Joker's Wild (4 page)

“Sometimes we don’t understand why things happen,” Joker said seriously. “I just knew the
moment I came to this house that this was where I belonged. I need this place, and you need me. What say we help each other? Deal?” He took her hand again and squeezed it gently.

“Joker, I’m sure my grandmother is immensely fond of you, but I really came here to … be alone to make decisions that only I can make. I don’t know if I can do that if you’re constantly around. You seem to be able to get inside my mind and that bothers me.”

“I don’t want you to be afraid of me, Beauty. I only want you to be well.” He stroked the palm of her hand with his thumb, feeling her tension begin to disappear. He hadn’t meant to make her uneasy. He hadn’t meant to touch her. But she seemed to need him.

“All right,” she finally agreed, sliding her fingers from his grip. “If Gran trusted you, so will I, for now—if you’ll confine your work to the grounds. It’s getting late, and I’m very tired. Just leave the dishes, and I’ll do them tomorrow.”

She struggled to her feet, looked helplessly around, and turned back to the man sitting on the other side of the table. “Would you please bring me my crutches? I’m afraid I can’t get far without them.”

“No problem, Beauty, I’ll take you up. I need to close the other bedroom doors.”

“Why?”

Joker swung her up into his arms and started up the stairs. “So that the attic fan will pull cool air through your bedroom windows.”

“That’s not what I meant. I mean, why do you insist on carrying me?”

“You’re too tired to be steady on those crutches
tonight. If you have to go some place during the next few days, I’ll carry you—until you can walk there on your own.”

“You’ll do no such thing. You’re not an orderly or my houseboy. I appreciate your kindness, but I need to practice being on my own.”

“And I told you that we’re going to be friends, Allison Josey. A friend never turns his back on another friend. And I have a very strong back. I won’t let you fall.”

He was doing it again, creating a kind of still, secret calm with his touch. He made her feel warm and peaceful at the same time her senses were reeling. She’d felt this same sort of frozen excitement before, just before she stepped onto the ice at a skating competition.

“Did my grandmother truly give you permission to stay in the carriage house?” Allison was forced to put her arms around his neck. His beard brushed her cheek, and his muscles quivered beneath her fingertips.

Joker felt how thin she was, and his concern grew. Her fighting spirit was still strong, but she might be physically incapable of coping with being alone. Her breast brushed against his elbow, and she jerked away. She wasn’t as unaware of him as she pretended. He saw her studying his face and he smiled.

“Yes, ma’am. Miss Lenice took me in, she did, as I expect she’ll tell you tomorrow. I’ll take you for a visit.”

“Visit? Oh, no. I can’t go out yet. I’ll call her. I don’t want her … anyone to see me on crutches.”

He reached her bedroom door, walked straight through to the bathroom, deposited Allison on the
closed toilet seat, and turned on the water in the tub.

“You should take a hot bath and soak a while. I’ll bring you a nightgown.”

Allison stood quickly, groaned, and sank back to her seat, grimacing. “Please, Joker, go away, I’ll manage on my own. I have to learn how—sooner or later.”

“Later,” he agreed and disappeared into the bedroom. In seconds he was back, holding a long cotton gown in a tiny pink rosebud pattern that had ruffles around the yoke and hem. “Tonight you have … a maid.”

“A male maid?” Allison shook her head, taking the nightgown from his grasp. “I don’t think so. For months I’ve had people dressing and undressing me, putting me to bed, and getting me up. I’ll manage.”

Joker saw the shadows under her eyes. She was exhausted, in pain, and uncertain of his motives, but she wasn’t giving in. She had nowhere to turn, and he was overwhelming her. He hadn’t meant to make her uncomfortable. The last thing he ever wanted to do was add to her pain. He took a step back, touched his fingertips to his lips, and blew her a kiss.

“All right. Good night, Beauty. I’ll raise the drawbridge and feed the crocs in the moat. Sleep well.” He turned and pulled the door closed behind him, leaving a confused expression on the face of the woman of his fantasies.

“Good night,” she whispered, catching a glimpse of the rosy-faced woman in the mirror before her. Suddenly she realized that the woman was herself. She was tired, but she looked … alive. Listening to
Joker’s receding footsteps, she took off her clothes and stepped into the steamy water.

He was entirely too male. Nothing like the strong, graceful skaters she knew, this man was solidly in touch with the earth. Yet there was a mythical quality about him that reached out and found that tiny sliver of enchantment hidden deep inside her psyche. Beast? He wasn’t a beast. He was just a man who was larger than life, who’d declared himself a part of hers.

Tomorrow she’d check with her grandmother about this red-haired Viking who’d appointed himself her protector—and friend.

“Oh, Allison,” she heard him call out, “if you need me, just yell out the window. I’ll hear you. And don’t worry. You don’t have to see anybody you don’t want to. I know a back way to the nursing home.”

Allison locked her bedroom door and leaned against it. She was going to bed even though there was a strange man on her property. Yet, curiously enough, she wasn’t afraid. Joker. What a unique man he seemed to be, a man who seemed to care about her. Dare she believe him?

She’d believed Mark when he’d said he loved her. And he’d let her down. For him she’d skated when she shouldn’t have, and now her career was over. Could she trust this man she barely knew? She shouldn’t. But she did.

Allison unlocked her door and swung herself around to the window.

From the foot of the stairs, Joker heard the lock snap closed. Moments later he heard her unlock it again. He smiled and let himself out into the star-studded night. He stretched his taut muscles and
breathed in the summer smells from the garden as he thought of Allison asleep upstairs in her brass bed with the pink print spread. His arms felt empty without her.

Standing in the courtyard, he could almost hear the night music, sweet and romantic, played by an imaginary string quartet in the gazebo. Yes, they would have walked there, those romantic couples from the past.

Through the window above the courtyard Allison watched the tall, muscular man take a deep bow and lift his hand. He began to waltz lithely around the garden, holding his imaginary partner gracefully in his arms. As he reached the steps leading up to the carriage house, he stopped, gave a second deep bow, and moved away into the darkness. Allison felt a pang of regret that the woman he’d held hadn’t been she.

At the top of the stairs Joker paused. Like the town crier on his appointed rounds, he pealed out his evening report. “Ten o’clock and all’s well. Or it will be,” he whispered to the lady in the upstairs window.

He didn’t turn on the lights as he walked through the moonlight into the bedroom. His quarters were old and comfortable. Only his bed was new. It had just been delivered. He looked down at it in the darkness. Massive, with four great oak posts and a square canopy over it, it was a bed made for sharing. There was a woman in the house he wanted to share it with. But she was wary of him, holding back, afraid to trust him. That was all right. Trust would come. He’d move slowly, as if he were taming a wild
fawn or healing an injured plant. She’d come to him. He was convinced of it. Soon.

Through the open bedroom windows came the call of a night bird. Joker took off his clothes and lay on the bed. A wonderful, warm, peaceful silence settled over the estate. The moon went behind a cloud and the night folded itself around him.

The woman was beautiful. He rubbed his calloused hand across his beard. Fairy tale time? Maybe she was more right than she knew. “What we have here,” he whispered out loud, “are Beauty and the Beast.” And if he remembered the story correctly, she’d come just at the appointed time. So what if the tale had taken a different direction in real life? So what if the person in need was the Beauty and not the Beast? There was nothing wrong with taking a little literary license, he decided, and closed his eyes.

The next morning Allison found her crutches propped against the table by her bed. She glanced around and spotted the suitcase she’d packed so hastily. It had been placed by her closet door. Pulling herself upright, she hobbled to the closet and opened the door. All her clothes were hanging neatly inside.

The work of the jolly red giant, no doubt, she thought. What was she going to do with the man? She smiled and slid her nightgown over one shoulder at a time until it floated to the floor. After so many knee injuries, she’d given up wearing slacks, opting instead for loose-fitting skirts and long-waisted dresses that were easy to put on and take off. Choosing a soft T-shirt dress of deep blue, she pulled it over her head, thrust one crutch under her arm, gritted her teeth, and headed barefoot for the kitchen.

At the base of the stairs she paused, waiting for the spasms of pain to subside. Bright sunshine filtered through the bay window overlooking the
garden. Warming on the stove was a dented aluminum pot of freshly perked coffee. There was a slice of melon on a small plate in the refrigerator. Breakfast had been prepared by her cook, whether she wanted it or not.

Allison filled a coffee cup with the aromatic dark liquid, drank it quickly, and filled the cup again. Her gentle giant seemed to have vanished. By taking small steps, she was able to carry her cup, push open the sliding glass door that led to the old brick patio, and step outside. The morning sun was bright, the outside bricks pleasantly warm under her bare feet.

Leaning heavily against the backs of the wicker patio furniture, she swung her body around until she could sit on the chaise lounge. By then she was trembling with exhaustion. She lifted her bad leg, stretched out on the faded cotton cushions, and closed her eyes.

Years of rigid training had conditioned her body, but her muscle tone had deteriorated during the months she’d spent in and out of the hospital. Despite physical therapy, even a small amount of movement was exhausting. For more than an hour she simply lay there, soaking up the sun and napping, knowing that she ought to make some effort to replace the medication she had foolishly thrown away. The muscle spasms from her trip down the stairs earlier had proven to her that she wasn’t ready to do without medication yet. But the sun was warm; the garden was peaceful. Except for the absence of her grandmother, Allison knew she’d made the right decision by leaving the hospital.

An area between the house and the gazebo had
been cleared, she noticed. Beyond that the famous Josey gardens had grown into a riot of tangled vines. The rose garden was almost totally choked by the deadly but sweet-smelling honeysuckle.

Allison felt a pang of guilt sweep over her as she realized the burden her grandmother must have faced. Everything had become too much for Gran, yet she’d never complained. Allison’s last two visits home had been during the winter, and she hadn’t realized the neglect. Shabby now, the great house was no longer the showplace of Pretty Springs. But it was home, and she understood Joker’s attraction to the place.

She should have taken more interest in the place before her grandmother had fallen and been moved to a nursing home. Now everything was different. How on earth was she going to be able to stretch her funds to cover her own expenses and help pay for the repairs needed to keep the property?

There had been insurance to cover most of her hospital bills, but she wished she’d saved more of her earnings. She’d put money into her account, but there was always someplace new that Mark wanted to go or something he needed, and she’d never refused him anything. Once she’d checked herself out of the hospital, her only thought had been to come home. She had never considered the possibility that her home would be changed.

For now she wouldn’t worry. It was enough to lie in the sun without pain. She didn’t want to move. Even the roar of machinery in the distance didn’t rouse her. Street traffic was so much a part of the pattern of her everyday life in the city that she never
heard the motorcycle that sputtered to a stop behind the house.

“Wake up, my sleeping beauty. Your chariot awaits.”

Allison’s eyes opened drowsily. He was back; Eric the Red was kneeling beside her. But this morning he was wearing sharply creased khaki trousers and a Hawaiian print shirt. His beard had been neatly trimmed, and he’d gotten a haircut.

“You’ve cut your hair,” she said. “You look like one of the Beach Boys. Do you sing, along with your other talents?”

“Me? Ha! Woman, my singing would scare buzzards. Come on, up with you. We have places to go and people to see. Where are your shoes?”

“They’re upstairs, but I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yes, you are. You’re going to see your grandmother,” he said quietly, and left the patio.