True Bliss (12 page)

Once inside she ran to the kitchen to make sure the twins and Bobby had gone home. Empty. They'd gone to the bungalow they shared. Fabiola and Polly had each other, and Bobby. They didn't have to adopt strangers and turn them into some sort of hodge-podge family, just to feel needed. By the age of thirty-two, most people had figured out how to cope with reality and make their own place within that reality.

"Street smarts, Bliss. That's the best analogy for what you don't have. Some things you can 't learn from books. You don't know the score — not in any game that counts. And when you 're faced with the truth, you 're shocked."

How many years ago had her father barked those words at her from the other side of his mahogany desk in the beautiful house where Bliss had grown up, the house that had never really been her home? A lot of years, yet she could be hearing them now. She'd listened to her father, and tried not to see her mother's satisfaction as she watched the man she worshipped put down the efforts of the daughter she resented.

Whenever she messed up big-time, Bliss heard her father's voice delivering one of his lectures. Tonight she'd messed up big-time—again.

She would not wallow in self-pity.

Bliss took the bag containing Bobby's "pink" cookie and set it on the table. Sebastian had said they'd be parents by now if they'd stayed together.

They never would be together, so why indulge in melodramatic longings for what might have been?

"Some women don 't have to try to prove they re as good as men to find a place in this world," Kitten Winters said. "Your father wouldn 't have wanted a woman who thought she knew more than he did, would you, Morris?"

Of all the horrible times to start thinking about her parents. She knew she'd never done anything to please them and it shouldn't matter anymore.

"With our connections you could have the kind of marriage other girls dream of,"Morris Winters said. "The schooling's a good thing. But a college professorship? I don't think so, missy. What I need from you now is a match with some good strings attached. Loyalty. Dedication to whatever will do us the most good. That's what it's all about. An alliance worth something to a family with a plan. This family. You 're pretty enough. We could do quite well with you."

Mommy and Daddy dreamed of the White House and Bliss had never been even the minor asset they'd hoped for. She'd finally stood up to them and declared her independence. In public they spoke as if their pride in her was boundless. In private they contacted her only with requests and warnings, and to inform her of plans for "family" occasions. For the five years since she'd decided to dedicate herself to the community at Hole Point her mother had made it her mission to try to "socialize" and "civilize" Bliss again. Kitten's call demanding an explanation for her daughter's name being linked with Sebastian's, and Raptor Vision, should have come by now.

Bliss poured lemonade from a jug in the refrigerator into a tall glass. She left the kitchen and trailed back through the great room the residents frequently used. She didn't bother to put on

any lights. After five years in the home her father's sister had left her, she didn't need more than moonlight to see her way.

"She might be salvageable with some help,"Kitten said. "Cut that frightful hair and learn how to put on makeup. Throw out every item of clothing you own. Let me see to getting you into something that 'II draw attention away from aspects we don r want to accentuate. Contact lenses, too."

Her mother had steadfastly refused to consider contacts when Bliss was growing up. Eventually she hadn't wanted them herself anymore. After Sebastian.

A great, painful rush of emotion blossomed.

Street smarts. That had been what started her thinking about her parents. Daddy had been right about that, she had no street smarts. If she did she wouldn't be reduced to babbling idiocy by a small thing that should be accepted as part of life.

No, she shouldn't consider Sebastian's ridiculous suggestion that they reopen the past. What an idiot she'd been to get carried away by that fairy tale, even for a moment. But neither should she fall apart because she realized he carried a condom in his wallet.

Her face blazed. "Fool, fool, fool."

A narrow balcony ran the length of the second floor above the great room. Once there had been three small bedrooms opening off that balcony. The walls between the bedrooms had been removed to turn the entire second floor into Bliss's own retreat.

Sebastian couldn't have had any idea why she'd suddenly dashed away from him.

She went into what she called her library, a book-lined area at one end of the big, open-beamed bedroom suite.

Of course he carried a condom. All men carried condoms.

"No street smarts. No darn basic know-how." And she was considered a know-it-all feminist!

She didn't have the vaguest idea whether or not most men carried condoms in their wallets. If they didn't, they ought to.

That's right. Standing in the middle of the room, with a glass of lemonade in her hand, and frowning through the moon-washed gloom, Bliss felt furious with herself. Sebastian was a

responsible male in a world where more people should be responsible.

She didn't want to be alone anymore.

Yesterday it had all been okay. Today, tonight, the peace she'd learned to find comfortable was all churning, all confusion— and emptiness.

Where there had once been three dormer windows, one in each of the original bedrooms, three French doors now accessed a roof garden at the back of the lodge. The center pair of doors stood open. A breeze ruffled the pages of an open book on the table beside Bliss's favorite chair.

She walked through the current of cool air to the foot of her bed and kicked off her sandals. Beneath her bare feet, the old, smooth cedar floor still held remnants of the day's warmth.

The brass footrail of her bed glimmered. Silence pleased Bliss—usually. The night silence was absolute now, and she didn't like it. This solitude, this silence, was the sum of her life's efforts. Not a soul in the world thought of her as the center of their existence.

So what? Relationships equaled entanglements with the threat of misery when they ended. She'd been there and she wasn't going back.

She took off her glasses and put them on the chest at the foot of the bed.

A click startled her.

One of the doors swinging shut.

Bliss turned. Sure enough, one of the open doors had closed. The second had begun to shut, too.

Had begun to shut. No, to ... It moved slowly over the rag rug Bliss's great-grandmother had made. The door inched to meet its mate as if someone were trying to close it very quietly.

The arcing flip of her heart sickened Bliss.

She made her legs work, kept her eyes on the door while she edged to the bedside lamp and flipped it on. She switched on the lamp, and knocked her late aunt's little Steuben bell over.

It gave a dull, scraping clang as she set it upright again beside her lemonade.

The door handle rotated, and was still. The moonlight should have illuminated anyone standing outside. No silhouette showed through the panes, but there had to be someone out there.

Bliss looked around for a weapon and grabbed the only thing she could reach, her wooden-backed hairbrush.

Obviously she'd been robbed. The best course was to give the intruder enough time to get away, then call the police.

The old stereo was still on its shelf in the central, sitting area of the suite. Her collection of antique silver buttons and buttonhooks rested on the velvet tray beneath the glass top of the map table. More than a dozen crystal bells lined a high shelf, and jade figurines, another legacy from her aunt, crowded a tall curio cabinet.

Her gaze sought, and found, every item of value.

Bliss's legs trembled. She locked her knees, but her muscles still quaked. She could hardly call the police and tell them she thought someone had closed her doors but nothing seemed to be missing and she hadn't seen an intruder.

She rose to her toes and crept across the room. Putting on the light had been a stupid move. If there was someone out there, they'd see if she picked up the phone.

When Bliss opened the door closest to her bed, the immediate current of air felt almost good. If she weren't scared, it would feel great. "Who's out there?" she shouted, feeling foolish.

The high, white moon flooded the entire terrace. Big wooden flower boxes flanked the low railings that surrounded the three open sides of the terrace. The scent of the roses Bliss raised was sweet, and mingled mysteriously with the vanilla essence of blue and white woodruff nestled beneath the shrubs.

Darn her stupid imagination anyway. There wasn't a soul out here, nor had there been. The other doors must have caught a cross current and banged shut.

Not banged. Closed softly, the handle released—softly.

She hunched her shoulders and walked to the top of the flight

of steps that led to the enclosed garden outside the kitchens. "Is there anyone down there?"

No movement but for the rustle of breeze through willow branches.

From the lake came the sound of a vessel slipping through the night under motor. A bird cried once, then no more.

She must concentrate on getting back to normal. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the way she'd chosen to live. All this upheaval she felt could be set at the feet of Sebastian Plato and his unbelievable intrusion into her well-ordered routine.

A click sounded behind Bliss.

She jumped and spun around. "Who's there?" She wasn't alone. There was another presence. Bliss felt it.

The stairs. If she ran down the stairs, she could get away and make a dash for the closest cabin.

The cabin was empty and had no phone. None of the cabins had phones.

The light in her bedroom went out.

Bliss backed into a flower box and cried out as rough wood gouged her calves.

A tinkling chime sounded. Aunt Blanche's Steuben bell? Someone was ringing the bell?

"Send him away, Bliss." A high, thin female voice issued from inside. "He'll spoil everything if you don't send him away."

The cold slick of fear over her skin quickly came and went. A stupid trick. That was it—enough. Pursing her lips, Bliss started back toward the bedroom.

And the doors closed the instant she reached for a handle.

Inches away, on the other side of the door, a flat, white face shone. No features. No body.

Bliss screamed.

The face disappeared.

Bliss spun away and dashed for the steps. Her bare feet pounded on wood until they slapped against the concrete flagstones in the kitchen gardens. Even if the door to the kitchens

weren't locked at night, going into the house was out of the question.

She tore open the gate, and collided with a very solid body.

Eight

The first blow landed across the bridge of his nose. Sebastian yowled. He made a grab, but missed the weapon.

The second blow connected with his windpipe. Gasping, he grappled with Bliss. He knew it was Bliss. He could smell her. Dammit, he could see her.

"Shit! What's the matter with—ouch!" Blow number three cracked the knuckles on his left hand. "Stop it. Bliss! Stop it, now." Swiping at the blood he already tasted on his upper lip, he grasped her and spun her around, clamped her back to his chest, and hauled her feet off the ground.

Trapped against his body, she resorted to pounding his shins with her heels.

"Bliss, it's Sebastian." He danced to avoid her pointy little heels. "Bliss!"

She grew first rigidly still, then limp—she sagged in his arms.

Oh, great. Now she'd passed out.

"Sebastian?"

"What the— What is going on here? Why are you trying to beat the crap out of me."

"Don't talk like that."

She was on the verge of hysteria but still managed to lecture him about his language. "Answer me."

"Put me down."

"So you can beat me with your baseball bat again?"

In a very small voice she said, "I don't have a baseball bat."

"Whatever you're hitting me with. What's happened here?" Apart from wind in the trees, nothing else shifted. The lodge was in darkness.

"I had a little problem."

"No kidding." If she wasn't scared out of her wits, she was giving a great impersonation of someone who was. "Is there any reason why we shouldn't go into the lodge."

"Yes!" She clung to his arms now. "I mean, no, of course not. Why are you here? Why are you sneaking around back here?"

"Sneaking around?" He'd laugh, only he recoiled from the thought of what laughing would do to his nose, and his throat. "I wasn't sneaking. I knocked on the front door. Then I heard you shouting and came to see what was going on. And you screamed. Believe it or not, I was worried about you."

"I'd like to stand, please."

"Oh"—he'd forgotten that her feet still swung above the ground—"yeah. You're not going to haul off with the weapon again, are you?"

"No." She sounded strange.

Sebastian set her down. "You were scared, Bliss. When you ran into me, you thought I was a threat."

"Forget it."

Gingerly, he touched his nose. "That may take a while. If you don't mind I'd like a washcloth and some water."

She faced him. "Why?"

"To clean the blood off my face. I wouldn't want to frighten anyone else tonight."

After a pause she said, "Blood?" and her voice rose. "Where? What's bleeding?"

"My nose. You hit it."

"Oh. Oh, no. Well"—she spun away, and back again—"the kitchen door's locked. We'll go in the front."

Catching his hand, she sped around the lodge, towing him at a trot. Outside the front door, she scrabbled along the log wall, muttering as she did so.

"Now what?" His nose was swelling.

"Can't find the key. We always keep it here."

He glanced past her and into the dim interior of the lodge. "The door's open." It hadn't been when he'd knocked but he wasn't going to mention that yet.

Once again he felt a rigid stillness in her. "She came out this way."