Heart Of Gold (31 page)

“I
am nothing like you.” Every syllable was enunciated, her distaste for him
coming out clearly. She found it confusing, however, that she had to force the
animosity a bit.

Her
father nodded gravely. “Yes, I think you're stronger. You were always
stronger than both your mother and me. Certainly, you were able to handle her
far better than I could.”

Carter's
first instinct was to scream that he had no right to bring up the unspeakable.
Furious, she opened her mouth but then hesitated as her father recoiled. The
show of fragility halted the tumble of words in her throat.

She
thought back to her childhood. How, in that mansion full of grown-ups, she'd
always felt like the only one who knew what was really going on. Her father was
either gone or in the process of leaving and her mother was ... in her own
world. Other memories started to bubble to the surface, scenes in which her
mother flew into fits over trivial things. Carter saw her younger self hiding
until it was safe to come out again.

Why had
she forgotten these things?

Then she
stopped herself.

“Don't
you dare blame Mummy for the fact that you were never home. That was your
choice, not her fault.”

“She
was sick, Carter.” His eyes reached out to her, looking for understanding.

Her laugh
had a sharp edge. “Because you left her alone in that house while you
danced your way into the bedrooms of God knows how many other women.”

“I
never,” he emphasized softly, “never was unfaithful to
her.”

Carter
opened her mouth to fight him but he cut her off.

“No
matter what she told you, no matter what she believed of me, I was never
with another woman.”

“I
don't believe you.” Carter shook her head vehemently. “She said
you—”

“Your
mother was mentally ill.”

Carter
threw down the storage bin, balling up her fists. “How dare you! How
stable would you be if you were left alone all the time?”

“She
wanted it that way.”

“She
wanted it? She was miserable!”

“Carter,
she wouldn't go out of the house.”

"I
never saw you ask her to,” she ground out bitterly.

“That's
because I gave up hope before you were born.”

Carter
began pacing as memories came to her, memories of her mother's distress and
sadness. “No, that's not right. She said you didn't want her around. Said
you wouldn't take her places because you were ashamed of her.”

“Untrue.
She was her own jailer. And I wasn't going to become a prisoner of her illness.
By the end, she hated me for that freedom.” He lifted his hands up, his
voice gentle. “I begged her to go see doctors. She wouldn't go, at least
not until they started prescribing things for her. Then, she went all the time.
Then, I couldn't keep her away from them.”

Carter
thought back, remembering the bottles of pills that were always around her
mother. By her bedside, next to her reading chair in the conservatory, in her
knitting bag. Why hadn't that seemed odd?

“Mummy
couldn't sleep,” she protested. “It was nightmares of you that kept
her up.”

Her
father went over to the picnic table and sat down. He put his head in his
hands. “My biggest regret was that I left you there. That was no place to
grow up. I should have ... You shouldn't have had to deal with her by yourself.
I knew the staff were there but you were so alone. I tried to take you with me
once but she threatened to... It seemed more dangerous to take you away from
her. I was a coward.”

The
self-hatred in his voice resonated in Carter's ears, and she couldn't shut out
his pain.

“The
night she died,” he said in a voice that cracked, “I should have
known she'd overdosed. She was out of control but I couldn't distinguish the
effect of the drugs from what might have been just another of her episodes. It
never occurred to me she would get into a car. I didn't think she could even
drive. When I got the news, all I could think of was you. I raced back to see
you.”

Carter
recalled him coming to the hospital and the scene that had followed.

Her
father looked up, eyes pleading. “I have plenty to apologize for. There's
so much I should have done differently. I've spent the past two years
chronicling my failures as a parent and a husband and I still have a long way
to go. If I'd been more courageous, if I had taken drastic steps like getting
her hospitalized, maybe she'd have gotten the help she needed.” His voice
dropped. “But I didn't and she's dead and you're gone.”

When
Carter simply stared at him, his shoulders sagged. With a lurch, he got to his
feet. “I exhausted most of my married life trying to get away from the
loneliness and isolation she lived in. Courtesy of running from it, I'm exactly
where I never wanted to be.”

A stiff
breeze blew through camp, ruffling the edges of the tarps and making the pines
whistle. Her father looked at the sky, the wind lifting up the tails of his
jacket.

“That's
all I wanted to say,” he spoke softly. “Except that I love you and
always will. And I'll stop with the gifts, too. It was never my intention to
antagonize you with them.”

He lifted
up his hand but then dropped it and turned to the trail.

Carter stared
at his back as he left, engulfed by memories.

She was
surprised to see him so emotional. She'd always known him as uniquely stoic and
strong. Untouched by the chaos created by her mother. Above it all. To see him
so frazzled, so human, was a shock.

Carter
felt her knees buckle and she let herself fall into a folding chair. She was
still sitting like that when Buddy came back to the site a half hour later.

“Hey,
I was getting worried about you.”

“Sorry.
I got... distracted.”

Buddy
looked up at the trees, which were beginning to sway in the wind. “I think
there's a storm coming.”

Carter
glanced heavenward. The sky had darkened dramatically, the sun shut out by
purple clouds.

She took
a deep breath. “We better tie everything down and get those bones out of
the dirt. Why don't you finish up at the site and I'll get to work here.”

After
Buddy left with the container, Carter moved around in a daze. She checked all
of the tent and tarp lines and gathered up anything that could blow away. By
the time the Swifts returned, the wind had intensified further.

“Site's
secure,” Buddy said, putting the skeleton under cover in Papercut Central.
“Looks like this storm's going to be a real humdinger.”

Suddenly,
from out of the trailhead, Cort came running toward them. He was wearing a
yellow slicker and looked worried.

“You
need to come down. There's a severe storm warning out and you really should
stay at the house tonight. Even Ivan said so.”

Carter
and Buddy traded anxious looks.

“But
we can't leave all this equipment unattended,” she said to her partner.

“Then
you and Ellie go. I'll hold down the fort.”

Ellie
shook her head firmly. “Dad, if you stay, I stay.”

“I
don't want you up here if it's going to be dangerous.”

“Ditto,”
she challenged him.

“I'll
stay,” Carter cut in. “I want to stay.”

They all
looked at her dubiously.

Buddy
frowned. “I don't want you up here alone.”

“Please,
how bad could it get?” When their expressions didn't change, Carter rolled
her eyes. “Come on, people. I'm not a sissy. I can handle it.”

No one
moved.

“Go
on,” she nudged Buddy's arm. “Worse comes to worst, I'll tie myself
to a tree so I don't blow away. God, will you guys give me a break? I'll be
fine.”

* * *

Bob
Packert and Nick were standing in the leeway of the house, watching the lake
grow gray and choppy. They were waiting for Wessex's return.

Packert's
eyes were calculating as he spoke. “Farrell, if I went to the papers and
cleared your name, would I still have a job if I sell to you and Wessex?”

Nick
cocked an eyebrow. “You aren't selling. We're making an offer your
shareholders are going to jump at. As for getting the truth out, it's a little
late for that and it wouldn't make you a better businessman.”

Packert
snorted indignantly. “I don't appreciate your attitude.”

“The
truth hurts.”

There was
a moment of silence. “At least you can tell me when you're planning of
making the offer.”

“You'll
know as soon as your shareholders do.” Nick was bored by the conversation,
bored by the man. What he was really thinking about was how Wessex had fared with Carter. The man had been gone for some time, which meant one of two
things. Either she'd turned him away immediately and he'd gotten lost on the
way back down, or they'd actually talked.

“Look
here, boy, my company's one of the hottest properties on the street. I've got
more of you raider types beating a path to my door than Gorton's has fish
sticks. You and Wessex aren't the only ones interested.”

When Nick
didn't reply, Packert burst out with strained laughter. “You're a cold
one, ain't you. The word on the street about you is right.”

“I'm
so relieved to live up to my reputation.”

The first
raindrops began to fall.

Packert
cleared his throat, changing his approach. “Say now, this rain's making me
thirsty. What say we have a drink? Maybe we can get to know each other a little
better.”

“I'll
show you to the bar but you'll have to excuse me.” Nick turned away from
the lake. “I've got work to do.”

After
dumping Packert off in the library, he went to his study ostensibly to check
his messages. Instead of picking up the phone, however, he walked out onto the
side porch and looked at the lake again. The storm seemed to be preparing for a
major onslaught, Wessex was nowhere to be found, Cort had disappeared up the
mountain, and Carter and the Swifts could be in danger if things got bad at the
summit.

He heard
the first thunder roll through the sky. The sound made up his mind.

Nick was
heading to the mudroom when he caught sight of Wessex, Cort, and the Swifts
jogging through the rain to the house. He searched for Carter in the crowd of
slickers. She wasn't with them.

As the
motley group came through the back door, he met them with a steely eye.

“Where
is she?”

Everyone
looked at Buddy.

“She's
staying at camp,” he answered grimly.

"You
left her up there alone? Are you out of your mind?”

“I
don't like it any more than you do.” Buddy glanced over at his daughter.
“I would have stayed but...”

A streak
of lightning flashed across the sky and flickered in through the windows. They
fell silent, waiting for the storm's answer. After a pause, thunder came
bounding through the lake valley.

Wessex paled beneath his
tan. “Perhaps you could persuade her to come down?”

Nick was
already changing into hiking boots. As he got to his feet, Packert rounded the
corner with glass in hand.

“Hey,
it's finally a party!” The man sidled up to Wessex, yanking the man's wet
and dirty jacket. “What the hell happened? You look like crap.”

When no
one paid any attention to him, he spoke up.

“So
what do you all have planned tonight? A little charades? From the excitement
I've seen around here, this place might as well be a nursing home.” He
laughed. “Well, I'm sorry that m'pal Wessex and I'll miss all the
excitement but at least there's a bar in the limo. It's gonna be a long trip
back to the city.”

“Unfortunately,
you aren't going anywhere,” Nick said briskly. “If these storms live
up to their advertising, they're going to wash out the mountain roads. You're
stuck here until they pass.”

Packert
digested the information and then grinned. “Guess I'll be drinking your
scotch instead of Wessex's.”

With a
cheeky salute, the Texan went back to the bar.

Nick
pulled on rain gear. “We've got plenty of bedrooms and bathrooms upstairs.
Find Gertie and—”

“I'm
right here.” The woman put an arm around Ellie, who was looking
distressed.

“What's
going to happen to Carter?” the girl asked.

“I'm
either going to drag her down off that mountain or sit on her like an
egg.” Nick wrenched open the door. “Either way, she's not going to be
out in this alone.”

* * *

Carter
was at the rock ledge overlooking the lake as the storm came in, and she
welcomed its fury. The rushing wind and frantic waves down on the water fit her
mood. She was tossing and turning in her own skin, shaken by memories of her
past.

Growing
up, it had taken her a long time to realize that not everyone's mother roamed
around at night, checking and rechecking locks on doors and windows. The
rhythmic click, click as latches and bolts were tested for safety again
and again was a noise that she learned to associate with the night, like the
cicadas in the summer or the rustling of dry leaves in the fall. Her bedroom
had been off a corridor with many windows, and she would fall asleep hearing
her mother go through the ritual, the clicking getting louder as she approached
and fading as she went away.

Once,
Carter had slipped from bed and peeked out of her door. She'd watched as each
window was put through an exercise, the bolts shifted four times fast, one time
slow. The problem appeared to be that locked was never locked enough. Carter
had gone back to bed confused and wondering what was wrong with her mother.
Couldn't she see that everything was okay?

But
relentless vigilance wasn't her only oddity.

Her
mother's eating habits had been equally peculiar and vaguely threatening. She
regarded everything on her plate with suspicion, as if it might be spoiled or
contaminated. If a lettuce leaf was wilted, or there was a spot on a boiled
potato that caught her attention, her foot would start pumping the hidden bell under
the table as she frantically summoned the staff. More times than not, she would
send back what was served. Growing pale, furious that her fears had been
triggered by a careless cook, she would reach into her pocket and out would
come the pill box.