Heartsong (5 page)

“Brad!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

“What’s the matter, aren’t I welcome?” Brad Garvin was a taller version of Skye. Lean and angular, he had blond hair and vivid blue eyes that mirrored those of his sister.

“Of course you are.” A certain amount of curiosity entered her eyes. Brad had been unemployed for several weeks, caught in the economic slump of the construction trade. New housing starts were at a record low; because he was a carpenter, things didn’t look promising. But from the smile on his face, whatever news he had must be good.

“I tried to phone you last night, but you weren’t home. Don’t tell me you were on some hot date.”

“You’re right, I’m not telling,” she teased lightly, and threw a dusting cloth at his mocking grin. Five years separated them, but throughout their youth and into adulthood they had remained close.

Without so much as a flinch Brad neatly caught the rag. “Be careful, little sister. I could pull your pigtails.”

“In case you haven’t noticed I don’t have pigtails any longer.” A smile lit up her face. “If you weren’t so infuriating, I’d admit it was good to see you. What have you been up to?”

“Not much.” He sat on her desk, one leg dangling over the edge. “I talked to Mom last night. Moving in with Aunt Vi has been great for her. Janey is counting the shopping
days left until her ninth birthday and, oh, Peggy’s pregnant.”

“Pregnant?” Skye breathed in disbelief, her blue eyes widening. “You’re not teasing, are you?”

Brad and Peggy had given up hope of having another child even though the doctors assured them there was no medical reason for their difficulties. Certainly Janey, born a year after their wedding, proved they were capable of having children.

Brad didn’t need to answer her doubts; his laughing blue eyes said it all.

With a burst of joy Skye stood and enthusiastically hugged her brother. “Oh, Brad, I’m so pleased. When is the baby due? How is Peggy feeling? Is Janey happy?”

“Slow down. One question at a time.” He laughed at her enthusiasm.

“You’ve had time to get used to the idea, and don’t tell me you weren’t just as excited when Peggy told you.” A knowing look flashed from her eyes.

Brad shook his head. “I’m still having trouble believing it. We’ve tried so hard for so many years, and now, when we can least afford it and haven’t got a penny of insurance, Peggy gets pregnant.”

“Listen, count your blessings. Wasn’t it you who told me God’s timing is always perfect? Besides, if you need help …”

“No,” he said, raising his voice with pride. “Don’t even offer, Skye. You’ve done enough for us already. The baby’s not due until November, and I’m sure to have found some kind of employment by then.”

“All right, but I’m going to pray up a storm … Remember, the effective prayer of a righteous
woman
availeth much.”

“That seems to be a slight misquote of that verse. But for heaven’s sake, don’t let that stop you: Pray!

“By the way, where were you last night?” he asked.

“Out.” She batted her eyelashes wickedly. It wasn’t like her to hold back anything from her brother, but to explain about Jordan would be pointless. Skye had decided not to see him again, and with the decision came a relaxed freedom. Jordan had the uncanny ability to stir awake feelings she had long considered dead. He was too astute, too perceptive. Her simple defenses would easily crumble under the force of his personality. The uncomplicated pattern of her life suited her, and there was no reason to openly invite disruption.

Playfully her tightened fist punched his upper arm. “A baby after all these years. You had it in you after all, you big brute.”

Brad was a wonderful husband and father. He had been a solid rock supporting her in a dark world after Glen’s death. If anyone deserved happiness, it was Brad.

The children’s ward was bustling with the pre-dinner rush, and after a hasty visit with Billy and Sally, Skye resumed her volunteer duties. As was her custom, the piano playing and singing followed dinner. Several of the children dissolved into fits of laughter over Skye’s cleverly worded jingles. Cheers and applause filled the recreation room as parents and staff joined the merriment. Skye’s own elated mood became infectious, and even the most cynical could not help being drawn in and touched by the joy shining from the eyes of the children.

Her closing number was one that held deep meaning for Skye. She had composed it herself, and it spoke of darkness and light, sorrow and joy, the contrast between the valley and the mountaintop. The final words brought huge smiles of awe and appreciation from the audience.

“Sometimes I think I know you so well, Skye Garvin, and then there are times like these and I realize I don’t know you at all.” Sally looked at Skye, her brow marred by a puzzled frown.

“What makes you say that?” Skye questioned.

“I’m not exactly sure. The quality of your voice when you’re especially happy.” She shrugged. “There are times I have the impression that one reason you are able to communicate so well with these families is that you’ve walked through some deep valley yourself. And yet you’re so outgoing and positive, it’s almost as if you’ve never known a minute’s worry.” They slowly continued down the hall. “Like Betty Fisher.” Sally paused. “There’s a communication, an understanding between you that’s beyond compassion.”

If Sally was seeking confidences, Skye wasn’t going to share them. Glen, his death, and all that followed was in the past. Reliving those terrible months would be like tearing open a half-healed wound. And yet Sally was her friend, and she didn’t wish to offend her.

“Things are not always as they appear,” Skye admitted cryptically. “But I do know that one has to walk through the valley to know the exultation of a mountaintop.”

Sally looked far from appeased but changed her line of questioning. “What did you bring for dinner?” she asked. “Yogurt and sunflower seeds again?” she teased lightly,
and added, “I certainly hope you’re not planning to wear that outfit to visit Jordan Kiley.”

“What?” Skye exploded. “Who said I was visiting him?” Her suspicions immediately bobbed to the surface. How like Jordan to try to outwit her. He must have guessed she would change her mind and back out of her promise. But involving Sally seemed underhanded and unfair.

“
You
said you were visiting him.”

“I most certainly did not,” Skye denied hotly.

“It seems to me I distinctly recall you saying you’d visit him and clear away any half-truths Billy and I may have inadvertently spread about you,” Sally insisted, annoyed.

“Oh.” Skye sighed in relief. “I guess I did say something to that effect.”

“Well, are you going?”

Skye knew from past experience there would be no appeasing her friend until she conceded. If she made a quick stop on the third floor and left a message for Jordan saying she couldn’t make it after all, she’d be satisfying him and at the same time satisfying Sally.

“I suppose a few minutes wouldn’t hurt,” she said with a twinge of guilt.

A bubble of elation rose from Sally. “You’re not wearing that, are you?”

Skye’s gaze slid down over the cream-colored silk blouse and caramel wool suit. She hadn’t changed clothes, coming directly from school to the hospital. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“Have you got a year?” Sally asked with an exasperated sigh. “You really should think about going home and changing.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Skye said with a bit of disbelief. The outfit was one of her best. Although plain and practical, it suited her.

“Well, we’ll just have to make the best of what we’ve got.”

“Sally”—Skye expelled the name in a long, drawn-out breath—“I look fine. I’m going exactly as I am.” It was easy to read the disappointment in Sally’s eyes.

“Unfasten the top buttons at least,” Sally entreated.

“No.” Skye shook her head but couldn’t help smiling at her friend’s insistence.

“Okay, but at least let your hair down. I never have understood why you insist on wearing it up when it’s so pretty down.”

“I very seldom wear my hair down.” Skye flushed slightly, remembering she had done so the day before. No, it would be far safer to keep her hair in its tightly coiled chignon. “Another time maybe.” She smiled gently.

The large doors of the elevator glided open silently, welcoming Skye to the third floor. The nurse she’d met in Jordan’s room the night before nodded in recognition.

“Hello,” Skye said, and smiled. “I wonder if it would be possible to leave a message for Mr. Kiley in room 324.”

Dark eyes stared back at Skye blankly for a moment. “I’m sorry, dear, but Jordan Kiley was discharged this afternoon.”

“Oh.” Skye felt at a sudden loss for words.

“It’s my understanding he’s returning to Los Angeles.” The nurse continued, “Perhaps the hospital can relay his address if you care to contact administration.”

“No, that’s fine.” Well, that was that, she mused. A confused mixture of relief and disappointment settled over her. “Thank you,” she said, and smiled weakly at the nurse before turning back to the elevator.

By Friday evening Skye still hadn’t shaken the feeling of melancholy; instead of being pensive and a little depressed, she should be grateful. She’d never intended to continue seeing Jordan and should be counting her blessings instead of dealing with this deep sense of disappointment.

She was mixing together a chicken salad for dinner when her doorbell rang. Sighing heavily, she abandoned the salad, wondering what John wanted to borrow this time. Did the man ever do any grocery shopping?

She crossed the living room, wiping her hands on her apron as she went. When she opened the door, the good-natured, tolerant smile froze on her face. Shock closed her mouth, and for the life of her she couldn’t utter a single word.

“Hello again.” Jordan smiled, not in the least affected by her obvious surprise. His arm was in a cast and supported by a sling, but that did little to mar his compelling features. Skye had always considered herself statuesque, but he stood four or five inches taller, seeming to dwarf her.

“Jordan,” she whispered incredulously as the shock slowly dissipated.

“The very same,” he told her mockingly. “May I come in?”

“Oh, of course.” She hurriedly stepped aside and closed the door after him, leaning against it for support as he leisurely walked into her apartment. “Can I get you something?” she asked somewhat stiffly, unable to gain her poise.

“No, I have a car and driver waiting.”

Knowing that relaxed her slightly. He certainly wouldn’t be staying long then.

“I’m happy to see you haven’t eaten.” His gaze left her flushed face momentarily, and he eyed the lettuce and chicken on her kitchen countertop. “I made the dinner reservation for eight, so you have plenty of time to change if you wish. However, what you’re wearing is fine.”

“Dinner?” She swallowed uncomfortably. “Oh, I couldn’t. I mean …” Her mind searched frantically for an excuse to refuse. She immediately knew why he hadn’t contacted her in advance. Apparently he knew her well enough to realize that given time, she would have somehow extricated herself from the date. Now she was trapped.

“I won’t take no for an answer, Skye.” Determination narrowed his eyes.

“All right,” she agreed weakly. “Just give me a few minutes to put the food away in the kitchen.” She wouldn’t change clothes, not with the practical side of her nature adding the toll of the waiting car and driver.

She glanced at herself briefly in the hallway mirror as she reached for her earth-toned blazer. The jacket went nicely with her rust-colored pleated pants.

“I’m ready.” She paused, feeling gauche and insecure. “Are you sure this outfit is okay?”

His dark brows lifted, and a smile touched the corners of his hard mouth. “You might want to wear shoes.”

Her face flushed a deep shade of pink, and she nodded lamely. She had always had a ridiculous habit of walking around the apartment barefoot. It was second nature to slip off her shoes the minute she walked in the door. Luckily her pumps were in the entryway. Turning her back to Jordan, she slipped them on slowly, giving her racing heart a chance to quiet. But when his hand settled on her shoulder and his husky voice sounded in her ear, she found her pulse rate anything but normal.

“The apron,” he reminded her. “I’m taking you out to eat. I don’t expect you to cook.”

Her trembling fingers immediately reached behind her back to untie the knot. She wished she knew what it was about Jordan Kiley that turned her into a bumbling, forgetful idiot.

The restaurant was one Skye had never heard of before. The dining area was small and contained only a few elegantly set tables. The interior was dimly lit by flickering candles. A single long-stemmed rose set in a crystal vase served as the centerpiece of each table.

Once they were seated and studying the menus, the waiter arrived. “Would you care for something to drink?” Jordan asked.

“A drink?” Skye realized she sounded like an echo. “No … I don’t think so … not now, anyway.”

Jordan ordered wine, and the waiter returned with the bottle, complimenting him on his choice. It was when he was testing the wine that she noticed his right hand. He now enjoyed the freedom of his fingers, although a thin layer of gauze covered a major
portion of his hand.

His gaze followed hers, and he flexed his fingers for her benefit. “The doctor changed the dressing the day I was discharged. I imagine you’re relieved to know it won’t be necessary for you to cut my meat.”

“I wasn’t worried.” She smiled, beginning to relax.

“Have you decided what you’d like to order?” His menu was folded beside his plate; apparently he had made his decision already.

The menu ran the full gamut, but the prices were outrageously high, and Skye chose the least expensive item.

“I’ll have the chicken Florentine.” She closed her menu, and as if on cue the waiter appeared.

“I’d like to propose a toast,” Jordan suggested, tipping his wine goblet to gently tap her water glass. “To Pollyanna, whose radiant smile could melt a polar ice cap.” His own smile, directed at her, left Skye feeling weak.