Promises to Keep (16 page)

"My mother's father was a silent partner in Falconer's. From the time she was in her cradle, both of my grandfathers hoped for her marriage to Dad. It was actually more of a business merger than a marriage," he said steadily, "and once they'd produced me, there was no physical side to their relationship."

"Since the business was of little importance to Mother, the time was bound to come when she realized how dissatisfied she was with her quasimarriage. After her father died and I'd reached school age, she had a lot of time on her hands, and to fill it she enrolled in an art course at our local college. She fell in love with her professor—or according to Dad, she
thought
she did. She was very discreet, very careful to preserve the appearance that she and Dad were the perfect couple, so that was all right, but the man was much younger. To my father, that was a greater offense than the fact that she'd become involved in an affair."

Garth sighed deeply. "Mother asked Dad for a divorce but he turned her down, and for several years she went along with him. Occasionally she'd bring up the possibility of divorce, but he refused to even discuss it with her. It just wasn't done in either of their families, and I suppose initially that carried as much weight with her as anything. She hadn't much natural inclination to go against precedent. It was later, when she started to get desperate, that Dad played his trump card: He told Mother she was free to leave whenever she wanted to, but if she did, she could forget she'd ever had a son."

His mouth tightened ruefully. "Dad and Mother were very much of the old school. Displays of emotion were regarded as suspiciously tacky. Like most of their crowd, they'd rather have been accused of being an axe-murderer than be guilty of nouveau riche behavior, so through all of this they never once raised their voices to each other. The whole thing was conducted so politely, they might have been discussing the weather or something equally impersonal."

He opened his eyes and smiled wryly as he admitted, "The way I sound just now." He sat up and fished the keys out of his pocket.

"What finally happened between your mother and the young man she fell in love with?" Julie asked huskily.

"He got fed up with waiting for her and left the area. He didn't let her know he was going away, much less say good-bye, and even when Mother learned he'd gone back East, she took the news without turning a hair—except in the privacy of her own bedroom. Afterward she drifted aimlessly from one affair to another but she never fell in love again."

His mouth thinned to a hard line. "A few years later, when she heard that her former lover had gotten married, she attempted suicide. Dad was so shocked that she'd go to such a barbaric extreme that he agreed to a legal separation."

Although he started the car with an abrupt, angry jab, his voice was controlled to the point of gentleness. "Mother lives in Arizona now. She dabbles in ceramics and painting and now and then she 'discovers' a new protégé—always male, always young and good-looking—in short, always a stud. She seems fairly content, so I guess it was better late than never."

Julie shook her head in confusion. "I still don't understand your reluctance to tell me this last night."

Despite the concealing lenses of his sunglasses, the impact of Garth's cynicism struck her like a blow. His scrutiny of her was ruthless and openly disbelieving.

"There's an envelope in the console," he said. His tone was barbed. "You might find its contents enlightening."

She retrieved the envelope and was immediately overcome by an inexplicable feeling of apprehension. She held it without opening it for a few moments, at a loss as to why the mere idea of looking inside should fill her with such dread. The sour taste of fear dried her mouth, and in an effort to reason away her anxiety she examined the envelope as if it were vital that she memorize the smallest detail of its manufacture.

It was letter-size and made of plain brown paper, with metal prongs to seal the flap. The folds along the sides were partially torn and it was dog-eared, but apart from its somewhat battered condition there was nothing to distinguish it from countless millions of others.

Given all this preparation, it came as an anticlimax when she opened the flap and removed the thin sheaf of newspaper clippings the envelope contained. She leafed through them quickly and saw that they offered an account of the bribery scandal, her parents' deaths, and the clearing of her father's name.

More confused than before, she slid the articles back inside the envelope and methodically sealed it. Her eyes were dark and troubled when she looked up at Garth. Only then did she become aware that they had arrived at the supermarket and that he had been studying her reaction.

A smile softened the deeply indented corners of his mouth and he lifted a silky strand of hair away from her cheek to tuck it behind her ear.

"You really don't recognize any of it, do you," he observed gently.

Again Julie shook her head. "I'm sorry. I realize that I
should
, but I don't."

"I found the clippings in your suitcase along with your note after you left. They came as quite a shock since you'd always seemed to be so uninformed about your parents." He cupped her cheek with his hand and any desire she might have had to turn away evaporated.

"When you disappeared," he said in a low tone, "Charlotte suggested that the clippings established the motive for what you'd done. She theorized that it was all premeditated—that you'd married me in order to exact some kind of revenge for the slander your father had suffered."

Julie's eyes widened incredulously. "And you believed her?" she breathed.

"I didn't know
what
to believe," Garth replied honestly, "but it's another reason I was so ready to be convinced that you were in love with Dan." His fingertips moved slowly over her face, warmly caressing the delicate line of her cheek and exploring the little hollow just beneath her jaw. "I guess I didn't want to think that you could be so vindictive."

"Have you thought all this time that I've been faking not being able to remember?"

"I haven't been sure—not about that or anything else where you're concerned." His mouth compressed, and he withdrew his hand from her face. "Then last night…" He shrugged. "For a while, I wondered whether you were trying to start the whole thing all over again."

Deprived of his touch, Julie felt lonely and cold.

She shivered and stared through the windshield at the towering, slate-blue spire of Mt. Wilson. Its stark outline danced and shimmered through the mist of tears in her eyes.

"I used to—" She faltered into a stunned silence.

"What, Julie?" Garth tersely demanded.

She cleared her throat and made another attempt. "There's an aerial tramway that goes to the top of Mount Wilson," she said haltingly. "I used to like to ride it to the summit when I had some problem I needed to work out. The view is… magnificent. It's like the whole world is spread out before you, never changing, yet never the same. And it's so still… so infinite… even the biggest worries seem small. It used to help me to keep things in perspective."

"You're beginning to remember more about the past each day, aren't you, Julie?" Garth said quietly.

"Yes," she whispered shakily. "And—oh, Garth —I'm not sure I want to."

When she blindly reached out for him, his arms encircled her and gathered her protectively close to the strong bulwark of his chest.

"I'm so afraid," she cried. Her hands clutched almost violently at his shoulders. "Hold me, Garth. Please hold me."

They drove to Jenny Lake Lodge for lunch and returned to Dan's house in midafternoon to find Dan was in high good humor, using only a cane for support as he hobbled around the yard. He promptly enlisted Garth's assistance in the chore of splitting and stacking a supply of firewood for the winter and they went off to one of the outbuildings together.

"Can I help with anything?" Julie asked Jessie.

"Not just now," Jessie replied as she stored the last of the groceries they'd brought from town. "Why don't you go have a nap? You look a bit weary."

"Maybe I will," Julie gratefully agreed.

First she had a long, relaxing bath. After hastily shedding her clothes, she pinned her hair loosely on top of her head and added perfumed bath salts to the water liberally. She eased into the steaming water and soaked until it became tepid, almost dozing off in the tub. She barely managed to wrap a fluffy towel around herself and crawl under the blankets before she fell asleep.

It was early evening when she awoke. She stretched luxuriously, feeling truly refreshed, and realized that she was not alone in the room.

"Garth?" she whispered. She could just make out the darker shadow of his head and shoulders framed by the night sky in the window.

He came to the nightstand on the far side of the bed and switched on the lamp. She smiled drowsily up at him and saw that he had recently showered and changed. His hair was slicked down, damp and glossy, and he was wearing finely tailored gray slacks with a darker gray sweater. He sat on the edge of the bed and smiled at her. His eyes were a clear green-gold and he seemed to radiate vitality.

"You look much better after your rest," he observed.

"You look better too," she murmured. "Woodcutting must agree with you."

"It's amazingly good medicine for a hangover," he said dryly. "In fact it's good medicine for whatever ails a man, body or soul, but it's tough on the unsuspecting hide!"

He chuckled and held out one hand, palm up, to reveal the bandages covering the base of his fingers. Julie exclaimed sympathetically and, leaning on one elbow, pulled herself partly upright to look at his injured palm. She lay a fingertip lightly on one of the smaller blisters that he'd left unbandaged.

"It must be terribly painful." She wished she could dare to kiss the injuries.

"It's not too bad," he drawled.

She heard the levity in his voice and cautiously raised her eyes to his.

"Of course," he reconsidered thoughtfully, "it might be too much for an ordinary man to take, but I think I can stand it."

Somehow she kept a straight face. "You must have split a lot of firewood," she said admiringly.

"Let's put it this way," he qualified, pretending to be morose, "if Dan and Jessie don't keep warm this winter, it won't be my fault."

She laughed. "I think Dan's flair for melodrama is catching. Some of it seems to have rubbed off on you."

"Thank you." Garth solemnly inclined his head. "I take that as a compliment."

"It was intended as one!"

"In their way, Dan and Jessie are two of the finest people I've ever known. And they certainly complement each other."

Julie nodded gravely.

"I might return the flattery," Garth said. "There's at least one thing you and Jessie have in common."

"What's that?" she asked breathlessly.

"Neither of you gives the impression of being overly concerned with being fashionably dressed."

His eyes wandered lazily downward over the flawless skin of her shoulders to settle on the full curves of her breasts, calling to her attention how much of her was left exposed by the precariously anchored towel. She colored to the roots of her hair and tried unobtrusively to hitch it up a bit.