A Damaged Trust (4 page)

Speaking gently, she stretched out her arm and tucked it in the curve of her father’s. “I’ll be glad to keep it, Dad. It’s a super car and a great gift.” She reached up and kissed his cheek, noting with a pang how lined his face was. “Thank you!”

He hemmed and hawed a bit, scratched his head, looked toward the mountains in the north, and acted uncomfortable. But, as they entered into the house and walked through the wide and airy hall, his footsteps were lighter and his gait more springy. Carrie noticed, and suddenly felt no more doubts about taking such an expensive gift, glad she had accepted instead of refusing, which had been her first intent.

After lunch, she went with her father and two brothers to the stables to saddle up horses for an afternoon ride. After assisting Carrie in the preparation of her light grey gelding, Ralf announced that he would go to town for a few hours instead of coming with them. Slapping her slightly on the rump as he passed, Ralf made his exit quickly.

“Grey’s missed you,” Cliff said laconically, swinging up into the saddle of his dark and burly horse with an ease that spoke of long years of experience.

“His name is not ’Grey’, it’s Elu Thingol,” Carrie protested patiently as she patted the horse’s neck affectionately. “I’ve told you that time and time again.” Steven snorted as he joined the other two. The strange name always made him laugh.

“Damn fool name for a horse,” Cliff grumbled. “It’s not even English. I refuse to call a horse by such a ridiculous name!”

She laughed. “It’s not ridiculous, Dad, not when you know what it means.”

Steven asked curiously, “What does it mean, Carrie? You never did tell me.”

“The name is from Tolkien’s
Silmarillion,”
she explained. “The name itself means ’grey cloak’ and since Elu here is so fast and light on his feet, besides him being grey, I thought it was appropriate.”

“Fool name,” Cliff muttered.

“Grey cloak.”  Steven mulled over it meditatively. “You know, that is kind of pretty. I like that.”

“Fits, doesn’t it?” She smiled into the sun as she spoke. Yes, it was good to be back. 

She spent the next several days either sketching on the range, swimming in the pool, or helping her mother with the preparations for the barbecue on Saturday night. Because of the heat, it was generally decided that a party outside was the best thing anyway.

“It gets too hot to be dragging around in heavy dinner suits and dresses,” Janet complained as she fanned herself with a magazine. “No wonder your father hates them like he does!”

Carrie was plopped in a light chair close by, nursing an iced fruit drink. The sun was still high in the sky, beating down with a relentlessness that sapped all her energy, making her lethargic and listless.

She sighed. “I think I’ll go and hunt up that fan I used to keep in my room. If the weather stays like this, I’ll be needing it tonight.”

Janet thought for a moment. “Look downstairs in the basement, honey. I’m pretty sure Emma put it down there when you moved out.” She shifted lazily in her chair. “Why your father doesn’t break down and buy an air-conditioner, I don’t know. He suffers from the heat more than any of us.”

Carrie laughed. “It’s the principle of the thing, Mother. If he admits to being affected by the heat, then he admits to having a weakness. I’m surprised he doesn’t challenge Mr. Sun to a duel to see which is stronger.”

“Oh, but he does every day when he goes outside and refuses to stop because of the heat,” Janet said earnestly. “He knows it’s bad for him, but Cliff just won’t quit, not even for an hour. One of these days he’s going to learn the hard way, and he’s going
to get heat exhaustion, or worse, sun stroke.” She groaned. “At least all the preparations are done for the barbecue tomorrow. It’s a good thing we’re having it in the evening—should be cooler then.”

“I’ve never known a more stubborn person than Dad,” Carrie declared. Janet hid a smile and bit back the remark that
she
could mention a young lady every bit as stubborn as Cliff! Carrie continued, moving in her chair in irritation. “He won’t have his physical exams with his doctor, he won’t have his eyes examined, even though he has to squint at distances now—I don’t know how you put up with him, Mom!” Since Janet sometimes wondered the same thing herself, again she had no answer for her daughter. After a silence, Carrie changed the subject with, “Who all is coming tomorrow, or need I ask?”

“Everybody, my dear, simply everybody.” She was not surprised at her mother’s answer. When the Metcalfe family had a barbecue, the whole county showed up for it, invited or not. It was a major production and there was always plenty of food and drink—enough to last the entire night, which was usually necessary. People tended to stay until dawn, when a huge breakfast was served around five-thirty.

Carrie shook her head in mock despair. “I’m not sure if I’m looking forward to it, or dreading it!”

The next day as she watched two of the ranch hands preparing the big pit where beef would be roasted over a live fire, she took a sip of her coffee and decided that she was dreading it. She knew just what kind of chaos and confusion to expect, the horrific mess that the hands would be cleaning up the next day, the family all running to and fro, the noise of the party until dawn—all in all, she thought, it was one big hassle. Mother had to have a screw loose upstairs to go through this every year!

The lady of her doubts came out on the verandah and sat down with a smile of satisfaction. Watching her mother, Carrie was amused to see just how much she enjoyed all of the bustle. Definitely a screw loose.

“Mother, a born organizer,” she commented lightly.

Janet laughed. “Why, thank you, my dear. I like to think so. Of course your father won’t ever admit it—he’s sure it’s all his doing. But I manage to get in a few ideas of my own and he always thinks that he has thought of them himself. The whole key is diplomacy. Maybe I should go into politics!”

Carrie was unprepared for the knife-like pain that shot through her at the lightly spoken words. She said abruptly, and more harshly than she meant to, ”You wouldn’t last a minute in politics, Mother. You don’t have the hypocrisy needed to survive.” At this she stood and went into the house, leaving Janet to stare after her in surprise.

It was nearing seven o’clock in the evening and the guests were beginning to arrive when Carrie started to dress. She pulled out a black sleeveless blouse with a deep neckline and a pale blue pair of slacks. Simple, flat sandals completed the outfit. She added a gold necklace and contemplated herself in the full-length mirror. She couldn’t decide how she wanted to wear her hair.

Unbidden and unwanted came the thought that Neil had always liked her hair down in a riotous tumble of curls. She swiveled around to find her hairbrush. She would wear her hair up tonight. It was a simple style that would be cool and refreshing, and it would show of the graceful curve of her neck quite nicely.

After sweeping her hair into a knot, she stroked on a little blush to emphasize the high angle of her cheekbones, then applied a touch of eye-shadow to the tilt of her eyelids. The result was a light sophistication that would wear easily in the heat and not need any touching up later on. She debated the use of lipstick, but opted instead for some lip-gloss, giving the curve of her lips an attractive glow. Carrie gave herself one last, cursory glance, caught the sight of her hair up off of her neck and paused. “I am not reacting,” she told the suspicious girl in the mirror, “I’m acting!” The mirror image shook her head. Carrie sighed and left the room, depressed.

The sound of car engines floated through open windows from the front of the house and she could hear the boom of her father’s voice directing the arrivers to the back of the house. She knew she should be heading outside, but she was reluctant to leave the privacy of the semi-dark house. It was a comfort to be secluded like she was, all alone, in the shadowy and peaceful hall, while listening to the sounds of the crowd outside. She was at peace in the house and safe. She didn’t pause to ask herself just why she felt
safe
in the house; it wasn’t as if she abhorred people or parties. It would be good to escape later, when the party got to be too much.

The rest of the party thrived in the sort of atmosphere the party induced. Every one of them would be out enjoying themselves until the crack of dawn, and would be sorry to see the party’s end. It was a cheerful, uncomplicated sort of extroversion that the family shared, except for Carrie. While she could enjoyed the party atmosphere for a while, she was most happy by herself, either working on an individual project or merely reading a book. She enjoyed her own quiet company. It was just another characteristic of her personality that her family found incomprehensible.

Carrie headed on down the hallway hearing as she went the sounds of the small band that her mother had secured for entertainment. Time to face the music, she thought, and chuckled at the bad pun. She bumped into Ralf as she rounded the corner. “Mmnif,” she grunted into his shirt.

“Hey! Here you are,” he exclaimed, grabbing on to her shoulders to keep her from falling. “Mom sent me looking for you—you’re late, just about everybody’s here, and people are asking about you. Come on, girl!”

“Who’s been asking about me?” she wanted to know, trotting a little to keep up with her brother’s long strides.

“Gail wanted to know when you would be coming out of hibernation—her word, not mine,” he replied. Gail Bordner had graduated in Carrie’s class in high school, and at one time the two girls had been best friends, sharing all their dreams and heartaches the way only adolescents can. They still kept in touch with each other through letters and phone calls and were continually promising visits that somehow never came to pass.

Carrie’s face brightened eagerly. It would be good to see Gail again. She hadn’t seen her friend since Gail had begun to teach kindergarten, several months ago. Gail had written letters telling her about her children and relating funny anecdotes about the little imps.

“Anyone else?” she asked.

Ralf grinned. “Erica expressed an eagerness to see you again, but I didn’t think you’d be so thrilled by that message.”

Thrilled was not quite the word. Carrie could imagine the polite and insincere tone that Erica would have used as she spoke. The girl had always rubbed her the wrong way, and the way to describe how they felt about each other was the phrase “mutual antagonism”. And now, she thought, Erica shows up at the party. “Yuck!” she groaned.

“Ditto,” Ralf grunted, and Carrie started. She hadn’t realised she had said it aloud. “But whenever Gabe Jackson shows up in public, Erica’s there, sticking to him like a leech.”

She mulled over this unexpected tidbit of information as they reached the verandah where several of the guests were milling, greeting and talking to one another in the manner of people who quite expect to have a good time.

She whispered, “So the great Gabriel is here tonight?”

“Ma invited him specifically. He’s too important to overlook and too new to realise he should come, written invitation or no,” he replied. He pointed to her left. “There’s Gail.”

Carrie cried out the other girl’s name with delight and the two rushed together to hug enthusiastically. “Oh, my dear, how are you?” she asked, feeling a little guilty for not writing as she should have.

“A fat lot you care!” Gail laughed at the expression on Carrie’s face. She was a tall girl with dark hair that flowed down her back, and with a sunny smile that could warm the most dour disposition. She possessed a remarkably steady nature, and Carrie knew that she was just right for her job. “I’m doing really well. Nothing is happening around here, though, and of course it’s dullsville without you! How long are you home?”

Carrie’s face closed up. “I’m not sure—probably for about a month or so. I’ll just plan things as they come along for a while. The art gallery approved my exhibition and they’re planning for the beginning of August for the hoopla, but other than that, I haven’t any plans.”

Gail sobered, catching sight of Carrie’s serious face. “Oh-oh. This looks serious. Would you like to get together and talk about it?”

She hesitated and then smiled, but it wasn’t a very realistic one. “I’d like that,” she said.

“Tomorrow for coffee?”

Carrie could see the other girl thinking rapidly as she said this, and she tilted her head wryly. “That’s short notice. Sure you don’t have anything planned?” She could read the answer on Gail’s face, although she tried to hide it. “It can wait until next week some time, when you’re free. Don’t juggle your schedule around me—I’ve all the free time in the world at present.”

The darker girl sighed. “Oh, all right! I can tell when you don’t want me, just go ahead and say it.”

They both laughed. “I’ll give you a call, okay? We can go out for coffee, and maybe go shopping or something, next week.”

“Sounds fine.” Carrie turned around, searching the clusters of conversing people. “And now I think I should go and see if Mother needs my help with anything. I’ll talk to you later.” Waving to Gail, she began to hunt in the crowd for some sign of Janet.

“Carrie!” Janet’s voice sounded from somewhere behind her, and she turned, searching the people with her eyes. She was really too short and had to stand on tiptoe. “Over here, honey!”

She located her mother, who was waving, over by one the picnic tables where the drinks were. She looked over and looked again. Then she closed her eyes. It just couldn’t be! But when she opened her eyes again, the man was still there, dark and lean and standing beside her mother, who laid a hand on his arm and was talking quickly. Then he looked over to where Carrie was standing and started to walk her way with Janet’s hand still on his arm.

It was the man who had driven the dark blue Mercedes.

Shifting her weight to one leg, Carrie endeavored to keep her chaotic thoughts from showing on her expressive face. She crossed her arms and waited for the two to reach her, mouth pursed and one eyebrow lifted as she was beginning to have a suspicion of just who the fellow might be.