The Widow and the Wastrel (18 page)

"First of all," the silver-gray head was raised to meet the impassive greennesss of Elizabeth's gaze, "I want to apologize for my behavior this morning. I was shocked. It was never my intention to interfere in your personal life or usurp your authority with Amy. I spoke in haste and without thinking, and I'm sorry."

"Was that all?" Elizabeth knew the stiffness of her attitude and her failure to soften in response to the apology disconcerted Rebecca, but she concealed it admirably.

"No." Rebecca rose to her feet, walking away from Elizabeth as if plagued by an uncertainty how to proceed. "I have heard the rumors that—that you and Jed were interested in each other. For the most part I discounted it as idle gossip. I never doubted for an instant that Jed would make advances toward you. He has always pursued the opposite sex and with considerable success.

She glanced over her shoulder to see the effect her comments were making, but Elizabeth deliberately kept her face devoid of any expression and waited for Rebecca to continue.

"I have never understood why the wastrels of this world hold so much appeal for women," her mother-in-law sighed, then smiled. "Perhaps it is because at birth they were endowed with virile looks and charm so that intelligence and ambition were wasted on them. They have no need for them. They can get what they want without them. Jed is like that—he exudes an aura of danger and excitement that make women feel deliciously sinful. His father and I recognized that early in his teenage years. It was a source of constant concern."

Rebecca resumed her chair opposite Elizabeth, leaning forward in an earnest, confiding manner, anxiety darkening her brown eyes further. Her hands were clasped in front of her in a plea for understanding.

"Now, my concern is for you, Elizabeth," she murmured fervidly. "I foolishly never warned you about Jed. I should have given thought to the fact that you are young and in need of physical gratification."

The way Rebecca was speaking made Elizabeth feel unclean. She could maintain her silence no longer, she must speak.

"It's not lust I feel for Jed, Rebecca. "It's love," she said quietly. "I did not intend to fall in love with him. I tried to pretend myself that it was only physical attraction, but it wasn't. I love him, and I'm not ashamed of it."

Surprisingly there wasn't any disapproving outburst, simply a softly spoken question. "Does Jed know this?"

"Yes."

"I see." Rebecca didn't appear surprised by the admission. "And what are your plans?"

"There are no plans," Elizabeth answered. The faint I-thought-as-much expression forced her to add in defense, "Jed has been ill."

"He will ask you to go away with him." It was a statement made with assurance, not a question.

"Did he say that?" The wary question was out before Elizabeth could stop it.

"No." Rebecca studied her hands. "It's more of a guess on my part, an accurate one, I believe. When he does," she glanced up, forcing Elizabeth to meet her gaze, "what will you do?"

"I'll go with him. I love him, Rebecca," Elizabeth said firmly.

Her mother-in-law sighed and leaned back in her chair. "I won't pretend that I have any right to tell you what to do. You're quite old enough to make your own decisions. But I feel compelled to point out some things to you. Jed is thirty-two years old. He doesn't have a career or a job. He doesn't live anywhere, so he has no house or apartment, not even a car. Only a token sum was left to him in Franklin's will, so he has no money either. I don't mean to imply that these things are important if you love someone," Rebecca hastened to add in response to the seething anger tightening the line of Elizabeth's mouth. "I'm asking you to consider these things for Amy's sake, for her future. It's true that you do receive a monthly sum from her trust fund, but it would never support a household. However much you may believe you love Jed, you must consider her welfare. Think about what I've said. Please, Elizabeth."

With a gentle smile, Rebecca rose and left the room. Elizabeth sat silently. She had made no response because there was none to make. There was little consolation in recognizing that the speech and its delivery had been carefully rehearsed to achieve the reaction she was now experiencing. The request had been logical and reasonable and impossible to argue against. Elizabeth's vulnerable spot was Amy. Rebecca hadn't wasted time with meaningless slashes but had gone straight for the jugular vein.

Blindly Elizabeth had never looked ahead—perhaps because she wasn't convinced that Jed wanted her in more than a physical sense. If he did, what would she do then? It was so impossible to cross bridges when they hadn't been reached.

Late that afternoon, she telephoned the farm to see how Jed was. Secretly she was hoping that he would be up and she would have a chance to talk to him. The shadows of uncertainty were becoming too much. Freda answered the phone.

"How's Jed?" Elizabeth inquired with what she hoped was the right tone of interest.

"Fine. He had a big lunch and went to sleep. I think he intends to sleep the clock round. It's probably the best thing for him," Freda answered brightly.

"Yes, you're probably right," Elizabeth agreed reluctantly.

"Will you be coming over this evening?"

"I don't think so. I only wanted to be sure he was all right." There was no point in going over. As always, it seemed to be Jed's move. "I have some things to catch up here at the house."

"I'll tell him you called."

"Yes, Goodbye, Freda." Slowly Elizabeth replaced the receiver.

Strangely, the hours passed swiftly. It was something of a start when Elizabeth realized that two full days and the morning of a third had gone by since her leaving the Reisner farm. The tension had increased rather than eased. Uncertainty and indecision trailed her wherever she went.

Jed was recovering quickly, or so Freda told her. Elizabeth hadn’t heard a word from him. He hadn't given Freda any indication when he would be returning home, which didn't surprise Elizabeth. Something told her she could rely on Jed to come home when she least expected him.

Stepping to the raised kitchen window, she glanced out, spying Amy beside the patio table where her play cups and saucers were spread out.

"It's almost time for lunch, Amy. You'd better get washed up," she called. "We'll have it in the kitchen since your grandmother isn't here."

Absently Elizabeth heard the French doors open and close and the sound of water running in the downstairs bathroom wash basin. She ladled the soup into bowls and uncovered the plate of sandwiches and set it on the table.

A carton of milk was in her hand when a deep voice asked, "Will lunch stretch to three?" She started.

Quickly she sat the carton on the counter before she dropped it, boundless joy surging through her veins. She didn't need to turn around to know that Ned had come back, when she had least expected him. Commanding her hands to stop trembling, she took a third glass from the cupboard and filled it with milk.

"Of course it will, Jed," she responded warmly, sliding a glance behind her as he approached. "You're looking fine."

"Completely recovered." He stopped beside her, tawny gold eyes regarding her intently.

Hypnotically she returned the look. There was nothing about him to suggest that he had been ill. His vigorously masculine features showed no signs of tiredness or strain. Vitality abounded in his watchful stillness.

"You look wonderful." There was a breathless catch in her voice.

His eyebrow raised mockingly. "So do you," he murmured.

"Oh, boy! Tomato soup, my favorite!" Amy announced, sliding on to one of the chairs.

Jed smiled. "I think someone is hungry! I suppose we should eat."

Elizabeth swallowed and nodded. "Sit down. I'll get another place setting for myself."

Food was the last thing on her mind. Inwardly she crossed her fingers that Jed had been implying the same thing. It did little good to tell herself to remain calm, that all the unknowns hadn't vanished simply because Jed was back. She went through the motions of eating her soup and nibbling at a sandwich.

"Amy tells me she has a birthday party to go to this afternoon," Jed commented.

Elizabeth frowned bewilderedly. "When did she tell you that?"

"Out on the patio."

"I didn't see you there," she breathed.

"I know." The grooves around his mouth deepened in silent amusement. "What are you doing this afternoon?"

"I have a meeting." There was no attempt to disguise the disappointment in her voice as she stared unseeingly at her soup. "I'm the secretary. I have to attend."

"I see," he answered evenly, not trying to dissuade her as he switched the topic to the birthday party, asking Amy about her friends.

While Elizabeth cleared the table of the luncheon dishes, she sent Amy upstairs to dress for her party, reminding her to take her swimming suit and towel since part of the activities included a visit to the public swimming pool. Jed disappeared into another part of the house. There was no sign of him when she went upstairs to change for her meeting. But he was in the front hallway with Amy when she came back downstairs.

"Do you have any objections if I act as chauffeur?" he asked.

"None at all." Elizabeth shook her head. Rebecca had the other car, which only left hers to provide him transportation. Obviously he had somewhere to go.

Conversation was minimal during the drive into town. Most of it was Amy's chatter about the party. No matter how many glances Elizabeth stole at Jed's profile, there was nothing in his impassive expression to indicate that he felt her disappointment.

The old familiar depression settled around her shoulders. Fortunately Amy was too excited about her party to notice the sadness in her mother's smile when they left her at the house of the birthday girl. Elizabeth stared out the window, wondering what she could say to end the silence.

"Turn left at the next corner. The Hansons' house is the third one on the right-hand side." The directions were given reluctantly.

But Jed drove straight through the intersection without stopping.

"I meant that corner," Elizabeth pointed behind them. "You'll have to go around the block."

"I know which corner you mean." Jed glanced at her briefly and continued through the second intersection that would have taken them back in a round-about way.

"I have to go to the meeting," she reminded him with a frown.

Slowing the car, he turned it into the curbside of the street, stopping it but not switching off the engine as he twisted in the seat to look at her.

"Which would you rather do? Go to that stupid meeting or come with me?" he asked with thinning patience.

"I'd rather come with you—" Elizabeth began sighing in frustration.

"That settles it, then." He put the car in gear and pulled back into the street.

"But, Jed—"

"I don't know about you, but I don’t want to wait until tonight," he said firmly. "We've postponed our talk long enough. Don't you agree?"

"Yes," Elizabeth surrendered, not caring one whit about the meeting she was supposed to attend.

His slow smile seemed to reach and almost physically touch her. It was a heady sensation and very enjoyable. That bridge she was worried about was coming closer. She still didn't know whether she was going to cross it or not, but she had to see it. She would never be able to come to a decision until she did.

Chapter Ten

AFTER Jed had expressed a desire to talk, there was silence in the car. He continued driving through town and into the outskirts. It wasn't the road that would take them back to the house. Elizabeth couldn't guess what destination he had in mind. The last place she would have thought of was the small municipal airport outside town, but that was where Jed turned.

"What are we doing here?" She glanced curiously at Jed as he pulled in beside the three cars parked outside the flight office and switched off the engine.

"You might say this is my old stamping grounds." He opened the door and stepped out, walking around to her side, smiling at her slightly bewildered expression. "I spent more time here than I ever did in school or at home, outside of Kurt's."

Elizabeth silently digested that piece of information, studying the happy and contented look about him as he gazed at the few buildings that constituted the Carrelville airport. A little puff of breeze was trying to fill the orange windsock.

"Do you mean,"—she asked hesitantly—"that you used to fly?"

Jed glanced down, the contented smile curving his mouth. His arm circled her shoulders as he turned her in the direction of the flight office. She was surprised.

"Come on, I'll show you," he said. Entering the flight office, he lifted the counter and led Elizabeth into the hall leading to the back, private offices. Her puzzled frown deepened at his easy familiarity. He opened one of the doors leading off the hall. "This is where Sam hangs up his shirt-tails."

"Shirt-tails?" she repeated, as she walked in ahead of him.

"It's a ceremony that all prospective pilots go through," Jed explained. "After a student makes his first solo flight, his instructor cuts off his shirt-tail and hangs it up. It's referred to as "clipping his tail feathers." He led her to the wall that was patch-worked with strips of cloth of every pattern and color. Those are mine," he pointed.