The Great Escape (14 page)

she was too shocked with what he said to really notice.

Shock soon gave way to anger, though, and her eyes spat sudden,

virulent sparks at him as she hissed, 'Don't you put a label on me,

mister! Don't you dare!' She hated the phrase 'millionaire heiress'. As

if the only thing about her of value was the money!

'No,' he said consideringly, cocking his head to one side to stare at her

with those unsettling, assessing, somehow stern eyes. 'I should be the

last to do that, shouldn't I? At every turn you've slipped out of the

neat, .tidy little mould I've made out for you. You change constantly,

like quicksilver, always something new, something unexpected and

different. When I'd thought of you as a runaway teenager, you appear

to me as a maturing young woman. When I'd labelled you as defeated,

you nimbly slip out a second story window to disappear into thin air.

Last night, when I'd thought you were beaten, you suddenly strike out

with a swiftness and a deadly accuracy that simply floored your

opponent. And today,' a slight, uncontrolled smile tugged at one

corner of his firm mouth and she stared, fascinated, forgetting her

anger, 'today when I'd thought you were perhaps dieting because of

the salad you ordered—why, you turn right around and order ice

cream!'

The spoonful of chocolate that had been travelling absently to her

mouth froze a moment at that, and she stared at it self-consciously.

Chuckling inwardly at his whimsical statement, she stuffed the spoon

into her mouth with a robust defiance for the calorie intake, nodding

pertly. Mike smiled at her playfulness, appreciatively and yet

strangely absentmindedly. There was an underlying seriousness

about him, an intent quality that made her suddenly drop her act and

sit forward attentively.

'Why did you run away?'

The question was so simply and quietly spoken that for a moment or

two it didn't register. When she finally grasped the enormity of the

question, her thin face took on a bitterness and a peculiarly hard

quality, the eyes shadowing over and the mouth thinning until she

looked years older. It was an astonishing change, from her previous

lightheartedness to this disillusioned look.

'How long have you got?' she asked him flippantly, the harshness

making him wince.

'As long as it takes. I'd like to understand,' he said quietly.

At those mild words, her defiant hostility crumbled and she leaned

back in her seat, momentarily at a loss for words. 'I don't know what

to say. I've never articulated my reasons to anyone before. Nobody

bothered to ask.'

'Try. Was it your aunt and uncle? Did things seem to go wrong when

your parents died?'

'I guess you could say that.' She hesitated and a pent-up look filled her

eyes. She said, very quietly, 'Have you ever been so very miserable

that you just can't take being miserable any more? I mean to the point

where, if it was a choice between living in a particular situation or not

living at all, you'd choose not to live?'

'No.' He was very attentive.

'I have.' Her simple reply seemed to shake him. 'I had to leave. It was

a choice between suicide or leaving home, and I chose the latter

because I wasn't quite ready to die yet.' Her bright beautiful blue eyes

smiled at him slightly as he looked, stricken, into them. And, because

he had asked her, she told him about the barren time, and all her

frustrations. She told him about the loneliness, the pressures at

college, the feeling of entrapment, everything. She talked with an

eloquence born from an urgent need to communicate, and it made

Mike sit up.

'You should ask my guardians,' she said conversationally, 'how I did

in school, and I'll bet you anything you like that they won't be able to

tell you. They don't care. They like the allowance given to them for

my support, but bother them with my problems? Don't make me

laugh! Do you know, no one remembered my birthday last year? Isn't

that rich? That was the breaking point for me. Oh, I'm not talking

about birthday presents, gifts, because I had everything materially

that I needed or wanted. It's that damned dry emotional desert I was

living in that was killing me. Do you hear me, Mike? They were

killing me!'

She looked up into his eyes and encountered something brilliant in his

green, piercing eyes. There was a curious look about him, as if he

were seeing something clearly for the first time and was saddened by

what he saw.

He moved, made an effort to speak. 'Wasn't there anyone that you

could talk to, turn to, anyone you could ask for help from? Perhaps

you were friends with the housekeeper or someone who helped

around the house?'

Dee just looked at him blankly. 'I didn't know anyone who worked at

the house. Judith got rid of all our employees and hired her own staff.'

'What?'
It was a thunderous reaction, and Mike shot up straight in his

seat as he stared at her, incredulously.

Bewildered, she murmured, 'I suppose you wouldn't have known, but

does it really matter now?'

He was staring off into nothing, directing that powerful intellect and

attention on to something unseen. He said slowly, 'It may and then

again, it may not. Dee, if you were to die, who would inherit the

fortune?'

She stared at him, trying to make sense out of an apparently senseless

question. 'I'm not sure. I never really considered the possibility of my

own death before, I guess, having chosen the other path . . . It's

probably a classic case of a youth living in the illusion of her own

immortality—it's just not something I've thought about. I guess the

next of kin would inherit before I turn eighteen, and they still would,

if I didn't make a will.'

The words came out slowly from him. 'And Judith and Howard are

your next of kin.'

'That's right. They're the only family I have. Everyone else is dead.' It

was said simply, as she tried to follow the path of his thoughts, failing

dismally.

He said very quietly, 'Oh, my God.' And he stared down at his hands

as if he could see blood on them and was sickened by the sight.

'Mike, what is it?' she asked, reaching out and touching one of his

hands tentatively. He shook himself like a dog coming out of water,

and he looked around as if suddenly realising how long they had sat

in the restaurant.

'Let's get out of here,' he muttered, sliding out of the booth. Still

bewildered and yet patient, Dee followed and waited quietly while he

paid for the meal. As they walked out of the building, she lagged a

little behind and he turned to look at her questioningly.

Her eyes were fixed on the ground. 'Do you suppose I should have

stayed and tried to stick things out?' she asked softly, uncertainty

hitting her like a huge, consuming wave. 'Do you think I was wrong

for wanting to get out from under all that? I always wondered if I was

seeing the situation accurately, or if I was just rationalising because I

didn't have the guts to stick out a sticky situation.'

His arm came around her, hard, drawing her close, compelling her to

walk forward with him over the highway. 'No, sweetheart, I don't

think you were wrong,' he said at last, and some of the tension went

out of her shoulder blades at his support. It was a strange feeling, this

sharing. She wasn't used to it, and she was surprised at how much his

approval meant to her. 'It's probably the only thing that saved you.'

Her head turned, and she tried to make sense out of his stern,

frowning expression.

Back in the motel room she crossed over to the newly made bed and

sank down on to it, her eyes following Mike as he walked over to his

suitcase and fingered a shirt aimlessly, his expression never

lightening. 'What is it?' she asked at last. 'What's bothering you?'

'I could be wrong,' he murmured, putting a hand to his neck to

massage it while he stared at the ceiling, it's fantastic. I could be very,

very wrong and probably am . . . let's forget it for now, all right?

Maybe I'll tell you later. I need some time to think.'

'Is—is it about me?'

His head turned at that and he looked at her gently, amusedly. 'Honey,

I've thought of precious little except you for the past nine months or

so.' And it wasn't the words that he said somehow, but the way that he

said them that made her go warm all over, a slow suffusion of

happiness that melted into her bones and made her blue eyes

gradually take on a shining response.

But the expression died away and she asked in a low voice, 'What do

we do now? Where do we go from here? It's funny, but in all the time

that I spent running, I—this is the first time I've ever actually felt lost.

How long does the truce last, Mike?' Something in her eyes

shimmered and she looked quickly down at her hands, lying loosely

clasped on her lap.

Footsteps, slow and measured, and then a big warm hand coming

lightly to the side of her bent face, running down her neck, under her

hair, and then carefully back to cup her tender cheek. She quivered.

'Shall we forget the truce and call it a friendship now?' he asked

softly. 'I don't know what to do either, sweetheart, but maybe we can

figure something out together. Nothing's quite so hard, if you have

someone to share it with. You've been too alone, Dee. Let me

shoulder some of the weight for you for a while. I've strong shoulders

and a wide back, and I'll respect whatever you ultimately decide. You

don't have to run away! I'll help you find what to work towards,

instead of forcing you to pick up and run. Can you trust me, just a

little bit?'

She turned her face into his hand and whispered, 'I want to!' and felt

him bend down to place a kiss on her forehead. Then he stepped back

and his hand fell away. He sat on his bed and regarded her wryly, with

a quizzical twist to his lips.

'Well then. Instead of a truce with neither of us knowing what to do,

now we have a friendship, and neither of us knows what to do!' The

statement forced a smile out of her, and her eyes fell away to wander

the room idly. They landed on her neat pile of clothes by the suitcase,

dirty and bloody.

'You say that you need to think,' she said abruptly. 'I could use some

space, too—why don't we just take the time right here? I'd like to find

a laundrymat where I could wash some things,' and she nodded to the

corner, making him look. 'I'll bet you have a few things that could

stand to be washed too. Let's put off a major decision until this

evening or tomorrow, shall we?'

Mike cocked his head at her. 'Such a long time as that!' he mocked,

laughing at her flush.

'I make up my mind quickly,' she told him with dignity, 'and lord

knows I've had to in the past! I just need a little time to review my

options and possible consequences, that's all.'

'Very well.' He stood up. 'Let's do the laundry, then!'

They found a small laundrymat a few miles west, just after driving

through a small cluster of blocks with business buildings in a tight

group. Dee twisted around in her seat and laughed as she surveyed the

street that they had just driven down. 'I'll bet the people here are

trying to pass that off as a town!' she giggled, and pointed to the short

business district.

Mike pulled into a parking space and turned off the engine, then

twisted around to look where she was pointing, a slight smile cocking

the corner of his mouth. 'I'll bet you've never lived in a small town

before,' he guessed shrewdly, and she shook her head, still laughing.

'Well, I did, and I don't want to hear any more ridicule about the state

of small things! In fact, my home town was very like this.'

Dee turned to look at him contemplatively, a smile lurking in the

depths of her eyes. 'Typical middle class family,' she guessed. 'With a

nice back yard and two dogs. Your father's retired, and you see your

parents every Christmas, right?'

His smile turned into a wider grin as he laughed at her. 'You almost

got it right. A dog and a cat, and I sometimes go home for

Thanksgiving, too.'

'It sounds marvellous. Long summer nights on the back porch

swing --'

'—Front porch, but close enough --'

'—and your mother makes nothing but homemade lemonade, right?'

'The best in the country.'

'Where do they live?'

'California—northern, that is. It's a long way away, but I went to

college in the mid-West and just seemed to have a natural love of the