Chapter Six

Delia waited anxiously for Patricia to arrive. It seemed like an eternity had passed since she'd last seen her lover, and the Hawthorne matriarch had managed to intercept all but two of her phone calls over the past week, heightening Delia's anxiety considerably.

Pacing back and forth across the living room as the endless minutes dragged by, Delia's concerns grew. She knew Patricia would have gotten word to her if she couldn't make it, but Mrs. Hawthorne may have fabricated some excuse to keep her daughter from leaving the house at all. She asked herself the same rhetorical question that always came to mind when she thought of the cold-hearted woman. How could Patricia be the same bloodline as that bitch?

"You need to relax, sister of mine. It's only just after one. I'm sure Patricia will be over sometime this afternoon."

Ruefully, Delia turned to her twin, who had been watching from the comfort of an old sofa, and nodded. "I know. But it's been the longest week."

Smiling understandingly, Andi reassured her sister. "For her, too; I know Patricia wants to see you just as badly. Quit worrying. She'll be here once she wriggles free of her mother's clutches."

Beginning to pace again, Delia said emphatically, "That woman is such an evil hag!"

"Delia!"

Delia saw her sister trying to hide a smile and teased, "Oh, like you don't think so too. You're just practicing to be a prim and proper wife. Good act, Andi."

Chuckling at her unrepentant twin, Andi retorted, "Oh hush. I've seen you out proper a nun, when you want to."

Voicing her concern, Delia said, "Good thing, because I'm going to have to put on the act of my life at your reception. Not only am I losing my twin, Gareth will undoubtedly be all over my lover like an unpleasant rash."

Andi crossed the space between them, and wrapped her arms around Delia, pulling her into a bear hug. "You're not losing me. I'll always be here for you if you need me. You know that."

Embarrassed at the unintentional slip, Delia searched Andi's face for any hurt or anger. "I'm sorry, Andi. I didn't mean it that way. I'm just so…"

Her fumbled apology was met with a gentle smile. "So in love. And I understand that. Don't forget, I feel the same about Thom as you do about Patricia."

Delia met her sister's eyes and saw that truth reflected in them. She returned Andi's hug, at peace for the first time with her sister's decision to marry Thom. What she thought of him personally no longer mattered-what was important was that Andi loved him and he made her happy. "I know you do, and I'm very happy for you."

At the sound of the door chime, Andi grinned. "Looks like your wait is over." But Delia was already gone, and her twin was amused by the sound of the front door banging open with such force it was as if a hurricane had been unleashed on it.

* * * * * * * * * *

Gareth settled back into the train seat for the short ride from Boston to Lake Sivert. He had declined Four's offer of a ride to the lake, citing the need to take care of some pressing business matters. His lip curled up in a smile as he reviewed those matters and mentally inventoried the contents of the envelope in the inner pocket of his suit. It contained two sets of tickets he had picked up the day before: one set for the flight from Boston to the embarkation port in Los Angeles, and the other set for their month-long cruise to the South Pacific.

He had also put his and Patricia's passports in the envelope, hers having been delivered to his office by a private courier a few days before along with fifty crisp 100-dollar bills. Gareth was still irritated by the shopping list accompanying the passport and money, feeling it beneath his dignity to have to shop for clothes for his future wife. But knowing he had no choice in the matter, he had done as he was bid. His only defiant act had been to buy himself an equivalent assortment of new clothing, justifying it as necessary for a Hawthorne son-in-law to be properly attired.

While waiting for the train, Gareth had notified Virginia's Justice of the Peace to expect them early Sunday morning during their layover between connections. He had initially planned that they would take the morning train to Boston, but his future mother-in-law had decreed that the family chauffeur would drive them into the city. As she had delicately put it, Patricia might not be in a fit state to be seen in public until she had adjusted to the reality of her new circumstances. Gareth had been impressed anew at the older woman's penchant for thorough planning.

The would-be bridegroom smiled, satisfied with the arrangements. The envelope Virginia Hawthorne had provided him with on her visit was securely locked in his suitcase. He'd already decided which items to have on his person at the reception, in the likely event that Patricia should need any persuasion to see things his way.

He experienced a fleeting desire that Patricia would accept his proposal on its own merit, but the sentiment was short-lived. Gareth was not a romantic, and coolly assessing the situation, he knew that scenario was unlikely, although he was determined to give it his best shot. It grated unbearably that his future wife preferred the Barrington bitch to him, but he decided it wasn't worth dwelling on. Delia would be out of the picture soon enough and of no future concern of his or his wife's.

* * * * * * * * * *

In the forest behind the house, where Delia had impetuously led them, Patricia embraced Delia tightly. "I missed you so much. I didn't think I was ever going to get away from Mother today."

Delia kissed her companion passionately, then drew back, greedily absorbing the welcome sight of her lover's beautiful face. "Neither did I. How did you?"

Patricia leaned back a little, a rueful expression on her face. "It was the strangest thing. At first, she was doing everything she could to keep me from leaving the house. It's amazing how many things she urgently needed to consult me on today."

Her best friend couldn't help snickering at the dry tone. "I trust you offered her the best advice you could muster?"

"Oh yes. I think I single-handedly mapped out Four's ascension to the head of Hawthorne Enterprises, closely followed by his marriage to a suitable woman-to be chosen by our dear mater of course-then his rapid rise in political circles to the Oval Office. Additionally, we decided on future marriages and careers for all of Julianne's children. I also helped plan Father's retirement, where he and Mother will live; and oh, did I mention that I achieved world peace while I was at it?"

By this time Delia was convulsed with giggles, grateful to set aside her underlying worries about Mrs. Hawthorne for the moment. "So I guess that means you're bound for a post at the United Nations, then?" she teased.

Patricia sobered instantly. "That was the weird thing, Dee. We talked about everyone's future but mine. After all the harping she's done on me all summer, she didn't say one word about me."

Both women stopped to ponder that, then Delia said hopefully, "Maybe she's given up on the idea of you marrying Gareth, since you told her point blank that you don't want to."

That got her a wry look. "Sure, love. My mother always yields gracefully when she doesn't get her way."

Biting her lip, Delia acknowledged that it was highly unlikely. She knew it was far more probable that Mrs. Hawthorne had simply made a tactical retreat for the moment, and would approach her daughter again from a different angle. Hesitantly she asked, "Then how did you get away?"

Shaking her head in puzzlement, Patricia told her. "We'd just finished lunch, and all of a sudden, out of the blue, she stood up from the table and said, "You'd better get over to the Barrington's to help with the wedding details. I'll see you when you get back."

Delia's face mirrored her surprise. "You can't be serious. Your mother said that?"

"Yes, she did. Strange, isn't it?"

"That's too weird, Patty. Why would she all of a sudden send you over here with her blessing when she wouldn't even let us talk on the phone for most of the week?"

Gazing at Delia's worried face, the blonde answered, "I don't know, but let's just be glad for the time together. I won't be able to stay over tonight and tomorrow's going to be long enough, since I'll be stuck dodging Gareth most of the day."

Groaning at that thought, Delia just shook her head. "Well, at least you'll only have to fend him off for a little while longer." Growing more animated, she said, "All the arrangements are made, love. In two weeks, when we're supposed to return to Smith, we'll actually be taking the train to New York. If anyone questions us, we'll just say we're going to Fifth Avenue to shop for a new wardrobe for school. The Cunard's Queen Mary departs for Southampton on the 27th and we'll be in England before anyone realizes we're not back in college. I thought we should send a telegram to Smith from New York explaining that we've had to postpone our final year due to events beyond our control, but that we'll be back for the fall semester in '62."

Patricia ran a teasing finger between Delia's breasts. "Mmm, you've thought of everything, haven't you?"

"I hope so." A troubled expression flashed across the open, freckled features. "We just have to lie low and try not to rile your mother. You know, I was thinking..."

Her words trailed off and her friend stared at her in puzzlement. "You were thinking what, sweetheart?"

Delia hung her head and toed the grass at their feet. She didn't want to bring this up, but she was keenly aware of the need to keep Mrs. Hawthorne from getting suspicious about them.

"Honey? What is it?"

Drawing in a deep breath, Delia summoned her resolve. "I really hate to suggest this, but it might be best if you were nice to Gareth tomorrow."

"Nice?" Patricia's shock was apparent. "You want me to be nice to him? How, and more importantly, why? If Mother is giving up on her obsession with him, the last thing I want to do is renew her hopes for matching him and me."

Shuddering at the mere suggestion, Delia shook her head vigorously. "I just want to keep her off-balance, sweetheart. If she sees you talking and dancing occasionally with him, then maybe she'll think she only has to back off a little and let nature take its course. That could give us the breathing space we need until we leave. Besides, it's not like you and I will get to dance together anyway, and you might as well have some fun."

Delia easily read her lover's expressive face as Patricia considered her words. She knew she had won when the other woman nodded reluctantly.

"I see your point, Dee. I guess I could 'make nice' with him for one day if I have to, though dancing with him isn't exactly my idea of fun."

"That's my girl," Delia said approvingly, even as her heart sank. Watching her lover in Gareth's arms, even just for a few dances, was going to be hellish, but she reminded herself it was only for an evening and that soon all of their evenings would be spent together, away from Gareth, away from Mrs. Hawthorne, and away from any further meddling in their lives. That was worth any price they had to pay.

As if reading her mind, Patricia smiled knowingly. "Very soon, my love. And tomorrow, just remember that even if I'm dancing with him, I'm loving you."

Leaning up to capture her lover's lips, Delia murmured, "I know. I won't forget."

* * * * * * * * * *

Saturday dawned beautiful as the first rays of the sun reached out across the sky, lightening the landscape. Sunbeams reflected off the glistening dew on the grass and surrounding foliage, piercing the light blanket of fog covering the lake.

"Wake up, Delia."

Delia turned sleepy eyes to the sound of her sister's voice and saw the excitement on her twin's face. Rolling over, she looked at the clock and protested, "Andi, it's only 6:00 a.m."

"I know, but I couldn't sleep."

Delia sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, as she acknowledged that she probably wasn't going to get any more sleep this morning. Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she stared blearily at her beaming sister. Andi's excitement was contagious and she couldn't help smiling herself, despite the obnoxiously early hour. "Gee, you'd think today was something special," she teased. Yawning and stretching, she asked, "Is Mom up yet?"

"Yes. The caterers got here around five, and she's down in the kitchen giving them last minute instructions." Andi bounced across the short space between their beds and plopped down by her sister. "Can you believe it, Dee? I'm actually getting married today!"

Grinning at her twin's enthusiasm, Delia wrapped an arm around Andi's shoulders and hugged her tightly. "Yeah, just think. From now on, you'll be waking up to Thom's bristly face every morning."

Andi sighed happily at the thought, then teased, "Well hopefully he won't snore, like a certain someone I've been sleeping with all my life."

"Hey!" Delia said in mock indignation. "I don't snore." Then grinning, she added, "At least Patricia never complained."

Laughing, Andi pulled her twin backwards so that they were both looking up at the beamed ceiling. "Dee, Patricia wouldn't complain if your every second word was a belch and you only bathed once a year. That girl is so gone on you."

"Yeah, she is, isn't she?" Delia sighed happily. "It's going to be a long two weeks until we can leave together."

Rolling over on her side to face her twin, Andi said soberly, "You two be careful now, okay? Don't be taking any stupid chances when you're this close."

Delia turned her head, meeting the serious blue eyes that were identical to her own. "I promise, Andi. We'll both be on our best behaviour, even if we don't get to see each other much until we leave." Unwilling to dwell on the unpleasant prospect of not seeing her lover for a couple of weeks, she changed the subject. "So, is Thom looking forward to going to Hawaii as much as you are?"

Andi smirked. "I think Thom is looking forward to the honeymoon, period. I doubt he'd care if we were in a cave in Borneo as long as it had a bed in it."

Slapping her hands over her ears, Delia sputtered, "Eeuuuww! Too much information!" Then laughing, she lowered her hands and rolled onto her side. Curiously she asked, "So you two haven't...?"

Blushing slightly, Andi shook her head. "No. Thom's pretty hung up on propriety and stuff. He insisted we wait until we were married."

Snickering, Delia poked her twin. "That would explain why you always come back from the shower shivering with cold, huh?"

Pouncing, Andi tickled her sister as Delia fought back ferociously, fingers flying as they both probed for familiar, vulnerable spots. Finally both collapsed in a heap, laughing helplessly.

"God I'm going to miss this," Delia murmured when she was finally able to speak again.

"Me, too."

The twins sighed together, both very conscious that this day had brought endings as well as beginnings to their lives.

Andi reached for her sister's hand, holding it tightly. "Dee, I've already talked this over with Thom, and he's agreed. We'd like to name our first child after you, and have you be his or her godmother."

Deeply touched, Delia joked weakly, "If it's a boy, he's going to hate being called Delia."

Chuckling, Andi corrected her. "No, silly. We'd name him Jay, after your middle name."

"Thom agreed, really?" Delia was genuinely curious, for as much as she'd inwardly vowed to get along with her new brother-in-law, she doubted that he had resolved the same thing.

"Really," Andi said firmly. "Dee, I love Thom with all my heart, but he has to accept your place in my life, too. I was very proud of him for agreeing to name our baby after you. I really think he's loosening up a lot; and the more he gets to know you, the more he'll like you."

"Um, well, maybe not if he knows everything about me," Delia demurred.

Andi nodded, then spoke firmly. "I've given that a lot of thought, too. I will tell him eventually, but not until we've been married for a while. He'll probably fuss, but I'll make it clear that you're a part of me and nothing will ever change that. You just leave it to me, Dee."

Her twin's unwavering support touched Delia deeply, and one of her unspoken fears dissolved. She would have given up anything to be with Patricia, but it would have devastated her to lose her sister. Andi's reassurance sent her spirits soaring, and left her free to dream about a golden future with her lover.

"Besides," Andi continued with a grin, "I think he's more interested in actually making the babies than what we name them."

With a groan, Delia launched herself at her sister and the battle resumed, until their mother's cheerful voice from outside their door summoned them to breakfast.

* * * * * * * * *

Gareth woke up in one of the guest rooms at the Hawthorne mansion and gazed out the window at the lake. Victoria had cornered him upon his arrival the previous afternoon to ensure that everything was in place for her daughter's elopement and honeymoon.

He had been surprised to learn that Patricia was over at the Barrington's, but suspected it was precisely so that he and Virginia could review their plans and ensure nothing had been omitted. At any rate, he had maintained an impassive expression knowing that Victoria would take any outward reaction as a criticism of her judgment, which was the last thing he intended. His future and that of his family was at stake, and he wasn't about to do anything to jeopardize that.

The night before, he had stood in front of the mirror and gone over his marriage proposal repeatedly, wanting it to be perfect. He still preferred that Patricia willingly accept his offer to share a future together, however Gareth knew that he had no qualms about ensuring her acceptance with any and all means at his disposal. While he didn't know with absolute certainty how the events would unfold, he did know that he would not fail.

He began to dress carefully for breakfast. The church ceremony wasn't until four that afternoon and he intended to spend every moment he could charming his future wife. It would be expected of him, and he knew Mrs. Hawthorne would be watching closely.

* * * * * * * * * *

Patricia woke up early. Today would probably be one of the longest days of her life, but it was worth it to know that once it was over, she and Delia would be one step closer to being together forever. She could even bear Gareth's intrusive company for the day with good grace, knowing that after the wedding he would have less excuse to be around. She didn't doubt that his weekend visits would continue, but she had decided that she would simply continue to politely keep him at arm's length until it was time for her and Delia to leave.

Since they had a houseguest, her mother had insisted she attend a formal breakfast with the family that morning. Patricia was too excited to be hungry, but she didn't resent the mandate as much as she normally would have because it was a way to pass the time, even if it meant an early start in dealing with Gareth's overly solicitous attentions.

Throwing on a casual dress and leaving most of her toilette for later, Patricia walked downstairs and into the formal dining room. Sitting down in the chair Gareth pulled out for her, she smiled her thanks at the earnest young man.

Picking at her food, she kept one ear on the conversation in case she had to respond, but her thoughts remained focused on Delia and their upcoming trip. Seeing her mother glare at her, she tried to concentrate more on Gareth's conversational gambits, but with only partial success, as her heart simply wasn't in it.

Breakfast passed without incident, and after finishing one last cup of coffee, she excused herself, saying she had to get ready for the wedding, leaving her parents, brother, and Gareth to entertain each other. She knew her mother would disapprove of her quick departure, but Patricia had exhausted her fund of small talk and had no interest in her father and Gareth's shop talk. The younger man had been on his best behavior and had made repeated attempts to draw her into the conversation, but eventually had given up and turned to his employer, who proved a much more receptive conversationalist.

Running lightly up the stairs, Patricia realized she was looking forward to the wedding. She was excited and happy for Andi, and as a bridesmaid, would be near Delia for most of the proceedings. It would be a welcome respite on a day that promised to be trying if Gareth continued trying to monopolize her time.

* * * * * * * * * *

Delia felt her eyes well up with tears of happiness for her twin when Andi proudly said, "I do," at the end of the wedding vows. She glanced over at Patricia as the new couple kissed, and saw her lover was wet eyed as well. Walking beside Thom's best man and usher, they followed the bride and groom down the aisle, outside to the waiting guests who showered the couple with rice.

Smiling, Delia congratulated Andi and Thom warmly, before stepping aside to allow other family members and guests access to the newlyweds. She turned to Patricia, "Wasn't that beautiful?"

Sighing happily, Patricia agreed, "Oh yes, and Andi looks so happy."

"I know. Just think..." Delia's eyes darkened when she saw Gareth weaving through the crowd, quickly approaching them. Her voice laced with sarcasm, she whispered, "Oh, Lord. Heads up, he's on his way."

Patricia rolled her eyes and softly repeated her mantra, "Only a few more hours, only a few more hours..."

Thom's usher, Brady Zellwick, cocked his head. "Did you say something, Patricia?" When she shook her head, he just shrugged and returned his attention to the bride and groom.

Delia winked at her lover, then turned to greet the unwanted intruder. "Hi, Gareth." He stared at her blankly for a moment as if surprised to find her there, then obviously remembering his manners, nodded courteously.

"Delia. You look lovely today."

Remaining at Patricia's side, Delia said, "Thanks. You clean up pretty nicely yourself."

It was true. As much as Delia might have wished Gareth transported instantly and permanently to Outer Mongolia, she couldn't deny that he cut a dashing figure in his tailored, dark blue suit with matching tie, starched white shirt, and brilliantly shined shoes.

He gave her a neutral smile, then dismissed her as he turned the full force of his charm on Patricia. "You are absolutely radiant today, my dear. You may even have outshone the bride in all her glory. Surely Aphrodite herself has descended to Earth for the occasion."

Delia suppressed a smirk at the lavish flattery, but couldn't disagree. Even the questionable color that Andi had chosen for the bridesmaid's dresses couldn't diminish her lover's beauty.

Patricia smiled politely. "Thank you, Gareth. You look very handsome, too."

Gareth's next words caused Delia to stiffen imperceptibly. "Your parents sent me over to collect you for the ride back to the lake." He gestured to the curb where the Hawthorne limousine was waiting.

"Thank you, but I should really ride with the wedding party as we're going to having photographs done before the reception. I'll meet you and my parents back at the Barrington's."

Patricia's firm, yet courteous refusal went a long way to reassure Delia, but she didn't miss the momentary annoyance on the young man's features before his face smoothed into an agreeable smile.

"Certainly. We'll see you back there, then." He grinned cheerfully, focusing completely on Patricia to the exclusion of everyone else standing around. "Please don't forget that the second dance is mine, and as many after that as I may beg from you."

Delia's eyes sourly tracked the man as he briskly strode back to the limousine. Her mood only lightened when Patricia leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Remember, it was your idea to make nice with him. It's still and always you that I love."

Those words put a huge smile on her face, and Delia was able to direct her attention to her twin and her maid of honor duties without further qualms.

* * * * * * * * * *

By the time the wedding party arrived back at the Barrington home, caterers had set up large fancy tents in the new orderliness of the usually untamed yard between the house and the lake. Multicolored banners reading Just Married were draped across the front of the house. A beautiful bouquet of red and white roses sat centered on each of the white linen covered tables ensconced beneath the tents; and a short distance away the cooks were putting the final touches on a buffet fit for a king. The band was setting up next to the large wooden platform erected for dancing, and was beginning to tune their instruments.

Delia looked around at the spread of food the caterers were preparing. Brisket of beef and whole racks of baby back ribs slow cooked since early that morning were being placed in serving dishes. Her mother had ordered stuffed Cornish hens and grilled swordfish added to the menu for those with an aversion to red meat, and a large assortment of accompanying dishes was being placed on the tables. Delia savored the smells, eyeing the dishes of long grain wild rice garnished with watercress, steamed broccoli and carrots, and a large oven filled with baked potatoes and corn on the cob.

She plucked a shrimp canapé off one of the trays of hors d'oeuvres sitting on small lawn tables. Taking a bite, she looked around to see if Andi and Thom had come out of the house yet, and where Patricia had gotten to. Not seeing any of them, she walked over to look at the wedding cake again.

Her mother had ordered it from the best bakery in Boston, and it had been delivered the day before. It was a traditional four-tier cake, but Delia thought it was the most beautiful wedding cake she'd ever seen.

The bottom of the cake mimicked the fall of the bridal grown and was girdled with a rose surround. A ribbon and four large bows encircled the second tier, each bow separated from the next by a rose, the third layer of the cake completing the flower motif. The piece de resistance consisted of a dancing bride and groom atop a music box placed in the center of the fourth tier, the final accent a rose beribboned arch showcasing the bride and groom.

Seeing Andi and Thom emerge from the house, she began walking toward them, passing a glaring Charles who was standing with his father next to the tables that had been set up as a bar. Delia smiled sweetly, chuckling when his face reddened at the unexpected reaction. She felt far too good to allow her old foe the satisfaction of matching him scowl for scowl. Joining her sister and brother-in-law, she circulated among the guests, greeting old friends and meeting Thom's friends and family. Patricia, having been held up by her mother's fussing, caught up with the wedding party part way through their promenade. A short time later, after the newlyweds had greeted the last of the late arriving guests, they led the way to the feast and sat down at the bridal party table. Delia was delighted to see that her name card was next to Patricia's rather than Louis Richelieu's, Thom's best man, and she flashed a quick smile at her twin. Andi shot her an understanding nod before demurely taking her place beside her new husband.

Dinner was a comfortable, cordial affair and, lost in the pleasure of the event, Delia almost forgot that Patricia wasn't attending the wedding solely to be with her. The only time she was reminded was when she glanced up to see Gareth's gaze focused on her beautiful companion. There was something uncomfortably possessive in his dark eyes, but as soon as he caught Delia watching him, he turned his attention to Four, who was sitting beside him at the table nearest the bridal table.

Finally, unable to draw out the meal any longer since most of the guests had already left the table, Patricia and Delia reluctantly parted, much to Gareth's obvious delight as he stepped forward to claim his dancing partner. Delia had already danced the first dance with Louis, and having completed the formalities, looked forward to reclaiming Patricia as soon as possible. In the meantime, she wandered through the throngs of guests, stopping to speak to many, aware it would be the last time she saw them for a long time. She didn't know how many might shun her and Patricia when they returned from their European sojourn, but it was possible that even some of her closest friends and relatives might reject her if the nature of her relationship with Patricia came to light.

"May I have this dance?" The soft words rumbled behind her and Delia turned to smile at Uncle Hannibal, accepting his proffered hand.

"I'd be delighted."

He proved to be an accomplished dancer, and by the time the fast song was over, they were both laughing and breathless.

"You're a good dancer, Delia."

"Thanks, Uncle Hannibal, but I think the award goes to you."

The jovial man chuckled. "Maybe in my younger days, but thank you." Looking over Delia's head, he said, "Ah, there's Virginia. I haven't danced with her yet. Would you please excuse me, my dear?"

"Certainly, and thank you for the dance."

Delia watched him walk toward his sister, noticing that the matriarch was pointedly ignoring her. She shrugged inwardly, cognizant of the fact that the only reason she even tried to be cordial to Virginia was because she was Patricia's mother. It wouldn't be much longer before they left her constant disapproval behind, so she decided she would simply ignore the older woman's coldness.

Searching the crowd for Patricia, she saw her standing near the dance floor with Gareth. Delia was wondering if her lover would feel her gaze when the blonde met her eyes for a lingering look of love. She smiled warmly when Patricia excused herself from her escort and began weaving her way toward her best friend.

Delia greeted her with a sympathetic look. "How's it going?"

Patricia discreetly rolled her eyes. "He's trying so hard to be the perfect date. He's nice enough, but I just wish he'd give it up. You'd think he'd know by now that I'm not interested, but instead, he hangs on every single thing I say. It's a good thing we're leaving soon, so that he can concentrate on finding someone who will love him back."

"You're way too kind. I think he's fortune hunting, and you're the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow." Delia knew she was being cynical, but the whole situation with Gareth hadn't felt right from the beginning.

"Oh, Dee, don't be so paranoid," Patricia softly chastised. "His family has money, too, you know."

Unconvinced, Delia challenged, "Then why did he take that menial job your father offered him?"

Mildly exasperated, Patricia offered a possible explanation. "I imagine he wanted to learn the business from the ground up, so to speak. He's already gotten a promotion. I had to listen to Mother go on and on about how Father is so impressed with Gareth that he moved him to one of the nicest offices in the building. Heaven knows that Four isn't interested in the family business, so maybe Father is looking elsewhere for a successor."

It was plausible enough, but Delia remained skeptical. "Well, I still don't trust him."

Patricia smiled warmly at her suspicious lover. "It won't be much longer, and then he'll only be a footnote in our lives."

"None too soon!" Delia commented with quiet emphasis.

Chuckling, the blonde quickly looked around, and seeing no one near, whispered, "I couldn't agree more. I love you."

"I love you, too, my heart."

They shared an intensely private look, before Patricia reluctantly said, "I'd better go before Gareth comes to drag me back to the dance floor. I'll see you later, sweetheart."

Delia nodded, her eyes following Patricia back to Gareth's side. Glancing around for her mother, she saw her standing with her father. She began making her way toward her parents, skirting a small group of older women with whom Mrs. Hawthorne was talking animatedly.

"Oh, you know how it is with young love. I wouldn't be surprised if they announce their engagement within days. Heavens, they'd probably have announced it already except they didn't want to overshadow Andrea's wedding. I know my daughter's mind, and she's definitely found the one for her."

Glancing at Virginia, Delia felt a sharp pang of fear at the smug look directed her way. She quickly shook off the feeling as ridiculous, knowing that Mrs. Hawthorne was just spouting off wishful thinking. But Delia was unable to shake the lingering uneasiness.

Virginia Hawthorne had made her pronouncement with such certainty.

* * * * * * * * * *

Patricia managed to share several other fleeting moments with Delia as the evening progressed. Once when Gareth left to dance with the bride, they had retreated briefly to the woods for a heated encounter; and on one joint trip to the bathroom they had managed to steal a kiss or two.

Gareth had asked her to accompany him on a walk around the lake, which she had politely declined, concerned that he might get the wrong idea. She was wrestling inwardly with whether she would be better to simply take him aside, confront him about his intentions, and firmly put him off once and for all, when her mother approached the pair.

With a smile that never quite reached her eyes, the older woman asked, "Are you two enjoying yourselves?"

Gareth had jumped up at her approach and pulled out a chair. "Yes, ma'am, we certainly are. Would you care to join us?"

Virginia accepted his offer and sat down gracefully before turning to her daughter. "How about you, Patricia? Is this young man showing you a good time?"

Irked, but determined to remain calm, Patricia responded mildly, "Yes, Mother. Gareth has been nothing but a gentleman."

With the faintest trace of a smile, the matriarch asked, "So, why are you two sitting all alone over here? Shouldn't you be out with all the other young folk dancing?"

Smiling at Victoria, Gareth said, "I was trying to get Patricia to take a walk around the lake with me."

"What a wonderful idea. Well, don't let me keep you. Off you go then."

Frowning slightly at her mother's meddling, the young woman demurred. "I'd really rather not. I don't want to miss Andi and Thom's departure."

"Don't be ridiculous." Virginia's voice sharpened. "They have much more interesting things on their minds than bidding each guest farewell. Quite frankly, I'm surprised they haven't left yet. Go along, dear. It's a beautiful night, and a walk will do you good."

Patricia caught the undertone of steel in her mother's voice and knew she would continue to be badgered until she agreed. She looked around quickly for Delia and saw her dancing with Thom. She couldn't help a little grin at the stilted body language of the pair as she reflected that Andi must have insisted that they dance together. Dragging her gaze away, she looked at Gareth and acquiesced.

"A short walk would be fine. I really do want to get back before Andi and Thom leave, however." She ignored the tightening of her mother's face. "Shall we go now?"

Gareth quickly stood up and pulled out Patricia's chair. "If you'll excuse us, Mrs. Hawthorne?"

Smiling shrewdly, Victoria said, "Of course. Have a nice time."

* * * * * * * * * *

Gareth walked at Patricia's side, and she allowed him to steer her around the rougher portions of the path. Her high heels were an impediment on the uneven surface, and when they reached the beach, she kicked off her shoes, allowing her grateful feet to revel in the soft sand. When Gareth offered to carry her shoes, she permitted her companion the small courtesy.

She was glad that he chose to remain silent and not disturb the tranquility of the night with gratuitous small talk. Taking a deep breath of the fresh air, Patricia wished she were sharing the peaceful walk with Delia, but reminded herself that there would be many such nights in faraway places for them to enjoy together.

They had passed Hannibal's ranch and were ambling down the far shore, before he finally spoke. "You seem so distant. What are you thinking about, if you don't mind me asking?"

Patricia glanced at Gareth and smiled, easily voicing a deception. "I was just thinking about how happy Andi and Thom were, and how nice the wedding was."

"Andrea was indeed a lovely bride, as I'm sure you'll be when your time comes."

The words were casual enough, but Patricia couldn't help glancing sharply at her companion. Gareth's expression was neutral and his eyes continued to focus on their path, so the young woman relaxed slightly. As they continued around the lake, conversation was desultory, limited mostly to the beauty of the night and the celebration they'd left behind.

They had covered over half the circumference of the small lake when her companion came to a stop before a barely perceptible break in the forest. She wasn't familiar with this path, though she assumed she and Delia had passed it often in their explorations.

Gareth turned to her with a smile. "I'd love to show you something that I discovered by accident on one of my visits here with Four. It's not far, and I'm sure you'd enjoy it."

Not keen on doing anything to extend the walk, but unwilling to hurt Gareth's feelings, Patricia decided to accept his invitation. She returned his smile, saying, "Sure," and accompanied him up the narrow path.

* * * * * * * * * *
Delia had lost track of Patricia while she danced with her brother-in-law, then her father, Brady, and Louis. Eventually her best friend's absence, coupled with underlying worry over Mrs. Hawthorne's bold pronouncement about her daughter's imminent engagement, prompted her to begin searching for her missing lover, a search that grew more frantic as a rapid trek through the house and grounds failed to turn up Patricia, and no one was able to say they had seen her recently.

Finally, filled with foreboding, she approached Mrs. Hawthorne, certain the matriarch would be aware of her daughter's whereabouts. "Mrs. Hawthorne?" When Virginia looked at her, she asked politely, "Do you know where Patricia is?"

"Yes. She wasn't feeling well, so she went back to the house. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

Staring after the matriarch, Delia puzzled over the maliciously triumphant look the woman had leveled at her before she abruptly turned and walked away.

She immediately left the reception and headed for the Hawthorne mansion. Something was wrong. Patricia had looked fine the last time she'd seen her, and had said nothing about not feeling well. Delia acknowledged that it was possible Patricia hadn't been able to notify her before leaving, but try as she might, the young woman was unable to shake a sense of foreboding.

* * * * * * * * * *

Patricia stared at the small waterfall with delight. She couldn't believe she and Delia hadn't discovered it in all their wanderings, but it was quite far off the beaten path, and Gareth had had to assist her over many fallen trees and up a small cliff to reach it.

"It's gorgeous," she breathed. She could hardly wait to tell Delia about the lake's hidden treasure.

Gareth smiled charmingly. "I knew you'd like it. I wanted to bring you someplace special."

"Thank you, Gareth. It truly is lovely." She took a long moment to admire the view, then turned back to her companion. "It was well worth the walk, but we'd better be getting back now. I really do want to see Andi and Thom off."

Startled, she watched his reaction to her words as he dropped to his knees in front of her and gently grasped her hands, looking up at her intently. "Patricia, I think you know how I feel about you. I think you're a beautiful, gracious, kind woman, and if you give me the chance, I will cherish you and hold you in the highest regard, always. Would you do me the very great honour of marrying me?"

Even in the midst of her consternation Patricia was dimly aware that he had not declared his love. Trying desperately not to hurt the man, she said gently, "Oh, Gareth, please stand up. I'm so sorry, but I can't accept. I think you're a lovely, sweet man, but I'm just not in love with you."

He rose to his feet, still grasping her hands. Urgently he declared, "You could learn to love me, Patricia. Many couples begin their lives with only simple affection between them, yet make long and prosperous marriages. I believe with all my heart that we're a perfect match, and I swear I'll always take care of you. You and our children will want for nothing. I know both our families will approve; it's an eminently suitable match from all standpoints."

"I'm sorry, Gareth, but no." Patricia sighed, trying gently to pull her hands free. "I don't want to get married for convenience or practical reasons. I want to be in love when I get married. You deserve to have a wife who loves you, too, and I'm just not that person. I really am so sorry. I never wanted it to come to this, and I never wanted to hurt you."

The young man released her hands and drew himself erect. Patricia felt a slight shiver go through her body as the look in his dark eyes hardened. She uttered a brief prayer that he wouldn't make it any more difficult than it had to be. Searching for words to console him, and make him understand, she almost missed his low-pitched utterance.

"I'm afraid your answer is unacceptable, both to your mother and to me. We know all about what you and your perverted friend do together, and we can't allow the situation to continue. I'm willing to overlook your unfortunate deviance, but I'm afraid I must insist that we marry immediately."

His voice was so calm and matter of fact that Patricia almost had to pinch herself to believe in the reality of what was happening, but as his words sank in, she could only stare at him in horror.

Oh my God! Oh my God! Delia!!

Chapter Seven

Years before, when Patricia was only ten, one of Hannibal's jumpers, a nasty tempered mare named Guinevere's Pride, had kicked the young girl in the stomach as she tried to unsaddle her. She had long ago forgotten the sensation of agonized breathlessness, but it surged back with a vengeance as she stood staring at the man who had just destroyed her world with his calm, prosaic affirmation.

Feeling as if she were wading through a thick, impenetrable fog, Patricia finally managed to force a "No," through frozen lips.

Gareth sighed. "As I said, no is simply not acceptable. Everything is already arranged. We'll be taking the limousine to Boston in the morning and will be married immediately by a Justice of the Peace. From there we'll fly to Los Angeles and board the Sea Breeze II on Monday for a month long honeymoon in the South Pacific. You don't even need to worry about appropriate clothing for the cruise as I have your suitcase packed and ready."

Reeling at his presumption, Patricia shook her head. "No, you don't understand. I can't...I won't marry you. My mother--"

"Is quite in accord with our marriage, I assure you. In fact, she's been very helpful in making the arrangements, and even had your passport sent to me."

He wasn't gloating, but she was deeply shaken by how matter of factly he made his statements, as if it were already fait accompli. Anger began to penetrate the numbness that had overwhelmed her. She was going away with Delia. She was going to spend her life with the woman she loved, not this man who was barely more than a stranger!

Indignation fueling her resistance, Patricia stiffened, eyes flashing. "I repeat, Gareth, I will not marry you! I don't care what you may think is going on between my best friend and me. This is not the 16th century where you and my mother can arrange my life, so please, just forget the whole matter and we'll return to the reception."

She made to walk past him and down the path, but he laid a firm hand on her arm.

"I'm afraid you don't have the whole picture, my dear." Gareth's voice was resolute, but not unkind. "And speaking of pictures..." He reached inside his jacket and extracted an envelope. Shaking out several photographs, he handed them over, flicking his lighter open so she could clearly see the subject of the pictures.

What she saw shocked her all over again. A nude Delia had been caught on film, her head thrown back, her body arching under the hands of another woman. Patricia recognized their glade and knew it was one of their encounters, but the photo had been strategically blurred so that the identity of Delia's lover was obscured, though her gender was more than apparent. Hands shaking, she shuffled through the pictures, her gorge rising as it became clear that she and her lover had been caught in every stage of intimacy. Instinctively she began to tear them up, furiously shredding them into strips as Gareth watched, making no move to stop her.

When she was done and stood there panting with fragments of ragged paper drifting to the forest floor, Gareth remarked mildly, "You know, of course, that the negatives are still intact."

She whirled on him and lashed out, her hand striking him hard across the face. He flinched, but didn't back off.

"How could you!" she spat at him, revolted that he had intruded on something so private and so magical.

"Actually, I didn't," he retorted. "Your mother did; but she was kind enough to share the results of her investigation."

Patricia shrank back. "My mother did this? I don't believe it." But she did believe it, intuitively knowing it for the truth.

"Well I don't think she was exactly out there in the brush with her little Brownie shooting the photos herself, but obviously one of her minions was."

"How can you be so blasé?" Even as she demanded an explanation, Patricia was frantically searching for a way out-a way that would ensure her lover wasn't hurt.

"Blasé?" For the first time Gareth's voice began to rise. "I'd hardly call myself blasé. After all, I've only just found out that the woman I intend to marry, who will bear my children, cavorts naked in a forest fucking another woman. If you think I'm blasé about my future wife degrading herself with such a pervert, you're sadly mistaken."

"Degrading!" She advanced on him furiously, forcing him to step back. "I'll have you know I love what we do together. I adore being her lover, and I adore her. And if she's a pervert, then so am I. I doubt very much that you want a pervert for your wife."

Visibly struggling for control now, Gareth shot back, "No, I don't, but your mother has assured me that you're merely misguided, that that bitch has corrupted you. We know that it's just a matter of getting you away from her destructive influence and you'll straighten right out. And believe me, once we're married, you'll never see her again!"

Patricia laughed bitterly. "You two have no idea what you're talking about. I love her, you idiot. Can't you get that through your thick head? I will never leave her, never!"

Gareth smiled in cold triumph and Patricia felt a shiver ripple uncontrollably through her body. Very deliberately he slipped his hand inside his jacket and came out with the envelope. This time he took out a piece of paper.

"On here are the names and numbers of a doctor and judge, friends of your mother actually, who are standing by awaiting her call. If they get that call, they will begin to process the necessary paperwork to do two things. One, they will arrange for Miss Delia Barrington to be whisked away to a mental hospital, where she will undergo treatment to cure her of her perversions. Two, charges will be filed alleging that she seduced and corrupted an innocent woman... That would be you, my dear. I'm sure you'd refuse to testify, but the originals of these pictures pretty much speak for themselves, and certainly your mother and I would regretfully have to confirm the charges."

"No! They won't let you get away with it!" Patricia gasped.

"Who? Her parents?" Gareth shrugged. "I'm sure they'll be able to bail her out eventually, but treatments are set to begin on her immediately, as we wouldn't want to waste any time in trying to effect a cure. After all, the goal is to return her to society as a moral, upstanding citizen." He looked at Patricia with mock sympathy. "Unfortunately, she may be a babbling idiot by then, but she'll definitely be moral. They're doing wonderfully corrective things with electroshock and lobotomies, according to the research your mother gave me."

She shrank from him aghast, her mind awash with an image of her lover blank-eyed and slack-jawed from the horrific treatments he had cited.

Relentlessly, he went on. "Of course, even if she comes through the treatments with her mind intact, she'll still have to deal with the criminal charges. I know her family can afford the best lawyers, but what a scandal it will cause, don't you think? Her father will be ostracized. Her mother will never be able to set foot in Boston again, and let's just thank God that her sister will be in another country, because she'll never be able to show her face around here, either." He shook his head in feigned remorse. "It's always a shame to see such a promising young life come to such a poor end."

Unable to bear anymore, Patricia crumpled to the ground, burying her face in her hand as she wept hot tears for the future she and her lover would never have. Gareth remained silent as she wept, finally kneeling beside her, but not touching her.

Lifting her tear ravaged face, she asked in a broken whisper, "How could you do this? What did we ever do to make you hate us so?"

His voice weary, he answered, "I don't hate her. I hate what she made you do, but she's irrelevant. And I certainly don't hate you. We're going to have a good life together, Patricia. You'll forget all this in time. She could never give you what I can: the respect of society, a husband who will always provide for you, children who will make us proud."

Shattered, she mourned. No, she only gave me her love, her heart, and soul...and now I have to crush them. Oh Delia, my Dee, forgive me, my dearest love. I'll never forget you...never! Don't forget me, my darling. I love you...I'll love you always.

Numb, she didn't fight when he took her hand and pulled her to her feet. They'd been walking for ten minutes before she realized that he was leading her away from the lake. She didn't care enough to ask where they were going. She only knew where she wasn't going...back to Delia's arms...ever again.

A short while later, Gareth halted in front of an old cabin and, pushing open the creaky door, he tugged her inside. Torpid, she followed him, her eyes dully taking in what she could see of her surroundings in the dark. He walked by her and lit a candle on the table, feebly illuminating the gloomy interior of the old, one-room, woodsman's cabin. Aside from the table, a chair and a bed were the only other furniture. All were hand-hewn and of gray, timeworn wood. It took a moment before it sank into Patricia's mind that the small bed was incongruously made up with white sheets, a pillow, and a thick blanket. Instantly alarmed, she whirled around to confront her new fiancé.

"I'm not...surely you don't think..."

Her voice trembled as she pointed at the bed, and Gareth shook his head disdainfully.

"Of course not, but we'll be staying here tonight; and you might as well be comfortable for the next few hours." He pulled out the chair and sat down, throwing one leg up on the tabletop and tilting back. Unbuttoning his jacket, he eyed the woman still standing unmoving in the center of the small room. "You can stand there all night if you want, but we still have to walk about a mile in the morning to the pick-up point, so you might as well sit down, if nothing else." His voice edged with sarcasm, he added, "Your precious virtue-whatever is left of it, anyway-is safe with me."

Patricia turned back to the bed, staring at it unseeing. Lost in grief, she almost missed the soft words that came next.

"Tomorrow night will be another matter, my dear. We will be legally married, and I trust you will honour your vows in every respect."

Stunned with horror at the implication, the young woman took a stuttering step then another and another, backing away from the bed and towards the door.

Gareth never moved. He didn't need to. All he did was take the envelope out of his jacket and lay it quietly on the table. The rustle of paper jerked Patricia to a halt as effectively as any leash. The memory of the very real threat that hung over her lover's head froze her feet in place, only inches away from the door that opened up on the freedom of the forest.

She felt as if she were caged in a nightmare, unable to move in any direction, with her mind frantically seeking a way out that didn't exist. Asked, she could not have said how long she stood there rooted to the spot, though at some point she became aware of Gareth's firm hand guiding her to the bed and urging her to lie down. Numbly, Patricia complied, pulling the musty pillow tightly to her chest, eyes staring sightlessly at one dark corner of the cabin as images of her lover consumed her. Sometime before dawn she finally began to cry, and when Gareth roused her and led her out into the early morning hours, making his sure-footed way through the forest to a narrow, gravel road where a limousine awaited them, she was still weeping.

*********************************

Delia stood on the beach, staring up at her lover's bedroom, as if the intensity of her gaze could summon Patricia to the window. But the window remained stubbornly dark and closed. The sounds of the wedding reception could be heard faintly in the distance floating over the water, but the merriment was lost on the young woman.

She had already knocked on the Hawthornes' door, only to be greeted by an obviously annoyed, pajama clad Randall, who informed the midnight visitor that when Miss Patricia had come in, she had left orders not to be disturbed, as she wasn't feeling well. That news should have reassured Delia that her lover was safely in her own bed, but the fear that had settled into the pit of her stomach refused to recede. It had not escaped her that the usually cordial and pleasant Randall had not met her eyes when he relayed the information, and had cut short her attempts to talk her way into the house, politely but firmly closing the door on any further conversation. She tried to attribute it to the lateness of the hour, now well past midnight, but the whole encounter had an undercurrent of falseness that unsettled her.

Casting around for a logical next step, Delia could only come up with waiting for the morning and returning as early as possible. Disconsolate, she turned away from her lover's house and trudged down the beach, back towards the wedding festivities. Before rounding the point that would put her in sight of her home, she suddenly stopped and dropped gracelessly down on the sand. Staring out across the dark water, the young woman attempted to soothe herself with the soft sound of waves lapping rhythmically against the shore. Anxious eyes drifted up to the sky, but the beauty of the stars was lost on her troubled heart.

"Patty, I don't know what's going on, but this feels wrong." Her whispered words barely disturbed the night air. "If I could only talk to you, I know things would be all right." She forced a smile. "But hey, what am I worrying about, right? You always manage to sneak away. I wouldn't be surprised to see you sitting at Mom's breakfast table when I get up in the morning, teasing me that you've already eaten the last of the pancakes." Her voice turned stern as she lectured her absent lover. "I'm telling you now, though, you'd better have a darned good excuse for making me worry so!"

Delia's face softened as her mind conjured an image of her remorseful lover. "Mmm, as if I could ever stay mad at you, sweetheart." She shook her head wryly. It was the truth. On the rare occasions that she and Patricia had had a dispute, the blonde could always end it with nothing more than a winning gaze, which invariably melted her best friend like ice cream in the summer sun.

The noise from the wedding party had diminished, and Delia supposed that Andi and Thom had departed, followed by many of the guests. She felt guilty that neither she nor Patricia had been there to bid the newlyweds farewell, but she knew that Andi would assume that the two of them had stolen away for some private time together and would cover up their absence as she always did.

She knew she should probably return to the celebration. She didn't want to disquiet her parents on this evening of what should be undiluted joy, but she couldn't summon the will to move. Instead she allowed the summer night to work its magic, calming her unquiet mind and finally lulling her into a light doze as she burrowed into the sand, heedless of her wedding finery. Her last conscious thought was a mental reminder to clean up and change before she went over to see her lover in the morning, so that Patty didn't think she'd been up all night worrying about her. She didn't want her lover to feel guilty for abandoning her at the reception without a word. After all, she was certain that there was a good explanation for it all.

****************************************

The civil service was mercifully short and concise. The Justice of the Peace did not waste time on pleasantries or flowery words, and even Gareth was startled at how quickly he and Patricia were married. His wan bride's only reaction to the court officer's pronouncement of their newly wedded state was a violent shudder that coursed through the slender body.

Gareth had kept a firm arm around his bride, as much to ensure that she remained on her unsteady feet as to prevent any last minute bolt for freedom. He had worried only once, when it came time for her to say "I do" and the words had gotten stuck in her throat. The Justice of the Peace, who had judiciously ignored the bride's lack of enthusiasm, merely glanced at Gareth- who gave a slight nod-then continued with the proceedings.

Ten minutes after they had entered the chambers, they were officially man and wife, though Gareth doubted that anyone would recognize his bride's faltering signature on the wedding documents. Still, it was entirely legal, and he was eager to be gone. When he tried to pay the man, the Justice of the Peace shook his head.

"Not necessary, Mr. Edwards. Mrs. Hawthorne has already taken care of the fee."

Not surprised in the least, and certain that the fee had far surpassed any normal charges, Gareth merely exchanged a knowing glance with the other man and returned his wallet to his pocket. Taking his wife's hand, he led the silent woman out of the chamber. Once outside on the steps of the courthouse, he guided her to the waiting limousine. He was about to announce their destination to the chauffeur when he realized it would be superfluous. The man had obviously already been well instructed on his day's duties, and would doubtlessly take them directly to the airport.

Settling back in the plush seat, Gareth glanced at the woman beside him. She could have been a statue: her expression immobile, and vacant eyes staring out the window. She had not said a word to him since they had left the old cabin in the predawn hours. He hadn't missed the desperate look she had shot at the longtime family chauffeur when they had exited the woods to find the limousine waiting for them on a narrow, gravel back road, but the man's patent disregard for her anguish seemed to drive home that there would be no help from any quarter.

When the chauffeur, addressing himself only to Gareth, announced that their bags were stored in the trunk and that a change of clothes was hanging inside for them to change during the drive, Patricia seemed to shrink into herself. The silent tears that had tracked endlessly down her face for hours finally ceased. She hadn't resisted when he had ordered her to change her clothes, discarding the soiled bridesmaid dress for a light blue summer sheath with matching pumps. She hadn't even bothered to pretend to any modesty, stripping out of her clothes as if he mattered less than a dressing room chair.

That had bothered him more than he could say, and for the first time Gareth had qualms about his actions. No matter what her fortune and family connections, it would hardly serve his purpose if his wife didn't learn to act like a caring spouse. It would be bad for his image.

Grimly he reminded himself that he held all the cards, and that his bride would toe the line or else. Handing over the small make-up case that was with the garment bag, Gareth gruffly instructed Patricia to brush her hair and make up her face. She did as told, but never once looked at him. Once he was satisfied with the results, he ignored her and allowed her to maintain her sullen silence. There would be time enough later on to remind her of the consequences of her behaviour. He no longer doubted that she would do anything he demanded in order to protect her former lover.

*********************************

Delia was running, her feet churning up the sand wildly as she fled down the beach. Fear propelled her-fear for her lover and fear for their future.

She had presented herself at Patricia's door at eight a.m., rapping firmly and quite prepared to bully her way past any obstacles that stood between her and her lover, including the formidable Mrs. Virginia Hawthorne.

But she never got the chance. No one came to the door, though surely her pounding must have roused the entire household. After ten minutes of fruitless knocking, she finally turned away. Glancing back as she plodded down the ornate stone stairway to the beach, she saw a curtain in the dayroom tweak, as if someone had been standing there watching her departure.

Suddenly sickened, Delia tore off down the beach, running towards the sanctuary of her home. She wasn't even aware she was crying until she reached the house and was met at the front door by her alarmed mother.

"Dee! My heavens, what's wrong?" Grace Barrington wrapped her arms around her distraught daughter. Delia just shook her head, unable to voice her fears to her worried parent. She just greedily soaked in the comfort of the familiar arms, burying her face in the soft shoulder.

Grace gave her daughter time to regain some poise, then led her to the swing seat on the porch. Nestling Delia under her arm and holding her close, the older woman pushed softly with her foot, setting the swing into gentle motion.
She made no demands, and when the younger woman finally calmed down, she listened carefully to the tangled tale.

"They're doing something, Mom," Delia concluded insistently. "Something bad, I just know it. Patty wouldn't take off without telling Andi and me, and they won't let me see her this morning. They wouldn't even answer the door!"

"Honey, they wouldn't harm Patricia. Surely you don't think that." Grace shook her head in dismay.

"Then why won't they let me see her?" Delia pleaded with her mother.

Grace thought for a moment, then patted her daughter's leg. Her voice firm and decisive, she announced, "I'm going to go call Virginia right now. We'll get to the bottom of this, one way or another." Standing up, she marched into the house, Delia's grateful gaze following her.

It seemed like an eternity until Grace returned, but Delia was heartened by her cheerful smile.

"What did you find out, Mom?" she asked eagerly.

"Everything's fine, dear," Grace assured her daughter. "I talked to Virginia and she told me that apparently Patricia suddenly felt poorly last night, and when she wasn't much better by early this morning, her father took her down to Boston to see their family doctor. Not to worry, though. Stanton called and said that the doctor told them that it was nothing serious, and everything was going to be fine. Patricia should be back out at the lake in a few days."

Puzzled, Delia shook her head. "Then why didn't they answer the door and tell me that when I was there."

"Because you were just too early, honey. Virginia told me that after all the excitement of the night, between the wedding and Patricia's illness, they were all exhausted and didn't hear you. She hadn't even gotten up when I called." Grace cocked her head at her daughter and grinned. "Now, my little worrywart, why don't you come in and have some breakfast before your father finishes it all?"

Delia gave her mother a slow nod, her brow still furrowed as she considered Virginia's words. "Okay, Mom, I'll be there in a moment." As her mother left the porch, she pondered what she had been told. I guess it could've happened that way. It's not like Patty to leave without telling me, but if she got sick all of a sudden...maybe she told her mother to let me know what happened because she couldn't wait. I wouldn't put it past that old hag to make me sweat just for the hell of it.

Despite her rationalizations, Delia couldn't shake the uneasiness. Nor could she shake the memory of Virginia Hawthorne's triumphant expression the previous night when she had questioned the woman as to the whereabouts of her daughter. And that curtain that had fallen back into place when she had finally given up and left the Hawthorne summerhouse that morning...someone had been awake, and someone had refused to acknowledge her presence.

Why?

The summer morning suddenly lost its warmth, and Delia shivered as she rose to go join her parents.

***********************************

It had hurt. It still hurt.

But the physical pain of Gareth claiming his conjugal rights couldn't hold a candle to the spiritual pain she felt as he took what belonged to another.

Patricia stared up at the gilt-edged ceiling of the honeymoon suite. She had tried to mentally remove herself, unwilling to let images of the past be tainted by the present. But her recalcitrant mind was unable to ignore the contrast of her joyful lovemaking with the woman who held her heart-the woman now a continent away-with the determined movements of the stranger probing deep within her.

It felt so wrong. Where Delia's body was soft and curved, his form was hard and angular, and had none of the silkiness that had delighted her when she touched her lover's skin. Despite the shower he had taken when they reached their Los Angeles hotel, his body exuded an acrid scent that was a galaxy removed from her lover's sensual fragrance. There was no love in the dark eyes that pinned her as he roughly fondled her breasts. Worst of all, where Delia had gently stroked and coaxed her lover into ecstasy, Gareth simply took what he wanted.

Patricia had tried to delay the inevitable, taking her time making her evening toilette and donning the thick robe left in the lavish washroom for the use of hotel guests, but when she had finally come out, he was sitting on the bed clad only in pajama trousers. He'd risen at her approach, wordlessly undoing her robe, pushing it back off her slender shoulders and stepping back to admire her nude body. She had endured his glance, just as she now endured his thrusts. She had been so dry that he'd had difficulty entering her, but he'd persevered, ignoring her pained exhalations. She had hoped desperately that he was one of those men her classmates had joked about, that he would finish up quickly then leave her alone in her mourning, but thus far he had displayed remarkable stamina.

Her lips began to move in a silent prayer. Darling, forgive me. I couldn't let them hurt you. You can't ask that of me, Dee, no matter what. Please know that I love you. With all my heart, I love you today and always. Don't forget me, my only love. I'll never, ever forget you.

As if he could hear her unspoken words, Gareth's movements became furious, and Patricia shuddered under the assault. His breathing became short and harsh as his hips jerked frantically. Finally it was over, and his sweaty body collapsed on hers. After what seemed an eternity, he rolled off her and came to rest on his back.

"Christ, I'd get more action out of a ninety-year-old crone!" His voice was bitter, and out of the corner of her eye she saw him swing his legs over the side of the bed. "I know for a fact that you weren't such a dead fish when you were with her." Distantly she watched as he dressed, his movements angry and jerky. As he knelt to tie his oxfords, he snarled, "I'm going down to the bar, my loving bride. Don't bother waiting up."

When he reached the door, he turned and eyed her. She hadn't bothered to pull up the sheet and his gaze dragged over her. "Well, it wasn't all bad. If we're lucky, Junior got his start tonight." Opening the door, he gave one parting shot. "If not, we'll just have to work a little harder. Maybe you could even move the next time."

Dull eyes stared at the closed door, then drifted to the phone beside the bed. Involuntarily her hand reached out for it, her overwhelming urge to call Delia, to seek comfort in her lover's warm voice.

Her hand dropped back to her side. She couldn't do it. How could she explain what the last 24 hours had wrought in their lives? How and why their dreams had been destroyed? Delia would be out of her mind with rage and worry, and she feared what her lover might do. She knew Dee would cast caution aside in a frantic attempt to rescue her, no matter what the potential consequences to herself; and Patricia couldn't allow that.

She had agonized over what to do, her overwhelming instinct to protect her lover. In the depths of her grief, she had seriously considered taking her own life, reasoning that any threat to her lover would die with her, but she was unable to give up the fleeting hope that things would work out somehow. She had no idea how, but if there were even a chance, no matter how remote, that some day she and Dee could be together again, she couldn't give up.

Finally Patricia accepted that, as cruel as it seemed, she had to let this run its course. She had no doubt that her mother would announce her marriage once the new couple was safely out to sea on their honeymoon cruise. Though it was torture to imagine Delia's feelings when she heard what had happened, it was safer for her lover to learn about it that way than for her to learn the reality of Gareth and her mother's treachery.

Delia wouldn't believe that Patricia had entered willingly into matrimony with Gareth. She knew that without question. It was excruciating to think she would never see the other woman again, but she knew she'd never be able to lie if her lover confronted her with a demand for the truth.

Maybe as the years passed...maybe they could at least salvage their friendship.

"And believe me, once we're married, you'll never see her again!"

Gareth's words rang in her mind, and the tears that she had repressed the whole long day began again.

Chapter Eight

Grace Barrington sipped her tea thoughtfully, her mind on her troubled daughter. Delia had shown up at the breakfast table, her face haggard and shadowed from yet another sleepless night. She had announced that she was going to Boston on the afternoon train, then had vanished upstairs to pack. Glancing across the table, she noticed that her husband was fiddling idly with his cold eggs, his mind obviously many miles away. Though she was well used to that, having accepted decades ago that her brilliant, but eccentric mate might as readily be pondering the mating habits of curlews as thinking about her and their daughters, this time was different. She knew that Benjamin was as worried as she was over Delia's distress.

At first Grace had assumed that her daughter was overreacting, and indeed had been puzzled as to why Delia had so frantically sought out information on Patricia's whereabouts. But as the days passed and Patricia did not return from Boston where her father had supposedly taken her the morning after the wedding, she began to question what Virginia had told her on the phone. Without telling Delia, she had called again the previous day, only to be startled by the Hawthorne matriarch's marked coolness. When Grace expressed concern for Patricia's well-being, Virginia merely said that the girl's plans had changed and she probably wouldn't be out at the lake again that summer. Grace had tried to press Virginia for details only to be abruptly cut off.

It was most disquieting, and when she had passed the gist of the strange conversation on to Benjamin, she had seen something odd in his expressive blue eyes. There was concern, certainly, but also a kind of sad comprehension. When she questioned her husband, he merely shook his head and kept his own council. That morning, when Delia had made her announcement and turned to go, Grace had observed her husband's sorrowfully compassionate expression as he watched his daughter leave the room. When he realized he was being watched, he just said, "Later."

Grace wished fervently that Andi were present. She was desperately worried about Delia, and knew that if anyone could, her twin would be able to get through to her and find out what was going on. However Andi and Thom weren't due back from their weeklong honeymoon until Sunday. In the meantime, nothing she did seemed to comfort her daughter. Delia hadn't eaten more than a mouthful or two for days, and she was certain that the girl wasn't sleeping. She had heard her pacing her bedroom when she'd woken in the early hours of the morning. She'd long ago lost track of the number of fruitless trips Dee had made to the Hawthorne summerhouse to see if Patricia were back yet.

Nothing Grace said seemed to soothe Delia. She had tried logic, pointing out that Patricia couldn't possibly be in any danger from her own family, and for whatever reasons, she was simply absent for a few days and would return soon. She had questioned her daughter closely, trying to elicit the source of Dee's obvious fear for her best friend, but the girl had been as close-mouthed as her father could be. She only admitted to a concern that was as powerful as it was formless.

Grace sighed and rose from the table, dumping the dregs of her tea in the sink. She gazed out the kitchen window in the direction of the Hawthorne place. She couldn't see it, of course, for the forest grew thick and impenetrable between their homes; but she pondered the possibility that something really was wrong with Patricia. She cared for the girl deeply, regarding her almost as another daughter, and she was well aware of the profound bond between the three lifelong friends. Was it conceivable that Dee could sense something wrong with Patricia even in the absence of any solid evidence?

Turning on the taps to begin filling the sink, she contemplated the possibility. Grace had seen enough instances of her daughters' unspoken communications that she didn't dismiss it out of hand, but she had always assumed that Dee and Andi had some sort of unique "twin sense" going on. Adding soap to the water, she shrugged. Perhaps Patricia's years of friendship with the twins had caused some sort of psychic overlapping.

The older woman laughed at herself and shook her head at her own foolishness. If it weren't that Dee was so distraught, she wouldn't even be considering such nonsense. Absently she accepted the plates and cup that her husband passed to her, and leaned back into the solidity of his body as he put his arms around her waist.

Benjamin's voice rumbled from his barrel chest. "I'm going to give Dee a ride into the city this afternoon and maybe stay overnight with her."

"All right, dear," Grace agreed, turning in his arms and wiping her wet hands on her apron. She looked at his dear, rugged face, deeply tanned above his thick, grizzled beard from all the hours he spent outdoors, and smiled. "See if you can get our stubborn daughter to open up about what's really going on, will you? Whatever it is, it's just not good for her."

"I will. Maybe you could try Virginia again, or maybe go talk to Hannibal. He might know what this is all about."

Grace raised one eyebrow in disbelief. "Hannibal? Honey, he's a sweet man, but unless it involves horses, he hasn't the slightest clue about anything. He may have got the heart in that family, but Virginia got the brains."

Benjamin laughed, the deep sound echoing in the kitchen. Short, but almost as wide as he was tall, with the same dark hair and blue eyes as the twins, he often reminded Grace of a sea captain home from the oceans after a lengthy voyage. "You have a point there. Okay, let me see if I can coax the whole story out of our daughter." He sobered then, and looked at his wife seriously. "You may not like the whole story though, love."

Assuming he meant that something dire might have befallen Patricia, Grace nodded distractedly. She really couldn't conceive of any circumstances that would have the Hawthornes hiding their daughter away, but then something struck her.

"Oh my goodness, you don't think Patricia is pregnant, do you?"

"I doubt it."

"Well, it would explain why she's suddenly vanished, and I remember Virginia talking about how crazy Patricia is about Four's friend...What was his name?"

"Gary, Garrick...I don't know, something like that."

Grace smiled. Her husband could remember the Latin names of every species of bird he had ever seen, but he was hopeless when it came to people. "Never mind, dear. Why don't you run upstairs and tell Dee that you'll take her into town? I'm sure she'll be glad for the company."

Turning back to the sink, Grace considered her theory; and the more she thought about it, the more convinced she became. Patricia certainly wouldn't be the first girl to be whisked away by her family when she got in trouble. It would account for why Delia was so worried about her, too. Patricia had probably confided in her, and in her usual big-hearted way, Dee was trying to make things right for her best friend.

Satisfied that she had reached the correct conclusion, Grace decided that she wouldn't press Virginia any further for information. The Hawthornes would be keen to cover up their daughter's disgrace, and any further prying would be most unwelcome. If this ran a normal course, Patricia would reappear in a few days, a little sadder and a little wiser, but able to return to her old life fairly unscathed.

Vigorously scrubbing a frying pan, Grace uttered a brief prayer of thanks that Andi was now safely married, and Dee didn't seem to have any special boy in her life at the moment. Girls today just seem so...uninhibited. Not like we were in my day, that's for sure. She shook her head, conveniently forgetting how she and Benjamin had hidden from her parents more than once in those heady days of courtship so long ago.

******************************

"Dad, you don't have to baby-sit me, you know. Why don't you head back to the lake?"

Delia knew her father loved the lake and was never as comfortable in their Boston home as he was in the old summerhouse.

Settled deep in his leather chair, Benjamin just shook his head, never looking up from the text he'd been marking. "No, sweetie. It's getting too late now. I'll drive back up tomorrow."

Glancing first at the massive grandfather clock that had stood in this study for as long as she could remember, then out the expanse of windows where the tenebrous shadows of night had overtaken the long summer twilight, Delia realized that more time had flown by than she'd thought. Their first stop on arriving in the city in the late afternoon was at the Hawthorne mansion, but the courteous butler there informed them that he had not seen Miss Patricia for several weeks and did not know her whereabouts. Since then, Dee had spent hours calling all of her and Patricia's friends, seeking even a scrap of information on her lover's whereabouts.

She had been singularly unsuccessful. Everyone she talked to had assumed that Patricia was still out at the lake, and was surprised when Delia said she'd left there unexpectedly. There were lots of suggestions as to where she might have gone, but no one knew for sure. She had thought that Four at least would be able to tell her something, but his roommate said that the young man had been invited to join some friends in Liechtenstein and had left earlier in the week. She had wondered briefly if Patricia might have gone with her brother, but rejected that, knowing that even if her lover had departed unexpectedly, she would've left word for Delia.

Almost out of options, Delia had even called Gareth's apartment, unsure what she would say to the man, but determined to leave no stone unturned. There had been no answer, and she tried not to let that fact add to her trepidation, reasoning that there could be any number of reasons that he wasn't home. But all the rationalizations had long ago stopped working, and nothing made even a dent in the dread that had only grown as the days had passed with no sight or sound of her lover. She knew that if it weren't for her father's presence, she'd be curled up in a little ball, shaking with terror. He had anchored her in her search, never once dismissing her fears as foolish or suggesting that she was overreacting. He had listened calmly and made intelligent suggestions, all of which she'd followed up on, but to no avail.

"Would you like me to go to the police and file a missing person's report? I'm sure it's been well over the time limit by now."

Delia smiled gratefully at her father, whose sympathetic eyes were now fastened on her. "Thanks, Dad, but I doubt they'd give it any credence."

He shrugged and set down his textbook. "Well, I'm not without some influence, Dee. I suspect they'd listen at least."

She shook her head reluctantly. "All they'd do is call Mrs. Hawthorne, who would assure them that her daughter is fine, only away on a vacation or something, and that would be that."

Looking away from his daughter now, Benjamin mumbled, "Your mother has a theory."

"She does?" Delia asked curiously. Her mother hadn't said anything to her before she left the lake, other than to assure her that everything would be all right in time.

His discomfort apparent in the way he avoided her eyes, he nodded. "Yes. She thought perhaps the Hawthornes had smuggled Patricia away to take care of...well, she thought possibly Patricia might be in a family way."

Delia gaped at him, floored by the irony. Finally, in strangled voice she asked, "And you, Dad. What do you think?"

This time Benjamin met her eyes squarely. "I think that's highly unlikely, don't you?"

She stared at him. There was urgency in his eyes and determination in his voice. Was he trying to tell her something?

"Dad..." She stopped. What if she was wrong? What if he really wasn't signaling his understanding of what lay between her and Patricia? Too apprehensive to take the chance, she only said, "I doubt it very much, too."

This time there was no misreading the disappointment in his eyes, but before she could pursue it, he set aside his book and rose to his feet. "I think I'll call it a night, sweetie. Don't stay up too long, all right?"

"Um, yeah, okay. I'll see you in the morning for breakfast before you go." She stared after him with puzzled eyes, reviewing his words and trying to decipher their underlying meaning. Finally dismissing it as wish fulfillment, as the desire to have an ally who fully understood what she was going through, she resumed pondering her options. She was left with only one. She would go to the head offices of Hawthorne Industries in the morning and ask to speak with Gareth. If he wasn't there, perhaps she could find out where he was or when he was expected back. She knew she was grasping for straws, and that there was no evidence that Patricia's zealous suitor would have any additional information, but she hoped for at least a clue. And, if he were there, that would eliminate one terrible possibility...the possibility she had refused to allow herself to contemplate...the possibility that wherever her lover was, she was with Gareth.

She snorted, knowing that the odds Gareth would help her were minimal, but she was left with few options and was determined to pursue even the most remote contingencies. In her darkest hours, she was quite certain that the senior Hawthornes had spirited Patricia away somewhere to apply sustained pressure on her to marry Gareth; and she had uttered a thousands pleas to her missing lover to stay strong and resist. Trying to convince herself that Patricia's parents couldn't keep them apart forever, especially with college resuming in a couple of weeks, Delia clung to a shred of hope that they would be able to carry through on their plans to go to Europe. The ship sailed in a little over a week, so there was still time, but each passing day increased her despair.

Long after her father had gone to bed, Delia sat in the study, forcing her exhausted brain to rehash the week's events, searching for any clue that she might have overlooked. Finally she couldn't fight off the overwhelming fatigue and when her father came down in the morning, he found his daughter dead to the world on the long, leather couch.

He stepped softly out of the room and returned with an old afghan that he gently laid over the sleeping young woman. Then he left the study and went to the kitchen to make a phone call.

"Hello?"

"Good morning, Grace. Sorry for calling so early, but I wanted to let you know that I'm going to stay in Boston for a few more days with Dee."

"Alright, honey. Is she okay? Did she find anything out yesterday? Is it what I think it is?"

Benjamin smiled wryly at his wife's confident tone. "Dunno, love. We didn't find out anything, and none of their friends have seen hide nor hair of Patricia."

"I'm not surprised, but mark my words, she'll be back soon, and probably with a story about going to a spa or something." Benjamin could picture his wife shaking her head sympathetically. "Oh well, these things do happen, even in the best of families, and there's no point in making the poor girl feel bad. What's done is done, and I know Dee will be there for her. We all will."

Wishing it was that easy, but knowing that it wouldn't be, Benjamin just murmured his agreement.

"Would you like me to join you, dear?" Grace offered.

"No, that's alright, honey. I expect we may be here through the weekend, but then I'll bring Dee back to the lake. I'll tell you what though, if you hear anything, or notice that Patricia is back, give me a call right away, will you?"

"Of course I will," Grace assured her husband. "And if you're still there on Sunday evening, maybe you can go out to the airport and pick up Andi and Thom."

"Will do. They're coming in at 8:30 aren't they?"

"Yes. Oh, and tell Andi what's happened, won't you? I know she'll want to support Patricia once she's back too, even though she may be up in Toronto by then."

After a few more moments of conversation, the couple said good-bye and Benjamin hung up the receiver. Quietly he began preparations for breakfast, glad once again that he and Grace had long ago decided they could do without live-in servants. He wouldn't have wanted to put his daughter through the stress of trying to maintain a good front in front of the staff when her heart was so obviously breaking.

Despite his apparent oblivion to much of the world, an intuitive man when it came to his children, Benjamin was fairly certain he knew why Delia was in such anguish. While on one of his bird watching outings, he had accidentally seen his daughter and her best friend kissing in a manner that was obviously never meant for the eyes of outsiders. He had turned away quickly, not wanting to embarrass the two, though he seriously doubted that they were conscious of anything except each other.

Benjamin was aware that by normal societal standards, he should have flown into a rage and done everything possible to keep his daughter and her lover apart, but he had been defying his culture's mores for as long as he could remember and he wasn't going to change now. His extensive international travels had exposed him to many things foreign to his own insular society, and though he feared for Delia in an intolerant world, he simply regarded her and Patricia as one of nature's quirks, no more unusual than oddities he had seen in Amazon jungles. In his mind, it took more effort to extend acceptance to his less than lovable new son-in-law, than it did to approve of Dee's relationship.

His only regret was keeping something from his wife, but Benjamin felt that until things were resolved, it was best. For all her wonderful attributes, Grace was still at heart the small town, Midwestern girl he had fallen in love with twenty-five years before. He thought the time was probably drawing near when he would have to sit her down and enlighten her, but decided to wait until he knew it was the right moment.

Until then, he would simply support Dee as best he could; and though he wished that she would trust him enough to tell him the truth, he understood his daughter's fears. Ever since Patricia had disappeared, he had suspected that someone else may have spotted the young women during one of their forest encounters, and he had known Virginia long enough to know that there was simply no way she would allow her daughter to sully the Hawthorne name.

Even as he clung to the hope that things would work out all right, Benjamin grieved for his daughter, knowing that the odds against the young couple were almost insurmountable.

*********************

Delia stood on the sidewalk and gazed up at the gleaming glass and concrete tower that housed Hawthorne Industries. She felt a rush of nausea, but forced it down.

This is no time to get cold feet!

With that stern admonition, she gathered her courage and prepared to brace her rival in his lair. She glanced down quickly, surveying her outfit one last time. She had dressed carefully that morning, determined to convey an impression of old money and social standing. Though not this year's model, her designer dress imparted exactly that impression. The exclusive cut and fabric would ensure her admittance to Hawthorne's inner offices, and her pumps added a couple of inches to her less than intimidating height. She had even donned her mother's pearls for the occasion, and borrowed an expensive handbag to complete her image.

Content that her armour at least was in place, Delia pushed through the heavy glass doors and approached the reception desk.

In an imperious voice, she instructed, "I'm here to see Mr. Gareth Edwards. And no, I do not have an appointment, but I assure you, he'll see me. Please inform him that Miss Delia Barrington is here."

"Yes, Miss," the receptionist answered courteously, consulting her directory. "His office is number 713. If you'll just take the elevator to the seventh floor, they can direct you from there."

Spinning on her heel, Delia marched down the carpeted hall to the bank of elevators, almost giggling as she realized that she'd been imitating Virginia Hawthorne's high-handed manner.

"Whatever works," she muttered to herself, punching the button for the seventh floor. The butterflies in her stomach increased incrementally as the flashing lights signaled the passing floors, and by the time she emerged on the seventh floor, she had to make a stop in the ladies room to pull herself together.

Running cold water over her inner wrists, Delia gave herself a pep talk. Look, it's not like he can do anything to do you. He may sneer, and he may refuse to tell you what he knows, if anything, but he might also gloat about where Patricia is, and that's the information you need. It's worth putting up with the jerk for a few minutes; just don't lose it. Don't let him egg you into losing your temper! You can't afford that...for Patty's sake. Gotta be cool. Gotta be calm. Okay?

With several deep breaths to shore up her resolve, Delia exited the ladies room and made her way down the hall. The door to 713 was closed, and she rapped lightly before entering.

Damn!

The office was empty, and by the look of the barren desk, not currently in use.

"May I help you, Miss?"

The voice sounded from behind her and she turned to see a middle-aged gentleman standing in the hall peering at her curiously.

"Please. I'm looking for Mr. Edwards. I was told that this is his office?"

The man's face cleared and he smiled. "Yes, that's his office, but Gareth is done for the summer. He's going back to Harvard for his senior year in a few weeks, and took the rest of the month off to have a bit of a vacation before he hits the books again. I suspect he'll be back for good once he graduates, though. We're expecting big things out of young Mr. Edwards, I can tell you. Ambitious lad, that one."

Delia's shoulders sagged with disappointment, but before the helpful man could inquire further, she simply nodded, thanked him, and walked back to the elevators.

Descending to the ground floor, she leaned against the back wall, drained of energy. Numbly she exited the elevator and walked down the hall to the massive glass doors. Leaving Hawthorne Towers, Delia stood on the sidewalk in the bright morning sun and stared blankly at the bustle of traffic and people.

What now?

She didn't have any further plans. Try as she might, Delia could not think of any avenue she hadn't pursued in her search for her missing lover. Gareth had been her last hope, and she had no idea where he might be now.

Despondently Delia made her way back to where she had parked the car. On the drive home, she just let her mind go blank. She was exhausted by the days of mounting fear and panic, and she knew her mind was dazed with fatigue just when she needed most to be clear headed. By the time she pulled into her driveway, she had resolved to try and put it all out of her mind for one night so that she could formulate a new plan in the morning.

There had to be something she was missing, something that would tell her where Patricia was, something that would compel the Hawthornes to reveal their daughter's location. She ached for the ordeal that her lover must be enduring at the moment, but Delia believed with all her heart that Patricia would resist any pressure her parents put on her. After all, she had already told Delia that she would gladly give up her family, inheritance, and everything else if she had to in order that they could be together, and Dee knew it for the truth. With that kind of resolve, it would only be a matter of time until the senior Hawthornes gave up. Perhaps it would be wiser simply to wait things out. Patricia might even turn up on her doorstep tomorrow, furious at being kidnapped, but none the worse for wear.

Delia smiled at the thought. What a reunion they'd have once they could shut the rest of the world away. Her tired mind embraced the thought; and for long moments she simply allowed herself to drift, anticipating the joy of having Patricia back in her arms.


**********************************************

Pure exhaustion had finally given Delia the semblance of a decent night's sleep, and she rose on Saturday morning, filled with renewed optimism that it was only a matter of time before Patricia broke away from her parents and came to her. Benjamin, delighted by the break in his daughter's despondency, made the two of them a large breakfast. Over waffles, strawberries, sausages, and pots of his thick, strong coffee they discussed everything under the sun except Patricia's possible whereabouts.

Benjamin was in the process of brewing a third pot of his potent coffee when they heard the front door open.

Delia scrambled to her feet, knocking her chair over in her rush. An ecstatic smile on her face, she flew down the hall, convinced that her lover would be standing in the foyer. Instead, she was startled to see Andi and Thom, surrounded by their luggage.

"Hey, you two! I thought you weren't coming in until tomorrow," Delia exclaimed. Reaching for her twin, she gave her an enthusiastic hug. "Wow, Andi, you look great. Hawaii must really have agreed with you." She grinned, and turned to Thom. "Nice to see you, too. You're looking well."

"Thanks." Thom's voice was gruff, and he looked distinctly uncomfortable, but Delia ignored him and returned her attention to her sister who had yet to say anything.

"So how was it in paradise? And what are you doing back early?"

Andi and Thom exchanged glances, and Delia's brow furrowed in puzzlement.

"Hawaii was wonderful," Andi told her twin, flashing her father a quick smile as he arrived on the scene. "We flew back yesterday, then took the red-eye out of LA. Thom has to work on Wednesday, so we thought we'd get a day's rest before we start our drive north."

It made sense, but Delia knew Andi far too well to accept that it was the whole story. Before she could inquire further however, her father interjected, "Here, Thom, let me help you with the luggage."

As the men picked up the suitcases, Andi took Delia by the arm and steered her into the living room, closing the French doors behind her.

Delia took a seat and stared at her twin, worried by Andi's uncharacteristically grim expression and nervous pacing.

"Hey, what's going on?" Lowering her voice, even though the men had disappeared up the stairs with the bags, she asked delicately, "Did everything go all right-I mean on the honeymoon and all?"

Andi waved her hand dismissively. "Yes, everything was great. Thom was great. The weather was great. The resort was great. Everything was great."

"Uh huh. Everything was great. Good. So why are you pacing like one of Hannibal's jumpers getting ready to compete?" Delia asked skeptically. When Andi stopped and turned to her sister with a look of profound pity, her fear flared anew. "Andi, what's going on?"

With the expression of someone who would rather be having root canal, Andi spoke. "At the resort, they give you a complimentary copy of the New York Times every morning. Thom and I hadn't been paying them much attention because, well, because..."

"Because you were on your honeymoon," Delia contributed helpfully.

"Right, exactly," Andi agreed. "Anyway, Thursday night, I was getting ready for dinner and Thom was catching up on the news while he waited for me."

Delia grinned knowingly, well aware how much time it could take her sister to get ready.

Andi rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I wasn't taking that long. Anyway, that's not the important part. He saw something in the paper and showed it to me. When I saw it, I knew we had to get back here right away. Thom didn't really understand why, but he was good about not complaining. Well, at least not too much; and he really can use a couple of good night's sleep before we head for Toronto."

Her sister was delaying whatever she had to tell her, and Delia knew it. She also knew whatever it was, it wasn't good news. She said nothing, gazing at Andi levelly until her twin stopped talking and opened her purse. Extracting a torn piece of newspaper, she handed it over.

"I'm so terribly sorry, Dee. I'd give anything if this weren't true."

Her hand trembling, Delia accepted the article. It was on the wedding announcements on the social page. Scanning the names, it only took her a second to see what her sister was referring to.
Mr. and Mrs. Stanton Hawthorne III

of Boston

Are pleased to announce the marriage of their daughter

Patricia Elizabeth

To

Mr. Gareth Anthony Simpson Edwards

Son of Mr. and Mrs. Geoffrey Simpson Edwards of New York City

The couple was married in Boston on August 12, 1961.

Currently honeymooning in the South Pacific,

Mr. and Mrs. Gareth Edwards will make their home in Boston

where the groom is attending Harvard University. Upon graduation,

Mr. Edwards will be assuming a position with Hawthorne Industries, Inc.




"...so I'm not really sure why Andi was so set on returning early, but I guess it doesn't make any difference in the long run," Thom remarked as he followed Benjamin down the upstairs hallway.

The older man, who had only been listening to his son-in-law with half an ear, opened a door and gestured him inside. "We'll put you two in here. It's bigger than Andi's old room, and I'm sure you'll be comfortable."

Thom edged by his father-in-law, maneuvering the suitcases around him, and looking with satisfaction at the large, attractively decorated room. "It's very nice," he said approvingly, swinging the largest bag up on the bed.

Benjamin set the suitcase he had carried upstairs on the bench at the foot of the bed, and had just opened his mouth to remind Thom where the guest bath was when an unearthly howl sounded from the lower level. The younger man flinched, and stared at his father-in-law, wide-eyed with apprehension.

"My Lord! What was that?"

He made a move to dart out of the room, but Benjamin stopped him, holding up a hand and shaking his head sadly. "No, Thom, leave it be."

His son-in-law stared at him incredulously. "But someone must be hurt. We have to go see..."

"No, Thom." There was no mistaking the inflexibility in Benjamin's voice. "I don't doubt that you're tired after your flight. Why don't you lie down and rest for a while. I'm sure Andi will come for you in a bit."

There was no question that Thom was not going to get by his father-in-law. Benjamin had blocked the doorway and wasn't moving. Finally the younger man sat on the edge of the bed and looked at his host uncertainly.

Benjamin tried to give him a reassuring smile, but his heart wasn't in it. "Everything's fine, Thom. Get some sleep."

It was a blatant lie, and even as Benjamin closed the door on his confused son-in-law, he knew it. Everything was not fine, and while he didn't know the particulars, he suspected Delia now knew what had happened to Patricia. That howl-that horrid, harrowing howl-had signaled the breaking of his daughter's heart, and his own heart sickened in response.

He stood in the hallway, wanting desperately to go to his daughter, but knowing instinctively that Andi was the best medicine for her twin for now. His time would come later, when he prayed he would be able to help pick up the pieces.

Chapter Nine

Andi glanced sideways at her twin. The twilight view off the upper deck of the stately Queen Mary as it ploughed steadily through the Atlantic on its route from New York to Southampton was spectacular, but it didn't seem to touch Delia. Nothing had in the two weeks since she had learned that Patricia had married Gareth.

Delia leaned on the railing, staring out over the waves, her gaze distant and bleak. Andi would have welcomed signs of anger or grief, but her sister had shut down. After those first few moments of realization, the sounds of which she knew would ring in her ears forever, her twin had simply withdrawn. It seemed like a thick, impenetrable wall had gone up around her emotions; and nothing, not her family's love, not the notion of returning to college, not even the thought of confronting Mrs. Hawthorne on her perfidy had drawn Delia out.

Andi feared for her sister's sanity. She hadn't left Delia's side for more than a few moments since she'd broken the news of Patricia's marriage. A bewildered Thom had been sent back to Toronto without his bride, but with assurances that she would come to him as soon as possible.

The young woman couldn't help a wry smile as she thought of how her father had efficiently bundled Thom into his car, squelching his protests and his demands for an explanation with firm, but soothing words. Dad's been a rock. God, I don't know what we'd have done without him!

Her face turned wistful. She missed her husband deeply, and knew she'd have a ton of explaining to do once she reached Toronto. She only hoped that he would understand that it really had been a matter of life and death. Andi had been terrified that once Delia's emotional dike burst, she would seek oblivion in suicide. She knew that her father dreaded the same, though they had both been loath to put their fears into words.

It had been Benjamin who had insisted on them taking the cruise once Andi told him of Delia and Patricia's aborted plans. He felt that she couldn't heal in Boston, where everything reminded her of Patricia. He also wanted her away from the city before the new couple returned from their honeymoon in mid-September. Andi didn't hesitate for an instant before volunteering to take her twin away from Boston for however long it took. As much as she missed Thom, she knew she would have the rest of her life with him; but before she could meet him in Toronto, she had to be certain that her sister would have a life to live.

Andi had half expected Delia to object to taking the cruise that was, in effect, to have been her honeymoon cruise, but her sister had simply turned dead eyes on her, then shrugged. The only minor impediment had been Grace, who hadn't understood why her daughters were gallivanting off on a cruise when Delia was scheduled to return to Smith, and Andi was supposed to be setting up house with her new husband. Benjamin had taken her aside, and though Andi didn't know what her father had said, it had worked. Despite Grace's obvious puzzlement, both parents had been at the dock to see them off.

"May I get you ladies anything from the bar?"

A formally clad waiter was standing behind them, and Andi was about to dismiss him with thanks when her sister unexpectedly spoke.

"A black rum, neat."

Andi stared at her twin in surprise, but recovered quickly. "I'll have a vodka martini, please."

"Certainly. I'll return in a moment."

"Black rum? Since when do you drink black rum?" Andi asked as the waiter disappeared into the forward lounge.

Delia turned her head and actually smiled at her sister, though there was no mirth in her lifeless eyes. Andi ached with mourning for the irrepressible, animated girl her twin had been such a short time before.


"It's a sailor's drink. I'm at sea. It seemed appropriate." Delia turned back to watching the endless waves.

When the waiter returned, Andi signed for the drinks, then watched in amazement as her twin tossed back the potent rum without blinking, then ordered another one. Though unsure that this was a good sign, she had longed for any indication that Delia was ready to re-engage with life, and she decided to hold her tongue.

"So, I reserved a car in Southampton for us on ship-to-shore this afternoon," Andi tried, though Delia hadn't evinced any interest in their travel plans. "I thought perhaps we could start with London and work our way up to Scotland, then back down through Ireland and Wales. It's actually a great time to be touring as there won't be nearly as many people about, and we should have decent weather, at least for a month or so."

There was a long silence, and Andi had resigned herself to Delia's continued disinterest when she was amazed to hear the soft sound of her sister's voice, almost lost in the breeze.

"Thank you."

It was little enough, but it warmed Andi all over. Well, that's a start anyway.
Smiling, she edged a tiny bit closer, resting her arm near her sister's on the railing. When Delia leaned to the right so that their limbs touched, her optimism, seemingly lost in the dregs of her twin's misery, was renewed; and she sent up a small prayer of thanks.

Only the whitecaps that signaled the great ship's progress and broke around the Queen Mary's bow were visible now in the gathering night, but Andi felt as if she were witnessing dawn break anew. She's strong. At heart, I know she is. She'll pull through. She just needs time, and I'm going to give that to her.

No matter what Andi had to do to reassemble her sister's broken heart and shore up her resolve...Delia would survive. She had to. Anything else was too unbearable to contemplate.

***************************

The young woman thrust her hands deep in her pockets and looked around. It was cold this early, so early that the stern Scotswoman who ran the small bed and breakfast they were staying in hadn't even arisen yet. Andi was still buried deep beneath her thick blankets; and given how much of the local ale she had consumed the night before, Delia didn't expect her sister to rise anytime soon or be good for much once she did.

Setting out alone, she strode along the rocky path that led up the steep hills that cradled the village in which they had stopped several days earlier. A thin layer of low-lying fog covered the land, but it didn't deter the hiker. She had woken with a deep restlessness and the need to walk it off, but didn't plan to go far. She would let her body determine when she'd had enough. For now, she simply needed the surcease of mindless movement.

Mindless movement.

It seemed as if she had been doing nothing else for endless weeks. Looking back, she wasn't even sure where all she and her sister had stopped, though she remembered the streets of London, looking out over the Channel at Dover, and Andi's delight in the picturesque Cotswold's. Delia could not have said exactly how long they had stayed in any one spot, but she was pretty sure that it was at least a month or so since they had docked in Southampton. She had allowed her twin to plot their course, acquiescing to every turn of the map that had them criss-crossing Britain and working their way from south to north. They had avoided the major motorways where they could, sticking to the slower back roads that unveiled hidden treasures along the way.

Andi had reveled in those treasures: an ancient village inn that claimed to have boarded Oliver Cromwell one night in 1651; a quaint, still productive mill beside a winding stream; stopping for lunch in a pub so thick with history that crossing the threshold felt like stepping back two centuries; and trying to decipher the thick accents of townsfolk once they got into the Highlands. Unwilling to dampen her sister's pleasure, Delia had tried to display some enthusiasm; but it had taken every bit of her meagre emotional reserves, and she knew she hadn't fooled her twin in the least. Finally she had given up, simply coasting along in the fugue that had been her best defence during these weeks. Intuitively, she'd known that if she didn't feel anything, then she wouldn't feel the agony that simmered just below the surface.

But an emotion was finally surfacing-guilt. The previous night, Delia had watched her sister play darts with the locals in the tiny village's only pub. Andi had seemed to be having a good time, helped along with generous tankards of ale, but it had suddenly occurred to Dee that her sister should be in Toronto starting her life with her new husband, not traipsing around Britain like an aimless gypsy with only the occasional phone call to connect her to the man she loved.

Now, as she hiked up the well-beaten path in the crisp, early morning air, Delia wrestled with her conscience. She knew the decision had to be hers, because Andi would stick loyally by her side as long as she felt she was needed.

Finally cresting one of the hills, Delia stopped to survey the land. Through patches of fog, she could see the narrow road that had first led them to this village, and she let herself begin to remember all the roads that had brought them to this spot. If she had only herself to consider, she would follow endless roads to unknown places for as long as it took to banish the memories that hovered so menacingly, waiting to ambush her and shred her defences.

But she had someone else to consider, and she could no longer be so selfish. Whatever it took, for Andi's sake, she had to find it inside herself to go home-to face the memories that waited there.

She laughed bitterly, the sharp sound deadened and absorbed by the morning fog. The memories weren't waiting at home-she'd brought them along with her; and every night as she lay quietly in her bed trying to sleep, she fought a ruthless battle to suppress them. Sleep was unkind, though. It didn't bring her blessed oblivion; it brought her memories of her former lover: the way Patricia had smiled at her, the softness of her touch, the profoundly loving look in her eyes as she'd gazed down at Delia, worshipping, treasuring, adoring...

That was the hardest part-when Delia woke from those dreams and for a split second confused them with reality, only to remember that Patricia wasn't hers anymore.

Patricia is married to Gareth.

Delia tried the thought on as one pokes a sore tooth to see if it was healing, and found she could bear the thought as long as she only coasted on the surface of it.

Patricia won't be in my life anymore.

This thought was harder to accept, for she missed her best friend as deeply and dearly as she missed her lover. She knew instinctively that Gareth would never sanction a continued friendship between his wife and her former friend. There was a time that she wouldn't have thought anything could separate them, but that was before her lover had bent to the wishes of others, even when they so drastically countered her own. Now Delia had no surety about what Patricia might or might not do.

Even if Patricia did seek her out, Delia knew it would be more than she could bear to see her ex-lover at her husband's side. You can't ask that of me, Patty. You know you can't.

And she wouldn't. Whatever had changed Patricia's mind, Delia knew that her ex-lover would never be cruel enough to ask her to simply accept her marriage and continue as if little had changed. She would keep her distance-and Delia would make it easy for her to do so. She didn't know where the more familiar roads of home would lead her, but she knew they wouldn't take her back to Boston. Where they might take her instead, she simply didn't care.

Turning, Delia began the long hike back down the hill, making plans as she walked. She wasn't quite sure where in Scotland they were, as Andi was the keeper of the maps, but she assumed they could reach Edinburgh in a matter of days. From there they would book a flight to Halifax. It would be hard parting with Andi, but she would insist that her twin continue on to Toronto while she returned to the States. Perhaps she would rent a car and drive down the eastern coast as far as she could go, then possibly traverse the southern part of the country until she could stand at the edge of a different ocean and watch the sun go down. Maybe somewhere along the way, she would even find a place to stop and plant new roots.

For now, though, it was time to roust Andi out of her warm nest and tell her that they were going home. Delia smiled as she remembered how she'd had to coax her twin away from the pub at closing time, and how she had virtually carried her sister up the stairs to their room, shushing her all the way so they wouldn't wake their formidable hostess.

As Delia drew nearer the bed and breakfast, she was pleased to note smoke emerging from the chimney. If Mrs. MacDonnell was up, then she should be able to beg a cup of black coffee for Andi's imminent wake-up call.

It was the least she could do.

*******************************

The door of the downtown Edinburgh hotel room opened, and Delia looked up from the magazine she had been leafing through.

"Did you get hold of Thom all right?"

Andrea nodded. "Mmm hmm. He was glad to hear that I'd be home in another couple of days."

Delia managed a half-smile. "I'll bet. I imagine you're going to be pretty glad, too."

Her sister nodded again, but turned away to fuss with her open suitcase. Delia watched curiously as Andi extracted several blouses, refolded them, and tucked them back inside.

"Was there something else?" Even though Andi shook her head, Delia was sure there was. Her sister's back was stiff and her shoulders were rigid with tension. She was obviously hiding something from her twin. Sitting up, Delia tried again.

"Hey, it's me, remember? Was Thom angry? If he was, then you put the blame where it belongs-on me. If it hadn't been for me, you'd have been home weeks ago."

Andi jerked around sharply, frowning. "No, Dee, he wasn't angry; and even if he had been, there's no blame to be laid." She sank down on the edge of the bed and studied her loosely clasped hands.

"Soooooo...if it wasn't Thom, then what's the problem? Was our flight changed or something?"

"No, not as far as I know, anyway." Andi drew in a deep breath. "I called Mom to let her and Dad know when we'd be returning home."

Delia studied her sister, then understood. "They're back in Boston," she stated flatly.

"Yes. The Hawthornes threw them a big reception last weekend, and Mom and Dad went."

You can handle this. You knew it would come. Come on, just breathe deeply.
Delia closed her eyes, battling the sharp pain that her sister's words had inflicted. Fighting back the nausea, she forced herself to ask, "What did Mom say about it?"

There was a long silence, and when Delia opened her eyes, she could see her sister wrestling with what to say. Softly she urged, "It's okay, Andi. What did Mom say? How did Patricia look?"

Several times Andi opened her mouth to answer, and when she finally spoke, it was like hearing words torn from a tomb. "Mom said that Patricia looked ill, and that when she expressed her concern to Virginia, she was told that Patricia was just having difficulty with the early stages of her pregnancy."

Pregnancy! Delia swallowed hard, fighting desperately against the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm her.

"Mom said that she'd figured that all along, but what she didn't understand was why when Patricia saw her and Dad, she started to cry and had to leave the room. Gareth just told everyone that the pregnancy had made his bride ultra-sensitive, and not to worry about it. Then he went and brought her back. Mom said...well, she said he was really supportive and never left her side all night."

Delia bolted for the bathroom, unable to repress the sickness that overwhelmed her. Crouched on the cold, white tiles, she spewed up all the grief, all the broken dreams and all the anger that she could not deny any longer.

When she was done, she huddled motionless as Andi pulled the chain, then knelt beside her. With infinite tenderness, her twin carefully wiped her face with a warm, wet cloth. That reached her as nothing else had, and finally, Delia began to cry.

Andi drew her into her arms, and held her tightly, offering no useless words of consolation, but allowing her sister the release of deep, wracking, endless sobs for what had been taken and for what could never be.

**********************************

Benjamin's eyes searched the arriving crowd for his daughters. He had flown to Halifax as soon as they got word that Delia and Andi were returning from Britain. Grace had offered to accompany him, but he was still a little miffed at how his wife had casually dropped the bombshell about Patricia's condition, and had turned her down rather brusquely.

The ornithologist had accepted the Hawthorne's invitation so that he could evaluate the situation for himself; and unlike his wife, he didn't write off Patricia's pale, drawn face to the early stages of pregnancy. Not that he doubted she was pregnant; but he had easily read the sorrow in her eyes when she first saw them. Nor had he missed how Gareth carefully steered his wife away whenever she made the least movement towards them. He knew that no one else would have picked up the significance of Gareth whispering urgently in his wife's ear, but her sickly nod of agreement and subsequent avoidance of the Barrington's spoke volumes to him. Whatever had caused Patricia to agree to marry Gareth, it hadn't been of her own will.

Benjamin grieved for the reluctant bride as much as he had grieved for his heartbroken daughter. It was clear that her husband and family had thrown up a formidable wall to seclude her, and he wasn't sure if it was even possible to break her free. He had come to Halifax to travel home with Delia, determined to confront her with his knowledge and work out some way to right the obvious wrongs done to the young lovers.

Seeing two familiar figures emerge from the International Customs and Immigration door, he waved vigorously. He was rewarded when identical surprised smiles met him, and his daughters began to push their way through the crowd to where he stood. Benjamin eyed them closely as they approached. Andi was her usual smiling self, if somewhat less than dapper in wrinkled clothes; but a more serious Delia was much thinner than her twin. Her clothes were equally travel worn, but they hung loosely and looked several sizes too large.

Frowning, Benjamin began to worry that the long sojourn in Britain had been for naught, then he looked closer, studying his younger daughter's face. They were obviously both tired, but Delia's eyes no longer had that lifeless look that had so terrified him before the twins sailed away.

Thank God!

Before he had time to analyze further, he was smothered with an exuberant hug as Andi flung her arms around him.

"Dad! What are you doing here? Mom never said anything about you coming up to meet us!"

Andi beamed at him, then moved aside to let her sister in. Benjamin drew Delia gently into his arms and held her for a long time. Talking over her head, he addressed his eldest daughter.

"Your mother didn't know about my plans when the two of you were talking. Kind of decided on the spur of the moment. Thought with you heading on to Toronto, Dee might like some company on the trip back."

Delia drew back and gave her father a knowing smile. Benjamin was struck by how much older she appeared, yet he was also relieved that there was, at long last, a measure of peace in her eyes.

"Thanks, Dad. You really didn't have to, you know."

Benjamin shrugged. His initial instinct had been to be in place to protect Delia from herself, if necessary; though he knew Andi would not have left her twin if she'd had any fears for her. Apparently they didn't need to worry about that any longer, but he still wanted the time alone with his youngest to have a serious talk with her. "It's no problem at all. You know I always enjoy getting one or both of my beautiful daughters to myself."

Both young women were smiling at him in loving amusement. Rolling his eyes a little, he gruffly offered to take their large suitcases. "C'mon, I've reserved you a room at my hotel."

His daughters surrendered their bags, and taking them, he led the way out of the airport.

"He's such a teddy bear."

Benjamin heard Andi's whisper behind him, but he was so delighted with Delia's answering chuckle that he gave no indication that he had heard, wanting the moment simply to last. In any case, a large lump in his throat would have prevented speech even if he had wished to protest his daughter's observation. Instead, he contented himself with a small prayer of thanks that one daughter had been restored to him through the love and constancy of his other daughter. He counted himself a very lucky man.

*******************************

Delia glanced over at her father, affectionately taking in his habit of gripping the steering wheel as if it might try to escape. They had left Halifax several days previously, after saying an emotional goodbye to Andi when they put her on a flight to Toronto; but hadn't headed right for the American border. Instead they had meandered through Nova Scotia and New Brunswick for a few days, before finally pointing their rented car south. She knew that her father had been surprised by her insistence on driving rather than booking a flight to Boston, but he had quickly entered into the spirit of the road trip, and had taken the opportunity to show her some of the many sites that he had visited on earlier birding expeditions throughout the Maritimes.

She had found herself genuinely enjoying the time with her father. He had been attentive but not overbearing, affectionate but not cloying, and above all he had been an excellent travel companion. His store of knowledge seemed inexhaustible, and she reflected that it was almost like taking a trip with a professional guide. His interest in the natural world wasn't limited to his passion for birds; and his observations and subtle lessons had entertained her during the long hours they had spent in the car.

There was only one problem. Delia still hadn't brought herself to tell her father that she would not be returning to Boston.

It would be a hell of a lot easier if I could tell him where I was going instead.

But Delia had no idea where she was going; and as wonderful as her father was, she didn't think he would approve of her wandering aimlessly and unfocused about the continent, whatever her reason. She was almost certain that he knew and understood what her reason was, but that too they had avoided discussing. However, having crossed the border into Maine hours ago, she knew she couldn't leave it much longer. Leaning forward, she rested crossed arms on her thighs and broached the difficult subject.

"Dad?"

"Mmm?"

"There's something I want to tell you."

He shot a quick glance at her before returning his gaze to the road. "Okay. What's up, sweetie?"

"I can't go back to Boston." It was finally out, and she waited for her father's response, noticing that their car had lost some momentum. There was a pregnant moment of silence before he spoke.

"I see. You mean, right now? You want to go somewhere else?"

She noted that he didn't seem surprised. "No, Dad, I mean ever. I can't live in Boston anymore."

He nodded thoughtfully, and the car picked up speed again. She wasn't sure he was going to say anything, and had settled back into her seat by the time he finally spoke.

"Because of Patricia and her marriage."

It wasn't a question, and Delia shot her father a searching look. He didn't appear upset, merely resigned.

"Um, yes." It was her turn to hesitate. "You know, Dad?"

"I know enough, sweetie." He sighed deeply. "I know that you and Patricia were much more than friends, and I know that you had planned to be together for the rest of your lives, until she married that man."

She didn't want to ask him how he knew. It was hard enough hearing her shattered dreams put into words.

"Honey, I also know that she's deeply unhappy, and didn't get married because she loved him."

God, that hurts! The thought of Patricia in pain was sharper than the agony of her own loss could ever be. Delia closed her eyes and drew in several deep breaths, trying to calm herself. A large, warm hand closed over her forearm, and she greedily absorbed the offered comfort.

His voice rumbled again. "I've been waiting for the right time to bring this up, Dee. Don't you think that you should talk to Patricia before you make any decisions? Maybe this can be salvaged somehow. You know I'd help any way I could."

Once she had allowed herself to feel again, Delia had turned the events over and over in her mind. She never once doubted that Patricia had loved her, and every avenue of thought proceeded from that primal belief. Whatever had happened...whatever had persuaded her lover to agree to marry another, had to be something so dire that it overshadowed all their mutual dreams. She had contemplated many scenarios, searching for a reasonable solution; but when all was said and done, the bottom line remained the same: Patricia was married, and pregnant.

While she could change the former if she wanted to, Delia knew her best friend would never change the latter. She had worked hard to accept that truth. Now that a baby was involved, there was no way back to what had been between them. She knew without question that Gareth and Virginia would not sit quietly by and allow Delia and Patricia to raise a Hawthorne grandchild together. She had toyed with the idea of somehow breaking Patricia free of her gilded prison and fleeing the country; but she couldn't subject the woman she loved, let alone her baby, to life as refugees in a strange land.

"I know you would, Dad, and I'll never be able to tell you how grateful I am for that," Delia murmured without looking at her father. She wiped her face, only now aware that she had been crying. "But you know that we can't interfere. There's more than Patricia and me to consider now. All I'd do by talking to her is shatter any bit of acceptance she's managed to achieve." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I know how hard that is, Dad; and I can't do that to her."

Benjamin swore under his breath, then ruefully agreed. "I know you're right, but I can't stand what this is doing to you...both of you! Isn't there anything I can do to help?"

"Be my eyes and ears in Boston, Dad. Let me know that she's all right. Tell me about her life. Tell me about her baby. Just don't ever tell me about Gareth."

There was a suspicious snuffle from the driver's side, and her father's voice was unusually hoarse when he answered. "Will do, sweetie. You can count on me."

"I know, Dad. I've always known that."

Knowing that her father needed time to rally and pretend he wasn't really tearing up, Delia pointed at a small sign a little way up the road.

"I know it's not that late yet, but why don't we pull off and find a place to stay for the night? Let's see where that road leads."

Her father just nodded, then slowed to take the obscure exit. Delia read the sign as they passed it.

Tucker's Way - 7 Miles

She shrugged. She had never heard of the place, but as long as it had accommodations, it was as good a spot as any to stay the night. The road became worse as they got further from the main highway, and she grimaced as they bounced over another buckle in the pavement.

"I'm guessing this isn't a tourist hotspot."

Delia laughed at her father's wry comment, but couldn't disagree. She was about to suggest that they return to the highway and seek more convenient accommodations when the village of Tucker's Way came into sight.

It had little to recommend it except for the magnificence of the Atlantic Ocean, which provided a dramatic backdrop to the small township. It was clearly a fishing village, and the dock was the pre-eminent feature of the place. Probably no more than a couple hundred weathered houses, which hadn't seen fresh coats of paint for many decades, lined the streets that ran parallel, westward from the ocean. The main shopping area of the village appeared to consist of only a handful of businesses and a large fish cannery, but there was a motel down towards the beach displaying a sign reading, "Vacancies," so Benjamin headed for it.

Once they checked in and secured recommendations for the "best seafood you'll ever eat" at Poseidon's Loft, which was apparently the only restaurant in the area open in the evening, they split up, making arrangements to meet in an hour. When Delia unlocked her room, she was pleasantly surprised. It wasn't fancy, but it was sparkling clean and featured small touches that made it surprisingly homey. She fingered the bright quilt on the bed, suspecting that it was handcrafted and unique to this room. Perching on the side of the bed, she let herself fall back, testing the mattress for comfort.

Murmuring appreciatively, she decided that she would sleep well that night. Letting her eyes sweep the room, Delia noticed the view through the half opened curtains and whistled. There was nothing between her window and the ocean's edge except a few feet of grass, then thirty yards of rough sand and driftwood. She dragged a chair over to the window and sat, resting her arms on the sill as her eyes drank in the scene.

Hypnotized by the perpetual slap of waves against the shores, Delia was startled by her father's knock. A quick glance at her watch told her that she had been sitting there entranced for almost an hour. Opening the door, she gave her father a sheepish grin.

"Sorry, Dad. Give me five and I'll be ready."

He looked at her in surprise, then teased. "Did I put the wrong twin on the plane in Halifax? You can't be Dee. Dee's always ready on time. Now Andi...that's a whole other story."

She chuckled, knowing she had deserved that, and hurried to clean up. True to her word, she was ready in five minutes, and they walked to the restaurant. There was no point in taking the car as they could have covered the entire village in less than twenty minutes and not missed a street. The restaurant was surprisingly busy, but they didn't have long to wait; and as promised, the food was excellent: hearty, plentiful, and cooked with an expert hand.

Delia and Benjamin dug in gratefully, their conversation fitful as they concentrated on the thick chowder that the waitress had brought them immediately without even asking. When they had accepted it with curious looks, she just winked at them.

"Just a little som'pin' to put a dent in that hole while yer waitin'."

As they ate, Delia found herself unconsciously listening to the conversations of the locals. The prime topic appeared to be the sale of someone's land for nonpayment of taxes, and she tuned in to the table closest to them, where two men, their oilskins slung over the back of their chairs, were chowing down with great gusto.

"I hear that Josiah is gonna take his brood down Bangor way. Guess he's gotta go where the work is at, but I cain't see him workin' inna city, kin you? Prob'ly drive him crazy."

His companion snorted, snapping a claw and sucking it clean with relish before he responded. "Ain't so much Josiah, but his oldest, Ab, is fit to be tied. Swears up and down he ain't leavin' no matter what some guv'ment man says. My missus says that Hannah is worried sick about taking that boy to the city."

"Not surprised. Ab always was a wild one. He'd no more make a city slicker than you or I would. I wonder if maybe there's a way he can find to buy his daddy's land back. It's a damned fine piece, that's for sure."

"Hell, he ain't got a pot to piss in, no more'n his daddy or his gran'daddy ever did. No way he can buy spit, let alone that land."

Benjamin reached across the table and tapped his daughter's arm. She glanced up to see him regarding her mildly. "That's not polite, sweetie."

She flushed, knowing that he had caught her eavesdropping. She smiled apologetically, and saw the amused twinkle in his eyes. Hastily she asked, "So do you think Andi is settling in all right?"

Her father accepted the conversational gambit, and the next hour flew. By the time they left the restaurant, Delia marveled at the amount of food they had managed to consume. Back at their motel, they played several desultory games of gin with a deck borrowed from the amiable woman at the front desk, then called it a night.

Contrary to her expectations, Delia did not sleep soundly on the comfortable mattress, and dawn had barely begun to break when she grumpily decided there was no point staying in bed any longer. Checking her watch, she sighed, knowing her father would be abed for at least two more hours. Stretching, she ambled over to her window and peered through the curtain. The magnificent view that had soothed her so effectively the night before was barely visible in the dim auroral light.

"It's your own darn fault for eating like a pig last night," Delia chastised herself. "Might as well get dressed and go walk some of it off."

Bathing quickly, she dressed in her warmest clothes and headed out the door. The stiff gust she encountered almost changed her mind, but she set out in a southerly direction, away from the docks that were already bustling with fishermen preparing to head out for their day's work.

She soon left the village in her wake, and the walking grew progressively more difficult as the beach became rougher and narrower. By the time she came to a small cove that promised some shelter from the unrelenting wind and the spray off the strong waves, she had been hiking for an hour. Knowing that she had better turn back before her father woke to her absence and worried, she paused to catch her breath, sitting on a small boulder tossed haphazardly there eons ago.

Staring out at sea, she let her mind drift, simply enjoying the power of the ocean and the stimulating coldness of the wind. Unbidden, the conversation she'd overheard the night before came to mind.

"...damned fine piece..."

Amused by where her memory was taking her, Delia shook her head. So some fine piece of land in the area is going up for sale. So what? It's not like I'm interested in buying it. Besides, the last thing I want is to be caught in some dispute between the government and the locals.

But the longer she sat there, and the more she thought about it, the more enticing the possibility became. She needed to live somewhere. She couldn't return to her home in Boston, or even to Lake Sivert unless she was certain that Patricia and her husband weren't there at the same time. The thought of returning to Smith, where she and Patricia had first fallen in love, was too excruciating to even contemplate. No, it had to be some place she had never shared with her former lover.

Tucker's Way, huh?

It was a backwater, no doubt about that; and it would probably take decades before the locals accepted her as one of their own...but there was no danger of meeting Patricia around any corner, either. If she was to go into exile, then the quiet rhythms of this tiny coastal village suited her fine. It wasn't so far that her parents and Andi couldn't reach her easily, yet it was a world away from Patricia's universe, and she welcomed the challenge of learning to fit in with a rugged environment and a wary populace.

She smiled peacefully. As easy as that, it was decided. She would bid her father farewell and take up residence in this place.

Standing, Delia walked to the water's edge, heedless of the waves that surged and receded around her boots. Quietly she watched as the grey sky lightened over the green, turbulent water. Determined streaks of pink and orange fought their way through the mackerel clouds, heralding a new day.

"I will never forget you, and I will never stop loving you. They murdered our dreams, sweetheart, and I'll always live with the pain of what might have been, but my darling, I have to live; and to do that, I have to let you go."

The words were swirled out to sea as soon as they left her mouth, but Delia didn't mind. It was enough that she had finally said them.

"Goodbye, my love. Be well."

Continued in Part 2 - Chapter 10