Chapter 4
Four
Susan didn’t sleep well. The French fries, what few Jake hadn’t eaten, sat in her stomach like a lump of lead.
Every time she came close to drifting off, something would wake her up.
The guest bed in her mother’s house was brand-new, state-of-the-art and hard as a rock.
Perfect for bones and muscles, but hell to get comfortable in, she thought, punching her pillow at a little past six.
At seven she gave up, staggering to the kitchen to make some fresh coffee.
She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror and shuddered.
Her close-cropped hair stuck out all around her head, her face was pale except for the lavender circles around her eyes, and her mouth looked tight and drawn.
The blushing bride looked like death warmed over, and if she didn’t get some sleep in the next three days, Edward was going to see her coming down the aisle and bolt in the opposite direction.
It wasn’t until she poured her second cup of black, strong coffee that she realized the notion of Edward running away filled her with profound relief.
“You’re being an idiot,” she said out loud. Indecision wasn’t her style, and now was a hell of a bad time to change her mind. Edward was everything she’d ever wanted. She certainly wasn’t going to back out now.
Grabbing a yellow, lined legal pad and a pencil, she took her coffee out into the small backyard that Mary had tended so lovingly over the years.
Her mother had done wonders with the tiny yard, the ordinary little house, but she deserved better, and Susan had every intention of making sure she got it.
She drew a line down the center of the page, with yes and no on either side.
The reasons to marry Edward were easy enough.
One, she loved him. Two, the wedding was planned.
Three, her mother loved him. Four, this was her childhood dream come true.
Five, it would return the Abbotts to their rightful place in Matchfield society. Six, she loved Edward.
On the no side, there was nothing. Apart from a faint, indefinable sense of uneasiness that had to be normal prenuptial nerves, she could think of absolutely no reason why she wouldn’t want to many Edward Jeffries on Saturday. Well, apart from his overwhelming mother.
It was all Jake Wyczynski’s fault, and by extension, her mysterious godmother Louisa’s fault as well.
Everything had been just fine until he showed up, like some exotic jungle cat Well, fine except for Vivian Jeffries’s horrible wedding dress, but she would have gladly worn that monstrosity in return for a little peace of mind.
She certainly didn’t need someone like Jake second-guessing her well-thought-out decisions.
Uncertainty was perfectly normal in a bride—perfectly normal in anyone approaching a major life change.
Maybe she should call the doctor and see if she could get some tranquilizers.
Maybe she should take up serious drinking.
No, she couldn’t do that. One of the few things she knew about her father was that he drank too much.
It would be just her luck to inherit that tendency.
Maybe she needed a honeymoon more than she realized.
Not that they were taking one. Susan was in the midst of changing jobs, so she was free, but Edward was a young man on the rise, and now was no time for him to be taking more than a couple of days off. The honeymoon would wait until they could do it right.
And Susan’s brand-new passport sat in her top drawer, with no chance of it being used.
She was on her second cup of coffee when her mother joined her on the terrace, the newspaper in one hand and a box in the other. Susan looked up at her warily.
“What’s that?”
“Another present from your godmother. Jake must have dropped it off early this morning.”
“Oh, God,” Susan groaned. “I don’t want to deal with it.”
“Susan! Louisa went to a great deal of trouble...”
“It’s not because of Louisa,” Susan said bitterly. “This week is complicated enough—I just don’t need any more distractions.”
“I’ll put it away, then, and you can open it and the others afterward.”
“That would be the intelligent dung to do,” Susan said. “And I’ve always been such a thoughtful, intelligent human being.”
“So you have,” Mary said, dumping the present in her lap. “Are you going to open it or am I?”
Susan tore the wrappings away, exposing a beautiful old leather box tied with thongs. She opened it, staring down into the contents in consternation.
“Well, what is it?” her mother demanded. “Some bizarre form of birth control? Camel jerky? I wouldn’t put anything past Louisa.”
Slowly Susan lifted the various items from the box and set them on the glass-topped table in front of her.
An ancient passport, dated in the nineteen fifties, the photo torn away, the name barely readable except for the “Louisa,” every page of it stamped and visa’d with destinations and locales from every continent There were photographs of various women from long ago, including one Susan recognized as Amelia Earhart and another she suspected was the famous Victorian traveler, Lady Hester Stanhope.
Hie final item was an antique travel diary, bound in embossed leather. Empty, waiting to be filled.
“How very interesting,” Mary said mildly from over her shoulder.
Susan set the items back in the leather box with care. “Obviously my godmother doesn’t know much about me,” she said in a light voice. “I’m a homebody, not a world traveler. I’ve never even been out of the country.”
“You used to have travel posters all over your walls when you were a teenager,” Mary reminded her. “I remember you telling me that your life’s dream was to see Venice.”
“People change.”
“So you don’t want to see Venice?”
“I will sooner or later,” she said, strangely uncertain of any such thing. “In the meantime, I need to put a stop to these presents.” She rose, pushing the box away from her.
“I told you, I can simply put them away....”
“I don’t have the willpower. Jake will simply have to hold on to the rest, assuming there are still more to come, until after I’m married. I can deal with this.”
“And how are you going to find him?”
“I think I know where he’s staying,” Susan said.
“I don’t know if that’s a wise idea. You seem to react very strongly to Jake Wyczynski. I’ve never seen you get so upset It’s quite unlike you. Maybe I should deal with it.”
“No!” Susan said sharply. “I’m not a complete coward. It’s my problem and I’ll deal with it. The man just gets on my nerves.”
“I never said you were a coward, Susan. I just worry about you.”
She kissed her mother briskly on one cheek. “Don’t worry. I have everything under control. I always do.”
“Yes,” said Mary, sounding less than happy with the notion. “You always do.”
Jake slept late, dragging himself out of his sleeping bag sometime in the early afternoon. He figured he might as well try to stay on African time rather than try to adjust for one short week. Besides, most of the things he was supposed to attend were at night, anyway, when he’d just be waking up.
He was on his second cup of coffee when he heard someone outside the old garage. He froze, definitely not in the mood for visitors, or anyone he’d have to justify his presence to. He had every right and permission to be camping there, but he preferred not sharing that information with the world.
Whoever was outside knew exactly where they were going. He heard measured footsteps on the rickety stairs, and he sighed, wondering whether he was going to be facing an irate groundskeeper or the local police.
He would have preferred either of those two unpleasant possibilities to Susan Abbott, her tall, slim body silhouetted in the doorway in the afternoon light.
“I thought I’d find you here,” she said with a trace of smugness.
He didn’t move. He was only wearing an old pair of cutoff jeans, no shirt or shoes, but he was damned if he was going to cover himself up. After all, he hadn’t invited her—she was just going to have to put up with his lack of attire.
“I wasn’t trying to be mysterious,” he said mildly.
She walked into the room, looking around curiously.
She was dressed casually, in a pair of faded jeans and a T-shirt, and he noticed dismally that he liked her breasts.
It came as no surprise, but in her formal clothes he’d been able to keep his mind off them.
He seldom found elegantly dressed women attractive.
Put them in T-shirts or flannel and his hormones were far more likely to surge.
“You do your absolute best to be as mysterious as possible,” she corrected him gently. “Do you have any more of that coffee?”
“It’s instant,” he warned her.
She wrinkled her nose. “I would have thought you had higher standards.”
“I’m flexible. I’ll take my caffeine any way I can get it That’s the trick to enjoying life, you know. Savor the fresh-ground beans when you can, make do with instant if there’s no alternative.”
“Thank you for that scintillating view of life,” Susan said. She crossed the room, her sneakers making little noise on the old floor. “I have a favor to ask of you.”
He allowed himself a slow, tantalizing grin. “Anything you want, babe.”
She shuddered visibly. “Don’t call me babe,” she said in that patented frosty tone of hers.
“Is that all? I can always come up with sweetheart, honey, baby-cakes?—”
“If you call me baby-cakes I’ll cut your throat.”
“It’s been tried.”
He’d managed to startle her. “You’re not serious!”
“Absolutely. I ran afoul of some street bandits in Alexandria a few years back and still have the scars to prove it. I’m harder to kill than you might think. But I doubt you find it surprising that someone would want to kill me.”
“I can sympathize,” she said drily.
“So what’s the favor?”
“Could you put on a shirt? I’m not used to having conversations with men who are barely dressed.”