Endless Fear (28 page)

Spencer’s eyes automatically scanned the room in search of April. Noting her absence, he breathed easier. As much as he wanted to see her, he dreaded the moment he would confront the pain he’d inflicted on her transmitting from those glorious aqua eyes. Nothing he could say or do would save the most precious gift he’d ever been given, April’s love.

He headed straight for the makeshift bar, poured himself a Scotch on the rocks, and got down one bracing swallow before Cynthia caught him by the arm and escorted him around the room like a tugboat leading a lost ship. Keeping an eye on the doorway, he nodded through the introductions of Vanessa’s parents, grandmother, and aunt, but he couldn’t relate to Thane’s joy when his whole world was capsizing.

Without warning, his hand was gripped in a hard, confident manner. Startled, he stowed his dark thoughts and looked at the man shaking his hand. Vanessa’s father.

“
Call me Walt.” Walter O’Brien had the lean muscled physique of an executive who spent his lunch hour in a gym. There was no question where Vanessa got her looks. Although his was grayed at the temples, her father had the same thick blond hair, and beneath horn-rimmed glasses, the same clear green eyes.

By contrast, her mother Dee Dee—who stood at Walt’s side—had mahogany hair, a button nose, and the soft brown eyes of a cow, but nothing about the woman was the least bovine. She couldn’t weigh eighty-five pounds dripping wet, Spencer concluded, doubting the three inch high heels she had on brought her up to an even five feet tall.

“
I hear you’re running for mayor,” Walter beamed.

Spencer blanched inwardly. The decision to withdraw from the mayoral race and politics in general, would have to wait until he could inform his family. In private. He gave Walter a practiced answer, then asked what the man did for a living.

As Walter O’Brien discussed his position at the Boeing Company, Spencer nodded and forced himself to act interested. The anxious knot in his gut was growing to gargantuan proportions, and his face muscles were starting to ache from the effort it took to keep smiling. Although at first he’d welcomed April’s absence, he was starting to wonder what was detaining her.

He murmured an “I see” to Vanessa’s father and hoped the response was appropriate, for try as he might to participate in the conversation, he couldn’t concentrate. Night pressed the plate glass windows and coldly reflected a reverse imagery of the people gathered in the living room. It gave Spencer the eerie impression of watching a similar gathering in some other dimension. What was keeping April?

As his gaze fell on Helga, who was passing around a platter of rolled cheese concoctions, it occurred to him that August had asked Karl to act as bartender for this little soiree. But his stepfather was the one pouring drinks. Where was Karl? With April? The thought drained the moisture from his mouth.

Downing the last of his Scotch, he noticed July sitting all alone on the couch, fidgeting, observing the adults with a polite, if somewhat strained expression. The first genuine smile he’d felt tugged Spencer’s lips. Here was an ally. Excusing himself, he made straight for his young sister and claimed the seat beside her. “You sure look pretty in those fancy blue tights and that striped sweater. New?”

“
Yeah.” July smoothed the hem of the knee-length sweater and crossed her ankles above her white flats. Her sigh tore at his heart.

“
What’s the matter, twerp?” He patted her head where her wavy hair hugged in a single, tight braid down the center.

July stole a glance at their mother, then said quietly, “I thought parties were supposed to be fun. Not just a bunch of hugging and shaking hands and talking about boring stuff.”

He bit back a grin and gave her knee a sympathetic squeeze. “Yeah, well, adult parties can be kind of dull for a kid.”

“
You’re a grown up—so how come you’re not having fun?”

The question caught him by surprise, although it shouldn’t have. Kids, he’d found, were often more perceptive than most adults. Too bad they didn’t have the wisdom of experience to offer solutions to problems they could so readily detect.

“
What makes you think I’m not having fun?”

“
You look sad.”

He gave her an exaggeratedly broad smile. “Is this better?”

“
You look funny when you show all your teeth like that.” July giggled and crawled into his lap. “Spence, you want to play Nintendo?”

Hugging her fragile body to him, he thanked God for this small person and her enormous love. “Even though we aren’t having a great time, we can’t leave the party. But I’ll probably feel like taking on the Mario Brothers later.”

“
Promise?”

“
Yep.”

Hearing footsteps in the foyer, Spencer sat July on the sofa and stood. His heart leapt with anticipation as his gaze fled to the arched doorway. Karl entered the room. Alone. Spencer didn’t know which he felt strongest, relief or disappointment. Watching Karl make a beeline for August, speak to him in hushed tones, and receive a nod of appreciation, it occurred to him Karl might not have been anywhere near April. Then what was keeping her?

Deciding to find out, he moved toward the foyer, but Vanessa’s grandmother waylaid him. There was a mischievous twinkle in her crinkled blue eyes. “My, but you’re a pair of handsome devils.” She tossed a look in Thane’s direction, then back at Spencer. “I don’t know how my granddaughter tells you apart.”

Spencer assured the charming woman that the differences were marked, but her observation triggered the memory of April’s adverse reaction to being compared to Lily. Could that be why she hadn’t joined them yet? Was she in her bedroom, anxiously delaying the moment when she’d be confronted by strangers, more people who would remember her mother and make comparisons? Great! His rejection of her had probably added insult to injury atop whatever inadequacies she harbored. Mentally kicking himself for the umpteenth time, he started across the foyer for the stairs. He was probably the last person she would want to see, but the least he could do was try to coax her to join the group for dinner.

Helga was coming out of the kitchen, wringing her apron until it looked as twisted as his stomach felt. Evidently, she still hadn’t calmed down. “Dinner’s ready,” she told him.

“
I’m going to tell April now.”

She nodded and shuffled past him toward the living room. He made for the stairs. With dinner imminent, he had little time to undo some of the damage he’d done to April’s ego. As his foot gained the bottom step, the telephone rang. The cook spun around, staring pointedly at Spencer. He was nearest August’s den. “I’ll get it,” he said, begrudgingly.

Silently cursing the caller’s bad timing, he strode to the den and lifted the receiver. “Hello?” he answered irascibly.

The caller hesitated a moment before asking. “Is this Calendar House? The Farradays?”

The voice was female, husky, and unknown to Spencer. It struck him the call could be for one of the O’Briens. With that in mind, he strove for a softer tone “Yes, it is. To whom do you wish to speak?”

“
April Farraday.”

Of all the people in the house he’d expected the caller to ask for, he’d never even considered April. As far as he knew this was the first call she’d received since she’d arrived here. His brows came together so hard his forehead ached. “May I tell her who’s calling?”

“
Nancy Merritt.”

April’s psychiatrist. His mouth went as dry as powder before he realized he was jumping to conclusions. Given April’s circumstances, it was only natural her doctor would call and check on her progress. “We’re just about to sit down to dinner, but I’ll round her up for you.”

As he set the receiver on August’s messy desk, he heard the doctor’s voice beckoning him and lifted it to his ear again.

“
Pardon?”

“
I don’t want to interrupt your dinner. April can call me afterward.”

“
Are you sure?”

A whole ten seconds passed before Nancy replied. “Yes, I’m sure.” But she didn’t sound like she was sure at all, Spencer thought as he replaced the receiver and stood staring at it long moments. He had the distinct impression the doctor would have preferred to speak to April immediately. Why? The question conjured myriad possibilities, all of which reinforced his anxiety.

“
Who was on the phone?” Cynthia was standing in the doorway of the den.

“
It was Dr. Merritt.”

“
Heavens, whatever did she want?”

He shrugged. “To speak to April. April can call her back after dinner and find out, I guess.”

“
Speakin’ of which, we’d best join the others in the dinin’ room. Helga’s outdone herself with this dinner.”

When they entered the dining room, Spencer instantly sought April. But she wasn’t present. “Mother, where is April?”

“
Why, I don’t know.” Cynthia’s gaze traversed the room, and she seemed genuinely surprised not to find April present. Her hand went to her chest, seeking the absent gold cross. Distress pinched her features. “I’ve been so busy with my hostess duties I didn’t realize she hadn’t joined us.”

“
April’s a little shy,” August explained to the curious-faced O’Brien family. The tint of red in his cheeks expressed an evident embarrassment at his older daughter’s manners. “Would you go fetch her, Spence? I’m sure she’s in her room.”

“
No, she’s not,” July exclaimed just as Spencer reached the doorway.

He spun around, feeling as though he’d been gut-punched. “How do you know, twerp?”

“
I looked before the party.”

Spencer felt a shield of ice form on his heart. He moved back into the room and caught Cynthia by the shoulders, rougher than he meant. “Mother, when was the last time you saw her?”

Alarmed confusion showed in her furrowed brow. “This afternoon. She said she was goin’ for a walk—out to that Turtle Rock of hers. But I assumed she’d returned hours ago. Heavens, hasn’t anyone seen her?”

At the negative answers, March Farraday’s ruddy complexion heightened to the color of boiled beets. “Lordy, don’t tell me that crazy girl has gone and pulled another lame-brained stunt.”

Chapter Sixteen

For one death-defying microsecond, April hung suspended above the killer rocks. Then her stomach flew into her throat as she started to plunge. Flailing the air, she gathered handfuls of nothing.

April screamed.

Prayed.

Cursed.

Dropped.

Prepared to die.

Instead, her feet hit something bushy and pliant and full. It grabbed at her slacks, then poked between her legs, and jerked her body, hard. The odor of pine exploded in her nose.

The tenacious fir tree. Its sharp scent defied the stench of certain demise. Hope revived inside her.

Frantically, she clutched at spiky branches. But the boughs slipped through her hands, squashed beneath her belly, then retreated into the cliff wall as if trying to shove her out—toward the water.

Using every ounce of strength, April snaked her arms around a thicker branch and held on tight. Her body rammed to a halt and left her dangling like a snagged kite. Tree limbs trembled and stilled. Coarse bark bit into her palms. Spiny needles stabbed her cheeks, and gouged her parka, and each breath burned her lungs.

Nothing had ever felt so wonderful.

The feeling vanished in a twinkling. Her gaze stole to the bank above. This was no accident. What had struck her in the back had been a set of human hands.

Realizing the fir offered no concealment, she felt her mouth go dry. Surely, whoever had pushed her from the cliff would stick around long enough to make certain they’d finished the job. Terrified, she eyed the precipice. Her heart beat so hard her whole chest ached as she waited.

And waited.

The sun sank into the horizon and squelched the spotlight effect along the shoreline. Still no one came. No head peered over the cliff to ascertain whether or not the deed had the intended outcome. Confusion sifted through her terror, but she couldn’t afford to worry about it now. She had to get to safety. But how? Reaching the cliff was not an option. The wall above her was too smooth. And below, waves crashed against rocks, spitting sea water high and wide. Screaming would be a waste of vocal chords and might attract the wrong individual.

Stretching her right foot in an outward span, she tried to find a foothold or handhold, something that would support her weight, buy her time. Pebbles skittered loose and clamored down the cliff, their clatter lost in the noisy surf. As daylight ebbed, the cold intensified. Her hands grew numb, her prospects dying as certainly as she soon would.