Duplicity (3 page)

"Don't hold your breath. Dirk is just a necessary nuisance."

After her conversation with Rachelle, Ellen delved into her work, trying to put Dirk and the family reunion out of her mind. But she kept remembering little things about him—that devil- may-care smile, the penetrating power of his eyes—so that by the time she was ready for bed, he had become more than a necessary nuisance. He had become an invasion.

She walked out onto her front porch, hoping the tranquility of nature would dispel her eerie sense of having been caught off-guard. She felt like a fort with its battlements down. Not even the sound of the night birds restored the quiet peace of her Beech Mountain compound. Giving a small half- salute to the evening, she turned on her heel and marched inside to arm herself for battle.

 o0o

It was the smell of coffee that woke Ellen. She pushed the tumbled covers aside and sat straight up in bed. The clock on her bedside table said 7:30.
Good grief
, she thought as she bounded for her robe. She was late. Fortunately, Ruth Ann was already making breakfast.

Raking her fingers through her tousled hair, she headed for the kitchen.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Dirk said, turning from the stove. He held a coffee cup in one hand and a spatula in the other. "I thought you said we leave at eight."

Ellen had intended to be angry about his highhanded invasion of her house, but when she saw the white ruffled bib apron tied high around his massive chest, she laughed. "You look ridiculous in my apron."

"I thought it gave me a debonair sort of charm." He turned back to the stove and flipped the eggs. "How do you like your eggs? Sunny-side up?" he asked over his shoulder.

"1 never eat eggs." She walked past him to the refrigerator and tried not to notice the way he watched her. She deliberately turned her back to him as she opened the refrigerator door, but the skin on her neck prickled with the awareness of his gaze. "Who let you in and why are you in my kitchen?" she asked. Looking at the orange juice instead of him made it easier for her to sound businesslike and remote, but not much.

"I let myself in," he said.

"That seems to be a habit of yours."

"It saves time."

She kept her attention focused on the juice, but her hand shook a little as she poured it. What was there about this man, she wondered, that seemed to unnerve her?

"I hope I haven't hired a cat burglar to introduce to my relatives," she said as she set the juice back on the shelf.

He laughed. "I can be anybody you want me to be. Even a cat burglar if you like."

She felt rather foolish still standing with her back to him, but she would rather face a firing squad than turn around and look into those incredible black eyes. To save face she began to putter around in the refrigerator, rearranging the cheese and stacking the butter sticks. "Why don't you become a lawyer?" she asked. "I've already witnessed your fast-talking tactics."

"I have a lawyer friend who would take exception to that remark." The spatula clattered as he dropped it on the counter. "Are you going to join me for breakfast, or do you plan to spend the rest of the day squeezing that butter?" His arms circled her from behind as he removed the mutilated butter stick from her hands.

She felt as if a thousand firecrackers had exploded inside her as his chest pressed into her back and his hands carefully wiped away the butter that had oozed from its foil wrapper. "I can do that," she said. She tried to take the small dish towel from his hand, but she might as well have been a gnat swatting at an elephant.

"This is a part of my contract."

She wondered if he was deliberately pressing closer to her or if her imagination was working overtime. "What contract?"

"Ours. I provide the loving; you provide the lying."

She whirled in his arms and immediately wished she hadn't. She was eye level with a tiny crescent- shaped scar on his chin, and her nose was touching his neck. He smelled of honeysuckle-kissed breezes and early-morning dew and pungent pine needles. He felt as solid as her favorite lookout rock on Beech Mountain and as timeless as nature. She was almost overwhelmed as Dirk washed over her senses, and she leaned against him for a moment to pull herself together. The feeling that he was one with nature persisted, but it was not nature's tranquillity that she was feeling. It was nature's turbulence—the vital, pulsing side of it that frequently assaulted Beech Mountain with thunderbolts and jagged lightning; the awesome side of nature that often made a mockery of man's petty strivings and his puny attempts at civilization.

"Are you judging me for 'lying' to my family?" she asked when she could finally make herself speak. "If so, you can take off my apron and go back where you came from. I don't need you."

He tipped her chin up with one bronzed finger so that she was looking directly into his eyes. "I need you." He spoke with an intensity that left no doubt about his sincerity. "I need a fiancee and a family and an interlude of ordinariness, even if it's only make-believe." His fingers caressed her chin. "No, Ellen, I'm not judging you. I'm using you as much as you're using me. I think it will be a mutually satisfactory arrangement as long as there are no questions asked. I have my secrets and you can have yours."

She drew a shaky breath. "You forgot the gorilla."

Much to her relief he released her and walked to the table, taking a heaping plate of scrambled eggs with him. "How could I forget my hairy sweetheart? She's the main reason I'm going." They both knew his remark was a cover-up, but neither of them wanted to continue the dangerous direction of their conversation. Too much of the self had been revealed, and too many unexpected feelings had surfaced.

Dirk looked up from his plate. "Join me, Ellen. I hate eating alone."

"Is that why you invaded my kitchen?"

"You ask too many questions. Sit over here"—he patted the chair beside him—"so you can prepare me for this reunion." He was not being totally honest, and he knew it. He wanted her to sit beside him so that he could watch the sunlight in her hair. He wanted her there so that he could memorize the exact way her royal-blue silk robe hugged her breasts. He wanted her there for reasons he couldn't afford to admit, even to himself. Dr. Ellen Stanford was the kind of woman he could easily become involved with, and he knew he was skirting the edge of danger. But he and danger were constant companions. Just this once he was going to allow himself the luxury of feeling. He was going to take the next few days as a gift, and when the time came, he would turn and walk away.

With Dirk's presence filling the room, all of Ellen's senses were heightened. She was conscious of the sunlight's warmth coming through the window, of the sensuous feel of her silk robe, of the mingled smells of coffee and eggs. Telling herself it was her natural scientific powers of observation and had nothing in the world to do with the man sitting at her table, she joined Dirk and gave him a capsule history of her Stanford relatives.

"The Stanfords are mostly farmers," she said, "most of them still in middle Tennessee. They are firm believers in motherhood and apple pie and the flag, so if you have any liberal views, I'd suggest you keep them to yourself."

Dirk grinned. "You've hit the jackpot. I'm a diehard conservative. Of course, I prefer cherry pie, but I won't tell a soul."

She liked his sense of humor. If he'd just keep his distance, perhaps this trip wouldn't be so hard after all, Ellen told herself.

"We'll be staying with Uncle Vester and Aunt Lollie." Noticing the way he was waggling his eyebrows at her, she hastened to add, "Separate bedrooms, of course. Remember you're in the Bible Belt, where hanky-panky is not taken lightly."

"I didn't plan to, ma'am. I'm serious about my lovin'."

She had to giggle at his ridiculous drawl. "If you're planning to pass for Southern, forget it. The Stanfords would spot that fake drawl a mile away."

"Aw, gee whiz 'n' shucks, ma'am." His corny imitation of disappointment made her laugh even harder. "I don't want to be a Yankee lawyer. They might mistake me for a carpetbagger and shoot me."

Into all this merriment came Ruth Ann and Gigi. Seeing the man of her dreams, Gigi wasted no time in shuffling across the kitchen and giving Dirk a gorilla kiss. Then she proceeded to hover over him and inspect his hair.

Dirk gave Ellen a lopsided grin. "What did I do to deserve all this?"

"You're the one who wanted to play the game."

Ruth Ann's eyebrows shot up into her Mamie Eisenhower bangs at the look that passed between Ellen and the fake fiance.

"Gigi and I are all set," she said. "If you and your fiance are ready, I think we should be going."

The way she said fiance with her narrow nose pinched and her tight little mouth pursed left no doubt how she felt about the deception. Ruth Ann was a dedicated scientist from the top of her gray hair to the tips of her sensible shoes. She lived by the credo
All work never hurt anybody
, and if it hadn't been for Ellen, the feisty little woman—who was more vinegar than sugar— would have worked round the clock.

Ellen put her arm around the slightly stooped shoulders. "Slow down, Ruth Ann. We're not going to a fire. This is supposed to be a leisurely family visit."

"Humph. No sense letting grass grow under our feet." She shot Dirk another withering look. "Gigi's already asked a dozen times when she’ll see her brothers and sisters."

His eyebrows shot up. "Her brothers and sisters?"

"Uncle Mac's children," Ellen explained. "She adores them. She understands the concept of family and since I'm the only mother she has ever known, she calls my relatives her brothers and sisters." She turned to Ruth Ann. "If you can get Gigi interested in something besides Dirk's hair, he can load the car while I change."

 o0o

The gorilla had to be bribed to give up her careful inspection of Dirk's hair, and twenty minutes later the strange group was assembled beside Ellen's vintage Buick, discussing seating arrangements. "Ruth Ann and Gigi will ride in back," Ellen said, "and Dirk can sit up front with me."

Gigi took exception to that arrangement, and when Dirk slid into the front seat, she abandoned all her sophisticated language training in favor of a primitive temper tantrum. Her gorilla ravings sent a frightened rabbit back to his burrow and startled a quail from the underbrush.

Dirk shrugged and climbed into the backseat. "What can I say? I'm devastatingly charming."

Gigi climbed happily in beside him, and the travelers started their journey to middle Tennessee.

 o0o

"I knew he'd be trouble," Ruth Ann mumbled to Ellen over the roar of the steadfast old Buick engine.

"Everything's going to be all right, Ruth Ann," Ellen assured her. "Besides, Gigi's old enough for a little harmless flirtation."

Ruth Ann crossed her arms on her chest and gazed out the window at the blue morning mists still clinging to Beech Mountain. "It's not Gigi I'm worried about."

Ellen decided to ignore that remark. She was determined that nothing would spoil this trip. Not Ruth Ann's negative attitude, not Gigi's crazy infatuation, not even Dirk's disturbing presence. She was going to enjoy this family reunion, even if the effort killed her.

Each year the journey home was at once a pleasure and a pain—the joy of rediscovering her roots and the sadness of seeing time's ravages on her past. The childhood haunts seemed to shrink with each successive pilgrimage, and remembered heroes took on the smudged tinge of reality.

She knew that part of the changes were in herself and in the time and distance that lent perspective to her viewing, but each year she made the journey. The return to her past enriched her present and lent meaning to her future, and she would no more have neglected it than she would have forgotten how to breathe.

She eased the old Buick down the mountain road at a sedate pace, but after she had crossed the state line between North Carolina and Tennessee, she zoomed along at a hair-raising speed. In the backseat Gigi clapped her hands in delight and Dirk leaned forward with a bit of advice.

"If this thing doesn't have wings," he said, "I think you should slow down."

Ellen was too busy negotiating a curve to reply, so Ruth Ann furthered his education about traveling with a gorilla. "Gigi likes to go fast. We try to give her what she wants in matters like these."

Gigi was now bouncing with glee and signing frantically to Dirk.

He looked from the gorilla to the woman he had privately labeled an old sourpuss. "What did she say?"

Ruth Ann looked at him over the tops of her glasses. "She said, Car fly. Gigi love.' " The look she gave Dirk made him wonder if he had something dirty on his feet. He made a bet with himself that he would make her smile at him just once before this trip was over.

He turned to stare out the window at the blurred scenery and decided that traveling at the speed of light with a gorilla who loved him wasn't nearly as bad as being shot at by hired assassins. He smiled and sat back to enjoy the fireworks. They were sure to come. If he was correct, that blur behind the last bridge had been a patrol car. He winked at Gigi and she winked back. Knowing that primates are great imitators, he spent the next few minutes of grace playing Monkey See, Monkey Do with his hairy girlfriend.