Fortune's Hand (31 page)

The heart is such a crazy organ. Now it feels as if it's pounding down toward my legs.… “I'm here,” she said.

“I know it's awful for you, ma'am, but sit tight. We're doing all we can. We've got three men looking besides two off-duty men who volunteered. The boy can't have gone far on foot in this weather.”

“Do you understand about him? You know he isn't—”

“We know, ma'am. Rusty's told us. Besides, most of us have seen you and him in the village. Listen, I better hang up. Somebody'll keep in touch with you every hour, or maybe every half hour. Let you know what's going on.”

“Thank you, Sergeant,” she said.

She was unable to rise from the chair. And then she
knew that in all her life before, she must never have felt real panic. Fear and dread were nothing compared with this that she was feeling now. And she sat there trying to think her way out of it. Don't panic, they say when you are lost. Think. Otherwise you will only go in a circle. But all she could think of were the unspeakable, cruel horrors that filled the newspapers, the television, and casual conversation. He had no judgment and knew no caution. Though he was strong, almost approaching his father's height, he was helpless. And terrible images, bold and black as headlines, flashed before her. A vile pervert has lured him away; he has been run over on the dark road in the storm; he has drowned in the river.

A savage blast of wind rattled the window wall in what was supposedly named the “garden” room. It was this that put strength into her legs so that she ran to see whether the glass had splintered. It had not, but someday it would, and pray that nobody would be in there when it did. The fool of an architect had used enough glass for an aquarium.

The telephone rang. This time it was Rusty's mother. “Oh Mrs. MacDaniel, I'm going out of my mind. Are you alone? Rusty said you told him Mr. MacDaniel was away. I wish I could go up to be with you, but I'm taking care of my sister's little one while she's at work, and Rusty and my husband have gone out with the police. Oh Mrs. MacDaniel, it's the most awful—”

“Poor Rusty, it's not his fault. He mustn't think it's his fault, not for a second. Penn has run away before.”
They were tying up the telephone. “We'd better get off the phone in case they're trying to reach me.”

She went to the front door again and flung it open. Rain, a relentless curtain of thick gray, obscured the house and hid the world.

“He and his investments!” she cried aloud, and stared down the invisible hill until the wind wrested the door from her hand and slammed it shut. “Why isn't he here?”

It was unreasonable to take out her frustration on Robb. The one thing had nothing to do with the other. It was useless to frighten him when he was too far away to do anything. If, God forbid, there was some news that could not wait until morning, she would call.

But right now, this minute, she had no idea what to do! Should she get in the car and go searching for Penn herself? What if the police needed her for information and there was no one here to answer the telephone? Yes, she would have to ask Robb. And she went to the phone with the hotel's number in her hand.

She must keep her voice steady. “Mr. MacDaniel, please,” she said.

When a woman answered the telephone, she hung up and called the hotel number again. “I asked for Mr. MacDaniel's room,” she said with some impatience. When you were desperate, you didn't care much about patience.

“I gave you his room, madam.”

She was quivering. “Are you sure? Try again, please.”

The same voice answered. “Hello? Hello?” It seemed to be bubbling with laughter.

“I'm sorry,” Ellen said. “I'm looking for Mr. MacDaniel, and they keep giving me the wrong room. What is your name, please, so I can explain to the operator?”

“Why, this is Mrs. MacDaniel.”

The laughter was still bubbling when Ellen hung up.

So that's it. I didn't think Robb would do it again. And she sat there with her hand quite limp, still resting on the telephone. Funny, I didn't think he would. He gave me such a promise.

After a minute or two, she heard the cat come in. It had a bell on its collar to warn the birds. Robb was very interested in birds. He liked cats, too. This one was Lulubelle, bought at the shop where, so long ago, they had once paused to admire a litter of white kittens with turquoise eyes. So long ago.

She did not move. It was as if she had lost all fleshly power.

At the half hour, and again at the hour, the telephone brought a report. There was no news yet. The storm was fierce. One of the police cars had met with an accident: a heavy limb had fallen on it, striking the hood. No one had been hurt. Alarms had been sent to police departments throughout the state. She should try to take it easy. They will call the minute they know anything.

The clock struck eleven. Suddenly Ellen could no longer bear the silence or the sickening fear.

“I cannot bear any more,” she said aloud.

And again she turned to the telephone. Five times she heard it ring before she perceived that this was absolutely
senseless
. It was an unforgivable intrusion. She was about to put the receiver down, when the sixth ring was answered.

“Hello?” said Philip.

“It's Ellen,” she said weakly. “I know it's awful to wake you in the middle of the night, but Penn's gone.”

“What do you mean? Gone where?”

“We don't know. He just disappeared from the supermarket, and nobody can find him. Forgive me. I don't know what made me call you, since there's nothing you can do.”

“Let me talk to Robb.”

“He isn't here. He's away.”

“And you're alone?”

“Yes, but it doesn't matter. I only thought maybe … you have always cared so much about Penn … maybe you'd have an idea. But I wasn't thinking straight. I'm sorry.”

“Put some lights on outside if they aren't already on. I'll get there as fast as I can.”

“Oh, no! You can't do that in this weather. It's the worst storm in years. A tree fell on a police car, there are wires down—” she rattled. She had been a fool to call him.

“You don't even know the way,” she cried. But he had hung up.

The outdoor lights blazed along the drive. She drew a chair to the window and watched. Oh, where is the
car that will bring Penn home unharmed? Oh, please. Oh, please.

It was midnight before someone came. When she opened the door, Philip was standing in a stream of rain, wearing a yellow slicker.

“Any news?” he asked.

Ellen shook her head. “You're so good to come. I didn't want you to. However did you find this place? These roads twist like corkscrews.”

“I've passed here before. Now tell me what you can.”

When she had given him the brief account, there was nothing more to say. A few hours ago she had been so in need of some living warmth that even the presence of a cat had been welcome; now a man was sitting with her, and there was no comfort.

“It's damp,” she said. “I'll get something hot. Coffee or tea?”

“Sit down. You don't have to be a hostess, for God's sake.”

The little gesture would have given her something to do, and she said so.

“Then have a brandy. I'll get it if you'll tell me where it is.”

“In there. In the library on a shelf near the desk.”

His wet shoes squeaked on the marble floor. In a minute he was back with two crystal snifters and brandy in a crystal decanter. She wondered what his thoughts might be on seeing this house.

“You warm the snifter between your hands like
this,” he said. “And take a sip at a time.” He smiled. “Of course you know that.”

“Actually, I never take it. I don't like it.”

“But you need it, Ellen. It's medicine.”

The clock chimed a single stroke. One o'clock. Across the floor, weak light from a table lamp drew a path, ending at Philip's feet.

“Don't look at my shoes,” he said. “I just noticed that one is black, and the other brown. You can see how I hurried.”

“You love Penn,” she said, her voice breaking.

“Yes.” A moment later, he spoke again. “Why don't you cry, Ellen? You need to.”

“You told me that once before, I remember.”

It was the day they had gone to Wheatley, the day she had vowed she would not see him alone again. That's when it had been.

“You are so composed, so under control.”

She replied only, “It's the way I was brought up, I guess.” And she looked down at his mismatched shoes.

Silence like a tide flowed into the room. Outdoors, the wind and the rain were beginning to run out of power. In another few hours, the sun would be up, and day would glare upon a terrible grief. As always when in fear, her fists clenched.

The clock struck two. At the same time, the phone rang. They both jumped.

“I'll take it,” Philip said. “Stay here.”

He didn't want her to get the news. It had to be terrible news after all these fruitless hours. He was taking
far too long at the telephone. It didn't bode well. And she sat there, holding herself together.

When he came back, he pulled her out of the chair, shouting, “Can you believe it? They've got Penn, and he's fine, just fine! He's in Hendersonville with some good people on a farm. They found him. They'll be bringing him back to you in the morning. He's fine, Ellen! Fine.”

She began to cry. “What happened? Who are they?”

Philip was so excited that his eyes were shining. “When this man was driving his truck back home to Hendersonville, he found Penn standing, or walking, I don't know which, on the road. Apparently, he'd walked about two miles from the supermarket. And there he was in the middle of the storm. The man thought he was somebody who needed a lift. But when Penn got into the truck, he saw—well, we know what he saw. Now he didn't know what to do. He was worried about his wife and kids at home. He wanted to get out of the storm, and still he couldn't just dump Penn back into it. So he took him home. God, there are some good people in the world! They fed him, gave him some dry clothes, and let him sleep. Then they called the local police, who of course knew all about it.”

Ellen was sobbing. “Who was that on the phone just now?”

“A policeman calling from the home. ‘Randall,' the people are. They've got a load of kids. He has to make a trip back here early tomorrow, and he'll bring Penn. The cop says Penn is perfectly contented. ‘Tell your wife not to worry,' he said.”

“It's crazy for me to be crying like this. Now that it's turned out all right and I know Penn's safe, I'm crying.”

“It's not crazy, it's normal.”

“Such good people! How can I ever thank them?”

“Robb will hardly believe it when he hears about this. When do you expect him?”

It was her child, and he alone, who had filled Ellen's mind. There had been no pain, only an electric shock because of that telephone call to Robb. And now the electric shock repeated itself.

In fresh agitation, she went to the front door and flung it open for air. The rain had completely stopped. Loud drops splashed from the trees. She drew a long breath of the night breeze.

“I know, I know,” Philip said softly behind her. “We've arrived at the stopping point. Now finally Penn has to leave.”

When she did not reply, he spoke with urgency. “He's too old now to live here any longer, Ellen. He needs a programmed life, skilled people to keep him busy, to do what you can't do. You see that, don't you?”

“It isn't Penn. I'm prepared for that. I've accepted it.”

“What is it, then?”

“It's Robb.” And she told him.

When she was finished, he put his arm around her shoulder, comforting her as a father might do.

“I understand,” he murmured. “You feel that your heart has been broken.”

Twisting within his arms, she looked up at him.
“No,” she said, “you don't understand. I'm grieving because my heart is not broken, and it ought to be.”

They looked at each other. Shaken by a reckless, powerful need, without thought, she looked directly into his eyes. Neither of them turned quickly away, as they had done in the past. This time, the long look held.

“Darling,” he said.

And they stood together, fused into one. When at last he could speak, he murmured, “How long I have wanted this! And all the time I knew it would never happen. That first day when you walked in—when was it, a thousand years ago?—you wore a white blouse with a ruffle around your neck. You were black and white, your hair, your face, the most beautiful face I had ever seen.”

She felt his heartbeat and, shifting, brought the two hearts together. Something caught in her throat.

“I haven't come to you with Penn, I've stayed away because it was too hard, too reckless.”

“And I used to make more appointments than you ever needed because I had to see you. Once I even drove out here. That's how I knew the way tonight. I stopped and fought with myself, and left.”

“Oh my dear, my dearest, what are we going to do?”

“I don't know.”

Wind blew a shower out of the water-soaked trees. They moved inside. The unwelcoming house closed around them. They sat down on the sofa and clung together.

“We don't have to talk about how we feel,” he said.
“We've both known it long enough. All I have to say is that the decision is yours.”

“I'm afraid of so many things. Of turning my life, and all our lives, into chaos.”

“I won't ask you to leave Robb, even after what he's been doing. I could never bring myself to steal another man's wife. God knows it's being done these days—it always has been—but it's a dirty business.”

“I'm so unhappy,” she whispered.