Necessary Evil (37 page)

“There’ll be no autographs today,” I
snarled, and she took that as her cue to exit.

I turned to Greg, who raised his hands
protectively.

“Now, now, easy does it, Warwick,” he
said. “I’m grievously injured, you know.”

He was laughing, the insufferable man. I
pointed to the door.

“Do you know what she thinks? She asked me
downstairs if I was your
research assistant
! And I told her
yes!
”

“And fine assistant you were, too,” he
nodded. “In fact, in a dozen or so years, with the proper tutelage, you’ll make
a reasonably good treasure hunter. And that’s not a compliment I give out to
just anyone.”

“Oh, thanks!” I fumed. “That’s fine. That
nurse is going to tell all her friends about this. The entire hospital is going
to think that we’re… That you… How am I supposed to live that down?”

“Why, Madeleine Warwick,” he said. “There
are worse things than to have your name linked to mine. Some people might think
it’s an honor. Besides, if you’ll recall, this ‘Gregory Randall as the new
Barbara Cartland’ wasn’t
my
idea.”

I stopped and sighed. I’d spent the entire
night worrying about him and beating myself up over the cruel things I’d said,
intending to go straight to his side to set things right. Now, not two minutes
in his presence, here I was reaming him over a case of mistaken identity that
was essentially my fault. I didn’t know whether to be relieved that he was
feeling well enough to tease about it or just annoyed.

“So you say,” I said, and decided that it
was time to change the subject. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a
folded piece of paper in a plastic bag. “This is for you.”

He took it suspiciously. “What is it?”

“A letter from an old friend,” I said.
Seeing his confusion, I explained. “It’s Alexander Chase’s. We found it in the
old trunk.”

“You
opened
it?”

Only once before had I heard him sound and
look so upset. I shook my head.

“It
wasn’t
me,” I said. “The police
opened it to see what the fuss was about. Aunt Susanna laid them out but good,
then she had them repack it and put it in the kitchen.”

When he opened his mouth, I interrupted.
“I was with you in the ambulance. With your blood on my shirt. Under the circumstances,
I couldn’t really object too much.”

That put things into perspective. He
opened the letter.

I’d already read it, so I studied his face
as he absorbed the contents, memorizing every line and crease. I noted the way his
eyes jumped around the page - as though he was not just reading the letter, but
taking in the page, the texture, and the various markings. I wondered how much
he saw that I didn’t.

He caught me staring and I looked away
quickly, focusing on the floor.

“Well,” he said, slowly folding the letter
and returning it back to the plastic wrap. “This seems to explain everything.
Your uncle was right. Alexander didn’t do it for money or revenge.”

“No,” I said. “He did it for love.”

When I looked up, he was smiling at me.

“Not bad for an amateur,” he said softly.

I nodded, and the moment held.

Then he cleared his throat.

“Well, that’s that, then,” he said, and
swung his legs around so that they were hanging off the bed. “You’d better go,
Warwick. I’m going to get dressed now and we wouldn’t want the nurses to have
too much to talk about.” He tried to stand, but he moved too quickly and had to
sit down again.

“What are you doing?” I demanded, alarmed.
“You can’t leave!”

“I can’t stay here,” he said. “There’s far
too much to do. I have to get this letter back to my lab at Hadley, and the
treasure, too, for proper study. Then there are the reports and the meetings
and the press releases and…”

“You’re going back?” I asked, my heart
sinking. “Back to Hadley? Today?”

“The sooner the better,” he said, holding
his head. “My job here is finished - It’s time your aunt had her house back. I
was serious about the book,” he said. “About writing it with you, I mean.”

I stared, so he continued.

“This is a rare opportunity. You know how
I feel about collaborations, but I think it would be interesting to have your
perspective. The exposure would be good for your farm and, of course, there
would be the revenue. I may not be the academic star I used to be, but my name
still can sell a few hardcovers. You might even find it fun. And you’ll get a
chance to work with one of the best-regarded professionals in the business.”

All I could do was gap as he resumed,
“It’s a good opportunity for both of us. I know this is coming on fast and not
that I wish to exploit what happened last night, but putting that in the book –
talk about a solid ending. It’s a win-win situation. What do you think,
Warwick?”

Warwick.

The name he only used when he was talking
business. Not Madeleine, not Maddie – just Warwick.

I stared at him, aghast.

“How can you take this so lightly?” I
whispered. “Leaving and… Gregory, you almost died last night. I was in that
waiting room all night, worried sick and all you can talk about is writing and
business relationships and asking me to…” I groped for words, my tone building
as I continued, “to exploit Joe’s attack to sell a few miserable books?”

My voice rung in the room.

He winced.

“When you put it that way, it doesn’t
sound as good,” he said. “But you’ve got to admit that we’ve got a good story
here. It would be criminal to throw it away.”

“You are
crazy
,” I yelled. “You’re
lying on your back, calmly talking about business ventures and book sales and I
was downstairs, thinking, he’s hurt, he’s dying, it’s my fault… I thought you’d
died
last night. Do you know what that did to me?”

He looked up at me, suddenly still. “No,”
he whispered. “What did it do to you?”

I stood there for a moment, debating.

Then I thought,
He called me Warwick.

That was my answer. There was no need to
stay.

“Not a thing,” I lied. “Why don’t you just
go back to your precious Hadley U?”

My words caught in my throat, my eyes
filled and I panicked, turning, running for the door before he could see.

“Madeleine.”

His voice stopped me dead in my tracks. I
didn’t turn. I stood there with my back to him, biting my lip hard so that I
wouldn’t cry.

“Oh, my dear Madeleine,” he said softly.
But this wasn’t the same dismissive “My dear Madeleine” that I was used to hearing.
This was a soft, tender whisper, something new. “Don’t leave. Not yet.”

“I’m going home,” I insisted, taking a
steadying breath, thinking about life on the other side of that door. It would
be as cold as before – and lonely. Loneliness stretching out like acres of
neglected, weed-choked fields. No one there to run along beside me. No one
there to tease me into eating properly, to push me out of my comfort zone, to
need me to listen, to ask me to work with them, to look for me when I came in,
to bandage battle wounds, or to wander about the trails, talking about nothing.
I’d be alone, as lonely as when Uncle Michael died. Only worse. Much worse.

I squished the images before they
overwhelmed me, but the truth came out in a savage rush: “I don’t want a
business
agreement with you, Gregory. That isn’t good enough.”

There. It was out for both of us to hear.

He was silent. Absolutely still.

A desperate need to salvage my pride made
me add hastily, “I really have to run…”

But as I reached for the doorknob, he
said, in the same quiet tone: “Madeleine, aren’t you tired of running? I know I
am.”

My hand dropped to my side. I didn’t turn.
I couldn’t bear to see his face. I couldn’t leave, either.

“I don’t want just a business relationship
with you, either,” he continued. “It would never be enough for me.”

I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, so Greg
went on.

“You know,” and there was a wistfulness in
his voice, “when you spend your life as I have, buried inside books and genealogies
and maps – and the endless hunts for other people’s fortunes, you can look up
one day and realize that you neglected to look for the real prize.”

I turned to face him then, tears flowing
down my face. He was sitting up, leaning forward as though to stop me, his head
wound forgotten.

“But that was the life I chose.” He
smiled, but it was tentative, unsure – something I’d never seen in him. “Until
I met you, that is. I couldn’t dismiss you like I could others. You’re
unforgettable, Maddie. Just being with you makes me want to be more than I am.
Being away from you is a kind of loneliness I didn’t know existed.” He shook
his head. “I know I drive you up the wall sometimes…”

I had to smile at that. “Goes both ways, I
think.”

He didn’t return the smile or agree. “Last
night you said that there is no ‘us’, but Madeleine, don’t you think someday,
there could be?”

I felt as though my heart were swelling
painfully in my chest. There was a look on his face, in his dark eyes. A look
that made me think I could, maybe, safely lose myself in their depths.

He continued softly, “I don’t want to just
work with you. I want you in my life permanently, but I’ll accept whatever you
can give, even if it means saying goodbye to you today or tomorrow or after the
project’s done. It’s up to you. Working together on this book – it’s a poor
substitute for a life, Maddie. But when a man’s in love with a woman who loves
someone else – well… can you blame him for taking whatever time with her he can
get?”

My throat was so constricted I couldn’t
speak. I remembered how I felt when I thought he’d died. I thought about Joe,
and how duped I’d been. I thought about Uncle Michael’s death, and how it had
nearly ruined me - as Darlene had almost allowed her daughter’s death to do to
her.

And then I heard Aunt Susanna’s voice,
clear and strong and sure:
It’s a small price to pay for a lifetime.

I couldn’t promise forever. Not yet. We
were still too raw, still too new, with too many hurdles to jump over before
either of us could promise that. But I couldn’t dismiss him, either. To do so
would be tantamount to ripping my heart in two.

He was watching me, his heart shining
through his eyes, his hand stretched out for me to take.

“I was never in love with Joe,” I
whispered. “And I don’t want to say goodbye.”

I put my hand in his.

Gregory’s face lit up like the dawn.

“Then don’t,” he said and pulled me to
him. “Please don’t.”

As I melted into his arms, one clear
thought bubbled above the heady waves of emotion that rolled over me:

So this is what it’s like to be kissed by
the right man…

From an article by Charlie White in
The
Triple Town Sentry

Chase Book Published:

A book launch party for the newly
published
Read
On
This: The Chase Treasure Hunt
was
held at the Chase Farm last night. Written by Professor Gregory Randall and
Madeleine Warwick Randall, this non-fiction book outlines their search for the
legendary McInnis treasure, long thought to have been stolen by Alexander
Chase.

Back in 1861, Chase was accused of
stealing from his wealthy employer. The scandal ruined the family reputation, a
stain that lingered until the climatic affair two years ago, when the treasure,
and the explanatory note was discovered on a neighbor’s property. The note exonerates
Chase, who had secured the goods at the behest of his fiancée, the daughter of
his employer.

“It’s really exciting to finally have the
truth about the whole affair,” said Susanna Chase, who had just returned from
an around the world trip with her friend and neighbor, novelist Darlene
Winters. “My husband always believed in Alexander and in the treasure. It’s
nice to have his theories proven.”

Ms. Winters, also releasing a book this
year, wrote the introduction to
Read
On
This.
“This
is such a fantastic book – it reads more like a mystery thriller than a
history. And the old saying is correct: truth is stranger than fiction.”

Charleston Historical Society President,
Charlene Schaeffer, attended the party. Her museum is hoping to obtain joint ownership
of the collection and she spoke at length about the ties between the North and
the South. Also present at the party were such literary notables as local
author A. Glen Bernard and romance writer, Gregorianne Vincent.

Randall, who teaches at Hadley University
in Massachusetts, announced that his next line of inquiry would take place in
Philadelphia, concerning some pre-Revolutionary War material, but he declined
to give any details. He and Warwick married last year, and will be working on
the new book together, leaving care of the farm to Susanna Chase.

Madeleine Randall said, “I’ll miss the
farm, of course, but I know I’m leaving it in good hands.” The couple are
expecting their first child in August, and she said that she’s looking forward
to having a family, something she never expected.

“Having the right person by your side just
changes everything. Every day it seems there’s something new. We’re looking at
a bright future – and I just can’t wait!”