To Tell the Truth Page 14

  Andrea took her time dressing, not just to prolong the moment when she had to go down. She remembered the male vigor that had surrounded Tell, the vitally refreshed air. Only a feminine version of the same could hope to stand up under the incredible onslaught of his masculinity.

  The mirror's reflection was satisfying when she was through. The simply styled linen shift with its scalloped neckline and its color like a milky sky pointed out the golden highlights in her dark blond hair and the jade green flecks in her hazel eyes. These same eyes also held a troubled glow. They, and her heart, were the weakness in her armor.

  After slowly descending the stairs, she walked to the breakfast room, taking deep steadying breaths to control the nervous fluctuation of her stomach. All three—Tell, Nancy and their mother—were seated around the table. Tell was calmly sipping a cup of coffee, not even glancing up when Andrea appeared in the doorway. Nancy's troubled expression seemed to echo her own feelings. Mrs. Collins appeared composed until Andrea noticed the nervous way her hands were picking at her napkin.

  "Hasn't John come in yet?" Andrea murmured.

  "Not yet," Nancy answered, glancing anxiously at her half-brother, who had leveled his gaze at Andrea but hadn't bothered to respond to her question. "Mrs. Davison said he would be here in a few minutes."

  Reluctantly, Andrea came the rest of the way into the room. There was a chair vacant next to Nancy on the opposite end of the table from Tell. Ignoring the warming dishes that contained eggs and meat, Andrea poured a glass of orange juice and selected a sweet roll. Her rolling stomach didn't really want anything to eat, but she felt that she had to make the pretense if only for pride's sake.

  "I'm sorry about last night," Nancy offered hesitantly in a low voice.

  "I understand," Andrea answered self-consciously. "I don't blame you for jumping to conclusions after the way I deceived all of you."

  "If you feel that way," Nancy began earnestly, still keeping her voice lowered in an attempt at privacy, "then why can't you understand what Tell is going through? He really loves you, Andie."

  "Nancy, let her be for now," Tell broke in.

  Andrea stiffened, her gaze bouncing away from the directness of his. "Are you letting the condemned eat a hearty meal?" There was a strange and haunting bitterness in her question.

  "Condemned?" he challenged. "Is that the word you would use to describe a life with me?"

  "Of course not," she murmured with a despairing sigh. In her nervousness the butter knife clattered against the saucer.

  "Thank you." There was a mocking inclination of his dark head. "May I pour you a cup of coffee?"

  "Please."

  The whirr of the wheelchair sounded in the hallway outside the breakfast room. Tell held Andrea's gaze for a long moment, letting her break free when the flame-colored dog appeared in the doorway. The setter made an inspecting glance of the room, wagging his tail briefly at Andrea before looking back at his master.

  "Good morning, everyone." John's cheerful voice sounded out of place in the room that had become permeated with tension.

  There were stilted echoes of his greeting by all except Tell, who responded naturally. After a few inquiries about their night's rest, John positioned his chair at the head of the table. Andrea quickly offered to dish his breakfast.

  "I must admit, Tell," John said after Andrea had set his plate in front of him, "I was a little surprised when Mrs. Davison told me you'd returned."

  "I don't know why you should be," Tell responded easily. "I did say I would be back if I could straighten out the few difficulties that had arisen."

  "You did say that," John agreed as he spooned honey on his biscuit, "but I had the impression that maybe you didn't want to come back, from the last of the talks that we had."

  "Where would you get an idea like that?" Despite his relaxed pose, Andrea noticed the watchful sharpening of his dark eyes as he returned John's glance.

  "As I said, it was just an impression," John said shrugging. "Impressions can be misleading, but perhaps you've discovered that." Andrea's gaze darted quickly to John. Had there been a hidden meaning to his statement? "We're all certainly glad you were able to come back, Tell. Isn't that right, Andie?" His warm gray eyes, innocently clear and without any perceptive sharpness, met her troubled look.

  The taut muscles around her mouth could only manage a fleeting and somewhat tense smile. "Of course," she agreed quickly.

  An uneasy silence followed. While John ate, the others displayed an unnatural interest in their coffee, staring at the dark liquid as if it were a crystal ball that could predict the future. As the silence stretched out, Andrea felt her nerves being drawn out by the heavy stillness.

  "It was certainly thoughtful of you, Tell, to bring some of that California sunshine back with you," John said, glancing out the window where the sun was trying to peek through the broken cloud cover. "It's been rainy and gloomy around here for the past few days—ever since you left."

  "I don't think I can take the credit for the sunshine," Tell replied, draining his cup and placing it on the saucer. "There was only fog and gloom in San Francisco while I was there."

  "Andrea," John sighed, pushing his partially clean plate away from him, "I think you were too generous with your portions." A strip of bacon remained on the plate. He took it and gave it to the dog lying beside his chair, unaware of any tension in the room.

  "Mr. Grant," the housekeeper's disapproving voice came from the doorway into the kitchen, "how many times have I told you that you shouldn't be feeding that dog at the table? He gets crumbs all over the floor and grease, too. Do you have any idea how hard that is to clean up?"

  "I'm sorry, Mrs. Davison," John smiled broadly, a mischievous light sparkling in his eyes. "I'll remember the next time. I think we're all finished." He glanced around the table to see if there were any objections to his statement. There were none. "Why don't you bring us some coffee in the living room?" Wiping his hands on the napkin and setting it on the table, he turned the chair away from the table. The dog immediately rose to his feet. "Shall we?"

  John looked back at the others around the table, plainly indicating that he expected them to follow.

  Reluctantly, Andrea became a part of the general exodus from the room. She wanted to ask to see John alone, but she was too self-conscious about her reason to make the request in front of the others. Absently, she chose a chair in the living room that set her apart from the others, an unconscious wish to be left out of the conversation so she could have time to straighten out her thoughts.

  "I have a little story I'd like to tell you," John announced when everyone was settled—as comfortably as the hovering tension would permit—and the housekeeper had brought in the coffee tray. "Andrea knows it. Perhaps some of you know part of it, but I think that all of you will probably find the whole story interesting and enlightening."

  Idly, Andrea wondered which of the stories John intended to relate of the bygone days he had compiled for his book. He and Rosemary had reminisced so often in the past few days that she thought nothing of his statement.

  "It concerns a friend of mine," John began. "We went to school together, but as often happens, life led us down separate paths once we graduated. We did keep in touch, though, and I was best man at his wedding. After I became confined to this—" he patted the arm of his wheelchair "—we didn't see each other quite so often. He and his wife had a little girl, a charming, beautiful creature with her mother's looks and her father's remarkable gift of giving unselfishly."

  Captured by a frozen disbelief, Andrea slowly raised her eyes to John's face, unable to accept that he was actually talking about her. His eyes were gentle as they met her wary look.

  "Several years ago," John went on quietly, "my friend discovered that his wife had cancer. I saw him often during that time, but never once did he ask for pity or exhibit any. I won't bore you by relating the whole tragedy of that time. It'll suffice to say that even though my friend spent every cent he had,
sold everything he owned, borrowed against his insurance, and took advantage of every bit of medical knowledge and personnel that was available, in the end, cancer won. When he lost his wife, my friend seemed to lose his own battle with life. One morning he simply didn't wake up. You can imagine the grief his daughter must have felt at losing both her beloved parents within the span of a few short and disastrous months."

  Andrea bowed her head, aware of Mrs. Collins's shifting uncomfortably on the sofa and Nancy's commiserating look directed toward her. Through the screen of her lashes, she saw Tell intently studying John through the drifting smoke of his cigarette.

  "At the time of her father's death, the girl was engaged, to a rather feckless young man as it turned out. After the funeral, I invited her to spend a few weeks here. It wasn't too great a distance for her fiancé to drive and she had no place to live. I didn't think she'd recovered sufficiently to get on with the business of making a living. Unfortunately, the separation from her boyfriend was not a case of absence making the heart grow fonder. He found someone else more available and more eager to have a good time, so he broke off their engagement less than a month after the funeral." John paused, quietly inspecting his audience. "I don't imagine you can appreciate how traumatic such a series of experiences can be, followed one after the other, unless you'd lived through it yourself."

  "Please, John," Andrea whispered, not wanting him to continue.

  "This isn't necessary," Tell added curtly.

  "Oh, I believe it's very necessary," John disagreed with a wry twist of his mouth, and continued. "After her boyfriend's desertion. I invited her to stay as long as she wanted. At that point, I don't think she cared very much where she was. Unfortunately, the fact began to circulate that there was a beautiful young woman staying in my house and a lot of tawdry rumors began to circulate about her presence. I never exactly understood what they thought I was doing, maybe chasing her around the couch in my wheelchair. I expected the gossip to die, but strangely, it flourished even though it had nothing to feed on. She never said one word about it to me, but I began to feel responsible for adding needlessly to her suffering."

  "Is that why you married her, John?" Rosemary inquired with a proud and disapproving tilt of her aristocratic chin.

  "Not responsibility alone, Rosemary," he corrected. "There was concern for the daughter of an old friend, a fatherly affection for the girl herself, an anxiety about her future, and the very selfish discovery that someone needed me. Plus—" he breathed in deeply and scowled "—I was swayed by her assertion that she would never love anyone again; that she had lost the only man she could ever love, the fiancé who had left her for someone else.

  "I, too, had known such a love and, even though she was very young, I felt I had to consider the possibility that what she said was true. Under the combination of circumstances, I suggested that we be married. She didn't accept immediately, but I managed to persuade her of the practicality of my offer."

  Viciously snubbing his cigarette out in the ashtray, Tell pushed himself to his feet, moving impatiently away from the center of the room.

  "I don't know what the point of all this is, John," Tell said curtly, "but if it's a subtle attempt to let us know that you're aware I'm in love with your wife, then let me admit it freely so we can conclude this discussion. I have a ring in my pocket that I tried to give Andrea earlier, and will do so again, if it's my intentions that concern you."

  "Be patient, Tell." John met his glaring look evenly and calmly. "Your anger and the fact that the ring is not on Andrea's finger leads me to conclude that there's still some point of misunderstanding. I think you share my beliefs regarding the sanctity of marriage, Tell. That you have evidently discarded them because of your love for Andrea pleases me. If you will let me continue, you may find the rest of my story very informative."

  "Do I have a choice?" Tell sighed in disgust.

  John merely smiled and glanced toward Andrea's wan face. "As I said, Andrea did consent to marry me, but she made one stipulation that I wholeheartedly endorsed without questioning her reason. She asked that our wedding be a civil ceremony. It's as legally binding as any conducted by a minister. Only someone, who had a very deep feeling about the permanency of sacred vows exchanged in God's House would appreciate the fine distinction between the two ceremonies. There was also the understanding between us that if, by chance, she ever found someone else she loved, I would very readily grant her an annulment."

  He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and withdrew a folded legal size document.

  "Last December, when Andrea was on holiday in Lake Tahoe, I telephoned her. Am I mistaken in believing that you were the one I talked to first, Tell?" John asked.

  "No, you're not," was the clipped answer.

  "I could tell by Andrea's voice when she subsequently came on the line that she had found that special someone. Foolishly, she had neglected to mention me to you, but I was certain that if you loved her enough you would listen to her explanation—a tardy explanation, I'll admit. At that time I took the liberty of having the annulment papers drawn up—prematurely, as it turned out, but here they are."

  "Were you aware I was the man all along?" Tell asked tersely, a pinched look on his face and agony in his voice.

  "No. That was fate, I guess," John said and shrugged. "But I think I began to suspect shortly after you arrived that you and Andrea had known each other before. Last night…well, your voices carried fairly clearly down the hall to my room."

  He wheeled his chair to Andrea, handing her the document with a tender smile. Her trembling hands accepted it, her chin quivering at his unbelievable understanding and unshakable affection.

  "Now!" John wheeled his chair sharply around to face the others, a broad smile sweeping his strong features. "If I've staged this correctly, Rosemary, this is the moment when you and I and Nancy are supposed to leave the room and let these two people be alone to work the rest of it out for themselves."

  Aware of the room emptying except for herself and Tell, Andrea stared at the document clasped in her hands. The silence continued for an eternity of minutes with neither she nor Tell moving or speaking. Then the brown shine of his neatly polished shoes was before her downcast gaze.

  "Here," Tell said stiffly.

  His right hand was extended toward her. The diamond engagement ring she had returned to him last night was held between his thumb and forefinger. She looked at it blankly, then at his tightly controlled features.

  "I think you should have the chance to throw it in my face for being such a fool!" The anger that glittered in his dark eyes was directed inward, berating himself for ever having doubted her. "I said I would never leave you because, in my arrogance, I thought my love gave me the right to stay. I was wrong. And I was wrong when I accused you of not having any respect for the sacredness of your marriage vows. Your respect is much deeper than mine."

  A hard lump filled Andrea's throat, choking her so completely that she couldn't say the words that filled her heart. With her eyes fixed on his proud, handsome face, she slowly rose to her feet, ignoring the ring still outstretched toward her. A tear slipped from her lashes, then another, sliding unchecked down her cheeks as Tell frowned in pain at the sight of them.

  Two shaking steps and her hands were curved around his waist as her head found its resting place against his chest. A convulsive shudder trembled through him before his arms folded around her and she was crushed against his muscular leanness.

  "Forgive me, darling," Andrea whispered against his throat.

  "What is there to forgive?" he murmured thickly. "I'm the one who was blind."

  "So was I. Don't you see, Tell? I was so busy trying to make you understand me that I didn't try to understand you or the way you were ready to compromise your principles because you loved me." Removing the birthstone ring which had been used as a wedding band, she held out her trembling hand to him, "Would you put it on for me?"

  Carefully, he slipped the diamond
solitaire onto her fourth finger. His mouth was straightly drawn, but the fine lines around his eyes were smiling.

  "I would certainly like to turn you into a bigamist, Mrs. Grant," he teased huskily, then sighed, "but our church wedding will wait until you're legally free, which won't be too long, thanks to John."

  "Yes, thanks to John," Andrea agreed. The warmth of his ring on her finger carried the fire of his love, and there was an answering fire in her heart.

  "We have a lot to thank John for, both of us," Tell said, gazing deeply into her eyes, "but not right now."

  Andrea met his lips halfway, sealing their silent promise to trust, respect, and love each other for the rest of their lives on earth.

  The sun burst from behind a cloud, shining through the lace curtains to bathe the embracing couple in a golden glow. The light flashed over the diamond on her finger, sending a rainbow arc of promise from the circling band of gold.

  All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 1977 by Janet Dailey

  Cover design by Open Road Integrated Media

  ISBN 978-1-4976-1537-3

  This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

  345 Hudson Street

  New York, NY 10014

  www.openroadmedia.com

  Open Road Integrated Media is a digital publisher and multimedia content company. Open Road creates connections between authors and their audiences by marketing its ebooks through a new proprietary online platform, which uses premium video content and social media.