No Shadow (Prodigal Sons of Cane) (8 page)

They’d all get
the wrong idea. No question about that. But what could Helen do about it?

The ride across
town was quiet. Andrew made a few comments about the weather, Melissa, and the
dog that still lacked a name, but he was obviously in a reflective mood.

She’d seen him
in church. He hid his feelings well, but she was starting to be able to read
even the tiniest signals in his expression. The way his jaw clenched and his
eyes lowered in the final hymn told her he’d been dealing with some sort of
strong emotion.

She’d prayed
for him. She wasn’t sure exactly what was holding him back in his faith, but
she knew he was almost there.

Figuring he was
still dealing with his response to the worship service, she didn’t press him
into conversation. She just relaxed against the soft leather seat and listened
to him breathe.

When he pulled
into the drive at the Cane house, he glanced over at her with a look that was
almost questioning.

Feeling
ridiculously shy, she managed to give him a smile. “So are you glad you came to
church today?”

He didn’t
smile, but the gray eyes were softer than normal. “Yes. I’m glad.”

That was all he
said, but it was enough. She slid out of the SUV and followed Andrew into the
house, feeling happy and excited.

He took her up
to Melissa’s garret suite, and then left them together so he could bring up
their lunch, since Sunday was Trish and Jenson’s day off.

Melissa looked
much more comfortable today than she had at dinner last Wednesday. She greeted
Helen warmly and inquired about church.

“Did Andrew get
to talk to some people?” she asked, after Helen gave a brief rundown on the
service.

“Yeah. I think
so. He said hi to a bunch of folks and talked to my dad a little.”

“Good.”
Melissa’s eyes—so like Andrew’s—rested on Helen’s face with a flicker of worry.
“He’s got a lot of friends, but they’re all mostly casual. He likes to pretend
he’s strong and self-sufficient, but he really needs some support.”

“Yeah.” Helen
couldn’t help but feel another pang of sympathy for Andrew and an intense
desire to help him, to care for him.

“You know he’s
not as cool and professional as he puts on, don’t you?” Melissa asked, reaching
over to grab Helen’s arm in her urgency. “He’s used to being an unflappable businessman,
and that’s the image he likes to project. It’s gotten really hard for him to
open up about his feelings. He’s spent so long trying to take on the
responsibilities of those he loves that he doesn’t feel like he can make
himself vulnerable. But you know he’s not really unfeeling, don’t you? He loves
so deeply, feels things so deeply—he just doesn’t always know how to put it
into words.”

Helen stared at
Melissa in shock and bewilderment. She had no idea why Melissa was asking her
all this. No idea why it mattered so much at the moment. “Of course, I know,”
she said, as soothingly as she could. “I can see that. I know he’s not
unfeeling.”

“Good,” Melissa
said, relaxing some of the tension in her body and expression. “I just wanted
to make sure you knew.”

“Why?”

Melissa sighed
and stretched out on the window seat. “I don’t know, really. But I’m afraid he’s
going to pull back a little today. When things are hard for him like going to
church was, sometimes he needs some time to recover.”

Helen thought
about that for a few minutes.

Then she had to
marvel at how well Melissa knew her brother.

Andrew returned
to the room carrying up chicken and potato salad. They talked about casual
topics like movies and local politics.

And Andrew
barely looked at Helen at all.

“What about this one?” Helen asked,
holding up a bound nursing periodical so Judy could see it. “I assume we can
dump it since the college no longer has a nursing program.”

“Absolutely,”
Judy agreed, meticulously sorting through a stack of old academic journals.
“Dump it.”

The library
staff had recently purged the paper periodical holdings that had been on the
shelves for decades, leaving only the most popular and necessary ones. Now the
purged periodicals were piled up in any available space, and Judy and Helen
were trying to go through them and decide which were worth electronically
archiving and which should just be thrown out.

Helen turned
back to one of the piles of annually bound journals that were now stacked
through the storage room and the back copy room. She tried to focus, but her
mind kept wandering.

She’d always
been a bit of a daydreamer, but lately focusing on work had become increasingly
hard.

She knew the
reason.

Andrew kept
coming to mind. She kept recalling the details of their encounters and
imagining what they’d say when they met next.

The last two
weeks had gone pretty well between them. She’d seen Andrew several times, since
she went over often to visit Melissa. Helen was glad about having Melissa as a
new friend, and she was also glad of the opportunity to spend a little time
with Andrew.

After lunch
that Sunday, he’d let down his guard again. Not completely. He still seemed to
act very careful around her, but at least he wasn’t pulling back. Their various
encounters had been pleasant and engaging, and since the manuscript situation
was still on hold, that conflict hadn’t interfered with their interaction.

Nothing serious
or intimate had occurred between them, but they chatted a lot and they were
definitely on terms Helen would consider friendly.

At the moment, she
couldn’t stop dwelling on Sunday evening, two nights ago. On her way down from
Melissa’s suite, she found Andrew hauling an Asian rug that had been stored in
the basement. He said he didn’t want it damaged by the dampness, so he was
going to put it in the room he was using for his office.

Helen helped
him lay the rug, since Trish and Jenson had the day off. The dog—whose name they
were still arguing about—tried to join in the fun. He kept planting himself on
the rug, keeping them from getting it in the right position. They fell into a
kind of game of shooing the dog away and then trying to scoot the rug in
position before the dog could climb back on again.

They’d both
ended up on the floor laughing.

Helen’s heart
softened at the memory of Andrew’s face.

It was the
first time she’d seen him laugh so uninhibitedly, and it was like the stress
and burdens of responsibility had melted away for a moment.

She was trying
to be sensible about the unlikelihood of his having real romantic intentions
with her, but every day it was harder to do.

“Helen? Did you
hear me?”

Helen blinked
and forced her mind back to the present. “Sorry. I must have been lost in
thought.”

“And nice
thoughts, by the look of it.” Judy’s gentle words were obviously a hint.
Helen’s boss was both courteous and classy, and she’d never push like Lorraine
did.

Helen was too
bashful and uncertain to talk about Andrew, though. If nothing was going to
happen, she didn’t want to be a silly girl who gushed about her unattainable
dream guy. “Yeah. Sorry about that. What did you say?”

“Any word from
Thomas on the manuscript?”

“It’s still in
legal limbo with his lawyer, I guess. He was supposed to be able to accept
offers last week, but it was pushed back to this week.”

Judy pursed her
perfectly lipsticked mouth. “What do you think of the chances of the library’s
getting it?”

Helen put down
a bound copy of art journals from 1968. Her heart dropped a little, as it did
whenever she thought of the manuscript purchase. There was no good outcome
here. Not for her, anyway. Not unless Andrew backed out.

“I don’t know,”
she admitted. “If all things were equal, I’m sure Thomas would sell to the
library. I think he’s on our side as regards the Bale collection.”

“And he’s fond
of you, I think.”

Helen ignored
that. She hadn’t had time or focus to think much about Thomas as an eligible
man since Andrew had entered her life—although she knew she should, since
Thomas was much more in her league than Andrew would ever be. “But Andrew has a
lot of money, and if he offers enough…” She gave a helpless shrug.

It was painful
to think that Andrew would do that—after the friendship they’d formed—but he
was evidently committed to obtaining the manuscript, and there was no reason to
think he wouldn’t just outbid her.

“That’s too
bad. It looks like the Dean is willing to up the library’s offer, so we’ll keep
praying for the best.”

“Yeah,” Helen
agreed.

“There you
are.” Lorraine’s familiar voice came from the doorway behind her. “I’ve been
searching all the dark corners for you.”

Helen and Judy
greeted Lorraine and asked what was going on.

“You’ll never
guess who’s on campus,” Lorraine said, something excited and intrigued on her
striking face.

Helen’s mind
landed unerringly on one name, on one face.

Lorraine must
have read her thoughts. “Yep. Andrew Cane.”

“He’s in the
library?” Helen’s hand flew up to her messy hair, and she wished she’d worn her
contacts today instead of her glasses. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was
here to see her.

“No. He’s in
the administrative building.”

“What do you
suppose he’s doing here?” Judy asked, her voice conveying polite curiosity.

Helen, who’d
felt a thud of disappointment at the knowledge that Andrew wasn’t paying her a
visit, started to feel a nervous twisting in her belly. “Do you think he’s
meeting with someone?”

Lorraine
shrugged. “I don’t know. But he was wearing a suit.”

***

Two hours later, Helen was
called into the Dean’s office.

She’d never
been summoned to an appointment with the Dean before. She’d met him, of course,
and they’d had numerous casual conversations. But she wasn’t high enough in the
school hierarchy to meet with him on a regular basis and, with the exception of
her job interview, she’d never been to his office.

So she was
nervous and bewildered as she tidied up and put on the linen jacket that
matched her soft, flowing brown skirt before she headed over to the
administration building, which was at the center of campus.

She had to
assume the meeting was connected to Andrew’s presence earlier, but she had no
idea what to expect.

Dean Williams
was a kind, scholarly man, without the slick, political edge she’d noticed in a
lot of academic administrators. Helen had always liked him, and her smile was
genuine, if a little shaky, as she sat down in a chair in his office.

“I understand
you’re the contact person regarding the purchase of the Bale manuscript,” he
began, looking at her over his reading glasses.

“Yes,” she
said, swallowing hard. “I started discussions with Ezra Harrison about it six
or seven months ago, and I’ve continued a good relationship with his grandson
Thomas, who now owns the manuscript.”

“I talked with
Judy about it a couple of months ago, as we were deciding on budgetary issues.
You understand there are limits to what we can spend on such an item.”

“Of course,”
Helen said, growing increasingly nervous. Dean Williams’s expression looked
almost reluctant, which she couldn’t believe boded well. “I know we’re not
rolling in funds. If we can offer as much as the college can afford, I’ll be
grateful. You know there’s now competition for obtaining it?”

“Yes.” The Dean
didn’t mention Andrew, even though she was sure the men must have spoken
earlier today. It was the only explanation for the Dean’s sudden interest.
“Exactly how important is the manuscript?”

Helen couldn’t
stifle a quick inhalation. “It’s very important. Absolutely essential. We’d
have a huge gap in our Bale collection if we don’t get it. We have the
manuscripts to the other two novels. We need the final one to complete the
collection.” A flutter of panic had developed in her chest, and she had to work
hard not to let it show on her face or in her voice.

Dean Williams
sighed. He looked tired and even more reluctant. “I thought you’d say that.
Given the nature of the work we’ve put into it so far, it seems we’re committed
to a certain extent to seek the purchase of this manuscript.”

Helen almost
collapsed in relief.

“But I can’t
offer any more than we’d originally budgeted.”

After her
premature hope, Helen felt like she’d been struck. The Dean wasn’t going to up
the offer, which was the only way of convincing Thomas to sell to the library.
Her throat constricting, she began, “But—“

“I have a memo
here from Judy, requesting an increase in the budgeted amount, but I’m
declining the request.” He looked torn and almost sheepish, as if he felt bad
about disappointing her but had been pushed into a corner.

And Helen
understood. She understood everything.

This was Andrew’s
doing. He’d used his influence and the pull of his name to cripple the library’s
buying power. Just a couple of hours ago, Judy had said the Dean was likely to
approve an increased offer.

But now he
wouldn’t.

It was Andrew.
Who could apparently still get whatever he wanted.

Helen felt
frozen, like she was in danger of cracking into pieces. She managed to get
through the rest of the conversation and return to the library without falling apart
or embarrassing herself, but she felt betrayed by Andrew and horribly hurt.

She should have
known it might come to this, but she couldn’t believe Andrew would be so
underhanded about it.

She’d thought
they were friends.

Feeling like
she might crumple at any moment, she couldn’t risk going to her office where
she might run into any number of colleagues or students, so she headed down to
the basement to Lorraine.

“Hey there,” Lorraine
said, just putting down her phone. She was obviously excited about something.
“Guess what? Our new English faculty position has been approved. No more
overloads! And we have the perfect candidate.”

Helen tried to
shake off her broken feelings to be supportive. “That’s great. Who’s the
candidate?”

“She’s been
teaching at a big state school and was on her way to tenure. She’s got an
amazing vita. But she needs to move back to Cane because her mother is—“ Lorraine
broke off. “What’s wrong?”

Helen swallowed
hard. She’d been trying to pay attention and not act weepy or pathetic.
“Nothing. Tell me about the candidate.”

“Later. You
look like you’re about to cry.”

“No, I’m not,”
Helen insisted. But Lorraine’s sympathy was getting to her, and her face
twisted suddenly. Her shoulders shook a few times.

“What happened
with the Dean?” Lorraine asked gently, walking over to close her office door.
“Did Andrew yank the rug out from under you with the manuscript?”

Lorraine’s
insightful words reminded Helen of Sunday night. Andrew laughing so warmly as
they’d tried to shoo the dog off the Asian rug.

Helen tightened
her face as she tried to control her emotions. “Yes. I thought we were friends.
Or almost friends. But he went behind my back to the Dean, and now the library
will never get the manuscript.”

Her heart ached
in her chest as she spoke the words out loud, and she realized with
excruciating clarity that her feelings were already far past the point of
safety when it came to Andrew Cane. “I trusted him.”

***

Andrew was finishing up a
conference call with one of his managers in D.C. and a software writer in
Seattle.

He rubbed the
back of his neck, trying to make himself think clearly. He really needed to
resolve the issue of the manuscript and his feelings for Helen so he could
concentrate on work again.

He managed to
muddle through the call and leaned back exhausted as he hung up.

On campus this
morning, he’d been dying to drop by the library to see Helen. He hadn’t. For
one thing, he’d been trying to be careful and restrained in his interactions
with her. It would be hard enough to leave Cane as it was—if he got much closer
to Helen, he’d never be able to pull out.

The other
reason he hadn’t stopped by to see her was that his conversation with the Dean
made him feel a little guilty. He knew it was for the best, but he wasn’t sure
Helen would understand. So he’d left campus, with only a lingering look at the
concrete library building he knew held Helen’s office.

Andrew knew
he’d been stupid for the last couple of weeks. He’d decided against pursuing Helen
romantically, so it would be wiser if he just avoided her.

But he couldn’t
seem to do it.

Whenever he
heard her voice in the house on her visits to Melissa, he was drawn out against
his intentions. Even if he managed to hole up in his office for most of the
time, he always gave in and came out as she was leaving—just so he could see
her and say goodbye.

He had little
enough time with her as it was. He couldn’t resist claiming every moment he was
given to drink in her laughter, her sweetness, her cleverness, her sunny
beauty.

Each day, he
told himself he’d be smarter, stronger. He was just making it harder for himself,
after all.

But each day he
caved because he wanted to see her so much.

“Andrew?”

He jerked violently
at the soft voice and was startled to see Melissa peeking in through the side
door to the office. “Come in,” he said, gesturing at her in welcome. “The coast
is clear. Why didn’t you call me to come up?”