Pretense (63 page)

London

Neither one of the Bishop sisters had ever been in a store like Harrods. Floors and floors to wander through and all of them filled with the most gorgeous merchandise either one of them had ever seen. They walked around almost speechless forthe first hour and became uncorked in the lingerie department.

"Look at this." Mackenzie held up a camisole so soft and white that it looked like snow.

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"They have the same fabric in other pieces," Delancey pointed out, holding up some panties. The girls went slightly mad until Delancey realized something.

"Mic, we're going to have to lug all this around if we shop now."

"We'll have it shipped home," she said simply.

"But no one's there to get it."

Mackenzie had not thought of this complication. And with that, they slowed down, knowing they were going to end their trip in London as well.

"We'll just take a little more time at the end than we planned."

"That works for me."

Since shopping was cut short, sight-seeing began early. They took a double-decker, open-air bus to see some of the sights and to get a feel for what they would do later. Trafalgar Square, Buckingham Palace, and the Tower of London looked inviting, and Mackenzie made a mental note to spend some time in those spots, even as they took a five-hour train ride to Glasgow, Scotland.

They stayed in a bed-and-breakfast inn, saw the Glasgow Cathedral and the Botanical Gardens, took in a show at the Theatre Royale, walked for miles, ate at small pubs for dinner and lunch, and talked almost nonstop. Feeling as though they had years to catch up on, both women pulled out all the stops.

"How are things
really
going with Chet?" Mackenzie wanted to know. They had left Scotland, gone back through England, and were now on a ferry crossing the English Channel with plans to go to Brussels, and then on to Frankfort and Prague.

"You know that phrase, 'love is blind,' Mic? Well, there's a lot of truth to it. I can't believe how much I wait for him to call, and even when he cancels our dates, I usually stuff down my feelings so he won't feel guilty."

"Why is it so hard for him to see you?"

"Work. He's low man on the totem pole, and he has to take the hours he can get. Sometimes it's two weeks before he can even call me."

"Maybe you should move in together-then at least he would see you when he's home."

"I hadn't thought of that."

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"Your place is great for work. Maybe you could live at his place and work at the warehouse. Would that work? Is his place nice?"

"I've never seen it."

Mackenzie didn't need to comment on this. Her face said it all.

"He works so much, Mic," Delancey said, but it sounded lame even to her own ears. "He comes when he can. It doesn't ever feel as though we have time to go to his place."

Mackenzie tried to swallow the feelings of anger toward this man she had never met. Did he know how sweet Delancey was? Did he know that she would never abuse his love but cherish him as she longed to be cherished? Mackenzie mentally shook her head. She had to get her mind off of this or she was going to tell her sister she was a fool.

"What did he think of this trip? Was he put out?"

"I didn't tell him." D.J.'s chin came up a little.

Mackenzie let out an incredulous little laugh. "You didn't tell him?"

"Nope. He called a few days before we left, but it was to cancel another date. I was irritated."

"Won't your landlady tell him where you are?"

"She's a man-hater, Mic. When I told her I wanted it kept silent, she was delighted."

Mackenzie really laughed at that, and Delancey couldn't help but laugh too. When they sobered, however, Delancey's face showed her pain.

"You feel used, don't you?"

"I do, Mic." Tears filled her eyes. "Sometimes he can only come by for a few hours, but we always end up in bed. I even fell asleep one time and woke to find him gone. I felt like an old coat."

"Do you even enjoy it, D.J.?"

"The sex? Yes, I do, but the guilt is awful. When I'm with Chet I can't see anyone but him, but as soon as he leaves, I think about the way Mom warned us. All the days and nights I spend alone make me think about the way she waited for marriage. I thought waiting for love was good enough, but now I'm not so sure."

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For a moment Mackenzie had no idea what to say. Telling her sister to break up with Chet was not the answer. She was clearly in love, and feelings didn't change that swiftly.

"It sounds to me like the relationship is all on Chet's terms," Mackenzie suddenly realized.

"It is that. And since I love him, I put up with it."

"Would you put up with it if he knocked you around once in a while?"

"He would never do that."

"But would you?"

"No, never." Delancey frowned at her.

"What if he cheated on you? Would you just look the other way?"

"Of course not." Delancey was getting testy.

"So you do have your limits, Delancey. I think when you go home, you need to tell Chet Dobson that the limits have been adjusted. You deserve better than you're getting, and you're the only one who can demand it. If he doesn't want to do this on your terms, or at least on both of your terms, I think he should take a hike."

Easier said than done
was Delancey's first thought, but she didn't immediately discount what her sister had to say. She thought about Chet almost constantly, but what fun was it being in love alone? Oh, he told her he loved her, but lately there was little action behind the words. For a moment she tried to imagine life without him and felt so bereft that she could hardly breathe.

Seeing that her sister needed time, Mackenzie was quiet. It was amazing, really. They had watched their mother in two wonderful relationships, but Delancey wasn't lucky enough to find one of her own. Without warning Mackenzie could hear her father saying that luck had nothing to do with it. She hadn't thought of that in years and didn't want to think of it now. It was with relief that she realized it was almost time to disembark.

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Thirty-Five

P
rague led to a trip through Switzerland, into Paris,and then to southern France where it was remarkably warm. For several days the sisters lay on the beach at Saint-Tropez. After all the cathedrals, small shops, art museums, and trying to be understood, it felt wonderful to lie around, talk, and eat. Delancey was approached by at least ten different men, and Mackenzie had her share of offers, but the sisters had time only for each other.

They slept in in the mornings, and after a leisurely brunch were usually on the beach by noon. It wasn't extremely crowded, but some of the other hotel guests were interesting, and their swimwear was nothing short of outrageous.

"I wish I'd known I would need my bikini," Delancey commented as one tan, very scantily clad woman strolled by.

"That wasn't a bikini, Deej. That was a few scraps of cloth and a little dental floss."

Whenever Mackenzie made these outrageous comments, her sister was her best audience. She ended up burying her face in her towel in order to muffle her laughter.

"That's what I love about you, Delancey," Mackenzie laughed at the other woman's response. "You always laugh in all the right places."

The sisters smiled at each other before Delancey turned over. "Could I possibly be tired again? We just got up."

"I think it's the sun-it drains you."

They were silent for a time, Delancey sunning her back and Mackenzie sitting up scanning the beach.

"You really should draw this, D.J.," Mackenzie said as she ran her fingers through the sand. "It's so beautiful."

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"I took some pictures," Delancey answered with her eyes closed, "so even if I can't remember, I can always get out my pictures and draw a little something."

"Be sure and send me copies of the photos."

"I will," Delancey said on a huge yawn and proceeded to fall asleep. Mackenzie, on the other hand, was awake and thinking.

I
could live on the water,
she thought, her eyes on the glorious Mediterranean. I
could wake up every day and see the water and be calmed and feel at peace.
Mackenzie thought back to her years of living at the Presidio. At some point almost every day she had a view of the ocean or San Francisco Bay, and it never ceased to delight and amaze her.

It wasn't long before Mackenzie joined Delancey in sleep, but a seed had been planted in her mind and was swiftly growing. She said nothing to Delancey, since she was not ready to talk about it, but she thought about it nonstop. It was on her mind as they left Saint-Tropez, went back through Paris, and ended their trip in London as planned. It was hard to believe that the time was over, but four weeks after they arrived, they were rested, tanned, loaded with souvenirs and memories, and on their way home.

As soon as Delancey headed for Chicago, Mackenzie wrote day and night for two solid weeks, but just 18 days after arriving home from Europe, the older Bishop was back on a plane, this time headed toward the West Coast, her dream of living on the water still strong in her mind.

Chicago

Delancey was home for two days when someone knocked on the door. She had done a lot of thinking while on the trip and was taking her sister's words to heart. She did deserve better than Chet was giving her, and having not spoken to him for a month, she could already see that continuing on his terms, with all the waiting and wondering, was worse than not seeing him at all. It was for this reason that she was able to answer the door, find him standing there, and not throw her arms around him or apologize for not being in touch.

"Hello, Delancey," he said tersely as he came in without permission.

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Delancey said nothing. She shut the door, which was cold on her bare legs-she'd been working out-and stood and looked at the man she loved.

"Where have you been?" he demanded as soon as he turned to her, making no effort to hide his anger.

Delancey's brows rose with shock, but she was calm. "I beg your pardon?"

"Yes, you should beg my pardon. How dare you leave like that and not tell me!"

Delancey's mouth opened in surprise, and anger swiftly leapt into her eyes. "Let me get this straight, Chet. You're only available to me when
you
say you're available; I can't even call you at home-only on your pager-and you want to know where
I've
been? I don't think so." Her voice ended on a frigid note before she moved to the door and opened it. "Get out!"

Chet's hand came to his mouth. He was shaking, but Delancey didn't notice.

"I said get out," she repeated.

"I'm sorry, Delancey." His voice grew soft. "I shouldn't have said that. I've been worried sick and just wasn't thinking. I didn't know you felt that way, or we could have talked about it. I'm sorry. Please don't throw me out until you've heard my side."

Delancey couldn't handle his face. He looked utterly crushed. And he was right on one point: She hadn't told him how utterly tired she was of not seeing him. She slowly closed the door, walked past him into the living room, and sat on the futon chair she had purchased with her last check from IronHorse. She deliberately avoided the matching sofa so he could not sit next to her. She was silent as he sat on the sofa. Taking the end closest to her chair, he scooted to the edge and leaned toward her.

"How are you?" he asked tenderly, and Delancey told herself not to melt.

"Fine."

Chet nodded. He had been in complete confusion when a week went by with nothing but her answering machine to talk to. When it got to be two weeks, then three, then four, he thought he would go out of his mind. Now she was back and clearly angry at him. Delancey had never been angry at him, and he hated it.

"Did you go on a trip?" he tried.

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"Yes."

"Have a good time?"

"Very."

He worked at keeping his voice even and said, "We're not going to get anywhere if all you're going to give me are monosyllabic answers, Delancey."

"And just where are we trying to go, Chet? Tell me that."

"I'm trying to find out why my girlfriend, the woman I love, would go away for a month and not tell me. And I'm also trying to figure out what I've done wrong. I have to work a lot, and I thought you understood that."

"I do understand it, Chet, but I'm not willing to live like that anymore, even if it means never seeing you again." Delancey watched him pale but kept on. She was dying inside, but her mind was made up.

"Do you know what my sister asked me?"

Chet shook his head no. In desperation he had called her sister but gotten only her answering machine as well.

"She asked me what your place was like. I had to tell her I've never seen it. Sometimes you come over here, and all we have is an hour together, but no matter how little time we have, we end up in the bedroom. I'm sorry, Chet, but that's not good enough anymore. I'm not going to be your plaything. I'm ready to commit myself, and all you can do is work. You say you love me, but you have a funny way of showing it."