Cast a Pale Shadow (23 page)

"This is your home now. We are your family." Nicholas eased his hold on her, rocking her gently. He didn't want to frighten her with his growing rage. Left unchecked, it might boil out of him while the object of his anger was far out of his reach. He had to quell it with action. He stood and she slid from his lap to stand.

"Augusta is very worried about you. Should we go down after you change? The kitchen is warm and sunny. The teakettle's bubbling on the stove. The whole crew will be coming home soon."

He had to get her out of this gloom, away from the shadows that haunted her, back to life. He would find a way to deal with her father later. Trissa took a few tentative steps away from him.

"No," she whispered, her hand outstretched to keep him at a distance. "I can't. I'm leaving. I have to leave here.
You.
I have to leave
you
."

He met her eyes with a firm gaze. She set her chin and turned away.

"Don't look at me like that. It's the only way. He'll find us here. He won't leave us alone."

"He doesn't have any power over you anymore. You're protected here. I won't let him come in here. Augusta won't let him. No one here would. Come on. Come down to dinner. We can talk about this later. He frightened you but he can't hurt you anymore. Nicholas went to the bathroom door, looking back to her over his shoulder. "What do you want to wear?"

"Anything. It doesn't matter."

"Everything matters, Trissa. Everything." He brought her a blue sweater and a denim skirt with pearl buttons. Shrugging off her jeans and shirt so that she was clad only in her bra and panties, she shyly turned away from him and pulled the sweater on over her head. Her fingers trembled so badly, she couldn't manage the buttons on the skirt.

"Let me." Working from the bottom up, he quickly, efficiently buttoned her, straightened her collar, lifting her damp hair away from her neck, then he threaded her belt through the loops at her waist and buckled it.

When he reached the buttons at her cuffs, he halted, gently stroking the chilled skin from the heel of her palm to the bruised band that marked her father's grip. "He won't hurt you again, Trissa, I promise. But you have to promise me you will never think of leaving me again. Never." He bent down and kissed her bruised wrist then buttoned her cuff.

When he bowed his head to do the same with the other wrist, she touched his cheek to stop him. "Don't. I can't bear it. I can't make the promise you ask of me. I so wanted this new life to be mine, but it can't be. I was never meant to be loved and cherished. I learned that long ago. It's just that I let myself forget. I had a few magic weeks, but now it has to end. I have to leave."

"No. No, that can't be true because I love you, Trissa. I cherish you. And the magic is only just beginning for us." He laid his hands softly on her cheeks and kissed her, a kiss that tasted of salt and sadness and lost dreams. When it ended, she reached hungrily for another, and her pulse quickened where his fingers rested lightly near her ears, a leap to the hope he offered her. Her hands circled his neck, and she pressed her body along the length of his, willing him to continue until he was dizzy with desire for her. "Trissa..."

"Don't say stop, Nicholas. Don't say anything."

He took a deep breath to clear his head and smiled. "I don't want to. But we have to go downstairs. Augusta must be frantic by now." When he saw the disappointment that edged into her eyes, he said, "I know, but it will be all the sweeter for the waiting. When all our troubles are behind us. Trust me."

He forced himself away from her and went to the bathroom again to get her brush. His yearning and his fear for her mingled in his heart so that there seemed no room there for the blood. It rushed to his ears and his head confusing him with its sound and heaviness.

He was losing her. She would leave and they would both be lost if he was not careful. When her hand touched his as he handed her the brush, there were sparks that were more than static. "Brush your hair," he said, his voice sounding strangely muffled through the humming in his head, "And we'll go down. I have to change my shirt."

Nicholas went to his dresser and pulled open a drawer. A wave of foreboding swept him, and he clutched the edge of the dresser and doubled over to rest his teeming head against the cool oak.

He had never been one to pray, not wishing to acknowledge the power of a god who tainted lives with such grief that the gift of life seemed more like a deprivation. But he prayed now. He prayed for the strength and sanity to save her and himself. And more than that, he prayed for time.

When he opened the bathroom door, Trissa stood a few footsteps away, a look of impossible hope in her eyes. She saw him again as her savior, her guardian angel.
God, how he prayed he could be.

In the kitchen, Hattie had already come home for the day and was in the midst of telling Augusta a fervent tale of a disgruntled parent. "Imagine the nerve to assume that the tuition he pays entitles his child, his lazy dolt of a child, to be wet-nursed through..." Sensing she had lost her audience, she followed Augusta's eyes to the source of her distraction. Trissa clutched Nicholas' hand tighter and tried to ignore her disdainful look.

"Are you feeling better, dear?" Augusta greeted her warmly, stepping toward them to give her a hug. "Will you join us for dinner?"

"Augusta, could Ruth just fix us a couple of sandwiches and wrap a few cookies? It's such a balmy night, we'd like to go to the park for dinner," said Nicholas. Trissa cast a surprised glance at him.

"Of course! The fresh air will do you worlds of good."

"Thanks. Trissa, you stay with Augusta. I forgot something upstairs." She let go of his hand reluctantly. "I'll be right back."

"Now what kind of sandwich would you like?" asked Ruth. "We got some meatloaf here, or ham."

"Ham, I guess."

"Shoot, mizewell give you both. Balmy or not, it's only April and that spring night air can make you hungry. In fact, spring can get you hankering for all kinds of things. I wish I had some of that tonic my old Gram used to dose me with. You sure do look a worrisome bit peaky." She clucked her tongue and went to the refrigerator for the meatloaf and ham.

When Nicholas returned, it was through the back door. "I had to put something in the car," he said. He brushed two fingers along Trissa's cheek to reassure her. "Augusta, may I speak privately with you a moment?"

"Of course." She followed him through the pantry to the cellar landing. "Oh dear, Nicholas, I almost forgot. I have a message for you. A Doctor Fitapaldi called."

"Who?"

"Doctor Lorenzo Fitapaldi."

Nicholas shrugged. "Never heard of him."

"Well, it was puzzling. He asked for a Cole Baker first, and when I told him..."

"Cole Baker," he repeated dully.

"Yes, and when I told him he must have the wrong number, he asked for Cole Brewer.... What's the matter, Nicholas? You're as white as a sheet. Is it bad news?"

The rushing blood had returned to his ears, muffling clear thought. "No one calls me that."

"But it is you? I hope so because the man is coming here all the way from Michigan just to see you this weekend."

"Here? To see Cole Baker?"

"Brewer."

"He's mistaken me for someone else. When he sees me, he'll know." He pushed the puzzle out of his mind. He could only worry about Trissa now. "I need your help tomorrow. Trissa must not go to school. I want someone to be with her at all times, and I can't be. She needs something to keep her occupied so she doesn't dwell on her troubles."

"I've got the perfect thing. We're making the floral arrangements and decorating for May's piano students' recital tomorrow. She can help Roger, May, and me if you think she's well enough."

"You were right, Augusta, it's not physical. Remember, I told you her family objected to our marriage? Her father is harassing her at school. He's pressing her to come home. She's very much afraid he will force her."

"But she's eighteen."

"That doesn't make any difference to him. He's a domineering man. There's no way to know what threats he has used or may use. I don't think he has this address but--"

"Don't worry. I'll take care of her. And if he dares to come here, Roger will take care of him." Augusta had her fists clenched at her side, ready to fight.

Nicholas smiled and took one fist and kissed her knuckles like a knight paying homage. "Thank you, Augusta. I knew I could count on you. One more thing, I may be late tomorrow night. I have some unavoidable business to attend to. If I am, cover for me with Trissa, will you? In her state, she's likely to think the worst."

"I'll keep her so busy she won't even notice you're gone."

Beverly, Roger and May had arrived home to join Ruth, Hattie, and Trissa in the kitchen. They were all laughing heartily as each in their turn tried to heft the bulging picnic basket Ruth had assembled.

"Well, feed a fever, as they always say. Even if it is spring fever," grinned Ruth. Like clowns jammed into a circus car, the picnic goodies included sandwiches and potato chips, pickles, celery and carrot strips, chunks of cheddar cheese, cake, apples and grapes, a jug of lemonade and a bottle of wine. Ruth had thrown in napkins, utensils, paper plates, wine glasses wrapped in tissue, and a couple of handfuls of candle stubs.

"There's enough to feed the lot of us," said Roger. "Maybe we should all eat in the open air tonight. Who votes yes?"

May and Beverly raised their hands, and Hattie seemed on the verge of it when Trissa's small voice squelched the voting. "No! Umm, I mean, I'd love to have you join us some other day. You know you're better than family to me. But tonight is not a family picnic. Nicholas and I need some time alone." When she looked around the circle and saw their knowing smiles and saw Roger jab Nicholas in the rib with his elbow, she blushed and added, "To talk."

"Roger is just teasing you, honey. Of course, this is a picnic for two only. Run along and enjoy yourselves."

"Yes, enjoy!" Roger raised the bottle of beer he held in his hand, which set May, and Beverly to giggling. "There's a full moon tonight. You know what that does to lovers." He took a deep swallow of his beer. "And madmen."

"Roger, behave yourself," said Augusta.

"Get a jacket," Nicholas whispered in Trissa's ear. After she left, he pretended to struggle with the lifting of the picnic basket. "All of your kibitzing will be for naught, folks, if toting Ruth's dinner ruins me for life." When May wrinkled her brow in her effort to understand the joke that Roger laughed at with such a pained expression, Nicholas winked at her. "Don't wait up, gang," he said and banged out the back door.

Chapter Thirteen

Even the weather conspired to make up for the early cold Easter that year. The cold snap in the middle of March faded to a brief, bitter memory now. With Easter lost to cold and rain, spring was at last poised to attack in earnest. Clumps of daffodils nodded their agreement with the plan, and a warm, steady rain over the weekend had wakened the fields of grass for the battle for the green.

But Trissa was blind to all this. She had lost the strand of hope she held so briefly and sank into silence for the short drive to the park. Nicholas tried to call her attention to a star magnolia ready to burst into flower but her head came up too slowly to see it. She cast her eyes down again and studied her hands clenched in her lap. She did not even look up to count the brash pink flamingos that mobbed one corner of the giant iron birdcage marking the boundary of the zoo.

Nicholas drove the winding roads in the park without apparent destination. Despite the many times he'd driven through, he'd never mastered the layout of Forest Park, but instead relied on getting where he was going by luck and chance. Trissa's navigation skills were better, but she was too absorbed in her thoughts to help.

The weather had drawn walkers and bikers. Horses and their riders dotted the bridal path winding between bright, yellow slashes of forsythia, and golfers were hurrying through their last holes before the waning twilight failed them.

"Spring is taking over, Trissa. It can get the best of you if you let it," he said with futile enthusiasm.

 "No, I don't think so," was her absent reply.

The car swooped round the circle at the amphitheater of the open air Municipal Opera complex. Swans sent ripples of gold in the sunset-tinted lake across from its entrance. In honor of the holiday, someone had looped pastel streamers through the lacy grillwork of the Victorian band shell in the middle of the lake. They fluttered gaily in the slight breeze. Trissa didn't notice.

Silently, Nicholas cursed her father and turned up the drive toward the Art Museum. In the pavilion that crowned the terraced hill near the zoo, picnickers basked in the glory of the patchwork quilt of red bud, pear, and crabapple blossoms stretched out below them in the glow of sunset as they had every spring since the 1904 World's Fair. Trissa didn't see them.

Every site they had explored with cameras and laughter on other excursions melted in the long, sharp shadows of the melting sun. Trissa didn't care.

"Are you getting hungry?" he asked.

"If you are."

Nicholas pulled through the small, stone gates at the rear garden of the Jewel Box and parked. She looked up at the Art Deco style conservatory, startled, as if waking from a sleep. "I'm sure it's closed. It's after five."

"I thought we'd eat by the floral clock."

"If you want to," she said, slipping the strap of her purse on her shoulder, and opening the door to get out.

The clock was at the far end of the rose garden. The rose bushes still wore the mounded mulch of winter but tiny green leaves poked through here and there. Trissa walked quickly through the garden, with arms folded and head down, and Nicholas abandoned the picnic gear to catch up with her. He put his arm around her shoulder and she let him.

Their pace seemed more a march than a lover's stroll. At its end, the pansies and grape hyacinth that formed the face and numbers of the clock still winked in the swiftly lowering sun. Below the clock, spelled out in flowers were the words "Hours and flowers soon fade away." Trissa raised her head to the sky and blinked back tears.