SVH12-When Love Dies (2 page)

"It's not like that with Trish and me," Steven protested. "We love each other."

"Well, you did say she's been acting sort of standoffish lately."

Elizabeth jumped in to the rescue. "Maybe she's distracted by something at home," she suggested, shooting her sister a pointed look.

Jessica yawned. "So what's new about that?"

Wearing a worried expression, Steven slumped down on the bed. "If something is wrong, she won't tell me what it is." He stared down at his hands in helpless frustration. "I'd give anything to know why she's been acting this way."

"Maybe she's the one who's taking you for granted," Jessica said, deftly changing tack. "She knows she's got you, so why bother working at. it?"

"Tricia's not like that. You don't know her like I do."

"If you know her so well, then I don't see what the problem is. I thought people who were that close could talk to each other about anything."

Obviously Steven had thought so, too. The possibility that he might have misjudged the depth of Tricia's love was more than a little disturbing.

"I guess she'll tell me what's wrong when she's ready," he said, not sounding too hopeful.

Jessica's eyes narrowed. "Maybe it's not a what," she suggested slyly. "Maybe it's a who."

Steven glowered at her. "Look, Jess, if you're going to start that business about Tricia sneaking around behind my back with some other guy, I don't want to hear it. She wouldn't do anything like that."

Jessica flashed him a knowing smile. "What-er you say, big brother."

"If there were some other guy, I'd know it,

wouldn't I? People would have seen them around together."

"Of course, you're probably right," Jessica agreed.

"It's a small town. You couldn't hide something like that forever."

"But, Steve," she said sweetly, "I thought you said Tricia wasn't the type?"

Steven flushed a dark red. Elizabeth glared at her sister, then went over and put her arm around Steven's shoulders. She couldn't bear seeing her brother in so much misery.

"It's silly to jump to conclusions," Elizabeth said. "And I agree with you, Steve. Tricia's not the type to fool around behind your back. Besides, why would she even want someone else? You're the one she loves."

Steven's frown deepened. "I always thought that, too. But right now I'm not so sure. Something's changed. I don't know what, but I'm going to find out." He stood up, his jaw set at a determined angle. "Tonight."

Chapter Two

It was only a few miles from the Wakefields' comfortable split-level ranch house in a beautiful green area of Sweet Valley to the poorer section of town where the Martins lived, but as far as Steven was concerned, it was a completely different world. His headlights picked up the gleam of discarded cans and broken glass that littered the weeds alongside the uneven road. He pulled to a stop in front of a shabby frame house with peeling paint. Tricia's house. As always, he experienced a pang at the thought. Sweet, lovely Tricia deserved much better than this, though he had never once heard her complain about it.

Steven's chest was heavy with apprehension as he waited by the front door for his knock to be answered. Would she be home? Would she want to see him? When he had called, her father had said he didn't know where she was or when she would be back. Strange. Tricia knew he was coming home for the weekend. He always called her Friday afternoon when he got in--and she always answered the phone on the first or second ring, her voice slightly breathless, as if she'd had to run to catch it. Then she gave that happy, eager laugh when she heard him say hello. At least that was the way it used to be. Lately ...

The door shrieked open on rusted hinges. A man stood swaying in the blue-gray light that flickered from an old TV set. He wore a stained undershirt tucked into baggy old pants, and he smelled strongly of liquor. Steven cringed, even while he arranged his face into a friendly smile.

"Hi, Mr. Martin. Is Tricia home?"

Tricia's father blinked, as if trying to bring Steven into focus. "Yuh, she's here," he slurred, "but she can't see you. She's busy. Sorry, Steve."

Steven felt as if he'd been kicked in the stomach. "Where is she?" he asked. "I have to talk to her."

"She's in her room, but she said if you came by to tell you--"

Steven didn't wait to hear the rest. Angrily, he brushed past Mr; Martin, heading straight

for Tricia's room. The door was closed, but he didn't bother to knock. Tricia looked up with wide, startled eyes as he strode in.

At the sight of her, Steven's heart caught, and the anger drained out of him. She was so beautiful, with her delicate features, creamy skin, and strawberry-blond hair. She reminded him of a porcelain doll. Yet there was nothing doll-like about the way her brilliant blue eyes leaped with fire or the quick, light grace of her movements.

"Steve." One slender hand fluttered to her throat, but she revealed no other sign of emotion. "I--I was going to call and let you know. . . ." She sneaked a guilty glance at the suitcase that lay open on her bed. "I'm going to be out of town for the weekend."

With a hot rush, Steven's heart started up again. "This is kind of sudden, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry, Steve." She spoke so softly he had to strain to catch her words. "It's just that-- well, something came up. I am really sorry. I know I should have let you know sooner than this."

He glared at the half-packed suitcase. "Where are you going?"

"I told you. Out of town."

"That could be anywhere. Come on, Trish. It's me you're talking to. Steve. Remember? The guy you're supposed to be in love with. What in God's name is going on here? You've been

avoiding me for weeks, and now this." He gestured angrily toward the suitcase. "I can hardly believe any of this is happening. It's like being in a bad dream."

Two bright spots of color formed on her pale cheeks. "I guess this is it then," she said wearily.

"This is what?" Steven responded in confusion.

"You want to break up. Don't worry, Steve. I understand. I'm--I'm sure it's better this way."

"Wait a minute! What are you talking about? I never said I wanted to break up. I love you, Trish. All I want are some answers." He gripped her by the shoulders. "Trish, can't you tell me what's going on?" he asked gently. "I know there's something wrong. Why can't you trust me enough to tell me?"

Her head dropped forward, her hair sliding down to shield her expression. "There's nothing wrong, Steve," she replied woodenly. "It's just--well, lately I've been thinking maybe we shouldn't see so much of each other. Look, you're away at college most of the time. I'm sure there are plenty of girls you could go out with."

"You're the only one I want!" he protested brokenly, tears filling his eyes. "Unless . . ."

Tricia's head snapped back. A strange emotion blazed in her eyes. "Unless what?"

"Trish, are you trying to tell me you're tired of me? That you want to go out with other

guys?" Steven didn't realize how tightly he was gripping her until she winced.

She didn't answer. She just stood there, looking at him in that strange way, her eyes burning into him. The force of her silence was like a blow. Suddenly Steven knew it was true, the thing he'd been avoiding all this time.

He felt himself growing tight and angry once again. "You've met someone else, haven't you? You're going away with him for the weekend. That's what you don't want to tell me, isn't it?"

Tricia stood pale and still, except for the slight trembling that shook her from head to foot. She didn't say a word.

Steve stared at her in disbelief. Finally he said, "I trusted you. I loved you. I thought you loved me. God, Tricia, do you have any idea how I feel right now? It's like part of me is dying."

"It's better this way, Steve." She spoke mechanically.

"Yeah, I'll bet it is. For you." Abruptly he released her and turned away angrily. He had to get out. He felt as if someone had jabbed him in the gut.

"One more thing," he said in a bitter voice. "Whoever he is, wish him luck for me. I hope he makes out better than I did."

Tricia winced as if he'd struck her, but she made no move to stop him. It was only after she heard the thud of the front door slamming

shut that a single word escaped her like a sigh, half whispered, half moaned: "Steve . . ."

She collapsed onto the bed like a dress slipping from its hanger. She felt so cold, yet when she brought her hands to her cheeks, her face was burning. Scalding tears spilled down her cheeks. Except for the bare bulb casting a fierce white circle of light on the ceiling, the room seemed full of shadows, all crowding in on her.

Her fists were clenched so tightly that she could feel her fingernails digging into her palms. I can't tell him. It's better if he doesn't know the truth. Let him think I betrayed him. It's better if he hates me.

But the feeling that she was doing the right thing did nothing to lessen her misery. With a strangled cry, Tricia turned her face into the pillow. All the emotion she'd held back for Steven's sake came rushing forth in heaving sobs that felt as if they were being torn from her insides, leaving emptiness in their place.

She hadn't known it would be so painful losing Steven. Hurting him the way she had was almost more than she could bear. It was all she could do to keep from breaking down and admitting the truth. But the truth would only hurt him more, she reminded herself sorrowfully.

Tricia could still hear the doctor's words echoing in her mind. ". . . We'll do everything we can, but. . . . With treatment, perhaps six months. . . ."

She hadn't believed it then, but she had

finally begun to accept it. Leukemia. Such an ugly, awful-sounding word. It had haunted her most of her life--ever since her mother had died of it. Tricia had been nine at the time, but she could still remember those dark, horrible days, the dim bedroom smelling of medicine, her mother's gaunt face against the pillow. Her mother had always been so cheerful and full of smiles, but in the end she had wasted away to a dull-eyed skeleton. When she died, it was as if a light had gone out of their lives, especially her husband's. He couldn't seem to pull himself together. Drinking was the only thing that numbed the pain. He had loved his wife so much that something in him died with her. He couldn't face the awful loneliness of life without her.

Tricia didn't want that to happen to Steven. Better to have him stop loving her. Better to have him think she was going away for the weekend with someone else. If he knew the truth--that she was going to the hospital for treatment--he would be devastated. He would only hang on more tightly.

This way it wouldn't hurt so much. Knowing she'd lost him was nearly as terrible as knowing she was going to die. But when you loved someone, you had to sacrifice your own feelings for theirs. This was her sacrifice. Her gift to Steven. The last gift she would ever be able to give him.

Chapter Three

Cara Walker slid into the seat next to Jessica's just as the bus started up. Outside, the white-columned facade of Sweet Valley High, with its Romanesque clock and sprawl of green lawn, swept slowly past.

"Is it true?" Cara asked, her brown eyes shining hopefully. She flipped her smooth, dark hair over one tanned shoulder as she leaned closer to her best friend.

Jessica looked up from the magazine she was reading. "Is what true?"

"You know," Cara replied impatiently. "About Steve and Tricia. Did they really break up?"

"Oh, that. Yeah, it's true. And it's about time Steve dumped her, too." "Steve dumped her?"

"Naturally," Jessica answered in annoyance. "You didn't think any brother of mine would get dumped by a Martin, for goodness' sake."

"No--no, of course not." Cara leaned even closer in her eagerness not to miss a single juicy word. "How did it happen? I want you to tell me everything."

Jessica smiled. Besides being her best friend, Cara was one of the biggest gossips in school. Anything she told Cara was sure to be spread over the entire campus by the next day. This was Jessica's chance to make sure Steven didn't change his mind and go back to that creepy Tricia. Besides, she knew Cara had a personal interest in Steven. She'd always had sort of a crush on him. Maybe that would come in handy, too.

"I don't know all the details," Jessica said in a hushed voice. "All I know is that Tricia's definitely out. Steve told me so himself. Good riddance is what I say. Now maybe Steve can find himself a girlfriend from a decent family for a change."

Cara pretended a sudden exaggerated interest in a piece of fluff that was sticking up from a rip in the seat. "Any candidates so far?"

"Not yet, but I'm sure it won't be long. After -all, Steve's not too bad-looking."

Cara's head snapped up. "Are you kidding? Your brother is a genuine, certified hunk. I wish--" She bit her ftp.

"You wish what?" Jessica's aquamarine eyes took on a mischievous gleam.

Cara was blushing furiously. "Never mind. It was nothing."

"Oh, come on, Cara, why don't you just admit it?" "Admit what?"

"That you're dying to go out with my brother."

"I never said I was dying to go out with Steve," she replied defensively.

Jessica giggled. "No, if you don't count the first thousand times. But even if you hadn't, silly, it's written all over your face."

Instinctively Cara's hands flew to her cheeks. "Oh, Jess, is it that obvious? Do you think Steve knows?"

"Don't worry about Steve. Right now he wouldn't know a brick wall if he ran into it."

Cara sighed. "Great. Does that mean I'll have to hit him over the head to get him to notice me?"

"I've got an even better idea. Don't forget-- you have a secret weapon."

"What secret weapon?"

"Me!" Jessica's smile widened to a dazzling grin. "With me on your side, Steve doesn't stand a chance."

Cara sat back, dazed with happiness. "Wow!

I can hardly believe it. Finally. Imagine me going to all those neat college parties with your fabulous brother. . . ."