Secret of the Wolf (33 page)

Like a coward, she hoped Quentin remained in his. She wasn't to be so lucky. Quentin

and May were together in the parlor, the girl reading to him in her light, hesitant voice.

Mrs. Daugherty knitted on the sofa. All three looked up as Johanna entered
.

Quentin blanched. He must remember at least some of what had happened last night.

How much did he remember?

That was the question. But he collected himself, spoke

softly to May, and rose from his chair
.

"Good afternoon, Johanna," he said
.

"Good afternoon.”

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"Back so soon?" Mrs. Daugherty asked. "Didn't expect you 'til evenin'.”

"My plans have changed." She smiled at May. "May, I'd like to talk to you, in my office.”

May glanced at Quentin, who nodded. "We can finish the book later," he said. "I do want

to know what becomes of Avis.”

"You won't read ahead?" May asked
.

Quentin crossed his heart. "I promise.”

May set the book down and went to Johanna. Quentin took the opportunity to slip from

the room
.

Relieved, Johanna took May into the office and shut the door. "You have had a good

day?" she asked as the girl perched at the edge of the chaise longue
.

"We spent the afternoon reading." May's tremulous smile lit up her face. "Quentin said I

have a lovely voice.”

"You enjoy Quentin's company, don't you?”

"Oh, yes. He is wonderful.”

Wonderful. That was not the sort of word May was in the habit of using, when she spoke

at all. And though she had been the most relaxed in Johanna's company, something in

her was always held in reserve. Even after she had overcome the more blatant

symptoms of hysteria, she remained fearful and bereft of real trust for the world
.

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Today, May was happy. Genuinely happy, as she hadn't been since her mother's

departure. Oh, there'd been moments of contentment and pleasure, but May had

seldom reflected the joy of her name
.

Johanna had seen enough of human character to postulate that May's happiness was

due to more than Quentin's kindness and gentle attention. The girl was just old enough

to fall in love. Quentin was agreeable and handsome. What could be more natural?

In other young girls, nothing at all. In May, it was a miracle
.

Quentin, of course, would never take advantage of such tender emotions. He behaved

toward her like an affectionate elder brother; he did May much good by teaching her

that not all men were to be feared
.

Those lessons were soon to be put to the test
.

"Why don't you lie back and be comfortable," she instructed the girl. May did as she was

told, her thoughts clearly on something—someone—else
.

"May, this may be a difficult question, but I want you to answer it as best you can." She

breathed in deeply. "Do you remember your father?”

The answer was very long in coming. So long, in fact, that Johanna finally realized May

hadn't heard her. She repeated the question, and still May was silent
.

"Tell me about Quentin," Johanna said
.

May began to speak with enthusiasm, smiling up at the ceiling. Her hearing was not

impaired, nor was her understanding. She simply did not want to hear or think or speak

of her father
.

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She never had. But that was not the sort of proof that would hold up in court. May had

not yet reached the age of consent
.

Johanna let May's monologue run its course, attempted without success to return to the

subject of May's father, and then set her loose. May virtually skipped from the room.

Doubtless she was going in search of Quentin
.

She was free to seek him out
.

After a half-hour of notations in her records, Johanna went to her father's room and sat

with him a while. He slept peacefully on clean linens, hair combed and beard trimmed

with loving attention. Quentin's work
.

In the hour before dinner, she went out to her favorite place in the orchard to think. She

caught a glimpse of something moving in the wood on the hill—a flash of motion and

color, red amid the green. A while later Quentin emerged from the wood. He carried his

head and shoulders set low, a man bearing a burden he wanted no one else to see
.

She almost called out to him. In the end, her will—and her fear—were stronger than

desire
.

The next afternoon, braced for the ordeal to come, Johanna took May into town
.

She had finally given May half the truth about their reasons for going; she said that she

wanted May to meet a doctor friend of hers, making sure that May understood that this

"friend" was a man. She refused to be any less honest with her young patient. Had May

reacted with a return to hysteria, or run off into the woods, Johanna would have

postponed the meeting indefinitely and proceeded with the next move
.

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But May wasn't unduly disturbed. She didn't freeze in terror at the prospect of leaving

the Haven or meeting a stranger. It was a vivid mark of her improvement that she went

willingly, even with a touch of enthusiasm when Johanna promised to look for new

books at the general store
.

May had wanted Quentin to accompany them. But Quentin's presence would be a wild

card in a very tenuous situation
.

So she and May went alone, the girl outfitted in her second-best dress, Johanna in her

most sober gown. She found herself driving more slowly than usual, preparing herself

for any eventuality and the absolute necessity of deceiving Bolkonsky, just as he'd

deluded her
.

All too soon they were in Silverado Springs. May seemed not to notice the sometimes

hostile stares of the townspeople; she simply hunched in her seat beside Johanna. At

the hotel, she took hold of Johanna's hand and clutched it so emphatically that her

delicate bones seemed in danger of breaking
.

"Don't leave me," she begged. "Don't leave me alone.”

"I'll be here with you," Johanna said. She gave the girl a quick hug. "It will be all right."

No matter what I must do to make it so
.

A clerk in the lobby informed Johanna that Dr. Bolkonsky awaited their arrival in his

suite of rooms, and offered to lead the way. Bolkonsky opened the door to her knock
.

His blue gaze immediately fell on May. "Ah, Miss Ingram. I'm so glad you could come

today.”

May shrank behind Johanna. "I want to go home," she whispered
.

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Johanna and Bolkonsky exchanged a guarded look. "Of course you do," he said gently.

"And you will, soon enough. In the meantime, ladies, won't you come in and take

refreshments with me?" He smiled at May. "I have some delicious biscuits and jam and

cakes.”

May's wary expression matched Johanna's own feelings. She led May into the sitting

room, unobtrusively keeping herself between the girl and Bolkonsky
.

Bolkonsky's suite was undoubtedly the hotel's finest accommodation, its furnishings rich

and only a little out of date. Bolkonsky's practice must be very successful indeed, if he

were not heir to some fortune that allowed him to spend money so freely. Johanna

realized that she'd never inquired about his family or background beyond his educa-tion.

Now she wished she knew a great deal more about him
.

"Please, sit down," he said, offering the women chairs near the window. He personally

served the refreshments, but the biscuit May selected remained uneaten in her hand
.

"Well, May," he said. "As I said, I'm glad you and Johanna could come to see me today.

She has told me much about you.”

May stared at him—openly, not with the brief, darting looks she ordinarily employed with

strangers. "Why?" she asked
.

Bolkonsky glanced at Johanna in surprise. It was unlike May to be so direct. Johanna

was no less startled, but also proud of the girl's courage. This meeting might be endured

without disaster
.

"Johanna surely told you that I am a doctor, as she is," Bolkonsky said. "I know you've

been staying at the Haven, and that you are familiar with Dr. Schell's methods. I had

hoped you might talk with me, and perhaps allow me to hypnotize you. It would be a

very great help to me, you see.”

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May crumbled her biscuit between her fingers. She looked at Johanna with pleading in

her eyes
.

"I would rather not," she said. "Johanna

”

"I know I am still a stranger to you," Bolkonsky said, "but I hope to remedy that

situation." He picked up a book from a side table. "I understand that you enjoy reading.

I've brought a book for you—”

"I don't want it." May bolted from her chair and moved behind Johanna's. "I don't like

him," she whispered in Johanna's ear. "If Quentin were here—”

"Ah. Quentin," Bolkonsky said. "Is he a friend of yours?”

"Yes." May's face hardened into a mask of defiance. "You aren't my friend.”

This went far beyond remarkable behavior for a girl who feared nearly everyone and

everything. Johanna hid a triumphant smile. This would not be such a one-sided battle

after all
.

"Is there a place where I might have a word with May?" she asked Bolkonsky
.

"Certainly. Just through the door behind you." He smiled again at May. "Take your time.”

Johanna took May's hand and led her into the bedchamber Bolkonsky indicated. She

closed the connecting door between the rooms
.

"May, I must ask you a question. Please answer honestly. Why do you dislike Dr.

Bolkonsky so much?”

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May stood rigidly against the wall, her fingers curled into fists. "Do we have to talk to

him? I'd like to go home now.”

Johanna rested her hand on May's dark head. "I know you would. Think of this as a sort

of play, with you and me as the actors.”

"Like Irene?”

"Perhaps not exactly like Irene. But I like Dr. Bolkonsky no more than you do." She

smiled encouragement. "I need your help to make the doctor think that we are both

happy to be here. I wouldn't ask you without good reason.”

"He knows Quentin, doesn't he?”

The odd certainty in her voice took Johanna aback. "Only in the way he knows of you,

as a resident of the Haven. Why?”

She began to shake. "I'm afraid.”

It wasn't an answer, but Johanna could see that May had reached the end of her

endurance. Damn Bolkonsky—and her own failure to find some alternative to bringing

May to town
.

"I'll speak to the doctor and tell him you are not well." She cupped May's cheek in her

palm. "You remain here until I come for you.”

For the first time May smiled. "Thank you, Johanna.”

"You're welcome." She left Johanna in the room and opened the door to the sitting

room
.

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Bolkonsky was no longer alone. Another man stood beside him, head bent toward the

doctor in hushed conversation
.

Johanna stopped, misgiving blooming into alarm. The man was tall, large-boned, and

well, if loudly, dressed; his features were heavier than May's, the eyes a muddy gray

rather than dark brown. But Johanna knew who he must be
.

"Dr. Schell," Bolkonsky said, stepping in front of his co-conspirator. "I

something

unexpected has happened. May I introduce Mr. Chester Ingram, May's father. Mr.

Ingram, Dr. Johanna Schell.”

Barely inclining her head to the intruder, Johanna fixed Bolkonsky with a cold stare. "I

thought we had agreed—”

"Yes. But Mr. Ingram has expressed a reluctance to wait to meet his daughter again. It

is understandable, after all

”

Understandable—or planned all along? Johanna turned her gaze on Ingram. "Mr.

Ingram, May has been under my care for the past two years, as you know. She is

subject to hysterical fits if exposed to upsetting conditions." She fortified herself for the

unaccustomed lies. "I brought her today with the expectation that she would have the

necessary time to adjust to the prospect of returning to your care. I was to speak with