Sweet Everlasting (40 page)

Carrie gazed back at her. She understood the sense if not the reference, and could think of nothing to say in response.

Mrs. Wilkes waved her hand in a graceful little circle and laughed gently at herself. “I beg your pardon, what foolishness I’m talking. It’s Tyler’s homecoming that’s brought on all this nostalgia, I believe. You’ll forgive a mother’s boastfulness, but we have hopes for Tyler that would make his great-grandfather proud of him.” She leaned forward a little in her chair. “He’s coming home a hero, you know. We think it’s the perfect time to launch his career.”

“His career?”

“In politics,” she said lightly.

“And does T—does Dr. Wilkes want a career in politics?”

Mrs. Wilkes sat back. “I was referring to friends, people who can advise him. My son can become anything to which he sets his mind. One day he’ll be a great man.”

“Yes. Yes, I believe it, too.” Carrie looked back at the portrait of Eustice Morrell, and this time she fancied she could see a resemblance to Ty in his ancestor’s high forehead and the bones behind his clever blue eyes. The silence between her and Mrs. Wilkes rushed back, but this time it didn’t sound dreadful; just hopeless. A log in the fireplace broke apart, sending up a flurry of sparks. Carrie stood up. “I have to go,” she said quietly. “Thank you for receiving me.”

Abbey came into the room and stopped. “Oh, are you leaving already? I’d have hung up sooner if I’d known you couldn’t stay.”

Carrie’s coat appeared; soon she found herself in the hall by the door, with Abbey reaching impulsively for her hands.

“Excuse me—but you’re quite all right, aren’t you? Not ill?” Her fine eyes looked troubled.

An awful, humiliating urge to cry came over Carrie in a wave, but she beat it back. “Thank you,” she murmured, “I’m just fine.”

“Will you come to our party on Friday?”

She gave Abbey’s soft, girlish hands a farewell squeeze and stepped back. “I’m going home tonight.”

“Oh.” She looked truly disappointed. “Have you a message for Ty?”

There was a pause, and even to Carrie it sounded queer and forlorn. She was aware that the two ladies were looking at her strangely. “No,” she finally managed to say. “There isn’t any message.”

“I’ll just tell him Miss Hamilton called, then, shall I?” asked Mrs. Wilkes.

“Yes, tell him Miss Hamilton called.” She did her best to smile then, to hide her sorrow because she’d never meet these women again. “Tell him—I was passing through and wanted to express to him the gratitude of the town for all he did for us. And say … no, that’s all.” She turned away hurriedly, and passed through the door and down the flagstone walk.

E
USTICE
M
ORRELL LOOKED MORE
pompous than usual, and that was saying something.

Through the half-closed library door, Tyler contemplated his great-grandfather’s florid, smug-faced portrait, lording it over the heads of half a hundred party guests milling around in the high-ceilinged drawing room.
Don’t look too satisfied,
he warned his ancestor gloomily.
You’ve got me now, but in two days I’ll be gone, and not a damn thing either one of you can do about it.

Either one of you
meant Eustice and Ty’s mother; he always thought of them as in cahoots, partners in the life-long struggle to turn him into something he didn’t want to be. After almost thirty years, though, he could see the battle winding down. This ill-conceived welcome-home party was his mother’s last stand, the final, formal skirmish in a long war. Sensing victory, Tyler could afford to be gracious.

Carolivia might not call hiding out by himself in the library the behavior of a gracious winner. He could see her point. He needed a minute, though, and Main Line Philadelphia could survive without him for that long. His mother’s guest list was long on influential political connections, but it was even longer on youthful, unattached females. He eyed without interest the ladies drifting past the door to his sanctuary, sumptuous-looking in their bright gowns and elegant hairstyles. They all looked the same to him, indistinguishable versions of eligibility. He couldn’t keep his eyes focused on them. Was it a good thing or a bad thing that he had no picture of Carrie? Good, if it kept him from thinking about her. But it didn’t.

One of the bright, bejeweled figures materialized in the doorway and stood still, and Ty’s mechanical smile of welcome turned genuine.

“Aha!” Abbey crossed to where he was standing on the hearth rug before the marble fireplace. But by the time she reached him, her laughing face had sobered. “Ty?” She put her hand on his sleeve. “Oh, dear. I can see that this wasn’t quite as delightful a surprise as we’d hoped.”

Instead of commenting on that one way or the other, he said, “You’ve grown so beautiful, Abbey.” Not to distract her, but because it was true.

Her lovely brown eyes warmed with affection. “And you’ve gotten even handsomer. I’d been terrified you’d come home looking the way you did the last time, but instead you’re tan and robust—in fact, I’ve never seen you looking so well. And Del,” she added meaningfully, “agrees with me.”

He glanced behind her toward the crowded drawing room. If Adele was out there, he couldn’t see her. He shrugged and took a sip of his drink.

Abbey’s hand on his arm squeezed softly. “Ty?”

“Hm?”

“How are you, really?”

Her low voice claimed his full attention. He stared at her for a long, telling moment, debating how to answer.

“If I’m wrong, just ignore me, but I can’t help feeling something’s not quite right with you. Something’s making you sad.”

“You just told me how well I look,” he protested lightly.

“Under that.” She didn’t return his poor excuse for a smile. “I can’t think what it could be. I know it makes you cringe, but Mother’s right when she says you’ve come home a hero. What you accomplished in Havana must make you feel so proud.”

“Satisfied, yes.”

“And you’re glad about your new job in Washington?”

“Very glad. I can’t wait to get started.” He ought to say more, keep nattering about anything; this was his chance to divert her. But with Abbey, he didn’t have the will to pretend.

So she asked straight out, “Then what is it?” She ducked her head. “I’m sorry, you needn’t tell me, of course. But if you ever want—”

“I’ve lost something, Ab,” he blurted out in a murmur. “A part of myself I’d just found. It was the best part, and I’m grieving for it. ”That sounded lugubrious to him. He made a face at his drink and set it on the mantel.

Without a word, she took his elbow and turned with him to face the fire, their backs to the room, shoulders touching. He felt a mixture of relief and surprise at himself, for in the past he’d rarely confided anything truly important to his sister. To any woman, for that matter. Except one.

Abbey whispered, “How can I help you?”

“You can’t,” he said gently. “I’ve let something slip away. It’s finished; it can’t be retrieved.”

“What, Ty? What is it?”

He shook his head, glad that he’d told her this much, but unable to go on with it. Fire fingers curled around the small, decorous logs behind the brass screen; his eyes blurred, and he saw the color of Carrie’s hair in the flames. “Do you remember when you set the chimney on fire, Ab?”

“Vividly.”

“How old were you?”

“Five or six. I thought I was helping.”

“By burning all the newspapers at once.”

“It seemed so sensible.”

She slipped her arm through his; she was preparing some sweet, tenderhearted speech. He loved her for it, but he couldn’t listen to it right now. “You’re all grown up, aren’t you?” he said quickly. “While my back was turned, you stopped being that pesky little girl and turned into this beautiful woman.”

“Did I?”

“How many men are in love with you?” He grinned, bent on lightening the mood.

“Oh, dozens.” She understood, and answered in the same airy tone. “Hundreds by now. I’ve lost count.”

“I don’t doubt it. Do you love any of them back?”

“Not one. I’m quite a ruthless heartbreaker.”

“But you wish you did,” he guessed. “You wish one of those depressingly eligible young men would break from the pack and sweep you off your feet.”

“Wouldn’t it be lovely?” She was smiling, but she sounded a trifle wistful. “I’m really not that hard to please; all he’d have to have is a few qualities Mother doesn’t approve of.”

“Well, don’t give up. There’s bound to be a complete rotter out there somewhere.”

They shared a good-humored pause.

Then she said, “Ty? If you ever need to talk about … anything, I hope you’ll feel comfortable talking to me. I’ve always known I could say anything to you, and it would be nice to think you felt the same about me.”

“I do.”

“Because there’s nothing you could say, nothing in the world you could do that could make me stop loving you.”

“Well, I haven’t killed anyone, you know.” This new Abbey fascinated him. When her gaze on his stayed steady and sincere, he put his arm around her shoulders. “Thank you,” he said from his heart. “I won’t forget that.”

They stood for a few more quiet minutes. He’d have stayed that way all afternoon, peering into the fire and exchanging desultory confidences with his sister. But Abbey knew her duty.

“You-know-who’s going to catch us,” she warned presently, glancing over her shoulder. “I’m afraid it’s time to be sociable, like it or not. You’re the guest of honor, after all. Have you spoken to Adele yet?”

“Yes, I spoke to her.”

“Not much, I bet. Not nearly enough, considering all the trouble she went to to look pretty for you.”She gave him another arch look, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “Speaking of pretty girls, did Mother tell you about the lady from Wayne’s Crossing?”

“What lady?”

“She came to see you.”

“Came here?”

“Yes, the day before yesterday. A Miss Hamilton.”

He frowned. “I don’t remember anyone by that name. What did she want?”

“Well, I’m not quite sure. She said she was passing through, and wanted to thank you for everything you’d done for the town.”

“Hamilton,” he repeated, mystified. “What did she look like?”

“She was lovely. She had on a handsome blue merino wool gown, very stunning—even Mother thought so. But I think she was sad, Ty. Her eyes … I don’t know, I couldn’t shake the sense that something—”

“Tyler, for heaven’s sake, there you are. I thought you’d left the house. Shame on you, and you, too, Abigail, for encouraging him.” Carolivia sailed into the room under a full head of steam, amethysts glittering on her stately bosom like running lights on a frigate.

“What did I tell you?” Abbey said out of the side of her mouth. She wasn’t so grown up that she couldn’t still giggle. “I’m going, Mother; I’m gone.” Winking at Ty, she glided away, abandoning him without a qualm.

But, against all the odds, his mother didn’t scold him. She put her arms around him and gave him a quick, impulsive hug.

“What’s this?” he said, laughing to cover his surprise.

“I’m so proud of you.” Her strong voice quivered with telltale emotion. “And I’m so glad you’re home. I’ve missed you a great deal, you know.”

“I’ve missed you.”

“I think there’s only one more thing I could wish for on this very special day.”

“And what’s that?”

“That your father were here to see the man his son has grown into.”

He kissed her smooth, perfumed cheek, noticing with a pang that she looked older than when he’d last seen her. She was still handsome, but she appeared to have softened. She was not quite so formidable as she had been.

In other ways, though, she hadn’t changed at all. She blinked the uncharacteristic moisture from her eyes and asked casually, “I don’t suppose you and Senator Lloyd had anything substantive to say to each other before he got away?”

“Substantive? I wished him a very merry Christmas.”

“Nothing else?”

“Oh—and a happy New Year.”

She clucked her tongue; but she said no more, and he took that for a hopeful sign.

“You know I’m going to Washington in two days,” he reminded her. “I’m starting a new job that fills me with hope for doing something valuable with my life. With my real talents.” She glanced away; he touched the side of her face to make her look at him. “Your only son’s a scientist, Mother. Not a statesman, not even a politician. I’m a doctor.” He saw something shift in her eyes, and entertained the hope that it was the beginning of acceptance. “There’s only one thing,” he said gently, “that I could wish for on this very special day.”

She raised her aristocratic eyebrows somewhat fatalistically.

“That you’d celebrate with me because I’ve finally figured out what I ought to be doing with myself. And I can’t wait to start doing it.”

She sighed. “All I want for you is happiness, Tyler, whether you believe it or not. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“If that’s true, then you’ve got your wish.”

“Have I?” Her eyes narrowed on him in a too-shrewd appraisal, and he was afraid she would see the same shadows that Abbey had.

“Absolutely,” he said with conviction, taking her arm and moving her toward the door.

“Then I’ll say no more. Except …”

“What?”

“Oh, just that it wouldn’t do any harm to go and speak to Colonel Symington and his wife; they were in the dining room a moment ago. Well, you needn’t look at me that way. They’re guests, after all, it’s a matter of common—”

“I spoke to them already.”

“But not to much purpose, I expect.” She had the grace to blush. “Well, heavens, Ty, it isn’t only me—everyone’s talking about who’s going to replace Sternberg as surgeon general, and I see no reason in the world why it shouldn’t be you. I’m serious!”

“I know you are.” He gave her a noisy kiss, partly out of affection and partly to deflate her dignity a little further. “You’re incorrigible, aren’t you?”

“I just want you to be happy.”

“And I keep telling you that I am.”

“Very well, then.” She set her lips.

“Very well, then? You’ll say no more?”

“Not a word.”

“So it’s nothing to you whether I go over and charm Colonel Symington or not?”