A Lonely Sky (21 page)

“You do love Julia, then?  Did you tell Deirdre that?”

“No.” Sam reached for the bottle again. “All I know is that whatever was missing in my relationships before, I’ve found it with Julia. I’ve only known her a short time, but every minute I’m with her, she becomes more a part of me. I can’t get her out of my head, Spence. I feel connected to her, and it’s nothing I’ve felt before with anyone else. Does that make sense?”

“Yes. I know what you mean,” Spencer turned away and reached for a nearby coffee pot. “Looks like we’ll be up awhile.”

“I need that money, Spencer. But, I how can I marry Deirdre when I love Julia?”

“You’re actually considering Deirdre’s offer?”

“Deirdre’s bribe and blackmail, you mean.”

“Bribe, blackmail, whatever.” Spencer busied himself with the coffee making.

“Well, I’ve been giving this some thought. What if I quickly married Deirdre, got my money, paid off the debts and then filed for divorce?”

Spencer dropped the canister of coffee, grounds scattering across the floor. “You’d do that to Deirdre? And what would you tell Julia?”

“Deirdre knows I don’t love her. She has to know that I’d only be marrying her for the money. The divorce shouldn’t come as much of a shock.”

Spencer rubbed his temple and stared at Sam. “She won’t want a divorce. Jesus, Sam.”

Sam continued on. “And Julia will understand. I think. She knows I don’t love Deirdre, so she’d have to believe I’m marrying only for my money and to help Polly. As soon as I file for divorce, she can come to England.”

Spencer shook his head. “You’ve lost you’re bloody mind. That’s the most preposterous plan I’ve ever heard. I’d think I was dreaming if I didn’t know better.”

“Then give me a better idea.” He had hoped Spencer would talk him into this plan, not out of it.

Spencer pulled up a chair beside Sam. “I know you want to help Polly, but I think you have to throw in the towel on this one, old friend. You’re going to end up hurting Julia, Deirdre and yourself.”

“What do you suggest I do?”

“I’ll marry Deirdre and then loan you the money.”

Sam laughed, but noticed his friend seemed serious. “She won’t marry you.”

Spencer looked at the mess of coffee grounds still on the floor. “Yes, I know.”

The two men sat in silence. Finally, Spencer rose and retrieved another glass. He poured himself a whiskey. He tossed it back and spoke. “I have to tell you Sam. It just seems so wrong, all of it. Marrying Deirdre under false pretenses-”

“But in the end I’d save Polly’s name, and still get my girl.” Sam contemplated the scenario again. “It’s very far-fetched, I know, but I can’t think of any other way, can you?”

Spencer looked away as he spoke. “Deirdre would have to marry you rather soon.”

“She knows the creditors are banging down my door so I don’t think that will be a problem.”

“I suppose.” Spencer returned his gaze to the whiskey bottle. “And she’ll probably want to go on a honeymoon.”

“Oh God.” Sam hung his head in his hands. “She’ll want sex.”

Spencer sighed. “As if that’s a problem. My God, the woman is a total knockout. Any guy would jump at the chance to be with her.”

“Lucky me.” Sam sipped his drink.

Spencer walked to the closet, and retrieved a broom and shovel. “What a mess.” He began to sweep the coffee grounds.

Sam sighed and looked wearily at his friend. “Looks like Deirdre finally has me where she wants me.”

“I suppose.” Spencer threw the coffee grounds into a nearby garbage pail. “Poor Sam.” He turned back, but Sam found no pity in Spencer’s eyes. Instead his friend appeared angry or sad. Sam couldn’t place his finger on it. Maybe Spence was just plain tired and thought his problem didn’t warrant a middle-of-the-night visit?

“I’m going to bed. See yourself out?” Spencer headed to the hall, but suddenly turned back. “If you go through with this, don’t expect me to be your best man.”

A wave of confusion shook Sam. Spencer had been his best friend for years. “Well, all right then.”

Spencer walked down the hallway and up the stairs.

“Now what the bloody hell is wrong with
him
?” Sam finished off his whiskey and headed home.

“Oh for pity’s sake! What are
you
doing here, Spencer?”

“And I’m happy to see you again, too, Deirdre.” He found her on the garden patio of her home, as she perused through several huge floral arrangements.

“I have no time for you today,” she said, not bothering to look away from the bouquets. “I’m picking out flowers for my wedding.”

“I’ll wait.” Spencer looked around the decorative yard for a chair, but found none. Deirdre continued to examine the arrangements. She offered nods of approval or looks of utter disgust at the florist, a short, balding man with glasses who hung on her every word.

“That one gets my vote,” Spencer chimed in as Deirdre walked past a five-foot high tree sprouting pretty pink and carmine petals.

Deirdre scowled and rolled her eyes. “That’s my mother’s attempt at growing a peach tree.”

“Pretty flowers, though,” Spencer offered.

“Oh, no, good heaven’s no!” the florist said, frantically waving his hands, a horrified look on his face. “You don’t want
peach blossoms
at your wedding, Miss Lamont. The peach blossom flower symbolizes
captivity
.”

“Then Sam should wear them in his lapel.” Spencer said, his eyes fixed on Deirdre.

She ignored him, and turned back to the florist. “Would you please excuse me for just a teensy-weensy moment?  I need to have a chat with this fellow or he’ll never leave.”

“Certainly.” The man returned to primping a bouquet while Deirdre hurried Spencer into the sunny conservatory. She slid the glass doors closed.

She spoke in hushed voice. “What on earth do you want? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“I just wanted to wish you congratulations on snaring Sam,” Spencer said, fidgeting with a nearby fern.

“Don’t touch that.” She slapped his hand away from the plant. “It’s fragile.”

“Sorry.”

Deirdre sighed and glanced out the window. “Look, I’m in an awful hurry. Too much to do. Congratulate me at the wedding, all right then?”

“Actually, I’m leaving town that day.” He searched her face for reaction. He found none.

“Well then.” She continued to look to the patio. “Not to worry. Mother will be sure to have the press in attendance, so you can catch clips of the wedding on the television. It’s just an utter shame Prince Charles and Lady Diana married this summer. Otherwise,
my
wedding would be the social event of the season.”

Spencer tried hard not to roll his eyes. “Yes, if only.”

She extended her left hand to him. “Look at the diamond Sam gave me.”

“Lovely.” He looked at her instead. She couldn’t be more beautiful. Her silver blonde hair fell softly about her shoulders in waves that reflected the sun. Her body seemed perfect, tall and lean and seductive under a sheer, linen short set. He ran his eyes down her long, tan legs and tried not to imagine…

“Well, thank you much for the congratulations.” Deirdre finally turned to him. His eyes caught hers, but she looked away. “Really, Spencer, you should go. I’ve things to do.” She made to leave, but Spencer took her gently by the arm.

“Do you really love Sam?” He knew she did, this wasn’t the reason he’d come. But somehow, he needed to lead into the words that might save them all.

Deirdre drew her arm from his touch, but smiled. “Of course I do. Why would you even ask such a thing?”

“He told me you’re blackmailing him.”

Her complexion turned ashen as her eyes narrowed. “I hardly call being in love blackmail.”

Sweat marred his brow as he forged ahead. “If you really loved him, you’d just give him the loan. He doesn’t love you.” There, he said it.

“Get out.” Her expression turned to stone. “Don’t you dare think you can speak for Sam.”

Spencer winced. It wasn’t Sam he spoke for. “You should marry someone who loves you.”

Deirdre’s hands curled into tiny fists. “I said,
get out
. If you don’t think Sam loves me, you are the one mistaken. No one marries me just for money.”

He hated to hurt her, but saw no other option but to guide her away from this mismatched matrimony. “Sam needs to save Polly’s name and he loves Julia. He told me so the other night.”

Deirdre’s entire body tensed, but her face remained stoic. “Sam is marrying me, not her. Julia can’t hold a candle to me.”

“Sam plans to divorce you and return to Julia as soon as Polly’s debts are paid.” God, how he hated telling her this, but he needed to save her from a marriage that would only hurt them all.

Spencer noticed Deirdre flinch, if only for an instant. Her composure regained, she spoke acidly. “He’ll never leave me, I
promise
you that. I told you on the tennis court that he’d return to me and he did. I’m never wrong when it comes to Sam.”

Spencer ran his hand through his hair. “This is unbelievable. I’m telling you he’s using you, Deirdre. Jesus, just give him the money and save yourself bitter disappointment. That’s all I came to say.”

“Thank you for your concern, Spencer.” She led him to the hall door. “I’m sure Sam would be quite honored to know how you tried to save him. He should be flattered you care so much.”

He turned back to face her. Had she heard nothing he said? “I care about
you
.”

For a brief moment, a flicker of understanding seemed to light in her eyes, but it was gone as quick as it came. Her voice fell soft. “Then leave me alone and let me get married.”

Spencer stared at her for a moment longer before he turned and stormed out the door.

He had done all he could to save her from the biggest mistake of her life.

Twenty minutes later, Penny Lamont walked out to the patio where her daughter stood alone, staring at a potted plant.

“Oh, I don’t think that ivy will do for the church, dear,” Penny said. “What happened to the florist?”

Her daughter turned, her face a mixture of concern and determination. “Never mind about the florist, Mother. Can you get Daddy’s lawyer on the phone right away?”

“But of course.” Penny said. “Why?”

Deirdre smiled. “Oh just a small financial matter I’d like to clear up.”

Julia turned the key in the front door lock. She wiped a band of sweat from her forehead and wondered if the relentless summer heat would ever let up. July brought endless humidity and now August showed no sign of relief. Feeling slightly nauseated from the heat, she hoped a cool shower might soothe her and wash away the pervasive smells of the nursing home.

Once inside, she glanced at the answering machine in the hall and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her heart. Today, like every day for the past three weeks, no message from Sam awaited.

Julia entered the tiled foyer and scooped up the mail. No letter from Sam either. Nothing. The phone rang, startling her, and she hurried to answer it.

“Be Sam,” she begged the receiver. “Hello?”

“Well?” Kim asked. “Anything yet?”

“No.” Julia sighed and sat down on the bottom step of the carpeted stairwell. “Not a word. I’m going out of my mind, Kim. My dad keeps asking why I’m not packing for college, and I’m having trouble coming up with believable excuses. I mean, should I really start school in Chicago if I’m going to London in a few months?”

“Tough call.”

“I’ve sent for brochures to London colleges.” Julia took a deep breath and continued. “Then again, maybe I
should
start college here in case things don’t work out, but I can’t stand thinking about that. Needless to say, not I’m very happy and I can’t tell my dad why.”

“Well, there’s something you should know.” The warning tone in Kim’s voice caused Julia to tense. “I just got an invitation to your going away party.”

“What going away party?”

“The surprise party your dad is planning for you this coming Sunday. If Sam doesn’t call, you’ll have to go the party and act happy about going to college here.”

“Oh no.” Julia leaned against the banister. Things were going from bad to worse. “I’d hate for my dad to throw me a party if I’m not going away.”

“Well, look at it this way,” Kim said, her voice brightening. “Either way you are going away…either to college in Wisconsin or London.”

“True.” But she didn’t feel consoled. She felt like a heel. “Why won’t Sam call?”

“There’s got to be a good reason. Did you try calling him again?”

“Yes. And his phone is still disconnected.”

“Maybe he couldn’t pay his phone bill? Have you tried calling Mrs. McTeel’s house?”

“I don’t have the number, and I also don’t want to seem desperate.”