Forever Spring (21 page)

Karen arched her eyebrows at his persistence but again answered honestly. “He was looking for a room. Calvin Muthard sent him here.”

“But hadn’t you closed the bed-and-breakfast by then?” Charles didn’t attempt to hide his annoyance; he had never approved of her opening the house to paying guests.

“Yes.” A hint of her thinning patience tightened her tone; Charles chose to ignore.

“You let him stay here even though you had closed the house for the season?”

“That’s right.”

Anger flushing his cheeks, Charles studied her narrowly. When he spoke again, his voice was low and not at all pleasant. “You were lovers, weren’t you?” Karen’s patience snapped, and so did she. “That’s none of your business.”

“Which means you were,” Charles snapped back. “Weren’t you?”

; ^“Yes, we were.” The cool, controlled response came not from Karen but from the man standing in the doorway to the veranda. “So what?” Paul added, sauntering into the room.

The color deepened in Charles’s cheeks, indicating his mounting anger. “You’re intruding on a private conversation, Vanzant,” Charles said nastily.

“Rude of me, I know,” Paul drawled, crossing the room to stand beside Karen. “But since I’m directly involved, I think I’ll continue to intrude.”

As irritated as Karen was by Charles’s audacity in presuming to question her about her private life, Karen felt a jolt of alarm as his breathing increased and his color became mottled. She took a hesitant step toward him. “Charles, are you feeling all right?” Charles glared at her. “No, I’m not all right.” His chest heaved as he inhaled swiftly. “I’d hoped the weekend would be good for me, but I guess it was too much too soon.” A thoughtful, almost crafty expression flickered over his face. His voice dwindled to a sigh. “I’m tired.”

Really alarmed, Karen rushed to his side. “Do you have any pain?” Her voice was strained by a concern that was obvious to both men. Karen was too busy taking Charles’s pulse to notice the smirk of satisfaction he aimed at Paul

“No—” he sighed heavily “—well, just a twinge.” Karen’s throat closed. What in the world would she do if Charles suffered another attack right in her kitchen? In an unconsciously revealing move, she turned to Paul. “Will you drive us to the hospital in Portland?”

“Certainly,” Paul replied promptly.

“I don’t think it’s necessary.” Charles’s voice overlapped Paul’s. “At least not yet,” he added when he noticed the mildly skeptical look on Paul’s face. “It’s gone now. I think I just need some peace and quiet for a few days.”

“Are you positive?” Karen asked anxiously. “Yes,” he insisted weakly. “I just need some rest.” The tightness in Karen’s throat eased as she saw the color recede from his cheeks. She exhaled a sigh of relief. “Can I get you something?”

“I could drink a cup of decaffeinated coffee,” he said tiredly. “If you don’t mind?”

“Of course not!” Karen whirled around to get the coffee, and missed the smug look Charles leveled at Paul.

That morning set the pattern for the two weeks that followed, for Charles literally kept Karen on the run. He seldom complained, but then he didn’t have to complain. All Charles had to do to get Karen’s undivided attention was grimace faintly and moan softly. Karen rarely found more than a few moments to be alone with Paul, and so she didn’t notice his expression growing harder and more stern with each passing day.

To Karen’s relief, Charles refrained from mentioning her relationship with Paul. In fact, except for the occasional periods when he displayed discomfort, Charles couldn’t have been more charming or easier to get along with. His good mood ended with a burst of childish temper at the beginning of the second week of December.

Before they had left Boston, Dr. Rayburn had made arrangements for Charles to consult with a specialist in Portland. Karen had driven Charles into Portland for his first appointment the second week of November. At that time, the doctor had been satisfied with

Charles’s progress and had said he would like to see him in a month. Karen set the fuse to Charles’s temper by suggesting Paul drive them into Portland so that Charles could keep his appointment.

“Isn’t it enough that I have to bear sharing this house with your lover?” Charles shouted at her. “I will be damned if I’ll let you coop me up in a car with him!”

Karen backed down. Paul’s expression became grim.

“He’s using you,” Paul said harshly, capturing Karen alone in the hallway as she was putting on her coat the morning of Charles’s appointment.

Karen shrugged helplessly. “I know. But he’s not well, and I—” Her voice failed when she saw the anger that flashed in Paul’s eyes.

“Isn’t he?” Paul’s eyes glittered behind his narrowed lids. “I’m beginning to have strong doubts about the seriousness of Charles’s condition.”

Since Karen had doubts of her own, she could hardly argue. Her shoulders rose, then dropped tiredly. “Perhaps the specialist will allow Charles to go back to work and resume more normal activities.”

Paul arched one eyebrow. “Will you be present during the examination?”

“Well, no, but—”

Paul cut her off abruptly. “That’s what I thought. Which means you’ll have no way of knowing what the doctor says to him, will you?” Karen conceded his point by shaking her head slowly. Paul’s expression gentled. “Karen, I think it would be to your advantage to have your own consultation with the specialist. For all you know, the doctor may have told him he could return to Boston after the last visit.”

Though Karen didn’t want to accept the possibility that Charles was deliberately extending his recuperative period, she knew that he was capable of doing so should it suit his purposes. She simply couldn’t comprehend what his purpose could be in this instance. She frowned at Paul. “But Charles has always said that this is the dullest place on the East Coast. What reason could he have for wanting to remain here?” “You haven’t figured that out yet?” Paul’s lips slanted wryly. “Charles wants to stay because he wants you.”

Karen blinked in amazement. “Oh, Paul, that’s ridiculous! Charles and I have been divorced for over five years. Why would he suddenly decide he wants me?”

Paul ran a cool but very flattering glance over her gently curved body. “I can think of many reasons,” he said dryly, “because I share them.”

“But he had me and let me go!” Karen protested. “Did he really let you go?” Paul countered. “Or did you walk away from him?”

“I didn’t walk, I ran!” Karen exclaimed.

“Did he try to stop you or talk you into staying with him?”

Karen lifted her head. “I didn’t give him the opportunity.”

“Precisely.”

Karen still couldn’t accept the idea. “But it’s been over five years, Paul,” she said doggedly.

“Five years of self-indulgence,” he retorted. “Five years of who knows how many different women. Five years of instability. And now a heart attack has made him face his own mortality.” Paul paused, then shot another question at her. “Has he ever mentioned a current, er... relationship?”

Karen sighed as acceptance finally shuddered through her. “Yes. While he was in the hospital, Charles told me he had recently ended a relationship.” She moistened her lips, then went on in a whisper, “He admitted to me that none of the relationships he’d engaged in had been as satisfying for him as our marriage had been.”

“There you go.”

Karen stared at Paul for long seconds. Then she nodded once, sharply. “I’ll talk to the doctor.”

Chapter Twelve

As it turned out, Karen didn’t need to consult with the specialist. Charles himself made the meeting unnecessary with the first words out of his mouth on leaving the doctor’s office.

“Good news,” he said jauntily, clasping her arm to draw her with him toward the door. “The doctor said that if I continue to improve at the same rate I can go back to work after the holidays.”

Since she had decided to consult with the specialist, Karen was tugging against the hold he had on her arm, resisting his efforts to get her out of the office. His announcement took all resistance out of her, and she allowed him to lead her from the building to the car.

“Well, isn’t that good news?” Charles asked impatiently when she didn’t respond immediately.

“Yes, very good news.” Karen carefully pried his hand from her arm. “I’m glad he’s satisfied with the progress you’re making.

“I thought you would be.”

Suspicion rose in Karen’s mind at his smug tone and expression. It appeared more than a little odd to her that immediately after Paul’s suggestion to her about having a talk with the doctor, Charles had suddenly been given good news. Had Charles overheard the discussion between her and Paul earlier? she wondered, frowning as she unlocked the car. He had supposedly been in his room, getting ready to leave for the drive into Portland, but... Karen slanted a glance at Charles as she slid behind the wheel. Could he have been standing in the upstairs hall, eavesdropping? Though Karen didn’t like to believe that Charles would listen in on a private conversation, she knew Charles was capable of listening at keyholes if he thought it to his own advantage.

“Is something wrong?”

Karen blinked. “What?”

“You’ve been scowling at the steering wheel for several minutes,” Charles said. “Is something wrong with it?”

“Oh! No.” Smiling faintly, Karen thrust the key into the ignition and started the car. “I was, ah, thinking.” And getting nowhere with my thoughts, she added silently. Backing out of the parking space, Karen decided that speculation was pointless regarding her suspicions both about whether Charles had indulged in a little eavesdropping and whether the

specialist had in fact given Charles his good news during his previous visit in November.

As she drove out of the lot and into the stream of traffic, Karen mentally shrugged. What Charles was up to, for whatever reason, didn’t really matter. In less than a month he’d be returning to Boston. She’d be free, with the time and the opportunity to explore the possibility of a lasting relationship with Paul.

Paul. Karen silently repeated his name, thrilling to the image of him that filled her mind, and nearly missed a streetlight that was turning red. Waiting for the light to change, Karen got lost in a dream of a tall, aristocratic-Iooking banker. Charles’s voice shattered her pleasant musings.

“I want to celebrate. Let’s have dinner in the most expensive restaurant in town.”

Karen frowned and eased her foot from the brake as the light turned green. She didn’t want to have dinner in any restaurant in town, expensive or otherwise. She wanted to go home to Paul. Searching for an excuse to reject his suggestion, she scanned the sky.

“I think I’d just as soon go straight home, Charles,” she said reasonably. “I really don’t like the look of that sky.”

“Oh, come on, Karen. Your boyfriend will be all right on his own for one day.” Charles snickered and added, “And I use the term
boy
loosely.”

Karen’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “That’s not very funny, Charles.” Her voice was as tight as her grip.

“You’re damned right it’s not funny!” Charles twisted in the seat to glare at her. “The man’s almost

as old as my father, old enough to be your father. 1 never realized that you had a father fixation, Karen.” He paused for breath. Karen opened her mouth to protest, but he didn’t let her get a word out. “Is that why you left me? Was I too young, too modern for you?”

His attack was unwarranted, unfair and grossly incorrect. Karen was suddenly angrier than she’d ever been in her life, so angry she couldn’t speak for a moment. Twisting the wheel, she drove onto the access ramp to Interstate 95. She was going too fast, and the car swayed.

“For crying out loud!” Charles exclaimed. “Are you trying to land us in a heap by the side of the road?”

Karen eased her foot from the accelerator, then carefully merged with the stream of traffic. She didn’t trust herself to speak until the car was moving along smoothly at a legal fifty-five miles per hour.

“Any more remarks like that and I’ll happily dump you by the side of the road.” Karen’s voice was harsh; her fingers trembled as they gripped the wheel.

“I could’ve had another heart attack,” Charles whined. “You scared the hell out of me.”

Karen counted to ten, and as she did she counted the number of times Charles had verbally hit her with the heart-attack shtick since she’d brought him to Maine. Memories flashed rapidly across her mind, memories of all the times Charles had frightened her with complaints of shortness of breath, twinges of pain and excessive weariness. The last time had been the night before, while she and Paul had laughed together as

they cleaned up the kitchen after dinner. Suddenly Karen felt like the world’s most gullible fool.

Damn him! she thought, but corrected herself immediately. No, she should be damning herself! For while it was true that Charles had effortlessly manipulated her for weeks with the threat of another impending attack, she had allowed him to manipulate her, just as she’d allowed him to manipulate her with sweet talk and promises during the years of their marriage.

Hadn’t she learned anything in the years since their divorce? Karen asked herself with sharp impatience. She had believed herself mature, adult, independent, but... Karen’s lips tightened with self-disdain. Due to her own immature, self-imposed mental state of guilt and remorse because of her relationship with Paul, she had been the perfect patsy for Charles. And as Charles had always been an opportunist by nature, he had immediately identified and capitalized on her weakness. In truth, Karen knew she had earned every second of worry and torment Charles had given her.

“Aren’t we going to stop for dinner?” Charles’s voice sounded much the same as Mark’s when he was pouting and also betrayed the uneasiness he was feeling because of her lengthy silence.

“No, I told you I want to go right home.” Karen’s tone was vaguely disinterested. She was much too angry to care if Charles was discontent or disappointed. Her eyes narrowed on the road, and the first fat snowflakes plopped onto the windshield. Karen could have used the snow as an excuse but couldn’t be bothered.