Amanda (22 page)

She paused at the top of the stairs, watching the dogs start down the carpeted treads, then turned her head as a hint of motion caught her eye.

At the other end of the hall, where the master bedroom was located and where the rear staircase led down to the back of the main house, a faint light could be seen underneath Jesse’s door. There was no lamp nearby, but it was easy to see Maggie because she wore a filmy white nightgown. She reached Jesse’s door, opened it, and slipped inside. A few moments later, the faint light inside the room went out.

After an instant of surprise, Amanda said to herself,
Well, why not?
Maybe it was sex, or maybe just comfort. If it was comfort the two shared, who could wonder at it? For all his strength and autocratic ways, Jesse was a man facing his own mortality, and at such times even the strong might need to lean on someone else, however briefly or secretly. And if it was sex … well, why not?

Jesse had been a widower for forty years, and if he
was the typical Daulton male, sex was an important— not to say vital—part of his life. Judging by what Amanda had read, Daulton men were sexually active right up until burial—several had fathered children into their eighties—and given his potent energy even in these last months of his life, it was likely Jesse enjoyed sex as well as he enjoyed all of life’s other pleasures.

Maggie had come into this house an unattached young woman, undoubtedly attractive, and had probably fallen in love with Jesse—who’d been only thirty-five then and no doubt at the peak of his vitality— early on; he had just lost a beloved wife, and might well have reached out to her at some point because he needed comfort—or only sex.

Frowning a little, Amanda followed the dogs down the dim stairs. She couldn’t help wondering if Maggie had ever hoped Jesse might marry her. Surely she had; a woman of her generation must have found the prospect of being a lifelong mistress impossible to envision, particularly at a time and in a part of the country where such a thing, if publicly known, would have been viewed with harsh disapproval.

But in all probability, Amanda thought, Maggie had never imagined that relationship would go on for so many years. Probably, she had expected marriage all along and had, finally and perhaps only recently, looked back at the decades with a shock of realization.

Jesse was dying … and Maggie would never be his wife.

I’m being fanciful. I don’t know any of this.

But if she was right, Amanda thought, it was, at least on the face of it, yet another black mark against Jesse. To keep a woman in his house for so many years, first as a nurse to his child and then as his housekeeper, paying her for those duties, and all the
time to receive her into his bed completely on his own selfish terms was … it was positively medieval.

Amanda paused on the landing as a flash of lightning illuminated the old grandfather clock there. She looked at the clock without really seeing it, then shook her head and went on.

It was none of her business, of course. Maggie was certainly a grown woman and able to leave; she wasn’t a slave or an indentured servant, after all. And, anyway, Amanda didn’t
know
she was right about any of this. For all she knew, it was Maggie who disdained marriage, preferring no legal tie, and Jesse who wanted one.

Except that Jesse
did
tend to get what he wanted.

Those thoughts and speculations fled when Amanda reached the kitchen. There was a light on, but she was still a little surprised when she saw Kate sitting at the small wooden table with a mug before her. The older woman wore a silk robe over her nightgown and her hair flowed loosely over her shoulders. She looked younger, and peculiarly vulnerable.

“I’m sorry,” Amanda said as she and the dogs paused just inside the room. “I didn’t know anyone else was up.”

Kate shook her head a little. “I hate storms,” she said. “I thought some herbal tea might help me relax.” She smiled briefly. “It isn’t working.”

Amanda waited for booming thunder to diminish, then said, “I don’t like them much myself.” She got a glass from the cabinet and went to the refrigerator to pour milk; Helen had instructed her to stick to bland food and drink for a day or two and, anyway, she thought it might help her sleep.

She hesitated, wondering if Kate wanted to be alone, but when the other woman gestured slightly,
she sat down on the other side of the table. Interesting, she thought. Kate had been freezing her out for days.

“you’re obviously feeling better,” Kate said.

Amanda nodded. “Much.” She sipped her milk and waited somewhat warily.

Kate looked at the mug her long fingers held, then said, “I’m sorry about what happened at the party.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Amanda said neutrally.

“Still, I’m sorry.” Kate was silent for a moment. Then, awkwardly, she said, “I’m sorry about all of it, Amanda. The way I’ve been acting, I mean.”

So you did care about Jesse’s will, after all Either that, or
… Or had she been shocked, perhaps, by the reality of what a pinch of poison could do? Either way, it appeared that Kate wanted to make peace.

Amanda conjured a disarming smile. “Kate, I’m a stranger to you. Even more, I’m a stranger who—unintentionally, please believe that—stepped between you and your father. If you want the truth, I’m surprised You’ve been as polite as you have been.”

Kate looked at her for a moment and then, with obvious difficulty, said, “You didn’t come between us. I wanted to believe you had. Tried to believe it. But …” She shook her head. “Nothing would have been different if you hadn’t been here, not for me. And maybe it’s time I accepted that.”

Amanda didn’t know what to say, but she made a hesitant attempt. “I have a friend who grew up in a very bad situation. Her father … never should have been a parent. He wasn’t physically abusive, but nothing she ever did, in her entire life, was good enough for him. She grew up believing she was worthless. It was only after he died and she no longer looked at herself through his eyes that she began to see herself as she really was. It took a long time for her to heal from what he’d done to her, but she did heal.”

Kate ventured a small smile. “we’re all so … bound to our fathers, aren’t we?”

“Whether we like it or not.” Amanda smiled responsively. She listened to a roll of thunder, then said, “I have no clear memories of my father, not really.”

“Brian was very much like Jesse,” Kate said of her brother.

“Was he?”

“Oh, yes.”

Amanda waited, a little tense, and her patience was rewarded when Kate went on in a musing tone.

“I suppose it would have been remarkable if he hadn’t grown up very like Jesse; he was encouraged by Jesse to believe that what he thought and wanted was more important than the thoughts and opinions and needs of anyone else. And he had the Daulton temper and pride, so of course that made it even worse, made him more … arrogant.

“He was thirteen years older than I was, and already an Olympic-class rider by the time I reached school age, already famous in his sport. He rode a lot in those days, year-round, so he wasn’t home much. But when he was home he … made his presence felt. He’d been spoiled, as I said. Jesse gave him anything he wanted, and he never had to work for a living. But he was kind to me, in his way. Maybe he felt sorry for me.”

“Or maybe,” Amanda suggested, “he liked you.”

Kate smiled. “Maybe.”

“You were only—what?—seven or eight when he brought my mother here to Glory?”

“Seven. I remember thinking that Christine was the prettiest lady in the whole world.”

Amanda waited a moment, then said, “They—we— had a place in Kentucky, I remember vaguely. It’s where I went to school most of the year.”

“That was Christine’s idea,” Kate said. “Maybe she even insisted on it just so they’d have privacy and she could get Brian away from showing for at least part of the year—I don’t know. But I know Jesse bought the house for Brian
and
set him up in those equipment stores only because Christine wanted them to have a place of their own. But Jesse insisted they come back here from spring to fall, and since Brian wanted to ride and enjoyed the cachet of riding for Glory, he was more than willing. Christine was … less enthusiastic.”

“I know she usually didn’t go with him when he was following the show circuit.”

“No, she stayed here. Looking back now, I guess she was pretty bored most of the time, but then it seemed she had things to do. She loved the garden. She read a lot. And she rode some, even though it wasn’t her favorite pastime. She also spent a lot of time with me.”

“Maggie said something like that.”

“Christine was very kind to me, especially in those first few years.” Kate hesitated, then said, “Once, during her second summer here, I even heard her fighting with Jesse over me. She called him a monster for ignoring me.”

“What happened after that?” Amanda asked curiously.

Kate’s smile was brief. “Every summer after that, until I was eighteen, I went to camp for several weeks. Sometimes two or three separate summer camps.”

Amanda winced. Jesse’s methods of handling criticism were, to say the least, telling. “I’m sure Mother didn’t intend—”

“I know she didn’t. I never blamed her.”

There was a short silence, both women listening to the diminishing sounds of the storm and sipping their
drinks. Amanda hesitated to probe too deeply, especially since this was the first time Kate had opened up with her, but she was too conscious of time passing not to take advantage of the opportunity.

“Kate … you were here that summer. And the night my mother left.”

“I was here.” Kate frowned a little as she looked down at her mug of tea.

“Do you know why she left?”

Thunder grumbled outside, a storm exhausted by its own violence. Kate lifted her gaze and looked gravely at Amanda. “No,” she said. “I have no idea why she left.”

Just as she had with Sully, Amanda got the distinct impression that Kate was lying. But before she could even decide if it would be wise to push, Kate was going on quietly.

“Is it really so important to answer that question, Amanda? It was a long time ago, after all. Brian and Christine are gone, and knowing what—oh, final blow, I suppose—ended their marriage can’t really matter now. Can it?”

“It does to me.”

“Why?” Kate shook her head. “You were a little girl; whatever happened obviously had nothing to do with you. If you were blaming yourself, I mean.”

Amanda frowned. “You know, it’s funny … I never did. Blame myself, I mean. I know kids often do, but I never did. It’s just that I have to know what happened. It was all so … abrupt, her leaving.”

Kate hesitated, then sighed. “Not really. She wasn’t happy, Amanda, we all knew that. Jesse was at least partly to blame, something he’d never admit. But he insisted they come home for nearly half of every year, and he thought it was fine for Christine to be stuck here while her husband was off participating in a sport
she had no love of. It put enormous strain on a marriage that was never strong to begin with.”

“Couldn’t Jesse see what was happening then?” Amanda asked. “Couldn’t my father?”

Kate smiled a bit thinly. “I said they were very much alike. Neither of them believed she’d leave, no matter what. She loved Glory, they both knew that. You were happy here, and your happiness was important to her. And, once married to Brian, Christine was a Daulton. She was expected to adapt herself to her husband’s life and his wishes.”

Amanda scowled. “That’s … absurd.”

“Oh, I agree,” Kate said, obviously realizing that
absurd
had been chosen over a less polite word. “But remember how much the world has changed in thirty years. They were married in sixty-two; the sexual revolution was just getting under way, and as far as most people were concerned, women’s lib was hardly more than a gleam in a few hopeful eyes. The Daulton men were worse than most, but they weren’t so different in what they expected of their wives.”

“Still.”

“Yes—still.” Kate shook her head wonderingly. “They really didn’t have a good excuse, did they? you’d think that educated and supposedly worldly men—even then—would have seen what was coming, would have recognized that women were changing. But … This is an isolated place in a lot of ways, and people tend to cling to what they know. The younger generations are changing, of course, but the older ones are still stuck in the general vicinity of 1950.”

Amanda finished her milk and sat there turning the glass slowly, absently. “So you’re convinced that it was only a matter of time until my mother left here?”

“I’m afraid so. I know she tried to tell Brian she
was unhappy, but either he didn’t hear her or else he believed it was something she’d get over.”

Thinking of the possible affair conducted in the weeks before Christine had run away from Glory, Amanda said cautiously, “But she was happier that last summer. I think … I remember she was happier. Wasn’t she?”

Kate looked at her for a moment. “I don’t think so. If anything, she was more strained than ever before. I think she was trying. She rode more than usual that summer, and she talked about enrolling at the community college for summer courses. But she was very restless. Almost brittle.”

Amanda managed a smile. “Well, my memory’s been playing tricks all along. And I was only nine.”

“it’s natural that summer would be so important to you,” Kate said, “but it
was
a long time ago, Amanda. Maybe the best thing you could do would be to just let it go.” She got up and took her mug over to the sink, adding, “Now that the storm’s passed, I think I’ll go back to bed. Good night.”

“Good night, Kate.” Amanda sat there at the table for some time after the older woman had gone. She didn’t believe Kate had told all she knew of that last summer, but at least she had offered a bit more information about Brian and Christine Daulton. And at least there was, clearly, a thawing of Kate’s frozen attitude.

But Amanda would have been a lot happier if that thaw had begun
before
she had eaten a piece of blueberry pie.

Kate eased back on the reins and Sebastian, well trained as well as familiar with her cues since she had ridden him for more than ten years, obediently slowed
his gait to an easy walk. It was pleasant on the trail, the air so early this Monday morning still holding the damp cool of dawn, and the storm the night before had left behind it a freshness that made all the noise and fury seem almost worthwhile.