A Touch of Betrayal (24 page)

“This is Alexandra Prescott,” Grant said. Alexandra had hung back by the luggage during the greetings. Now she walked forward and shook Tillie’s hand.

“When Grant phoned us this morning to say he was coming, he told me you’d had quite a time in Kenya.” Tillie’s bright eyes registered concern. “Then Graeme showed me an article in the newspaper. Some lunatic attacked you while you were staying at the lodge in Amboseli? And then he tried to push you out a window at Fort Jesus?”

Alexandra nodded. “That’s it so far. Your brother’s been very helpful.”

“Grant?” Tillie turned to him in mock surprise. “
Helpful
?”

“What’s the big deal?” Grant said, squaring his shoulders. “I can be helpful.”

“My big brother has never been helpful a day in his life,” Tillie confided, linking arms with Alexandra. “He’s a pest. He used to con Fiona and Jessie and me into doing his chores for him. He always talked us into sewing on his buttons and hemming his jeans. When Mama Hannah told us it was time to put away our toys and clean up our rooms, Grant would suddenly vanish. Half an hour later we’d find him up the pepper tree in our front yard.”

“Lies,” Grant barked. “All lies. Alexandra, don’t listen to a word she says.”

“Ha! I bet your place looks like a shrine to bachelorhood, Grant Thornton—no food in the fridge, dishes in the sink, clothes piled on chairs. Am I right, Alexandra?”

“He lives in a tent,” she said.

“A tent!” Tillie crossed her arms over her bulging stomach. “Oh, Grant, that’s pathetic. It really is. What about that house you bought in Nairobi? Do you ever even visit it?”

“You own a
house
, Grant?” Alexandra asked.

“I guess so.” He rubbed a hand around the back of his neck. He felt about as uncomfortable as he had the day a pair of charging rhinos chased him up a tree. “I bought some property a few years ago. I had extra money from a book contract, and I didn’t want to put it in the bank. Inflation can eat you up in Kenya. So, I bought a house. At least, I think I did,” he concluded, winking at Graeme.

Tillie rolled her eyes at Alexandra. “I bet he never even looked at the place before he put down his money,” she said. “My brother is the most wonderful, loyal, good-hearted man in the world. But he’s in bad need of a good woman.”

Grant groaned. “Tillie, give it a rest.”

“Don’t you agree, Mama Hannah?” Tillie asked.

The older woman nodded. “For his dinner, your brother eats chocolate candy bars.”

“Kit Kat bars, I bet,” Tillie said. “Something has to be done about this. Mama Hannah, are you with me? And, Alexandra, how about you? Are you willing to tackle my big brother’s case of bacheloritis?”

“I’ve been working on it already,” Alexandra said, and Grant caught the unmistakable sparkle in her blue eyes. “I don’t know, though. He’s pretty set in his ways.”

“Stodgy.” Tillie nodded, throwing an arm around Mama Hannah’s shoulders. “I know exactly what you mean. Come on, ladies, let’s head over to the apartment for a cup of tea. Maybe we could talk Jessie into flying up from Zanzibar for a few days. And then there’s Fiona. Nah, she’s as bad as Grant is. But with a little work . . .”

Grant stood by the luggage cart and studied the three musketeers who had made it their quest to reform him. They could not be an odder bunch. Tall, lithe Alexandra strolled arm in arm with waddling Tillie, who had her other arm around tiny, wizened Mama Hannah.

“A formidable trio,” Graeme said, coming to stand by him. “Are you sure you’re up to the fray?”

Grant couldn’t hide his grin. “I’d say the odds are against me.”

“Would you like an ally in the battle for male freedom?”

“Looks like you surrendered a long time ago, pal.”

“And glad of it. Tillie’s great.” Graeme rubbed his chin. “On the other hand, I waged my own war against the civilizing forces of the female gender for a good many years. I’d hate to see a fine soldier like you fall into one of their snares. Unless, of course, it was worth it.” He hooked Alexandra’s flowered tapestry cosmetics bag with a forefinger and dangled it in front of Grant. “Would it be worth it?”

Grant smiled. “It might be, you know. It just might be.”

The two-bedroom apartment Tillie and Graeme had rented in the Westlands area of Nairobi was exactly what Grant would have expected of his sister. Tidy and clean, it contained little furniture and about a hundred plants. Clay pots sprouting green vegetation lined up along the windowsills. More pots hung suspended by twine from the curtain rods. Still others nestled in the corners of the living room and marched down the kitchen counters.

“How long have you been living here, anyway?” Grant asked, peering between the leaves of a philodendron at the city lights outside.

“A couple of months.” Tillie sprawled Buddha-like on the sofa and peered over her stomach as the others cleared the evening meal. “I’ve been collecting every plant I can get my hands on. I’m going to take them back to Mali and find out if they’ll grow. You should fly up and take a look at my experimental substation, Grant. The government finally awarded me a big stretch of land up north near the desert around Timbuktu. It’s been rough, but my trees are hanging on.”

“Mama Hannah said the tribes-people up there gave you a hard time,” Grant said, joining his sister on the sofa. “Some warrior chieftain kidnapped you?”

“Actually,
Graeme
kidnapped me.” Tillie laughed at his expression. “Don’t get your feathers ruffled, big brother. It worked out, didn’t it?”

“Did it?” Grant eyed the dark-haired man in the kitchen; then he studied his sister. “Are you happy, Tillie-Willie?”

She smiled at his use of her childhood nickname. “I’m more than happy,” she said softly. “I’m blessed. Graeme and I have seen God’s hand in our lives in such a powerful way. We’ve both grown so much.”

“I can see that,” he said, cocking an eyebrow at her stomach.

“That’s not what I meant, doofus.” She flicked him on the shoulder. “Give me your hand. Come on, now. Put it right there on the baby. Wait a minute. Wait . . . wait . . .”

Surprised at the firmness of her stomach, Grant held his breath and stared at the solid mound. Suddenly something moved under his palm—like a marble rolling under a sheet. He jerked his hand away. “Wow, what was that?”

Tillie gave a deep laugh. “That was your nephew’s elbow. Or your niece’s big toe.”

“No kidding?” He placed his hand on her stomach again. “When are you due?”

“Another month—and I’m about to go nuts waiting. Graeme’s been wonderful, though. He’s as excited as I am about the whole thing.” She giggled as Grant laid his ear against her belly. “You’re not going to hear anything but my stomach gurgling.”

“Whoa! He kicked me!”

“Tell me about it. The kid’s going to make a great soccer player one of these days.” She feathered her fingers through her brother’s hair. “How about you, Grant? Don’t you want to be a daddy someday? Aren’t you curious about all this stuff ? I mean,
family
. The Thornton kids didn’t exactly grow up in the normal way, you know. Don’t you want to try it out for yourself ?”

Grant straightened and wrapped his arms around his sister, pulling her close. “You know me pretty well, Tillie. Think I’d be any good at the husband and dad routine?”

“With the right woman by your side, you would.” She tugged on one of his curls. “I like Alexandra a lot.”

“I do, too.” He focused on the tall blonde as she stacked plates in a cabinet. “But she lives in New York.”

“Mmm.”

“She’s an artist.”

“Uh-huh.”

“She’s rich.”

“Ooh.”

“And she’s religious. Christian.”

“You’d better marry her quick.”

Grant laughed. “Come on, Tillie. You know I couldn’t live in a big city like New York any better than you could. I’d be a fish out of water.”

“I don’t see that as much of a problem. It’s the religion thing that’s going to doom you. If Alexandra is really a believer, she’s not going to want to be yoked to a pagan like you.”

“I’m not a
pagan
.”

“What are you, then?”

“I’m a scientist. I need proof before I believe something exists.”

Tillie took his hand and laid it on the moving mound of her stomach. “Feel this, and tell me there’s not a God, Grant. This baby is your proof. And Mama Hannah is your proof. After Mom died, Dad could have hired any number of women to look after us kids. He chose
her
. Don’t tell me that was an accident.”

“I know, but—”

“Alexandra is your proof, too. You don’t think gorgeous blondes come walking into the lives of renegade anthropologists every day, do you? God has a plan for you, Grant Thornton. He wants your love. He wants your surrender. If you’d just take off your blinders, maybe you’d see him as clearly as Alexandra does.”

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. Then she heaved herself off the sofa and padded into the kitchen. “Hey, everybody,” she said. “Let’s divvy up the rooms and hit the hay. I’m bushed.”

Before Grant could put in his two cents’ worth, his little sister had assigned him the living room couch and plopped a pile of blankets and pillows on a nearby chair. Alexandra and Mama Hannah disappeared into the spare room, while Tillie made a beeline for her own bed. Graeme remained for a moment, switching off lights and checking the water level in some of his wife’s plants.

“Need anything?” he asked, pausing beside the couch.

Grant gave a little chuckle. Yeah, he needed a lot. Explanations. Reasons. Answers.

“Not unless you’re smarter than I am,” he said finally.

Graeme’s dark brows lifted. “Maybe I am, maybe not. At least I was smart enough to know a good thing when I saw it. And I married her.”

“Treat my little sister right, buddy.”

“I do.” He smiled. “She loves you a lot, you know. Not a day goes by that Tillie doesn’t mention you in her prayers.”

“You listen to her praying?”

“Sure. We pray together. The first time we did it, I felt pretty ridiculous down on my knees on the living room floor talking out loud to God. Now, my day doesn’t go right without it.” He shrugged. “Prayer is part of the bond between Tillie and me. Our faith is our foundation, you know?”

No, I don’t know,
Grant wanted to say.
And what’s an intelligent guy like you doing down on his knees talking to some nebulous entity? And how can faith be a foundation when you can’t even put your finger on it?

“Whatever,” Grant said.

Graeme glanced down the hall. “Looks like the bathroom’s all yours.” He started for his bedroom. “Tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow.”

Grant stood, picked up his bag, and rooted around for his toothbrush, hoping somebody had left a tube of toothpaste in the bathroom. Down in the bag, his hand brushed the little Bible he had found in Alexandra’s suitcase and put into his pocket. He’d intended to return the book to her, but he hadn’t gotten around to it.

Picking it up now, he opened the burgundy-leather cover and turned through the pages. His eye scanned familiar names, familiar stories, familiar words. How many hours had he spent on Mama Hannah’s lap listening to her read from her own little Bible? He had loved those times. Perhaps they had even been the spark that led to his fascination with the study of ancient oral myths.

But
truth?
Could truth really be hidden somewhere in the black printed words of the Bible? Alexandra had said she believed that Jesus Christ himself was Truth. Grant flipped to the concordance in the back of the little book. In a moment, he had sunk onto the couch again and was riffling through the thin, crinkly pages.

In the Gospel written by Jesus’ disciple John he found an intriguing verse. “While Jesus was teaching in the Temple, he called out, ‘Yes, you know me, and you know where I come from. But I represent one you don’t know, and he is true. I know him because I have come from him, and he sent me to you.’”

Grant studied the words a moment. Like the people in the temple, he didn’t know the truth Jesus claimed to represent. Mama Hannah wouldn’t like it, but her
toto
was probably as great a doubter as the worst traitors in the Bible.

He scanned through further chapters, searching for a character who might represent himself in this elaborate mythology. What about Pontius Pilate, the governor of Judea? At the trial of Jesus, Pilate was as full of questions as Grant would have been. Are you the king of the Jews? Why have you been brought here? What have you done? Are you an earthly king, then?