen shrugged, and that was when Charles struck.

“I’d bet Rand immediately figured it out that you and Grandpa were getting it on.” He sneered. “And I’d also bet that by now Rand has painted a pretty lurid picture for Mark.” Patently satisfied with the shocked gasp he’d wrenched from her, Charles smiled smugly and settled into his seat.

“Shut up!” Karen’s demand lacked strength, for as appalled as she was by his crudity, she was more appalled by the content in his deliberate choice of words.

“Why?” Charles shot back, digging at her vulnerability. “Don’t tell me you didn’t realize that Rand had to get wise to what was going on? The kid’s not stupid, you know.” His lips twisted. “Paul betrays himself and you every time he gives you one of those hot, hungry looks.” He raked her body with a jealous, thwarted glare. “And you’re no better when you look at him. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes to see that you and he are lovers. And it’s pretty disgusting.”

Karen knew that Charles was pulling strings, playing his game of manipulation, and yet she felt sick at the image that rose in her mind. The image was of

Rand, his expression cold with disgust...disgust with her.

No, oh, please, no! The cry of despair rang in her mind. She was in love with Paul, so deeply and irrevocably in love with him that she no longer felt ashamed of the physical relationship they’d shared. In fact, she longed to repeat it. She felt empty and incomplete without Paul beside her at night, making her a part of him by becoming a part of her. She believed Charles’s assertion that her feelings were revealed when she looked at Paul; Karen had seen those feelings reflected back to her in Paul’s expression. But had Rand noticed, misinterpreted and been disgusted by the proof of what she and Paul were feeling for one another? Karen shuddered at the thought.

“Not a pleasant consideration, is it?”

Oddly, it was the complacent purr of Charles’s tone that reactivated Karen’s common sense. Another image filled her mind, the image of Rand as he’d looked the day he’d left to go back to school. Rand had hugged Karen and thrust his hand out for Paul’s handshake. Rand’s expression had revealed love for her and respect for Paul. The memory was clear and revealed Charles’s willingness to use any means, even his own son, to attain his desires.

Suddenly sheer fury swept through Karen, dispersing weeks of accumulated doubts and uncertainty. And, just as suddenly, she knew what she had to do. She’d had enough of Charles Mitchell and his machinations.

Her decision made, Karen turned off the interstate at the next exit, circled around and drove onto it again, heading back to Portland.

Alert, his eyes gleaming with victory, Charles favored her with his most dazzling smile. “I knew if you thought about the situation you’d see things my way.” His voice was as smooth as glass, his tone all gracious condescension. “I’ll have a talk with Rand sometime during the Christmas holidays and explain the circumstances to him.”

“Circumstances?” Karen asked, deliberately nudging him into talking himself into a sealed box. “What circumstances?”

“Why concerning you and Vanzant, of course.” Charles flicked his hand as if to dismiss the older man. “I’ll explain to Rand that this kind of thing is natural for a woman your age, one who has been on her own for too long. Rand’s old enough to understand how a lonely woman could be seduced by an older, experienced man.” His smile nearly earned him a smack in the face. “But enough of that. I’ll take care of that problem at Christmas. Right now, I want to know what restaurant you have in mind for dinner.”

Karen was hard-pressed not to laugh out loud. The man’s conceit was outweighed only by his gift for self-deception. A woman her age, indeed! She didn’t even waste time looking at him.

“I haven’t any restaurant in mind, Charles,” she said blandly. “I’m driving you to the airport.” Though several inches separated them, Karen could actually feel him stiffen.

“Airport?” he repeated starkly. “What for?”

“Why the obvious, Charles.” Karen flashed a brilliant smile in his direction. “I’m going to toss you on the first available plane to Boston.”

“But the doctor said I was to have two more weeks of recuperation!”

“But he didn’t stipulate where, did he?” she countered.

“But my heart!”

“My foot!” Karen spared a glance from the wet, snowy highway to sear him with a disdainful look. Merely returning her gaze to the road was a dismissal. “You have used your health against me for the last time, Charles.” Her voice was devoid of compassion. “I’m not responsible for your life or your physical condition—you are.” A wry smile curved her lips. “But I’ll stop by the doctor’s office and ask him if it’s safe for you to fly if it will calm your fears.”

“I’m not afraid!” Charles said heatedly, sounding exactly like his thirteen-year-old son. “And you don’t have to stop by the doctor’s office. I wouldn’t stay with you now if a dozen specialists advised me not to travel.” He hunched down in the bucket seat and thrust his jaw out belligerently. “I can’t imagine why I ever considered starting over again with you,” he muttered.

“1 can’t, either,” Karen said in amazement. “Because to tell you the truth, Charles, you didn’t stand an ice cube’s chance in hell... Paul Vanzant or not.”

Several hours later, Karen was again driving on Interstate 95, and though the snowfall was growing steadily heavier, her spirits were as light as a spring breeze. Most of those hours had been spent anxiously waiting at the airport, as they had learned on arrival that the Boston flight was fully booked. For a few moments, Charles had reverted to his attitude of superiority, but after one close look at Karen’s implacable expression he’d agreed to wait on standby. To her relief, when the Boston flight was called, there were three no-shows, probably due to the weather. When the plane took off, Charles was on it.

Peering at the highway through the curtain of lacy white flakes, Karen smiled and decided she loved the cold, wet stuff. Her fingers were icy and her toes were cold, but Karen didn’t mind; she was eagerly looking forward to a warm bed and an even warmer Paul Vanzant. Karen laughed aloud at the prospect.

“Where the hell are they?” Unaware of growling the question aloud, Paul followed it up with a muttered string of curses that would have curled a maiden lady’s eyelashes.

Prowling through the house like a wild thing, he strode to the long, narrow windows facing the road. Pulling the drapes aside, Paul frowned at the unbroken ground cover of white obscuring the lines between the driveway and the front lawn.

Speculations and fears, each more chilling than the rising wind, tumbled through his mind, freezing Paul in place. Had Karen had car trouble? Had there been an accident on the slick road? Had she been injured? Had Charles prevailed and talked Karen into spending the night in Portland—with him?

“I’ll ruin the son of a—” Paul clamped his lips together. He knew that driving on the thin layer of snow had to be a nightmare. Part of him was hoping she’d decided not to attempt the trip until the storm was over and road crews had cleared the highway. Yet another more possessive part of Paul rebelled at the idea of Karen being snowbound with Charles.

Paul knew, had known after being in the house one day, that Charles was determined to win Karen back again. And Paul was equally determined to prevent Charles from succeeding.

“Karen’s mine.” This time Paul was fully aware of speaking out loud and of the harsh sound of his voice in the too-quiet room. Why hasn’t she called? he asked himself for the dozenth time. His narrowed gaze scanned the white landscape. His patience thinned. “Dammit! If she doesn’t call or get home soon, I’m going after her!” The vow was no sooner out of Paul’s mouth than the eerie glow of a car’s headlights pierced the hazy swirl of white. Paul was across the room and to the door before the car made the turn into the driveway.

“Where the hell have you been?”

Paul’s rough voice was like a crooning caress to Karen. Swinging the car door shut, Karen trudged through the snow, unconcerned with the cold wet soaking her shoes. A pang speared through her chest at the sight of Paul moving toward her, his tall frame outlined by the blaze of light from the house. He looked so natural coming from her house, so perfectly right.

“I’ve been tying up a few loose ends,” she replied, a carefree smile curving her lips.

“What?” Paul started to return her smile, but before she could say another word he frowned and glanced around sharply. “Where’s Charles?” Draping a sweater-clad arm around her damp shoulders, he turned and hurried her into the welcoming warmth of the house.

Karen didn’t answer until the solid thunk of the closing door shut out the keening wail of the wind. “Charles is on a plane headed for Boston.”

Paul had placed his hands on her shoulders to help her remove her coat. At her response, his fingers flexed, digging into the material. “On a plane,” he repeated with soft incredulity. “But how? Why?” Slipping out of her coat, Karen whirled to face him. “How? Very simply. I drove him to the airport and waited until the plane took off.” Her head lifted with an unconscious regality. “Why? Because I was thoroughly fed up with his manipulative, disruptive influence. In short, I tossed him out.”

The garment he was clutching forgotten, Paul stared at her in disbelief for a moment, his lips twitching against a smile. “But was that safe?” he asked somberly, winning the battle with his mouth.

“I hope so.” Karen drew in a deep breath as she turned to the hall phone table. “And I intend to find out right now.”

Gazing down at the jacket still clasped in his hands, Paul absently hung it in the closet. “You’re calling his doctor?” he asked as she punched in the Portland number.

“Yes. I didn’t get the opportunity to talk to him

earlier____” She broke off, then said, “Oh, yes, this is

Karen Mitchell. I’d like to speak to Dr. Jennaue, please. Yes, it is important.” While she was waiting, Karen tapped her fingernails on the smooth tabletop and glanced at Paul. “I’ll tell you all about it after I’ve spoken to the doctor.”

Paul inclined his head. “All right.”

“There’s a problem, Ms. Mitchell?” Dr. Jennaue asked with direct briskness.

“I’m not sure, Doctor.” Karen’s hand tightened re-flexively on the telephone receiver. “I, er, put Charles on a plane for Boston a while ago, and I wanted your professional opinion on whether that was a safe thing to do,” she said quickly, then immediately held her breath.

“Safe? Why shouldn’t it be safe? I told Mr. Mitchell last month that he could resume normal activities—within reason, of course. Surely he told you?” Impatience could be heard in the doctor’s tone.

Karen’s eyes narrowed on hearing confirmation of her suspicions. Charles had been lying to her for weeks—forever! Gathering her thoughts, she answered, “Ah, yes, but I wasn’t positive if flying came under the heading of reasonable activities. Thank you, Doctor, and I’m sorry I bothered you.”

“No bother at all,” the doctor said, then contradicted himself by hanging up without the courtesy of a farewell.

As her finger depressed the disconnect button, Karen gazed at Paul. “Charles was lying. The doctor told him to resume normal activities during his visit last month.” As she relayed the information to Paul, she punched in another number, long-distance this time.

“You’re calling the school?” Paul correctly guessed.

“Yes.”

It required a few moments, but finally Rand’s anxious voice traveled across miles of telephone wire.

“Mom, is something wrong?”

“No!” Karen said at once. “No, Rand,” she went on in a calm voice. “I just thought you should know that, with the doctor’s permission, I took your father to the airport to catch the late-afternoon plane to Boston.”

There was dead silence for several seconds. During those agonizing moments, Karen fought against the urge to launch into defensive speech, explaining to her son that she couldn’t tolerate his father’s presence a minute longer. The inner battle was hard-fought, but she won.

“You kicked him out, didn’t you?” Rand demanded.

Karen thought about evasion and immediately rejected the thought; that was Charles’s method, not hers. “Yes, Rand, I kicked him out.” She held her breath and waited for condemnation.

“About time, too.” Rand’s voice didn’t crack at all; his tone had the depth of growing maturity. “I was wonderin’ how long it would take before you got fed up with his bellyachin’.”

Tears rushed to Karen’s eyes, and she blinked against the sting. A long, muscular arm circled her waist, and a warm male body pressed reassuringly against hers, giving her the strength to whisper her son’s name. “Oh, Rand.”

“I—I love Dad, Mom, but that doesn’t mean 1 can’t see him for what he is, you know.”

“I know.” Karen made no attempt to stem the flow of tears running down her face. Obviously misreading the situation, Paul tightened his arm protectively and pressed the strength of his body closer to hers. Literally surrounded by understanding and protection, Karen suddenly laughed. “I’m so proud of you, Rand. You’re going to be a fantastic man.”

“Yeah, I know.” Like most young people uncomfortable with praise, Rand reverted to wisecracks. “Ain’t you the lucky one?”

“Yes, darling, I really am,” Karen responded softly, seriously. Rand was quiet for a moment, and she heard him swallow. When he spoke again, his voice was husky.

“Is Mr. Vanzant still there?”

Karen’s feeling of well-being wavered, and she stiffened. Again she considered and rejected evasion. “Yes, he is.”

“Good deal,” Rand said briskly. “I worry about you being all alone up there... and, ah... I like Mr. Vanzant, Mom. I kinda think he’s good for you. Will you tell him I said hello?”

Karen didn’t attempt to conceal the relief she felt at receiving her son’s words of approval. “Yes, of course I will,” she choked out. “I’d better let you get back to whatever you were doing. I’ll see you in two weeks.”