Chapter 11 #2
“I think that’s too much to hope for,” Susan muttered, taking a deep breath and stepping into the noisy crowd.
It was. The wicked trio, Elda, Ridley and Neddie were holding court, each with their own coterie, and all three fixed Susan with a steely glare when she made her belated entrance.
Fortunately the party was so crowded there was no way any of them could get close enough to make their displeasure known, and she simply smiled, said all the right things to perfect strangers and moved on out to the formal gardens.
Long tables had been set up out there, covered in white linen and silver chafing dishes.
Even eating al fresco the Abbotts did things in a grand manner.
Most of the younger people were outside, and even though no one loosened a tie or slipped off a high-heeled shoe, they seemed relatively at ease.
The back gardens abutted on a thick forest that in fifty years would be upscale condos.
Right now it was an artfully wild tangle of growth, marking the border where the Abbotts could no longer control things, though there were paths leading through the woods, and several couples were already taking advantage of them.
It was a warmish night, though Susan couldn’t rid herself of that lingering chill that had plagued her for what seemed like forever.
She ought to go back in the house and see if she could find a cardigan or something, but then she’d run the risk of running into her fiancé and her parents, and a little chill was worth a few minutes’ peace.
There were a few children around—a couple of preadolescent girls trying hard to be grown-up, a towheaded toddler, just barely walking, wandering around with her harassed mother trailing behind her.
The noise by the outside bar was getting louder, the laughter growing, as the early evening darkened around them.
Fortunately Mary had raised her with all the necessary social skills of an earlier generation.
She was entirely capable of holding long conversations with total strangers she supposedly had known her entire life, asking the right questions, nodding sagely, smiling, smiling.
She wanted to get away from them all. If one more slightly inebriated young man came up to her and offered to steal her away from Neddie, if one more young woman sighed over how lucky she was to have won someone who was handsome, wealthy and charming, she would scream.
Cousin Ginny, chasing her rambunctious baby, passed by. “I just wanted to tell you how lucky you are,” she said breathlessly, as her little one toddled on by. “Neddie’s absolutely wonderful. I’m hoping he can get your cousin Doug a job.”
Mary had already primed her on this one—Doug was a drinker, Ginny his long-suffering wife, and between the two of them they didn’t have a cent, Only baby Krissie wandering around, grabbing food off the table and chortling.
“I’m sure he will,” Susan said. “Excuse me, Ginny, I’ll be right back.” And she practically sprinted toward the edge of the garden, or as close to sprinting as she could go in the high-heeled, open-toed shoes she was wearing.
The crowds thinned out by the edge of the woods, and she paused, taking a deep breath.
The terrace was packed with people, and she could see Neddie now, looking around him impatiently.
She was too far away to see his expression, but his body language was easy enough to read.
He was looking for his errant bride, and he wasn’t pleased with her.
She wasn’t in the mood to be manhandled, lectured or even glowered at. There was no one nearby, and she simply melted into the woods before anyone could notice she was gone.
Or so she hoped. It was still and quiet in the forest. In the distance she could hear music and the chattering voices.
A band had set up on the west side of the lawn—Mary was right in that Elda spared no expense when she entertained.
But the tall trees and shrubbery muffled the noise, and as the darkness descended she could see a few fireflies flickering about.
She couldn’t very well sit in her damned fussy flock, so she leaned against a thick tree and closed her eyes, breathing in the cool air, the deceptive stillness, with that foreign world she’d landed in remote and set apart. If she tried very hard she could almost feel as if she were home again.
She lost track of time, her eyes closed, dreaming, when she suddenly realized she wasn’t alone in her little clearing in the woods. Someone was watching her.
If she ignored him maybe he’d go away. It couldn’t be Neddie—he’d barge up and grab her, not keep his distance.
And it couldn’t be Ridley—he’d be whining.
As far as she could figure out, there was only one person in 1949 Matchfield, Connecticut, who’d be interested enough to follow her. And he was standing too damned close.
She opened her eyes, staring up into Jack’s somber ones. “Are you stalking me?”
“Stalking?” he echoed, perplexed.
They didn’t have stalkers in the past? “Never mind,” she said. “What did you want? I was looking for a little peace and quiet, not cozy conversation.”
It was darker now, the lights from the patio a distant glow. The music was growing louder, and people were dancing.
“The conversation I had in mind isn’t particularly cozy,” he said.
“What now? More dire warnings? Why don’t you pull out all the stops and tell me Jimmy would be spinning in his grave if he knew I was going to marry Neddie Marsden? You’ve tried everything else.”
“You think he’d approve?”
“Of course not. But Jimmy’s dead, we both know that And I can’t live my life the way he would have wanted.”
“Yes, you can.”
“And how do you suggest I do that?”
“You could come away with me instead of marrying that bastard.”
She slapped him. Hard, across the face, hurting her hand, the sound of it shocking. And then she stood frozen, disbelieving that she had done such a thing.
He didn’t react. “You’ve seen too many Hollywood movies, Lou,” he said in a caustic voice.
“I—I’m sorry...”
“No, don’t apologize. It ruins the entire effect,” he drawled. “Outraged womanhood and all that. How come a proposal deserves a slap, though? Outside of the fact that it’s the night before your wedding to someone else.”
“It wasn’t a proposal and you know it.”
“Sounded like one to me.”
“So you followed me into the woods during my rehearsal dinner to propose...something. Any particular reason? Were you suddenly overcome by passion? You realized you’ve loved me forever and you can’t see me throwing my life away on the wrong man?”
He said nothing, the mark of her hand standing out against his tanned face.
“What, no passionate declarations of love?” she mocked him.
“Of course not You see, I know why you’re doing this, Jack It was Jimmy’s idea, right?
It just took you four years to get around to it,” she said bitterly.
She was beyond thinking clearly, beyond wondering how she knew things only Tallulah would know.
Somehow during the past forty-eight hours she and Lou had become one, and Lou’s emotions and memories had become hers.
The man in front of her, the man she wanted to kill, was the man she was in love with, and always had been.
“It was Jimmy’s idea,” Jack said finally. “He must have known there was a good chance he wouldn’t come back He wrote and asked me to look after you.”
“Well, I’d say you failed, big-time,” she shot back. “You blew your brother’s last request, hotshot. I’m being forced to marry a bullying criminal, and there’s not a damned thing anyone can do about it. And your noble sacrifice is too damned little, too damned late.”
To her amazement he didn’t look particularly chastened.
As a matter of fact, he smiled at her, with something like relief.
“That’s the Lou I remember,” he said. “For four years you’ve been walking around like a zombie.
I don’t think you let a curse word past your lips in all that time. Welcome back.”
“Go to hell.”
“You want to hit me again?” he taunted.
“Yes!” She moved toward him, like a fool, not realizing his intention. He caught her upraised hand and pulled her into his arms, her body slamming up against his. This time when he kissed her she kissed him back, surrendering with a quiet moan of longing and despair.
It went on forever. His big hands threaded through her carefully arranged hair, pulling it free, and he kissed her mouth, her throat, the corners of her eyes.
“Run away with me, Lou,” he whispered against her skin. “We can make a good team. We’re both too old to believe in true love anymore....”
She kicked him. Hard, in the shins, her uncomfortable shoes finally good for something.
“I repeat Go...to...hell.” And she strode off down the path to the party, her back straight, bristling with fury.