Reckless Moon (18 page)

“I came as soon as I heard,” she said. It was strange; he was so much bigger, but she felt as if she were cradling him, comforting him.

“I tried to find you,” he mumbled.

“Yes, I know. I’m sorry. I was away overnight on business. I talked to the nurse, Mrs. Harkness. She’s very nice, Bram. She says your father is aware of everything and I’ve heard that’s a very good sign.”

He raised his head and looked at her, his eyes bleak. “He can’t talk and he can’t move his left side at all. It’s much worse than the first stroke. I don’t need a doctor to tell me that.”

“He can have a therapist for that, Bram. They can work wonders.”

Bram pulled free of her. “He’s had a therapist all this time, and look where it got him. The doctor isn’t sure if he’ll make it through the night.”

“But if he does? Isn’t there a chance he’ll recover?”

Bram shrugged despairingly. “That’s what they say. But what do they know? They thought he was doing fine; that’s what they kept telling me. And look what happened.”

“Did you find him?”

Bram nodded. “The nurse had left for the day. I came home late and went upstairs to check on him. He was lying on the floor next to the bed.” He swallowed and looked away. “God knows how long he was there.”

“Bram, that wasn’t your fault.”

“I left him,” Bram said softly, not listening. “I left him alone too long.”

“That isn’t true,” Beth said evenly. “The most it could have been was a couple of hours.”

Bram shook his head. “No. I meant when he got married again. I never should have left him alone with her.”

Beth didn’t know what to say.

“You were right,” he added softly. “I ran away. You said it, and you were right.”

“Bram, that doesn’t matter now,” Beth said desperately, wishing that she could call back the hurtful words, trying to steer him away from such painful territory. She was afraid she might reveal that she knew too much about the real reason for his departure.

“I never did it,” Bram muttered.

“What?”

He looked down at her, his eyes distant. “Remember when you told me to talk to him, straighten things out between us? I never did it, and now it may be too late.”

“It isn’t too late. You’ll still be able to talk to him, you’ll see.”

“There are things he doesn’t know, things he doesn’t understand,” Bram went on, almost to himself. Beth knew he was talking about Anabel. “And I can never tell him.”

“Then tell him that you love him,” Beth said quietly.

Bram turned his head away. “I can’t say it,” he whispered.

Beth choked back tears. His pain was so palpable she could almost touch it herself. How awful to feel something so deeply and yet be unable to express it. Bram was trapped in the prison of his own silence.

“Yes, you can,” Beth urged. “When the doctor says it’s okay go up and talk to your father.”

Bram pushed his hair back in that characteristic gesture, not answering. After a moment he said, “I was always such a disappointment to him. He wanted me to go to college, get a business degree, take over Curtis Broadleaf.” He laughed bitterly. “I didn’t even graduate high school. Did you know that I’m the first son in four generations never to attend college?”

“Bram, don’t torture yourself about this now. It won’t do any good.”

“I was always in trouble, an embarrassment,” Bram continued. “I even screwed up the one thing I was good at that he liked, sports. He was proud of that. See all these trophies?” he said, making a sweeping gesture around the room. “They’re all mine. Most valuable player, conference champion, halfback of the year. But I had to get thrown off the team. I had to ruin that for him, too.”

“That was all a long time ago,” Beth said wildly, trying to stem the flood of remembrance. But she knew that it was useless. Bram had stored all this up for years, and his father’s closeness to death had broken the dam and unleashed the flood.

“It was because of her,” Bram said viciously. “Even that was because of her.”

“Who?” Beth asked.

“The coach made a remark about my stepmother,” Bram said softly. “He said my father was old, and I might be more to her taste. She was young, and so was I.”

Beth held her breath.

“I punched him,” Bram said. “I let him have it, and got thrown off the team. I had a chance at a scholarship, but I blew it. And all because of that scheming, money hungry witch.”

There was a knock at the door. Bram turned away, and Beth went to answer it.

It was the doctor.

“Is he worse?” Bram asked dully, not looking at the man.

“No, not at all. He seems alert. Would you like to see him?”

Bram looked at Beth. She nodded, pushing him gently toward the door. Bram took a deep breath, and then brushed past the doctor into the hall.

Beth sat down hard, feeling as if she had just run a race. What a well of feeling lay beneath Bram’s hard facade. She hoped she had given him the right advice. A bad experience with his father now would ruin him. She said a silent prayer that everything would go well upstairs, and then looked up to find the doctor staring at her.

“Do you think Mr. Curtis should be taken to a hospital?” Beth asked him.

“No, I don’t want to move him. Mrs. Harkness can look after him here, and I’ll drop back tomorrow morning. Please tell Abraham that.”

Beth nodded, and he slipped out of the room. She got up to shut off the stereo, which was still playing softly, and heard the phone ringing elsewhere in the house. A few seconds later Mrs. Harkness appeared.

“The telephone is Mrs. Harris, for you.”

Beth followed the nurse into the hall, asking her, “Is Bram still with his father?”

“Yes.”

Beth picked up the receiver as Mrs. Harkness walked away. Silence descended again as her footsteps faded.

“Hello, Mindy,” Beth said.

“I see Marion finally found you,” Mindy greeted her.

“The phone was ringing as I came through the door.”

“How are things there?” Mindy asked.

“Pretty shaky. What time did you leave?”

“Several hours ago, around four this afternoon, I guess. Jass Lopez was there, too, before Mrs. Harkness came. Jass is crazy about Bram, you know.”

“I know.”

Mindy snorted. “Typical Bram. He acts like a raving maniac most of the time, and what’s the result? Half the female population of Connecticut follows him around in a trance.”
 

“He doesn’t act like a maniac,” Beth said defensively.

“Of course he does. It’s just that the rest of the time he’s so charming that it doesn’t matter.”

“Mindy, did you call me up to tell me this?”

“Sorry. How’s Joshua?”

“The doctor seems to think he’s a little better now.”

“And Bram?”

“Not so hot. He looks terrible.”

“So what?” Mindy said. “Even when he looks bad, he looks good.”

“I mean it, Mindy. I’m worried about him.”

“Worry about yourself,” Mindy replied tartly. “Underneath the looks and the temperament Bram got from his mother is the steel spine he inherited from Joshua. Bram will survive.”

“You don’t sound very sympathetic. His father could be dying.”

Mindy sighed loudly. “I am sympathetic, Beth. It’s just that I don’t have the tolerance for his moods that you do.” There was a pause. “But then, I’m not in love with him.”

And you don’t know the whole story either, Beth thought.

There was a muffled commotion on the other end of the line. Mindy covered the mouthpiece and said something, and then returned to Beth.

“I have to go,” she announced. “Tracy has recently decided that there is a monster in her closet, so every night at bedtime I have to stand attendance and turn on all the lights. By the time she goes to sleep it looks like we’re shooting a movie in her bedroom.”

Beth chuckled. Trust Mindy to supply some very welcome comic relief. “Okay. I’ll be in touch.”

“Give me a call if you need anything,” Mindy said, and hung up.

Beth wandered back to the library, turning on a light to alleviate the darkness. She heard a pattering on the roof, and drew aside a curtain to look outside. It had begun to rain.

There was a sound behind her and Beth turned to find Bram leaning against the far wall, his eyes closed.

He looked spent and somehow thinner, as if the day’s ordeal had wasted him physically as well as emotionally. He had pulled at his hair so much that it stood up in cowlicks all over his head, and the tail of his shirt was out, draped over his jeans like a referee’s flag. His arms hung limply at his sides.

“Bram?” Beth said softly.

His eyes opened.

“Did you talk to him?”

“Yeah.” It was an exhalation more than a word.

“What did you say?”

“What you told me to say,” Bram replied simply.

“Did he understand you?”

Bram nodded.

“How do you know?”

“He cried,” Bram said. “He just lay there, as still as a statue, and the tears rolled down his face.”

Beth took a step toward him, and he came the rest of the way. He held her a long time before he said, “What’s that sound?”

“It’s raining.”

Bram released her and walked to the French doors, which opened onto the rear yard. He pushed them outward and stepped across the threshold of the patio, drinking in the freshened air. Beth came and stood behind him, just inside the house.

“What time is it?” Bram asked, not turning around.

“About seven. Come inside and sit down, Bram. You must be exhausted. Do you want something to eat?”

He obeyed, shutting the doors after him. “No food,” he said, gesturing for her to join him. “Just you.”

He sat in the deep chair he’d occupied before and pulled Beth onto his lap. When she settled against him his sigh was so long and so broken that it sounded almost like a sob.

“Your heart is beating,” Beth said, putting her ear against his chest.

“I hope so,” he answered, a smile in his voice.

The rain increased in volume, pounding on the roof, filling the twilit room with a dull roar.

“Bram?”

“Mmm?”

“Everything is going to be all right.”

He didn’t answer. When Beth sat up to look at him he was asleep.

She curled up again, sliding her arms around his waist. She was tired, too, and as she listened to the sound of the rain her eyelids became heavy.

In minutes she had joined him in slumber.

* * *

They were awakened abruptly by the sound of raised voices in the hall.

“I told you that you can’t come in here,” Mrs. Harkness was saying. “I was instructed not to admit anyone.”

“I’m not
anyone,”
a feminine voice answered. “I’m his wife.”

Beth jumped up and looked at Bram, who lurched to his feet also, struggling to come awake. From the look on his face, he had recognized the voice.

The door opened and Anabel strode through it, followed by an agitated Mrs. Harkness.

“It’s all right, Mrs. Harkness,” Bram said quietly, eyeing their visitor. “I’ll handle this. Thank you.”

The nurse, obviously relieved to get out of the line of fire, rushed from the room. Anabel surveyed Beth and Bram, her aquamarine eyes calculating.

“A charming picture,” she said, examining their deshabille. “I hope I haven’t interrupted something.”

“What are you doing here?” Bram demanded. Beth had never heard that tone from him before; his voice was tight with new, unprecedented fury.

Anabel walked past them, touching objects in the room. “A pity you never let me touch this library,” she observed to Bram. “I could have done so much with it.”

Beth watched her, taking note of the peach wool suit, the perfectly matched shoes and bag, the exquisite jewelry. Anabel’s champagne blonde hair was shorter than Beth remembered it, and done in a current style, a mass of shimmering gold. She was carefully made up, her blue-green eyes accented with just a touch of shadow, her lipstick a creamy harmony with the color of her clothes. Beth knew that she had to be in her forties, but she looked years younger, and as beautiful as ever. Her portrait must be aging somewhere, Beth thought darkly.

“You haven’t answered my question,” Bram said. Every line of his body was rigid with tension.

“You know what I’m doing here,” Anabel said lightly. “My husband is ill.”

“You have no husband,” Bram said flatly.

Anabel’s coquettish demeanor changed instantly. “I’m still married to him,” she stated coldly.

Bram nodded slowly. “I see. Now I know why you’re here. You want to be first in line to get your hand in the till.” He took a step toward her. “Listen, honey, I know all about your live-in boyfriend down in Florida, so don’t try to pull the concerned wife act with me. If I have to give it all away, lady, I’ll see that you don’t get a thin dime.”