A Damaged Trust (11 page)

“Would you like to stay for a drink before you go?” he asked. He appeared uninterested in her reply, as if it didn’t matter one way or another to him if she stayed or not. It was this impression that made her decide to leave, although she would have stayed in a minute if he had shown any desire to have the evening linger on.

“No,” she said lightly, “I think not. It’s been a full day, and I’m ready to call an end to it. Maybe another time, though. Thank you.”

Something showed then in his face. It was a fleeting look, and harsh, but almost as soon as she perceived it, the look was gone and Gabe’s face was blank once more. Carrie thought she must have imagined it, until he turned an easy smile in her direction and she saw that his eyes were not nearly as expressionless as they had seemed at first. They glowed with a darkly brooding look, inscrutable and intense. Carrie was puzzled at the contradiction in his face and eyes. The whole observation had taken less than five seconds.

“I’ll see you to your car, then,” was all he had to say. At a loss, she nodded.

Again, as had been the walk back to the house, the trip to her car was silent and tense. Gabe paced beside her like a stalking panther with his whole body fluid in the continuous motion. He seemed dangerous, an impression that Carrie had almost banished, from memory. The feeling brought back all the initial distrust she had experienced at first meeting him, and her initial dislike. Now she was able to disregard that few moments spent in the dark world of the past. It indeed had been an illusion. The final barrier was again erected.

As Carrie unlocked her car door, Gabe at last spoke, shattering the uncomfortable stillness. “Thank you again for interrupting your vacation for us.” The plural use of the word, almost like a royal “we”, had put a whole different perspective on the evening. Gabe was businesslike and impersonal. It was an odd note to end the evening on, for all through the dinner he had been anything but impersonal. Carrie felt anger surge up as she read into his words something that had not been intended.

She said, a little snap to her words, “Oh, you’re welcome. Thank you for an entertaining evening.” The little speech was, of course, meant to be polite, but the bite to her words, prompted by her pique at Gabe’s apparently effortless change from the attentive to the impersonal, made the words an insult. It had sounded quite unlike how she had intended it.

Gabe stiffened. Carrie could feel it from where she stood, a few paces away from him, such was the extent of his anger. She made a sharp movement down with one hand, and would have spoken, except for the fact that he started to speak first. The potential for violence had not been a figment of her imagination; he was very definitely menacing as he spoke in a soft voice, cloaked in steel.

“I’m so glad you enjoyed I know I found it…er, how do I say it?…extremely interesting myself. We’ll have to do it again some time soon. Maybe we’ll learn more about each other,” he replied with pleasant words in an unpleasant way, and Carrie found the insinuation to sexuality as she remembered the kiss and her own eager response.

Her face burned furiously. She didn’t bother to reply to this, mainly because she knew she would have lost her temper if she had, so she opened the door and climbed into the sleek Porsche. Slamming the door shut on Gabriel’s presence, she put the key into the ignition and started the car. Gabe remained where he was, watching her leave.

Reversing the car quickly, Carrie carelessly slammed the gears into position and shot off down the road very fast. As the car gained speed, she mentally shrugged her shoulder and pushed the car into an even faster pace, getting a sense of satisfaction out of realising that Gabe was probably still watching. Let him watch, she grimly told herself. I hope he has a fit!

She reached home safely, for, even though she travelled too fast, she didn’t travel carelessly and took care to slow if anyone passed her on the road.

As she opened the front door and stepped into the house, Emma bustled swiftly down the hall, smiling uncertainly. “Why, hello, Carrie,” she greeted her carefully. “How was your evening?”

“Just fine,” Carrie lied easily. “Gabe is a perfect host. He loved my pictures, too. Everything turned out great.”

“Mr. Jackson called just a moment ago,” Emma told her. She searched Carrie’s face and found nothing. “He sounded a little odd.”

“Oh?” she affected casualness. “What did he want?”

“He left no message. He just said he’d call back soon.” Carrie turned away from Emma as the other woman spoke. Emma was watching her too closely.

“Well, we’ll find out what he wants when he calls, I guess.” And with that, she started up the stairs, but just then the phone rang. She turned back and forestalled Emma who had hurried to answer its shrill call.

“I’ll get it, Emma,” Carrie told her. “That’s probably Gabe now. Thanks anyway.”

Reaching the phone, she paused for a moment with her hand on the receiver. Then she picked it up and spoke carefully into the mouthpiece. “Hello?”

The reply was immediate. “Carrie, if you ever drive like that again and I see you do it, I don’t care where you are, I’ll come and beat you stupid!” Gabe’s voice as deep with anger as he snapped out the words in a quick staccato. “Of all the stupid things to do! It would have served you right if you’d broken your neck. You know better than that!”

She was almost dancing with rage, but somehow she found the strength to hold on to her tongue. When she had herself under control, she drawled sarcastically, “Well, next time I’ll just have to see if I can oblige, won’t I? It really shouldn’t be too hard, not with a fast car.”

“Idiot!” Gabe’s fury fairly crackled over the phone and she found herself flinching away instinctively from the receiver. “Anyone would think you were an irresponsible child, the way you’re acting now. My God, I’m surprised you’re allowed off on your own, for all your physical age!”

This touched a sensitive spot in her and she hissed as she sucked in her breath sharply. Then, very deliberately, she said with a false lightness, “Dear boy, what do you care, anyway?” Without waiting for a reply, she settled the receiver back on its resting place as carefully as she had picked it up, then turned to go upstairs. She found Emma hovering nearby with an attitude of innocence that was quite transparent, and she met Carrie’s eyes with her own blank stare as if to say, “I didn’t hear nuthin.’”

Carrie snapped, “Who are you looking at?”

Emma shrugged hastily. “Nobody, nobody at all. I was just passing through.”

She watched Emma head back towards the kitchen, then snorted with disbelief. Then she marched up the stairs with a very rigidly held back.

In her room, she sank down onto her bed, deeply troubled. She had overreacted, and badly, tonight She
had
acted like a child, and perhaps the justification of what Gabe had said over the phone had been what had goaded her into such a rude response. Perhaps. She had to convince herself of that.

But what had prompted her to act like a child in the first place?

Chapter Five

Carrie undressed that night in quick, jerky movements. She was still so furious with Gabe that she couldn’t find enough serenity to relax when she crawled into bed. She turned over, first this way and then that, staring off into space and occasionally looking out of the window. Finally she left the bed altogether and padded over to her dressing table to start pulling out clothes she planned to put on. She stopped in the middle of an action as the thought of the water in the swimming pool, warm from the day’s heat, washed over her mind. She began to search for a swimsuit.

The dive into the pool was as cool and refreshing as she had imagined it would be. She surfaced, shaking her head to one side to get the water out of her eye, and then set off for the other side, beginning a quick-paced breast stroke that she knew would tire her out. As she swam steadily, a voice sounded by the edge of the water, causing her to start up in surprise, treading water as she looked about her.

“Always carrying on a love affair with the pool,” Steven teased as he lowered himself into a sitting position near the edge. Carrie responded by splashing him with a wave of water and he howled in protest.

“It’s only what you deserve,” she told him unsympathetically as he sputtered.

His grin was grey in the dusky semi-darkness. The only light source was the light that streamed out from the house nearby. She swam easily to the side and hung on to the edge, lazily kicking her legs.

“Some night, isn’t it?” Steven looked about him with satisfaction. Carrie could only agree, wryly smiling as she thought of how true Steven’s words really were if he but knew it. Steven continued speaking. “Dad got this pool built for you, you know,” he said casually. “As soon as he found out how much you loved the water, he called up and ordered this pool built. I can remember Mom protesting that you weren’t old enough—you were about two, I think. Dad just said that you’d learn soon enough, and when you got a little older, he hired a tutor to teach you to swim.”

Carrie was astounded. She’d known about the tutor, but had assumed that he had been for all three of the children. She said, hushed, “Dad did that for me? Just because I like the water?”

“Uh-huh,” Steven grunted. “Only don’t tell him I told you. I wasn’t supposed to know myself.”

“Good Lord! Of course I won’t say anything. I just can’t believe it.” She stared off into the darkness.

“Why not?” he asked. “He’s always loved you best.” It was said totally without rancor; it was the truth, as Steven saw it. “I think because you’re so different from the rest of us. He always treated you the harshest because he wanted you to be the best of us. And I suppose, in a way, you are.”

Carrie protested at this. “Oh, no, I’m not really,” she replied with vehemence. She thought back over the evening and the way she had acted towards Gabe, feeling embarrassed. “I act so stupidly sometimes.”

“Don’t we all?” Steven asked mildly, toying with one end of his shoelace. “Are you happy, Carrie?” The question was unexpected.

She said slowly, “I don’t know. I think I could be very easily. I think that I’m working towards my happiness right now, and I’m on the right track again. That’s sort of being happy, I guess.”

“Sometimes I think it’s funny that of all of us, you’re the one who left home and started a life outside the ranch. You were always so little and timid as a kid.”

“I’m the restless one,” she reminded him.

“Yes. Ralf and I, we’re born ranchers. Once in a while, I get to thinking about moving away from home and starting my own ranch, but I never do.” Steven sighed. “I love this one too much, I guess, to ever be happy with anything else. It would just be second best, compared with home.”

“Steven, if you’re happy here, then that’s how it should be,” Carrie reassured him. “After all, some day this house is going to be yours. Dad has always said that he’d divide the ranch in his will so that you got this house and Ralf would get the land near the foothills, since he loves that area so much.”

“I know. But sometimes I look at you and I wonder if I should be trying to make a life for myself, like you are.” It was the first time Carrie had ever heard Steven be anything but his usual calm, unflappable self.

She said firmly, “Steven, you should only be what makes you happy. If staying here makes you content, then that’s fine. If leaving makes you happy, then leave, and God go with you. But don’t do one or the other because you think you should. Do it because you
want
to.”

Steven was quiet. Then he stirred, standing up ponderously, bulky and steady once more, like a firm rock. He grinned. “I’m gonna get my swimsuit on and be right back.” He disappeared. Carrie floated on her back as she waited. When Steven got back, they had an uproarious race, thirty laps long, loser fixing winner breakfast in the morning. They never found out who really won, for it was too dark and they lost count of laps, anyway.

“Carrie!”

“What?” Carrie yelled without moving from her comfortable position on the lush and tenderly cultivated grass near the swimming pool. It had been a mistake to eat anything for breakfast. She always felt listless whenever she filled her stomach in the mornings, and so she avoided eating, but Steven fixed such
good
pancakes that she couldn’t resist, and she succumbed to temptation. She’d eaten like a pig, and now regretted it.

“Got company!” Janet’s shout floated back across the lawn in reply. Carrie groaned as she pushed herself reluctantly to her feet and started to the house. Of course company would come so early in the morning, when she had on her oldest, most faded and tattered pair of shorts, and a thin cotton top about three years old. She might have known!

As she reached the house, she glanced at the door to the back stairs that led up to the second storey from the kitchen. Maybe she could sneak up and change quickly before she went to see who her company was. But it wasn’t meant to be, for as she started towards the back staircase, a deep voice sounded from the doorway and she turned resignedly. Of course—she should have known that Gabe would be by this morning. After all, she had forgotten her copies of the pictures she had wanted to keep, and things had been rather—unresolved, to say the least.

Running a hand through her hair and tousling it wildly, she surveyed the dark man in front of her with wariness. It was impossible to read his face. His features were in an expressionless mask and the real Gabe was nowhere to be found. Dark eyes appeared to glitter strangely and Carrie stared into them, fascinated. A small, twisted smile flitted by and then was gone, leaving him as serious as before.

“Running off?” It was impossible to judge anything by his tone; that too was expressionless. Nevertheless, her face flamed furiously, although she answered calmly enough.

“Of course not,” she replied. “I was merely hoping to reach the second floor so I could change into more suitable clothes before I came to see who my company was.” She looked ruefully down at herself. “This outfit, you must admit, is pretty bad.”