Wings of a Dove (56 page)

    Delaney was standing by the front door a short time later when muffled voices on the upstairs landing drew his gaze to James as he emerged from Allie's room. Margaret was clinging to his side, obviously upset, and he crouched down to speak to her in a soft tone. Straightening up after a last good-bye, he came downstairs and picked up his suitcase. He turned to Delaney and spoke.

    "There are some things I should say to you before I leave, Marsh. I don't suppose I'll ever understand you, much less trust you, but you saved Allie's life, and for that I owe you my thanks. You know I don't want to leave her here with you, but I don't have any choice. I've told Dr. Willis to send me the bills for treating Allie and arranging Margaret's appointment with Dr.   Lindstrom. I want you to know, too, that I intend to pay you back every cent you've spent."

    "I don't want your money."

    James's eyes hardened. "Maybe not, but you might as well make up your mind that money's the only return you'll get for your efforts."

    His contempt returning full measure, Delaney gave a short laugh. "You haven't changed a bit in all these years, have you, Case?"

    James's gaze remained steady. "Strangely enough, I've been thinking the same thing about you."

    Allowing a few moments for his words to register, James walked out of the house. Within moments his hired carriage had rounded the corner and disappeared from sight.

    Delaney closed the front door with distinct relief, but he had taken only a few steps into Allie's room before he realized upon meeting Margaret's gaze that Case had not really left at all. James's hostility shone from the child's eyes, which were so similar to Allie's in every other way. His own animosity renewed, he frowned darkly.

    "Margaret." Allie spoke, and Margaret turned toward her. "Mr. Marsh and I have some things to talk about. Please leave us alone for a little while."

    Her resentment obvious, Margaret followed her mother's request. Waiting until Margaret had limped out of the room, Allie turned to Delaney. Her distress started a small ache inside him.

    "I haven't had an opportunity to talk to you in the past few days, Delaney. My head is a little clearer now, and I realize I've never thanked you for saving my life." Stiffening as he approached her bedside, Allie determinedly continued, "You've been very kind, and I"

    "What's all this talk about my being kind, Allie?" Aware that her expression of gratitude was an effort to put distance between them, Delaney took her hand in his own. The warmth of it was balm to his troubled spirit. "Didn't you tell me that I'd always be your friend?"

    Allie's hesitation deepened the ache inside him to the point of pain. "That was a long time ago. A lot of things have happened since then."

    His gaze dwelling on the uncertainty in Allie's dark eyes,     Delaney nodded, resisting the memory of other, more intimate emotions he had seen there. ''A lot of things but whatever has happened to us and between us, one thing hasn't changed. You're still special to me, Allie. You always will be. There's no kindness involved. You need someone to take care of you right now and I'm here. That's the way it should be."

    The glitter of tears appeared in Allie's dark eyes as she attempted a smile. "Eight years is a long time, but in some ways, it's no time at all. You're everything you ever said you'd be, aren't you, Delaney? You've worked hard, and you're successful and wealthy. I'm very proud of your success."

    "Are you?" Delaney gave a short laugh. "So is James."

    The lines of strain returned to Allie's brow and Delaney instantly regretted his sarcasm. "I'm sorry, Allie."

    "I think we're all sorry for a lot of things."

    Suddenly unable to face his feelings as he sensed a deeper meaning to Allie's words, Delaney stroked back a wayward wisp of hair from Allie's face. His touch lingering, he cupped her smooth cheek with his palm, then spoke a truth that came from the bottom of his heart. "I think it's time to bury the pain of the past, Allie. Too much time has passed for us to waste any more on useless regrets."

    "Delaney"

    "It's time to remember the good things, Allie. Think back. When you were alone and needed someone a long time ago, you took my hand, and everything was all right. It was good for you then, and it was good for me, too. I want to take care of you again. I want to make sure you'll be all right and to see you well and strong. Take my hand again, Allie. Trust me to make things right for you."

    A shadow flicked across Allie's face.

    "What's wrong, Allie?"

    "Nothing."

    The shadow remained and resentment stirred within Delaney as a voice in the back of his mind taunted that it was he who had cause for grievance, not Allie. She had promised to love him all her life, but her love had not included enough faith for her to wait a few short months for him to return for her. Instead, she had married James, borne James's child, and put James irretrievably between them.

    But he didn't want to look back on the past with bitterness now. He just wanted to be Allie's friend again, to have her close to him the way she was a long time ago. He wanted to help her, and he wanted to feel her warmth. That was all he wanted. Why was she resisting him?

    "Tell me what's wrong."

    Averting her gaze, Allie removed her hand from his grasp. "I'm tired, Delaney. I'd like to sleep for a while."

    Delaney drew himself slowly to his feet, steeling himself against the pain of Allie's withdrawal. She was ill, confused. When she was well again, she would be able to think more clearly. He would be here for her then, just as he had always been. And when she turned to him with warmth in her heart, the spot inside him that was hers alone would come alive again. He needed to feel that life. His heart had been cold and dead for too long.

    But Allie had already closed her eyes, and Delaney walked quietly to the door.

    Delaney's footsteps retreated down the hall, and safe at last from his scrutiny, Allie opened her eyes. His soft request echoed in her mind: "Take my hand again, Allie. Trust me to make things right for you."

    Those words stirred a pain that was almost more than she could bear as Allie's mind shrieked in silent response.

    How can you make things right for me, Delaney? Can you change the past? Can you change the night you told me you'd always love me, then walked away without turning back? Can you change the reality that the child who hates you, and whom you dislike so strongly is really your own? Can you erase the aching truth from my mind that you never really shared the joy and beauty I experienced in our joining? Can you make me forget that despite your beautiful words of love, it all meant so little to you that even while I cursed myself for causing the rift between us, Sarah was lying in your arms?

    Closing her eyes, Allie took a ragged breath.

    I've forgiven you, Delaney. A part of me will always love you, but I cannot forget what you did that night. The pain of your betrayal cuts me still.

    Take your hand? I dare not.     Trust you? Never again.

    Lost in despair, Allie turned to her side, the movement causing a physical pain to equal her mental anguish. The chain around her neck slipped outside her nightdress, and the medal caught her eye.

    Allie closed her hand around the medal, breathing deeply until the painful images within her mind slowly began changing. She was a child again, and she saw the handsome youth with bitter eyes staring down at her as the rail car in which they traveled shook and rattled its way through the night. His gaze altered, softening unexpectedly. He slipped the medal into her hand, and she felt its outline against her palm. It warmed her heart, and she closed her eyes. She remembered the comfort of his arm around her as she slipped off to sleep. She remembered the peace, the love.

    It was with her still.

Chapter Twenty-Two

    Delaney strode down Wabash Avenue, his haste apparent. He silently assessed the mild May weather, satisfaction bringing a faint smile to his lips. Time had seemed to stand still for the past few weeks while spring regressed and the weather turned cold. The unseasonable bite in the air had abruptly halted the budding of trees and foliage. Flowers had maintained their semi-bloom as if all action had been stopped by the wave of a great, unseen hand. But now, as he headed home from the
Tribune
office, the bowers of the trees lining the street seemed lush, and the midafternoon air was heavily scented. The weather was actually balmy, and he was going to make the best of it.

    Nodding to a neighboring matron and her giggling daughter as they strolled past, Delaney lengthened his stride. Giggling women… they still annoyed him no end. Allie had never had that propensity, and she had not changed in the time they had been apart not in that way, at least. There had been other changes, however, almost intangible, keeping a distance between them in the two weeks she had spent recuperating in his home.

    The silences that developed between them ironically, when    they were closest to recapturing the spontaneity of the past were the most difficult. Allie would drift away from him then, despite his efforts to bring her back. Somehow he did not believe she thought of James in those moments. He sensed that something else caused the tension between them, but he did not feel free to explore those silences with her. As if by mutual consent, they had both avoided mentioning their last night together and the painful events that led to their separation.

    As for himself Delaney acknowledged that his bitterness, so strong during the years they had been apart, mysteriously faded the moment he saw Allie again and took her into his arms. He had never been more aware of that than he was at this moment as he hastened homeward after rushing through the day's work to reassure himself that she was still there. It had been that way for him since he had returned to work the nagging fear that he would one day return home to find James waiting to take Allie away.

    James had returned only once to visit Allie and Margaret. Delaney supposed he should be grateful that James could not afford to come to the city very often. But James kept in touch with Dr. Willis and wrote to Allie and Margaret every day.

    Delaney reminded himself that despite James's influence, Allie was still Allie. That face became clearer each day as her health improved. Her joy was still alive, apparent in her dark eyes, if a trifle subdued. The spontaneity was there, occasionally bubbling to the surface in their conversations, despite her effort to contain it. Her interest in Delaney's work was difficult to conceal, as was her pride in his accomplishments, and she appeared content to listen for hours on end as he discussed the vagaries of his journalistic career, his aspirations, his concerns. Their closeness, their similarity of spirit, had not changed, and Delaney cherished it.

    Time and again Allie astounded him with her comprehension of the complicated issues they discussed, occasionally causing him to reassess his thinking when she exposed him to her clear, humanistic point of view. The warmth between them grew stronger each day, with each touch, with each reminiscence, and he took consolation in the fact that although the bond between them had suffered through the years, it had not been severed.

    It had become painfully clear to Delaney that he could not get

    enough of Allie these days. He supposed the fact that her stay with him was to be limited stimulated the desperation he felt each time she retreated from him. He silently cursed James for the hesitation he sometimes saw in Allie's eyes, for the lapse of trust occasionally visible there. He wanted her to be his ally, his friend.

    Remembering James's parting admonition, Delaney gave a short, scornful laugh. Case had never understood the scope of feelings between Allie and him. They transcended the common physical relationship between a man and a woman, and if a part of him still longed for Allie in that way, he had stricken that possibility from his mind. He knew Allie. He loved and respected her for the importance he knew she attached to her wedding vows. Fidelity was an important part of her makeup. She had chosen loyalty to the Case family over him and he would have to accept her decision. He would be satisfied now to have a small part of Allie back. He had not realized how very much his life had been lacking without her.

    Women, after all, were easy to find. Sybil had been haunting his trail for days, and he knew he had but to crook his finger and she or some other woman would come running. At present he had neither the interest nor the inclination.

    Entering his home a few minutes later, Delaney tossed his hat on a chair and started across the foyer without a break in stride. He stripped off his jacket as he ascended the staircase to the second floor, dropping it on the hall table even as he pulled off his cravat, unbuttoned his shirt collar, and stepped up to Allie's bedroom door.

    The door was open, and Delaney caught Allie's eye as she held a finger up to her lips in an unspoken request for silence. Glancing at the chaise beside the bed, he saw Margaret was asleep. Delaney walked to the girl's side, a familiar distress stirring to life inside him as he looked down at James's child. Firmly forcing it aside, he snatched up Allie's wrapper from the foot of the bed and sat beside her. Without a word of explanation, he raised her carefully to a seated position and helped her into the garment. Her whispered protest elicited from him the same unspoken request for silence she had given him moments before.