Love on Trial (10 page)

“Thanks, anyway,” she replied with equal politeness and a strained smile, “but I'd better get home and call Bill. What can I tell him about a release date for the information you've given me on the Devolg murder?”

“Give me a day or two,” he replied. “I'll send word to you by Jared.”

“All right,” she agreed.

As she slid into the passenger seat, she
realized what he was telling her.
When we get to Atlanta, I'm going to walk away from you and never look back.
Figuratively speaking, he'd just done that.

 

“Well, when then?” Bill Daeton was growling at her in his office. “My God, Siri, it's been days. I can't wait forever! Do you realize how much it cost us in expenses and your salary to send you on that trip?”

“By the time you deduct it off the paper's taxes,” she replied calmly, “probably about thirty-two cents.”

“Oh, hell,” he grumbled, turning toward the window with his hands jammed in his pockets. “Have you heard from Hawke at all?”

“Not yet,” she replied, feeling the pain of having to admit it. “He said he'd let me know, and he doesn't go back on his promises. If you'll remember,” she added, “I didn't want to go on the trip in the first place.”

“Don't remind me.” He turned back. “I'll give you until tomorrow to convince him to let you release that information. If he puts us off any longer, we'll run it anyway.”

“Oh, no, we won't,” she replied curtly. “I gave my word, and I'm not going back on it for you, this paper, or anything else!”

“It's your word, or the flower show circuit,” he said firmly.

“I told you before, I like flowers.” She stood up. “I'll see what I can do. But no promises.”

“You haven't been the same since you got back from the trip,” he said quietly. “Want a day off?”

She gaped at him. “I haven't changed,” she protested.

“You did that opinion poll for me yesterday without an argument,” he replied with a kindly smile. “That's when I knew something was wrong.”

She shrugged with a smile. “I just got my feet wet, that's all.”

“Keep your shoes on next time.”

“You can bet on it.”

J
ared wasn't looking well. She watched him at the supper table, really seeing him for the first time since she'd been home. He was pale and quiet, and it wasn't like him not to make conversation.

“Don't you feel well, Dad?” she asked with more than a trace of concern on her face.

“Not very,” he admitted with a wan smile. “I don't know what's wrong with
me. A little stomach upset, I suppose. Too much restaurant fare while you were gone.” His amber eyes held hers. “Siri, what happened on that trip?”

She shrugged, hoping the turmoil inside her didn't show. “Nothing noteworthy. We had a very good time.”

“No, you didn't. You look like death standing up, and Hawke's in a shell dynamite couldn't blow him out of.” He studied her thin face. “You found out how you felt, didn't you?”

She nodded weakly.

“Did Hawke?”

“Your esteemed colleague revived an old flame,” she murmured. “A girl he was engaged to years ago. They were out until three in the morning.”

“That's very interesting,” Jared said. “Because when I asked him why he looked so haggard the afternoon you two came home, he said he'd been in a bar half the night getting plastered.”

She blinked hard at him. “Hawke? Drunk? I can't picture him that way.”

“He was the portrait of a man after the night before.” Jared smiled.

Siri picked up her cup and sipped the hot, black coffee. “Nita must have really gotten to him.”

“Something sure did. But Hawke doesn't seem the kind of man to hold a torch for a woman who stabbed him in the back now, does he?” he asked.

She sighed, putting her cup down and sliding her chair out from under the table. “I'm going to have a glass of sherry. How about you?” she asked with a smile, ignoring the question.

He sighed. “I give up. You can ruin your own life without any help from me, I guess,” he grinned. “All right, I'd love a…oh, my God!” he groaned.

He grabbed his chest and, white as a sheet, keeled over onto the soft carpet. Siri ran to him, dropping down beside him with a terrible apprehension, as she
saw his labored breathing and the pain in his face. Without a word, she made a dash for the phone and called an ambulance.

 

The waiting was the worst part. Emergency rooms were always crowded, and full of doctors, nurses and aides who never seemed to know anything about any particular patient. Especially when it came to answering questions about a family member.

Siri sat huddled between a nervous expectant father and an old woman waiting for news of her son who'd been involved in a motorcycle accident. It seemed like hours before Dr. Swandon finally came out long enough to tell her that Jared was going to live. “It was luckily just a light heart attack,” he told her. “He'll be all right. Go on home, Siri, you can see him in the morning. He isn't going anywhere.”

He patted her on the head as if she
were still the child he'd delivered so many years ago, and sent her home with a couple of tranquilizers that he made her promise to take at bedtime.

The house was so quiet. So quiet, without Jared in it. She tried to watch television, but it didn't take her mind off what had happened. Oh, God, if she just had someone to talk to, a shoulder to cry on.

The sudden jangle of the telephone interrupted her, as if in answer to a prayer. Maybe it would be Marty, or even Mark, whom she hadn't heard from since she'd been home. Right now, she'd have welcomed a phone call from the devil.

She lifted the receiver. “Hello?”

“Siri?” It was Hawke's deep, slow voice. “I need to speak to Jared.”

Hawke! She fought back a surge of tears. If only he were here, and he cared, and he'd hold her while she cried….

“He's not here, Hawke,” she managed in a husky whisper.

“All right, I don't have time to track him down. Tell him the Maloxx family decided to settle out of court,” he told her curtly, as if he couldn't wait to get off the phone. “And if you want to start getting your story written, I'll probably be able to let you release it by tomorrow afternoon. Davy's sister goes on the stand in the morning. Have your court reporter check with me when court recesses. Goodnight.”

The dial tone replaced his voice abruptly. She stood there blankly holding the receiver. Now, it seemed, he couldn't even bear the sound of her voice over the telephone, much less the sight of her.

She put the receiver back down. “Goodnight,” she whispered, and burst into tears.

 

She got up after a sleepless night, feeling somehow more secure in the morning, with daylight outside instead of darkness. She wrapped a thick terry cloth robe
around her gown and made herself a cup of coffee in the kitchen. The phone rang as she passed it, and she lifted the receiver automatically. It was Nadine, telling her to remind Jared about his court case that morning out of county. Siri told her as gently as she could about the heart attack, and asked her to contact the judge and let him know, too. Nadine promised to do that, and to go and see him as soon as she could. If Siri had ever wondered how deep the woman's emotions were involved with her father, the tremor in Nadine's normally calm voice told her. She went into the kitchen and made a pot of strong coffee.

Numbly, she sat drinking it, half-heartedly munching on a piece of toast as she tried to organize the day in her mind. The first order of business was to get to the hospital during visiting hours.

The sound of the doorbell disturbed her. She put down the cup of coffee and went to answer it, puzzling at who could
be calling at that unholy hour of the morning.

She opened the door and felt her heart skip a beat as she saw Hawke standing there, grim and noticeably disturbed. His eyes swept over her drawn appearance; her tousled blond hair, the flushed freshness of her complexion without makeup, the wide amber eyes that were slightly bloodshot.

“Why the hell didn't you tell me Jared was in the hospital?” he asked tautly. “My God, I'd have been over here like a shot!”

Tears welled in her eyes. “I'm all right,” she whispered.

“I can see that.” He came in, shutting the door firmly behind him, and pulled her roughly into his arms, cradling her, crushing her against his big body, rocking her slowly from side to side as the tears rushed hot and wet down her cheeks.

“Hawke,” she whispered against his
chest, nestled like a frightened child in his big, comforting arms. “Oh, Hawke, I needed you,” she murmured weakly.

His arms tightened painfully. “You might have told me that last night when I called.”

“I didn't think you wanted to be bothered with me,” she said miserably. “In Charleston, you said…you said you wouldn't look back….”

“Oh, God, don't,” he whispered into her soft hair. “I didn't mean for you to try and close every damned door between us.”

“It sounded like it.”

His arms shifted protectively. “I'll always come if you need me, Siri. At least let me take care of you when I can.” She felt his lips brushing her hair. “How bad is Jared?”

“The doctor said it was a light heart attack. He'll be all right, but he's going to have to take it easy for a while,” she murmured.

“In other words,” Hawke said, “we'll have to tie him to a bedpost for the next few weeks.”

“That's exactly right.” She pulled away, wiping at her eyes with the lapel of her cream-colored robe. “Would you like some coffee and half a piece of toast?”

His eyes caressed her softly flushed face, the slightly tremulous curve of her pink mouth. “Why only half a piece?”

She smiled with a little of her old sauciness. “Because all I had in the house was one piece of bread, and I've eaten half of it.”

“I think I'll pass on the toast,” he chuckled softly.

“Afraid of germs?” she teased, turning to start back into the kitchen.

“As many times as I've kissed you, little girl, I think it's damned late to worry about it. Don't you?” he asked.

She was glad he couldn't see her face.
She let him into the kitchen and poured him a cup of coffee.

“I could scramble you an egg, or fix you some cereal,” she offered, setting the hot coffee in front of him at the table. “Have you had any breakfast at all?”

He sat down, his eyes intent and quiet as she sank down in a chair across from him. “I rarely eat breakfast, honey,” he said quietly. “Most mornings, I make do with coffee. Finish your toast.”

She picked up the cold, stiff bread and studied it distastefully. “I'm really not very hungry.”

He eyed the toast with a raised eyebrow. “I don't blame you.”

“What time do you have to be in court?” she asked.

“In,” he studied his watch, “forty-five minutes. I can drop you off at the hospital if you don't need your own car.”

She smiled wanly. “I have to have it. I've got an interview with a senatorial candidate downtown at ten.”

“That won't give you any time at all to spend with Jared,” he remarked as he sipped the coffee.

“I know.” She studied him, noting how handsome he looked in the dark gray suit and elegant, sky-blue silk tie. The silver at his temples only emphasized an attractiveness and masculinity that made music in her mind.

“You're staring again,” he said softly.

“I can't help it,” she murmured, dropping her eyes to her cup. “You're good to look at,” she said in a bare whisper, admitting it at last.

“So are you, little one,” he replied, his eyes sweeping over her. “I've never seen a woman who looked so pretty first thing in the morning.”

“I'll bet you've seen plenty,” she remarked.

“Siri.”

She looked up involuntarily to meet his dark, level gaze.

“I didn't take Nita to bed,” he told her bluntly.

She blushed like a nervous teenager. “I didn't ask you.”

“I know. But it was in your eyes the next morning.” His eyes brushed her mouth. “Maybe someday I'll be able to explain to you why I went with her. Right now, I don't even want to try.”

“You don't owe me any explanations,” she said coolly.

“Don't sit there with that damned cold look on your face and spout pride at me,” he growled harshly. “I haven't forgotten how you were with me that night on the porch, and I damned well know jealousy when I see it!”

She closed her eyes on the embarrassment. She couldn't deny it, but she hated having it thrown at her like that.

“Oh, hell,” he sighed heavily, “you make me feel like a damned adolescent. I can't even talk to you.” He finished his coffee and stood up. “I've got to get
downtown to court. Are you going to be home tonight, or has Holland come crawling back?”

She looked up at him with a frozen expression. “I…I haven't seen him lately.”

His stormy eyes calmed a little. “We've got to talk. I've spent one of the most miserable weeks of my life looking backwards. We've got to settle this thing between us, Siri.”

Her jaw clenched. “I won't sleep with you,” she said tightly.

He gave her a slow, calculating look and smiled lazily down at her. “We'll talk about it tonight,” he said gently.

“I…I may not be home….” she whispered.

He moved closer, leaning down to put his mouth against hers in a kiss so slow, so tenderly thorough, that tears formed in her eyes at the beauty of it.

He raised his head, his eyes looking straight into hers, reading the turmoil in
them. “You belong to me,” he said quietly. “We'll talk about that, too.”

He started toward the door.

“What about those seventeen years you were so worried about?” she asked in a dazed, choked whisper.

He leaned against the door facing, and his eyes held hers, dark and glowing. “Do you remember what I told you that day in Kebo's, Siri?” he asked. “That if I wanted you, the age difference wouldn't make a damned bit of difference to either one of us?”

She nodded, feeling a surge of light that burst with warm colors all through her body, as she returned that intent look.

“I want you, baby,” he said softly.

Her lips parted under the force of her breath, the pounding of her heart, and she wanted to ask him if it was only a physical desire, if he cared…But before she could sort out her whirling mind, he turned and went out the door.

 

Jared was pale, and a little drowsy from medication, but he smiled when she came and sat by his bed. He held her hand with a firm, warm grip.

“I'm still alive, in case you wondered,” he teased weakly.

“I did, actually,” she returned. “I wish you'd told me you weren't well. I'd have made you see a doctor.”