To Tell the Truth Page 11

A wry smile pulled up the corners of her mouth as she whistled for Shawn. A few seconds later the setter was trotting out of the dark, moonlight shimmering over his bright coat. He pushed his nose against her hand in greeting, then turned toward the house. As always, he was anxious to get back to John.

  In the house, Andrea took the corridor leading to the master bedroom, but the setter didn't follow. She glanced back, surprised. He was looking at her anxiously, then toward the hallway. Andrea frowned, then realized that John had evidently not gone to bed and was somewhere in the house.

  "Okay, Shawn," she smiled, retracing her steps. "Where is he?"

  With a whine of gladness, the setter whirled quickly around, making straight for the closed study door. Only a flicker of light gleamed beneath it. Andrea tapped once, waiting for John's response before entering.

  There were no lights on in the room, but the setter made his way to the wheelchair with unerring accuracy. A fire had been lit in the fireplace some time ago. Red coals were all that remained with an occasional, fired flame springing to life only to fade into the embers.

  The faint red glow strangely made the wings of gray in John's hair seem more silvery and white. He was staring into the expiring fire, his strong face heavy with concentration. Andrea walked quietly toward him and stood behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders.

  "It's getting late, John," she prodded gently.

  He patted one of her hands, then clasped it and drew her around in front of him. "I'll be turning in shortly," he said arid smiled faintly as she settled onto the floor beside him.

  "What's wrong?" Andrea asked quietly, her hand still held in his.

  "Nothing," he sighed.

  "Something is troubling you—I can tell. Now what is it?" Her voice was soft, wanting to reach out to him as he had to her so many times in the past.

  "Oh—" he drew his gaze away from the fire with an effort "—I'm afraid I put my foot in it this time."

  Her brows drew together curiously. "What do you mean?"

  His mouth tightened ruefully. "I finally got up enough nerve this morning to comment to Rosemary on Tell's less than agreeable behavior. She told me about his misfortune with love this year."

  Just 'this year'? Andrea wondered. Had Rosemary given him no specific dates and places that might enable John to put two and two together and come up with Andrea and Tell? She held her breath, waiting to see if he was going to ask the crushing question.

  "She asked me to talk to him. Everyone else had tried, but no one had got through his armor of bitterness. So I talked to him this afternoon, shortly before he left."

  "And?" The darkness of the study hid her tense expression.

  "And I'm the one who prompted his sudden departure," John concluded with a heavy sigh. "I shouldn't have interfered."

  "Don't say that," Andrea protested.

  "Why shouldn't I say it? Tell did," he encountered with rueful lightness.

  "What did he say?" She bent her head, apprehension lurking like the darkness of night waiting to rush in when the last glow from the fire died.

  "I barely got out what I wanted to talk to him about when he cuttingly informed me that he wasn't about to be lectured by me. I tried to explain, as I did with you, that losing at love should make a person stronger, not harder. That's when he told me that he was leaving and that he doubted he would be back and would I kindly refrain from discussing his personal life in future."

  Andrea let out her breath slowly. The last request had been issued as a means to protect both of them from discovery. It was cold comfort.

  "You tried, John," Andrea murmured, remembering with an ache the time she had tried to explain to Tell and was turned away. "It isn't your fault he wouldn't listen."

  "No, I suppose not. But a person always wonders that if he handled it differently, the end result might have been changed." Regret entered his voice.

  "It's late." She struggled to her feet. "It's time we both were in bed. Would you like some help?"

  "No, you go on. I'll stir out the fire, then push myself off to bed." He waved her offer aside before reaching for the poker and wheeling his chair to the firescreen.

  "Good night, John."

  "Good night, Andie. Thanks for listening. I only wish Tell had."

  "Sometimes people feel that they have to find their own way without any help," she suggested, knowing that she had been unable to turn to John this time as she had done in the past.

  "You sound very wise," he said as he smiled.

  "I learned from you how to stand and walk with my head up," Andrea reminded him. It had been one of the most important lessons she had learned.

  "I'm glad. I'd hate to think that I had made a mess of your life."

  "You couldn't do that." Wishing him another good night, Andrea opened the study door and walked into the hallway.

  The sleeping pills were slow to work their magic that night. Tell was gone. No matter how she tried to push that fact from her mind, it kept slipping back. The first time they had parted, she had cried with heartbreak. This second time, she knew a pain beyond tears. If there had ever been any hope that someday they might meet again and rekindle the love they had shared, it had died with this second meeting.

  To live without a dream was a frightening prospect. Andrea wished she could cry for herself and her future. She blinked her dry eyes, but they remained parched.

  IT WAS THE HEAVENS that cried for her—slow, steady tears of rain gloomily dampening the earth. Melancholy gray clouds blocked out the sun for two straight days. There was a mourning hush to the world outside. The breeze stopped playing in the trees and the mating calls of the birds were silenced. There was only the rhythmic pitter-patter of the tears falling from the clouds.

  Nancy was standing at the window, gazing out at the unchanging scene of steadily drizzling rain. Thrusting her hands in the pockets of her slacks, she turned away.

  "I thought the San Francisco fog was depressing sometimes, but it has nothing on this." Her hand made an impatient gesture toward the window.

  "Come over here," her mother suggested. "It's much cheerier by the fire."

  Obligingly, Nancy walked over to stand in front of the friendly, crackling flames. She stated into them for long minutes, then sighed again.

  "I wish Scott would call," she said.

  "Nancy, you're becoming as moody as the weather!" Rosemary smiled and shook her head, barely glancing up from the needlepoint in her lap.

  "After two days, I'm not surprised that it's rubbed off on to me," she retorted.

  "Why don't you find yourself a book in John's study and read? It's a perfect day for it. Mrs. Davison is making some cocoa. It'll be here in a few minutes," Rosemary Collins replied, then glanced at Andrea. "What are you reading, Andrea?"

  She had been aware of the conversation between mother and daughter, but she wasn't paying attention. The sound of her name stopped her wandering mind from thinking about Tell and what he might be doing, and forced it to concentrate on the people around her.

  "I'm sorry," Andrea murmured self-consciously. "What did you say?"

  "That must be a good book." A brow was arched lightly in a teasing look as Rosemary repeated her question. "What are you reading?"

  The book had been lying open in her lap at the same page for so long that Andrea couldn't remember which book she had taken from the shelf. Nervously she flipped the pages to the front of the book.

  "It's a collection of short stories by Hemingway," she answered.

  "I don't think she's been reading at all," Nancy said laughingly as Andrea shifted her position on the seat cushions of the bay window. "I think she's been staring out the window, daydreaming."

  "Mostly," Andrea admitted with a slightly red-faced smile.

  "I'm not in the mood to read, either," Nancy stated emphatically. "And after playing solitaire nearly all of yesterday afternoon and discovering on the last game that there were only fifty-one cards in the deck, I'm not in the mood to play cards, eithe
r. Do you know how impossible it is to win with the ten of spades missing?" she asked with a rueful laugh.

  Closing the book in her lap, Andrea sat it on the cushion beside her, swinging her stockinged feet to the floor. Now that she had been drawn into the conversation, it was impossible to ignore her duties as hostess despite the private sorrows of her heart. The rest of her life was ahead of her. There would be more than enough time to remember those precious days with Tell, and to learn how to endure the aching loneliness of trying to live without him.

  Mrs. Davison walked into the riving room with a tray. Marshmallows bobbed in the rich, steaming mugs of cacao.

  "Would you be wanting any cookies or cake?" she asked as she set the tray on the rectangular marble table in front of the sofa.

  "All I've done since it started raining is eat," Nancy sighed. "Please don't bring any food or I'll have to spend the next month dieting to lose the weight I've gained." A mischievous twinkle entered her eyes. "There are only three times that I overeat, as mother will tell you. One is when it's raining. Two is when I have nothing to do and the last is when I'm missing Scott. So you see, I'm in real trouble."

  "Please, Mrs. Davison, no snacks," her mother agreed, "It's bad enough hearing her complain that she has nothing to wear without hearing her moan that her clothes don't fit!"

  "Very well, miss," the housekeeper smiled faintly. "The weatherman said there'd be a chance of showers tomorrow, though, so there'll be no immediate hope for two of her problems."

  Nancy gave an expressive groan of dismay.

  "What about a game of backgammon?" Andrea suggested. "Do you play?"

  "Sounds great!" the brunette endorsed the suggestion, pushing the silky fine hair from her face.

  "I'll go and get the board." Andrea set her mug of cocoa on a coaster and went in search of the backgammon set.

  They were in the thick of the first game, sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace with the board balanced on their laps, when Andrea spied Shawn out of the corner of her eye as he investigated her mug of cocoa. Quickly she pushed it out of reach of the setter's questing nose.

  "Be sure your cup is out of reach," she warned Nancy. "He's crazy about marshmallows, especially if they're half-melted in hot chocolate."

  "His one major fault," said John, entering the room after the setter. "He knows he's not supposed to, but he'll knock over a cup of cocoa just to get the marshmallows. Won't you, feller?" he asked the dog, which was gazing adoringly back at him, wagging its tail slightly as if in apology for the weakness in its character.

  "Everybody has their faults, even dogs," Nancy observed. "Mine is my inability to beat anyone at backgammon."

  John wheeled his chair closer. "Is that what you're playing?"

  "Yes, and naturally Andrea is winning." The dice dropped from the girl's hand and rattled across the board.

  "I'm not much good at games," he commented after watching them play for a few more minutes. "Andrea has been trying to teach me backgammon ever since she learned it last winter.

  "You certainly had a good teacher," Nancy sighed, studying the board with a frown. "Who was it? I'd like to sign up for a few lessons about now."

  Swallowing nervously, Andrea smiled and pretended that the question had been asked in jest and didn't require an answer. She couldn't very well tell Nancy that her own half-brother had taught her the game.

  "It was somebody you met at Squaw Valley who taught you, wasn't it, Andie?" John asked curiously.

  "At Squaw Valley?" Rosemary glanced up from her needlework with a frown. "John, you surely didn't make the trip to Squaw Valley last winter, did you? They have six to eight feet of snow there and more. How could you possibly get around?"

  "I didn't go. Andrea went on a skiing holiday," he explained.

  "Alone? Without you, John?" The older woman's frown deepened.

  The thinly veiled disapproval in her voice brought a hint of embarrassed pink to Andrea's cheeks. She kept her gaze downcast, but she felt Nancy's eyes inspecting her face.

  "Heavens, mother," Nancy defended, "there's nothing wrong with wives going somewhere without their husbands. Look at you. Right now you're here without daddy."

  "Well, yes…" But the unfinished comment indicated that Rosemary thought the circumstances were entirely different.

  "Our whole family used to go quite often." Nancy began to talk lightly to ease the faint tension that had sprung into the air. "Were you there during the Christmas holidays? We spent one Christmas there. It was so crowded that skiers were nearly bumping into each other on the slopes."

  "No, I don't like to be away from home on Christmas," Andrea hedged, not admitting when she was there.

  "I suggested," John spoke up, "That she go over the New Year's weekend so she could celebrate with some young people instead of staying home with me, but she insisted on taking her trip on the first of December."

  "The first of December?" Nancy repeated, astonishment parting her lips. "Andrea, that's when Tell was there!"

  "Was where?" Andrea, asked blankly.

  "At Tahoe. At Squaw Valley, to be more precise. He took his holiday there the same time as you. Isn't that a coincidence?"

  "Yes, it is." Andrea passed Nancy the dice, hoping to distract her attention back to the game.

  But Nancy clutched the dice in her hand, her expressive face reflecting the thought that had flashed across her mind, expectant and anxiously excited. "Did you see him?" she whispered.

  For a minute Andrea wanted to pretend that she didn't know who Nancy meant, but she didn't think she would be believed.

  "No, I didn't." She shook her head. "It's your turn."

  Nancy rolled the dice around in her hands, a thoughtfulness invading her eyes. "Isn't it strange that you didn't see Tell? You didn't see him, did you?"

  "Your brother is hardly someone I would forget had I ever met him before he came here," Andrea lied. Her heart seemed to stop and start a hundred times, especially when the light in Nancy's eyes became vaguely suspicious.

  "Where were you staying?"

  "I rented an apartment for a week." That was a half-truth anyway, but she needed something more to convince Nancy. "Considering all the people who were there at the time, it's really not surprising that I didn't meet him. Besides, I kept to myself—I didn't really go out and socialize."

  "No, I suppose not." The agreement was made with reluctance. "Tell really enjoys playing backgammon. Like everything else, he's very good at it," Nancy commented.

  The very fact that she didn't glance at Andrea seemed to say that she hadn't completely given up the notion that Andrea and Tell might have met. Outwardly, Andrea appeared composed and interested only in the game they were playing. Inside, she was quaking like an aspen leaf in a storm.

  "It's getting to be a very popular game," was Andrea's smiling response. "And it's still your turn."

  "It's no wonder you hardly ever win, Nan," her mother teased. "You start talking and your mind gets off on another track. You have to learn to concentrate on what you're doing."

  There was a brief moment when Andrea thought Nancy wasn't going to let the subject drop and a cold chill of dread raced down her spine. But it wasn't brought up again. Still, there was a wary curiosity in Nancy's expression each time she glanced at Andrea, as if she guessed that Andrea had not told her the truth. Andrea realized there was a stubborn streak in Nancy just as there was in Tell. She doubted very much if she had heard the last of Nancy's questions.

  With that fear haunting her, Andrea stayed close to John and Rosemary for the rest of the afternoon, not allowing Nancy any opportunity to maneuver her into a private talk in case Andrea made some slip that might give her away. It was hard to do because she liked Nancy very much. She just couldn't take the chance of arousing the girl's suspicions again, since Nancy was so clever.

  At half past four, Adam Fitzgerald called at the house to see John on business. Andrea answered the doorbell, smiling a relieved welcome at the sight of his fami
liar face. He handed her a small paper sack as he walked in the door.

  "What's this?" Andrea frowned curiously.

  "I called in at the drugstore and Sam, the pharmacist, sent it with me. He said you'd asked to have it delivered," Adam replied.

  In the confusion of the near discovery by Nancy, Andrea had forgotten that she had telephoned the pharmacy that morning to have her prescription for the sleeping tablets refilled. Pulling her mouth wryly at her forgetfulness, she took the package and set it on the foyer table for the time being.

  "Of course it is for me," she admitted. "I guess I didn't expect you to be bringing it."

  Adam tilted his head to the side. "You look pale. Aren't you feeling well?"

  "I'm fine," Andrea said hurriedly. "I just haven't been getting much sleep lately, that's all."

  "Are you still having that problem?" he said, frowning in concern.

  She forced the tense muscles in her face into a smile. "It's more of an inconvenience than a problem," she shrugged.

  "Does John know you take them?"

  "Of course he does. I don't keep it a secret."

  A sandy brow arched slightly at her defensive tone, but Adam let the subject drop as Andrea turned toward the living room. "Is John in there?" he asked.

  "Yes."

  "Would you have him meet me in the study?" he requested turning toward the corridor that led to the paneled room.

  "Adam," Andrea spoke hesitantly, "if you don't have anything planned would you join us for dinner this evening?" The longer she could keep a barrier between herself and Nancy, the better her chances would be that Nancy might forget her suspicions and Andrea would be safe again.

  "As a matter of fact, I'm at a loose end this evening." His cheeks dimpled in a regretful smile. "Carolyn is babysitting with her sister's children tonight."

  "Good." Andrea breathed a silent sigh of relief. "I'll tell John you're in the study and have Mrs. Davison put an extra potato in the pot. After almost three days of being imprisoned in the house by the rain, a fresh face is what we all need at the dinner table tonight."

  "There's supposed to be more of the same tomorrow," he grinned.

  "Don't remind me," she laughingly said over her shoulder as she started into the living room.