Iris Johansen (21 page)

“You’re damn right you’re not,” Rafe said between his teeth. “You’re not going anywhere. I won’t have you running back to this Forrester without giving me a chance to persuade you to stay. I know it was my fault you were upset last night, but you can’t just walk out on me. I won’t have it!”

“I don’t have time to argue with you. I have a plane to catch,” Janna said tersely. She felt a flicker of anger start to simmer beneath the shock and sorrow she was feeling. Hadn’t she enough to tolerate without this crazy jealousy of Rafe’s raising its Medusa head? “It’s clear that you’re not going to listen to what I have to say, so I’ll stop wasting my efforts.” She shrugged off his hold and put her hand on the doorknob. “I’ll call you when I get to the farm. Perhaps you’ll be more in the mood to listen then.”

She opened the door. His voice was darkly menacing behind her. “If you let him touch you, so help me God, I’ll ruin him, Janna. You might remember that during your joyous reunion.”

She cast him a glance over her shoulder that was brilliant with unshed tears. “Joyous?” she asked huskily. “I’m not expecting this homecoming to be very joyous. My grandmother died yesterday, Rafe.”

Shock, then remorse, rapidly superseded the anger on Rafe’s face, and his eyes narrowed in concern. He took an impulsive step forward. “Janna …”

But she was gone. He hesitated a moment, his face troubled, and then strode swiftly after her. He reached the front entrance too late to do anything but watch the black Lincoln wind its way down the driveway toward the gatehouse.

As he had promised, Jody met her at the small airport in Sweetwater, and she went into his arms like an animal in pain seeking refuge. He held her for a long, silent moment, his hands rubbing her back soothingly, as if she were a nervous mare. Then he pushed her quietly away, looking down into her face with a frown of concern on his blunt, plain face.

“Okay?” he asked gently, his hazel eyes worriedly raking over her strained features.

She nodded, blinking back the tears. “I’m fine. I’m just so glad you’re here, Jody.” It seemed, with the passing of her grandmother, that the last roots of her childhood had been pulled up and thrown to the winds of change. But here was Jody, with his tousled sandy hair with its familiar cowlick that would never stay down, and the tall, wiry body that was skeletally thin and persisted in remaining so no matter how much he ate. Even his faded jeans, dusty boots, and neat plaid shirt looked blessedly familiar.

“The pickup is in the parking lot,” he said gruffly,
giving her another hug before releasing her. “Do you have any luggage to claim?”

Janna shook her head and indicated the overnight bag in her hand. “I figured that a carry-on bag would make things simpler.” She smiled shakily. “I can always borrow a pair of jeans from you if I need to.”

He nodded as he turned her gently in the direction of the door to the parking lot. “You’re welcome to them if you don’t raise your nose in scorn at plain ones these days,” he said as he eyed the white stovepipe designer jeans she was wearing. “You’ve become very elegant for a country girl, Janna.”

“Plain old jeans will be fine,” she said quietly, not answering the obvious question in his expression. She had no desire to think about Rafe and the luxurious life she’d lived with him. Their parting was still too painfully fresh. His misunderstanding and lack of trust were still too hurtful for her to consider objectively. She was here for a purpose, and until that purpose was fulfilled, she must put aside any thought, any emotion that might distract from it. “Tell me about the past months, Jody. I want to know everything.”

On the seventy-mile drive to the farm, Jody tried to do just that, answering her questions patiently and describing her grandmother’s last days with a simple clarity that made every word and action vividly real to Janna. When the pickup finally pulled up before the familiar brick farmhouse, it was almost dusk, and there were no more words to be said.

“You’ve painted the shutters,” Janna observed as Jody helped her out of the pickup and she slowly climbed the porch steps.

Jody nodded. “This spring. I figured I’d get around to the barn this fall.” He opened the screen and then the green-and-white storm door, and stood aside for her to enter. “The farm will be yours now, Janna,”
he said hesitantly. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do with it?”

She shook her head. “I guess I always assumed that you’d just take over, Jody. You’ve always wanted a farm of your own, and this is more your home than mine. We’ll work something out.” She looked over her shoulder at the hill rising in the distance, which was blazing with the myriad colors of autumn. “Except for our hill. I want to retain title to that.”

“Of course,” Jody said softly. He turned on the lights, illuminating the shabby comfort of the living room. “There’s some soup on the stove. Could you eat a little?”

“Later, perhaps,” she said, looking around at the familiar surroundings. The room looked smaller than she remembered, but everything else was the same. “I suppose I’d better go through Grandmother’s things.”

Jody shook his head. “There’s nothing to do,” he said quietly. “She started getting rid of things when she first learned she was ill. She didn’t want you to have to do it later. By the time she was too ill to get out of bed there were only a few mementos left. She ordered me to burn them. There’s nothing here now that would bring back memories.”

“She thought of everything,” Janna said huskily, her eyes brimming with tears. “She knew I wouldn’t need any
thing
to remind me.” She suddenly whirled and cried desperately, “Damn it, Jody, why can’t we live forever? She shouldn’t have had to die.”

Jody shrugged helplessly. “The eternal question,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck wearily. “I can’t answer you, Janna.” His eyes were warm and sympathetic. “She did leave you one final duty. The man from the funeral home is delivering her ashes to you tomorrow morning.”

She drew a long, shaky breath. “I’ll be ready,” she said quietly. “I think I’d like to sleep in Grandmother’s room tonight, if that would be all right.”

“It’s your house,” Jody said with a shrug. “I have to go feed the stock. Would you like to come with me?”

She shook her head. “I’m tired and I think I’ll get settled in,” she said as she slipped out of her jacket. “And there’s a phone call I have to make.”

“Right,” Jody said, turning toward the door. “I’ll be back soon.”

After he’d gone, Janna walked slowly into the bedroom. It was just as Jody had said—there was nothing in the pristine shabbiness of the little room to bring back memories. It had the impersonal coldness of a hotel room. She put her overnight case on the white chenille spread of the four-poster bed, placing her tweed jacket on top of it, before returning to the living room to pick up the telephone on the end table by the couch.

She dialed the Carmel number with mixed emotions. Though she was still resentful of Rafe’s behavior, she felt a great desire to put things right between them. She needed the security of talking to Rafe and knowing that she had his understanding and support.

The remote precision of the voice on the other end of the line was undisputedly Stokley, though it did warm a trifle when she identified herself. There was even a trace of regret in his tone when he told her she would not be able to speak to either Mr. Santine or Mr. Dawson, as they’d both left for San Francisco almost immediately after her own departure.

“May I take a message in case Mr. Santine calls to inquire?” he asked courteously.

“No. There’s no message,” she said, trying to hide her disappointment and shock. “Thank you, Stokley.” She replaced the receiver and stood there for a moment, feeling very much alone. She knew quite well Rafe had had no intention of leaving for San Francisco today. The only conclusion she could draw from his abrupt departure was that he was even
more upset than she had believed. He hadn’t even waited to see if she would keep her promise to call, before he’d left Carmel.

She drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders determinedly. The situation was no worse now than it had been before she made that call. She would just have to forget her own personal problems, as she had originally intended. She couldn’t let doubts about the future spoil this last goodbye to the past.

She turned and strode swiftly out the front door and down the porch steps in search of Jody.

The empty silver cannister arched against the brilliance of the blue autumn sky; it appeared to linger for an instant at the apex of its flight before descending with cometlike speed to disappear into the depths of the lake.

It was done. Janna took a deep breath, and unconsciously drew her blue shirt closer about her, as if seeking warmth to ward off the chill of this last act, which completed the ritual. Then she turned swiftly and started to climb the hill, pacing herself so as to require a maximum of effort and prevent her from thinking. By the time she reached the top of the hill and settled in her favorite place, on the flat boulder overlooking the small lake in the valley below, she was breathless, her breasts heaving and the tears on her face almost dried by the warm breeze.

She didn’t know how many hours she stayed there, gazing blindly at that spectacular autumn panorama before her. Beech gold, maple scarlet, and evergreen pine were woven in an earth tapestry against the cerulean background of the sky that was achingly beautiful. At first she was aware of none of it, but gradually she became conscious of the rustle of the breeze through the crisp autumn leaves. The whisper was oddly soothing, like a mother hushing her baby’s tears. The warmth of the sun on her upraised face and throat was like a gentle caress, and the
aromatic scents of earth and grass surrounded her in an embrace that was comfortingly familiar.

She could feel the pain inside her loosen its painful knot, and she let it go. She knew an instant of quiet, joyous release, and then a peaceful serenity that seemed to fill every corner of her spirit. She closed her eyes and murmured the farewell that was not goodbye. Always. Always with her. Those were the words her grandmother had spoken to Jody, and now that Janna had released the pain, she could accept them.

The sun was low, and the vivid hue of the sky was fading to a hazy gray-blue, when she heard the sound of firm footsteps crunching on the dry leaves behind her. It must be Jody checking to see if she was all right, she thought dreamily.

“I’m fine, Jody,” she said quietly, not looking over her shoulder. “I was about to come down. There was no need for you to come after me.”

The rustling of the leaves was right behind her now, and she suddenly felt a warm, heavy hand on her shoulder. “You’re wrong, Janna,” Rafe said softly. “I’ll always need to come after you, wherever you are.”

Janna tensed beneath his hand, as a fierce tide of joy surged through her. Then she slowly relaxed and looked up at the man standing beside her. “Always is a long time,” she said quietly. “I’ve been thinking quite a bit about that today.” Despite the first shock of surprise it seemed oddly right that Rafe be here now, at this time, in this place.

“I imagine you have,” Rafe said gravely as he came around to stand before her. He should have looked ridiculously out of place, in these surroundings, in his faultless dark-blue business suit and crisp white shirt, she thought absently. Yet he appeared as comfortable here as he did in the library at Santine’s Castle, and as casually uncaring of his sartorial elegance. He dropped to his knees in front of her
and gathered her hands in his. “I had a long talk with your friend Jody before he would tell me where you were and what you were doing.” His dark eyes were warm and intent as they met her own. “I’ve been thinking a lot about that word, too, Janna. I didn’t use it lightly.”

Her gaze clung to his for a brief moment, and she felt the familiar breathless melting sensation before her eyes slid away from his. “You look tired,” she said quietly, moistening her lips nervously. He looked worse than that. There was nothing even in the least boyish about Rafe today. He looked every one of his thirty-eight years, with those mauve shadows beneath the snapping vitality of his dark eyes, and deeply graven lines around his lips.

“And you look very serene and composed,” he said wryly. “Quite a juxtaposition. I came rushing halfway across the country to comfort you, and find you don’t need me at all. It’s most deflating, Pocahontas.”

Her eyes flew back to his face, and her hands tightened instinctively on his own. “I need you,” she said softly. “I tried to call you last night, but you’d left for San Francisco. I thought you were still angry with me.”

He shook his head. “I left in such a hurry I forgot to tell Stokley to get in touch with me if you rang.” He frowned. “Why in the hell didn’t you leave a number? When I remembered you said you might call, I phoned the Castle, but it was too late. The number here is unlisted, and it took Dawson half the evening to pry it out of the telephone company. By that time we were so damn busy I didn’t get time to call.”

“Trouble with your Tokyo negotiations?” Janna asked, experiencing a twinge of disappointment.

“Trouble with negotiations, all right, but not with Tokyo,” Rafe said obscurely. “These were much more delicate in nature.”

“Another take-over?” Janna asked lightly. “Will I be reading about it in the paper next week?”

“I hope it’s going to be a very amicable merger,” Rafe replied, his dark eyes twinkling. “And I assure you that you won’t have to read about it in the paper.” His gaze dropped to her hands, clasped in his, and his thumbs idly began a gentle massage at the pulse points of her wrist. “You know how sorry I am about your grandmother,” he said soberly. “I felt like a complete bastard when you dropped that little bomb on me before you left the Castle.” His lips twisted bitterly. “The one time in your life when you needed someone, I had to blow it. I was so filled with my own petty insecurities and jealousies that I couldn’t see beyond the fact that you were leaving me. It seemed as if I’d been waiting and dreading your walking out of my life since the moment I met you. I should have been prepared for it, but I went a little crazy, I guess.”