The Lancaster Men (7 page)

“Whit has been raised to have better manners than that,” Shari informed her snappishly.

“Obviously you weren’t,” Doré accused. “You’ve been throwing daggers at me since you came into the kitchen.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Shari scoffed in an attempted denial of the charge.

“I’m not,” she insisted. “If you have a prior claim on Whit, I wish you’d say so instead of pretending you only regard him as your older brother. “

“That’s what he is.” Her assertion came quickly, perhaps too quickly. She was pricked by a feeling of
unease with her answer and sought to defend her behavior. “I don’t want Whit getting the wrong impression about my friends. That’s all.”

“I can tell he thinks a lot of you,” Beth assured her, seeking to mend the rift between Shari and Doré. “I wouldn’t worry about him thinking badly of you because of the actions of a friend.”

“I suppose you’re against me, too,” Doré accused Beth.

“It’s your nature to be forward.” Beth was the stabilizing influence on the volatile personalities of her two friends. “I don’t condemn you for it, and I’m positive Shari doesn’t either. It’s only natural for a person to want their family to like their choice of friends.”

“I don’t know what you’re squabbling among yourselves about,” Rory inserted. “Whit is going to make up his own mind regardless of what anybody else thinks about someone. He always does.” The topic no longer interested him. “Is there any more hot chocolate left?”

“About half a cup, I think,” Beth replied.

“I might as well drink it,” he decided. “There’s no sense pouring it down the drain.”

Although the disagreement was shelved, they weren’t able to regain the sociable mood. When the cups and pan were washed, they gravitated toward the upstairs bedrooms. A light shone through the crack at the base of the study door as the four climbed the stairs.

Sleep eluded Shari for a long time after she crawled into bed. She tossed and turned, trying to
sort through the confusion of her changing attitude toward Whit. It was late when she finally dozed off.

The strident ring of the doorbell interrupted her sleep, its penetrating summons prodding her into a semiwakefulness. She dragged herself out of bed and grabbed for the robe lying at the foot, pulling it around her as she hurried to the stairs.

At the same instant that she flipped on the switch to light the stairs, a light went on in the living room. The sudden brightness hurt her eyes and Shari had to pause and turn her head away, partially closing her eyes until they could adjust to the influx of light.

The doorbell rang loudly again and she descended one more step to answer it when she saw Whit crossing the living room from the study. He was clad only in the slacks he’d been wearing earlier that night; the upper half of his body was naked.

She couldn’t help noticing how well-muscled he was, compact and firm, covered by tanned flesh. In her present state, just awakening from sleep, Shari had no immunity from such a blatant example of his maleness.

Some small sound must have betrayed her presence, because he glanced over his shoulder and saw her poised on the staircase. His recognition prompted her into action, overriding the desire to stare at him.

“What time is it?” Her voice still held some of sleep’s thickness as she continued down the steps.

“A little before three,” he answered with similar huskiness. “Go back to your room. I’ll see who’s at the door.”

Shari didn’t listen to his suggestion. “But who could it be at this hour?”

“It’s probably someone in the wrong building.” Whit walked to the door.

The security chain was in place as he unlocked the dead bolt to open the door part way. Shari hovered in the middle of the living room. She had no intention of going to her room until she found out who it was. Whit’s tall frame blocked the small opening, preventing her from seeing the person or persons standing outside.

“May I help you?” Something in the sharpness of Whit’s tone alerted Shari that his initial guess had been wrong.

“Are you Whit Lancaster?” A clipped, male voice inquired.

“Yes, I am,” he admitted.

“We’re State Patrol officers. May we speak to you a minute?” came the request.

There was a slight pause and Shari guessed that they were showing Whit their identification. Little fingers of alarm were shooting through her as she tried to guess the portent of their presence. When Whit opened the door and the two uniformed officers stepped inside, she moved forward, searching their expressions.

“What is it?” she asked. “What’s happened?”

“We’ve been asked to notify you of a family emergency,” the first officer explained to Whit and glanced uncertainly at Shari. “The young lady—”

“—is my stepsister, Shari Sutherland,” Whit identified her as she came to stand beside him.

“A family emergency?” She repeated the phrase in a frozen voice. “Is it Granddad?”

“Your brother is here as well?” the second officer asked Whit.

“Yes,” Whit nodded. “What is the nature of the emergency?”

“It’s a medical emergency. Mr. Frederick Lancaster asked us to contact you since he couldn’t reach you by phone,” the first officer explained.

“But it’s working,” Shari insisted. “We used it earlier tonight to call home.”

“I’m sorry, Miss, but the telephone company informed us that an automobile accident has temporarily put this area out of service. They expect the lines to be repaired by morning.” The first officer, and the older of the two, didn’t dispute her claim, and turned back to Whit. “Mr. Lancaster asked you to come home as quickly as you could.”

“But—what’s happened?” Shari asked with a growing sense of panic. She clutched at Whit’s arm, needing the steadiness of his strength to support her. “Who—”

“I don’t wish to be the one to bring bad news.” Despite the phrases indicating apology, there was a certain bluntness to his speech. “Your mother has suffered a stroke and has been rushed to the hospital. Her condition is serious.”

Her knees buckled in shock as she reeled from the announcement that hit her like a physical blow. Whit quickly gathered her shaky body into his arms, holding her close. Her head moved from side to side in numbed disbelief.

“No,” she murmured. “It can’t be.”

“Would you get word to my grandfather that we’ll be leaving directly?” Whit asked the patrolmen over the top of her bent head.

“Of course.”

She was too stunned by the news to hear the men leave and the door close. Her blood was running cold. Not even the heat generated by Whit’s body could warm her, although his strong arms held her so close she was practically enveloped in them. There were tears in her eyes when Shari lifted her head to look at him.

“It can’t be true.” She didn’t want to believe it, but his grim expression convinced her. “Not Mother.”

“Yes. At her last checkup, the doctor discovered she had high blood pressure. She’s been on medication to control it for several months now,” Whit explained.

“Why wasn’t I told? I didn’t know.” The words came out in a sob.

“She probably didn’t want to worry you. It’s immaterial now,” he stated logically.

“It’s my fault.” She leaned against him, guilt pressing at her. “I should have gone home on my vacation instead of coming here. When I talked to her tonight, I should have told her I was coming instead of stalling and making her wonder why I wasn’t.” She blamed herself for being thoughtless.

“Elizabeth was worried about Rory, too,” Whit reminded her.

At the moment, she was only concerned about her
own guilt. “I’ll never forgive myself if anything happens to her.” Her face was hidden in the curve of his neck.

His arms tightened around her in silent comfort while his hand stroked the back of her hair. “She’ll be all right, Shari.” His mouth formed the words against her temple. “You’ll see.”

Despite his assurance, she shuddered against him. “I’m so scared,” Shari whispered and her lips brushed against the warm feel of his skin.

He seemed to withdraw his comfort, first mentally, then physically as he took hold of her shoulders and forced her to stand away from him. That wasn’t what she wanted, but in her weakened state, she couldn’t resist him.

“There isn’t time for that, Shari.” His voice was hard and inflexible. Its lack of sympathy hurt her.

The sound of heavy footsteps briefly distracted her and she turned her head in their direction. Rory was coming down the steps, yawning widely, his black hair all tousled from sleep.

“What’s going on?” he asked sleepily. “Who was at the door?”

“It’s Mother,” Shari answered him without thinking about the shock the news would be to him.

Whit stepped in before she cruelly blurted out the words. “There’s some bad news from home, Rory.” He gave Rory a minute to brace himself. “Two State Patrol officers came to inform us that your mother has had a stroke and we’re wanted at home immediately.”

“Oh, no.” He leaned against the stair railing, choking up. “How bad … is she?”

“We don’t know,” Whit admitted. “I suggest we don’t waste any more time talking about it. You two need to get your things packed so we can leave as soon as you’re ready.”

“Yes.” Rory was already turning to climb the stairs, his head downcast under his own weight of guilt.

“You, too, Shari.” Whit pointed her in the direction of the stairs, prodding her along. “I’ll let your friends know about the situation and give them a key so they can stay here as long as they like.”

“Yes,” she murmured because she had forgotten all about Beth and Doré. With the news about her mother, their vacation plans were thrown to the winds.

Once Shari was alone in her room, shock seemed to take over. She stood in its center, looking at nothing, forgetting even why she was there. A few minutes later, Beth came in to help her pack and laid out a set of clothes for Shari to wear. With the help of her friend, Shari managed to be dressed and packed by the time Whit came to her room.

“Are you positive you’re going to be all right, Shari?” Beth asked anxiously as Whit picked up the suitcase to carry it downstairs. “I’ll come with you.”

“No.” Shari smiled wanly at the generous offer. “You and Doré stay here and enjoy your vacation. I’ll be okay.”

“I’ll look after her,” Whit promised, tucking a hand under her arm to usher Shari out of the door.

Doré was waiting at the head of the stairs. Their earlier disagreement was forgotten as she hugged Shari and tried to offer words of encouragement and hope.
But it was the expression of friendship more than what she said that Shari remembered.

It was a silent trio that climbed into Whit’s car parked outside the condominium. Earlier that day, Shari had dreaded the thought of returning to Gold Leaf, but she couldn’t get there fast enough now.

She sat in the passenger seat in front with Whit, and Rory hid in the shadowed darkness of the back. Her younger brother hadn’t said a word since he’d asked the one question about their mother’s condition. It seemed to take forever on the winding roads before they left the mountains behind and began driving on the high plateau of the piedmont region.

“How much longer?” Shari finally put the question to Whit, unable to contain the impatience born of anxiety any longer.

“Another hour—hopefully less if the traffic stays light,” he answered shortly.

A moan came from the backseat, a kind of protest to the time still ahead of them without any news. “None of this would have happened if I’d left Mom a note,” Rory declared in a voice heavy with self-recrimination. “I was so busy thinking about myself, I didn’t give a thought about what this would do to her.”

“I’m guilty, too.” Shari wouldn’t let him take the full blame.

“It’s spilt milk now,” Whit inserted curtly. “It isn’t going to help Elizabeth to have you two wallowing in guilt when she sees you.”

No matter how wise it was, it was difficult advice to accept. “She’s too young to have something like this happen to her,” Shari protested.

“It’s happened,” Whit stated as proof she wasn’t too young.

His lack of sympathy with their guilt ended any further conversation before it began. If Whit hadn’t been there, Shari was certain she and Rory would have talked themselves into a state of abject misery.

The golden glow of daybreak was on the eastern horizon when they neared their destination. Shari expected Whit to drive directly to the hospital. She was confused when he took the turnoff to the family home.

“Aren’t you taking us to the hospital?” she frowned.

“No. We’re going home first and find out what the situation is,” he stated in that tone of authority that didn’t listen to arguments contrary to his decision.

“But we can find out there,” Rory leaned forward to protest.

“Before either of you see your mother, you’re going to shower and clean up.” His gaze skimmed Shari’s pale and drawn features with a critical eye. “There’s no need for her to be worrying about your health.”

Neither of them argued with that. They were already weighed down with enough guilt not to want more. Besides, Gold Leaf wasn’t far away now, so they’d be finding out how she was soon.

A little ache welled in Shari’s throat at the sight of the familiar green tobacco fields and the drying sheds. When she caught the first glimpse of the old pillared mansion standing so proudly in the morning light, a tear slipped from her lashes. She wasn’t a
Lancaster so it didn’t belong to her, but it was where she had lived as a child.

All her memories were wrapped around that house and this land. It affected her this way every time she came back, but the homecoming never lasted longer than her first meeting with Granddad Lancaster. Shari hoped he was at the hospital, and this one time, her homecoming wouldn’t be spoiled by angry words.

Whit parked the car at the head of the circular drive near the porticoed front entrance. A carriage house in the rear of the old mansion had long ago been converted into a garage, but there was no point in driving the car back there when they’d be leaving soon.

There wasn’t any standing on ceremony as all three climbed out as soon as the motor was switched off. Shari waited by the steps while Rory and Whit took the suitcases out of the trunk of the car. She turned loving eyes on the massive structure, its white walls rising two and a half stories into the air. It was built to withstand time and the elements, a fitting home for the Lancaster dynasty.