Storm's End Read online

  Julie, not trusting the task to the movers, was busily wrapping her mother's delicate stemware and packing it into a box and now she gritted her teeth before turning and smiling. "Yes," she said briefly, "wonderful." But her eyes belied her words as she glanced up at Blaise and there was an answering antagonistic flicker in his. The two of them had clashed more than once during the past couple of weeks. Julie resented the way he had completely assumed authority, just as though he had the right. She had had to serve out her two weeks notice at the farm supply store where she worked and during her absence each day, he took it upon himself to make decisions she felt were none of his concern. Like selling the car. Blaise found a buyer, got Ruth to sign and sold it before Julie even knew a thing about it. When she pointed out that she would need the car in the future he had promised her a new model and the derisive terms he used to describe their old Chevy only served to increase her fury. Then there was the matter of the doctors. Julie had intended to speak to them herself about final arrangements for Houston, but Blaise took it out of her hands. Along with the local doctors, he set up a firm date for the Houston surgery, got all of Ruth's medical records transferred to both Houston and a doctor in Baton Rouge and even highhandedly paid off the local bill.

  In every way possible, Julie seethed inwardly, Blaise had undermined her mother's former dependency upon her daughter until now Ruth brightened and glowed with pleasure and relief every time he so much as walked into the same room. It was "Blaise, should we do this?" and "Blaise, something needs to be done about that," and Blaise would smile and say, "Don't worry, Ruth, I'll take care of it."

  And Bobby was no better. Blaise had somehow hypnotized him, too, into thinking he was the most wonderful thing to come along since the skateboard. He plied Blaise with questions about everything under the sun… the LSU Tigers, Mardi Gras, swamps and alligators and Blaise would patiently answer them all.

  By the time they all boarded the plane in Oklahoma City for the flight to Louisiana, every pore in Julie's body was clogged with resentment. Last night Blaise had even had the effrontery to use his autocratic tactics with her. She had been about to leave the house to spend her last evening visiting her old school chum and best friend, Ann Rollins, when Blaise had stopped her at the door.

  "Don't be in too late," he had told her. "We've got to make an early start tomorrow, you know. Besides, your mother won't rest well until she knows you're safely home and she needs a good night's sleep before the long trip."

  "Who are you," she sneered, "to be dictating to me about my comings and goings?"

  "I happen to be your fiancé," he reminded her dryly, "but I wasn't attempting to dictate to you. I was merely pointing out…"

  "You were merely trying to order my life around like my mother and my brother allow you to do for them, but I'm not having it, Blaise Richard, not now and not even when we're married!" She had cried hotly. "I'll be home tonight when I see fit and not before!" With an obstinate thrust of her chin, she had brushed past him and out the door.

  If it hadn't been for the very obvious point he had made about her mother not resting well knowing she was out, Julie would have stayed away until the early hours of the morning, but damn him, he had to be right and it enraged her to know that he would be feeling quite smug when she did return at a decent hour.

  And then the evening with Ann had not been soothing to her ruffled feelings, either. Ann knew nothing about her secret engagement to Blaise, of course, but she had seen him once when she had visited the house and last night she had chattered on and on about what a great catch he would be for Julie now that her romance with Duane was at an end. A Prince Charming, she had enthused, complete with a wealthy grandfather who was ready to swoop them all away to his castle to live happily ever after just like in a fairy tale. It had all been enough to make anyone sick and Julie had finally parted with her friend and gone home with a headache and also a twinge of envy that would have surprised Ann. But the truth was, Ann had everything Julie wanted… a fiancé who had been her high school sweetheart and who obviously adored her. When they married in a few months, they would probably never have an excess of money, but they would be wealthy with the one thing that really counted… love. It was such a bright future contrasted to her own that Julie had to struggle to keep tears at bay. If only Duane had stood solidly beside her, she thought dismally, she would never have been forced into such a dark corner.

  Fortunately during the flight Julie did not have to smile at Blaise or behave as though she liked him. He and Bobby sat in the seats directly in front of her mother and herself, so though she sat only scant inches behind him, for a time, at least, she was spared his overpowering presence.

  Julie had been worried about the effects of the trip on her mother, with yet another trip tomorrow when the two of them would board a flight for Houston; but though she appeared a little fatigued, Ruth's eyes sparkled with excitement over her first airplane trip. She sat beside the window and every few moments she would exclaim, "Oh, Julie, that field looks like patchwork," or "Is that a river down there?" or "Look, I can see cars. They look like ants on a thread."

  Julie tried her best to appear interested, since it was her first flight, too, but what lay ahead in her future concerned her far more than the present. It was hard to feel thrilled when you felt you were speeding toward your own doom, but that was how she regarded her impending marriage. And with Blaise already as dictatorial as he was, it was a foregone conclusion that they would be locked together in many a battle once he became her husband.

  It was late afternoon when the plane touched down at the Baton Rouge airport and the city gave them a dismal welcome. It was raining and the drops splattered against the windows so heavily they could scarcely see the building beyond the plane.

  A few minutes later they were shepherded inside the terminal building and a young man detached himself from the group of onlookers and walked purposefully toward them.

  "Hello," he greeted when he reached them. "Uncle Andy sent me to pick you up." Ignoring Blaise, his entire attention was centered on Julie as he smiled. "I'm Clive Mitchell, your cousin."

  He had a very pleasant smile as he introduced himself and shook hands in turn with Julie, Ruth and Bobby. He wore dark brown slacks and a creamy brown shirt that exactly matched his eyes and Julie was aware that he was one of the most handsome men she had ever met. His face was angular, yet subtly smooth, and as he smiled a small dent appeared in his cheek, close to his mouth. Judging by his appearance, he was not many years older than Julie.

  "It's a pleasure to meet you all," he said in a friendly fashion. "Well, shall we collect your luggage and get you home? Ruth, I apologize for the rotten weather. Louisiana does have a lot of rainfall normally, but I promise you, we have our beautiful days, too."

  "I remember," Ruth said, smiling. "Especially the azaleas in bloom and the scent of gardenias and magnolias." She sighed. "But it's too late in the season now. I wish we had come in the early spring."

  Clive laughed and took her arm. "I'd forgotten you used to live here."

  As the rest of them fell into step behind Clive and Ruth, Julie's gaze brushed across Blaise's face, moved on, paused and returned. He looked grimly angry, his mouth pressed into a hard line of tight control. He obviously disapproved of the charm Clive was exerting over her mother.

  Julie shrugged the impression away. If there was a conflict between the two men, it scarcely concerned her. For her part, she found Clive delightfully open and friendly and frank, it felt kind of nice to know this handsome stranger was her cousin.

  There was no opportunity to see or appreciate the city. The rain was a driving downpour, inundating streets, ditches, parking lots and yards. The Chrysler, which turned out to be Blaise's car, slushed slowly through the onslaught, the windshield wipers all but totally ineffective. The flooded streets were made even more hazardous by the congestion of heavy traffic, for it was the hour when most people got off work for the day.

  Julie sat in the
front seat with Blaise while her mother and brother occupied the back seat with Clive. Julie tensed as she peered through the windshield into the gloomy afternoon and then, turning to watch Blaise, felt a grudging admiration for his expertise. He drove slowly, but confidently, his alert eyes scanning the street, an air of calm control about him. Watching him, Julie slowly relaxed, suddenly assured that he would see them home without mishap.

  After a while, the city was left behind and they were passing through small outlying communities nestled amidst oaks and pines. Julie turned toward Clive, not daring to ask Blaise anything while he was concentration his driving.

  "I thought my grandfather lived in Baton Rouge," she said, "but we're going away from it."

  "The house is about -thirty miles from the city," he answered.

  "Do you live there, too?" she asked curiously.

  Clive shook his head. "Not now. I did for a couple of years after my parents died, but I moved into town about a year ago. I didn't," he added with a hostile glance at Blaise's back, "like the living conditions there."

  Something in that malevolent look halted Julie from asking him to elaborate. There was bad feeling between Clive and Blaise, no doubt about it and Julie recalled abruptly why she was here… as much to keep Clive from gaining control of the plant as to help her mother. And yet Clive seemed to be such a likeable person that it was difficult to understand what all the fuss was about.

  They crossed a river and drove onward through heavily wooded areas. Julie was growing tired after the long day and she glanced back anxiously at her mother from time to time.

  But just when she had decided they would never arrive, the car made a turn off the highway onto a graveled drive which wound itself through a stand of trees.

  "Welcome to Magnolia Way," Blaise told them. For the first time since leaving the airport, he turned his head slightly in their direction and spoke.

  There was not much to be seen through the heavy darkness of the afternoon and the streaming rain. "Are these trees magnolias?" Julie asked about the only thing that was within her sight.

  Blaise nodded, set the car around a curve and suddenly they were in front of an enormous two-storied, red-bricked house. Julie gazed up at it wonderingly, telling herself disbelievingly, "This is going to be my home."

  "Wow!" Bobby exclaimed. "I never expected a mansion!"

  Julie shot him a grin of sympathy. He had echoed her thoughts exactly. She had been told that her grandfather was wealthy, so she should have been prepared, but she had never expected anything quite so overpowering. There were huge white pillars dominating the front, reminiscent of old style plantation homes, but this house, she was certain, was far more luxurious.

  Andrew Barclay met them inside the wide front hallway. "Ruth, my dear," he said, taking her hands into his, "welcome home again."

  "Thank you, Andrew," Ruth Wilder said quietly. "It's good to be here and I really mean that."

  The old man smiled with a warmth that was so genuine that it astonished Julie. But she quickly hid her surprise as he turned to greet the rest of them.

  "Mrs. Landry is ready to serve dinner as soon as you wish," Andrew Barclay said. He turned back to Ruth. "I told her to have it ready early so that you can eat and have an early night. I hope the trip didn't tire you out too much?"

  The next hour and a half was too busy for Julie to have a moment to gather her thoughts or impressions about what was to be her new home. She was shown to her room, which was in the opposite wing of the house from her mother's and Bobby's. The only remaining room near them was reserved for the private nurse her grandfather had already hired to care for her mother when she returned from Houston. She felt an immediate sense of isolation from her family, but she had no time to dwell upon it before dinner.

  The meal was a leisurely one and Clive stayed to share it with them, but when it was over he excused himself for the long drive back to town and Ruth went willingly to her room. Bobby went out to the garage to meet Blaise's dog and her puppies, and left alone at the table as they drank coffee were Julie, Blaise and Andrew Barclay.

  The latter leaned back in his chair and gazed studiously at them. "The results of the blood tests you sent have been processed, the marriage license has been taken care of and I've arranged for you to meet in the judge's chambers tomorrow morning at eight for the ceremony."

  Julie had not expected it quite so soon. Tomorrow afternoon she was leaving with her mother for Houston and she had supposed that the marriage would take place once they returned in a month or so.

  After his announcement, the old man stood up, nodded pleasantly to them and walked out of the room.

  Julie's mouth was dry and cottony as she looked across at Blaise. There was a brittleness to the smile he gave her.

  "It seems," he said in a flat tone, "that for us, the sands of time have run out."

  Chapter Three

  "You'll have to leave now," the nurse said. "We'll be taking your mother to surgery in a few minutes."

  "Yes," Julie choked through a tear-clogged throat. She paused to take one last glance at her mother's face. Earlier, she had been given an injection and now her eyelids were closed. Julie had no idea whether she was still conscious or not, but she stayed at her bedside, clinging to her hand like a lifeline. Now she gave the small, warm hand a squeeze. "I love you, Mom," she whispered.

  The eyelids fluttered up and Ruth Wilder managed a sleepy smile. "I love you, too, Julie. And Bobby. Tell Bobby…" Her voice was faint and it dissipated like a wisp of smoke.

  "Yes," Julie promised huskily. "I'll tell him. And so will you." She released the hand and backed away from the bed. "I'll be in to see you again later."

  She went out into the hall and as she did, the orderlies arrived to take her mother to the operating room. Julie walked briskly away because she knew if she stayed to watch she would break down.

  In the waiting room, she sank down in one of the bright orange plastic chairs. There were no other occupants of the room at this early morning hour and Julie felt a deep spasm of loneliness mingled with fear and helplessness. There was a long ordeal of waiting to be got through ahead and it would have been made at least a little easier if there was someone to share it with her.

  They had arrived in Houston two days earlier and Julie's mother had immediately gone into the hospital to begin all the required tests before the surgery could be done. Julie had spent two restless nights in a hotel room and now, in the early morning stillness before the bustle of the hospital day began, she was feeling the accumulated effects of little sleep and constant anxiety and tension.

  It would be hours before the surgery would be over and now she fought away the vision of what must, even at this moment, be happening in the operating room. So very much depended on the skill and knowledge of the doctors. If her mother should die… Julie caught herself up sharply. She would not even think it! She simply could not imagine a world without Mom… a world in which she and Bobby had only each other.

  But that was not true any longer, strictly speaking. Bobby had taken to Magnolia Way like a dog to a bone. That very first evening he had declared that Mrs. Landry, the plump, pleasant-faced housekeeper, was "neat." And no wonder, Julie smiled reminiscently. Before bedtime Mrs. Landry had plied him with a chocolate milkshake and a slice of applesauce cake and promised him his favorite fried chicken for lunch the following day. And as for her grandfather, he soon had Bobby calling him "Grandpa."

  Now the smile faded. In private, Julie had taken Bobby to task about that, explaining that the old man was her grandfather, not his, and that he should address Andrew Barclay in a more respectful and formal manner. But Bobby had merely shrugged away her scolding and informed her that "Grandpa" himself had asked him to use that name. Julie had known herself defeated and she very much resented the way Andrew Barclay had so easily established a "family" relationship with her brother. But one thing was certain, she told herself as she stared unseeingly at the hospital green wall, she had no intention
of following Bobby's example. She was always careful to address him as Mr. Barclay or more simply, sir, and she planned to continue to do just that. A man so cruel as to make puppets of those around him could never be "Grandpa" to her. The term indicated a warm and trusting relationship and there was only a cold resentment toward him in Julie's breast.

  Thinking of her grandfather led as straight to Blaise as spring follows winter. She opened her handbag and extracted a small white box. She flipped the lid and gazed at the two rings nestling against white velvet. One was a narrow, plain gold band; its mate was an enormous solitaire diamond ring.

  The fact that she was now a married woman seemed scarcely believable. If it were not for the rings, she could have easily persuaded herself that she had hallucinated the whole thing… the judge's chambers, a paneled room with somber drawn drapes at the window; Andrew Barclay, watching intently; an assistant of the judge's, bored and scarcely even attempting to shield his yawns; the judge himself, as somber as his office as he read the words that bound her life to a man she did not love, a man who did not love her.

  She closed her eyes, picturing Blaise as he had been that day, extraordinarily handsome in a dark business suit. His face had been paler than normal and his eyes had been two dark pieces of coal, but despite his forbidding demeanor he had done his best to put her at ease. He told her how beautiful she was in the white summer dress she wore with its full skirt and floppy sleeves and he had presented her with a bouquet of tiny white and pink rosebuds. The rings had been a surprise, not the plain wedding band, of course, but the diamond he had slipped onto her finger immediately after the ceremony. She had protested against it. It hardly seemed called for under the circumstances and especially in view of the fact that both rings would shortly be transferred back to the box they had come from, but he had silenced her objections with the brief comment that he wanted her to have a proper engagement ring as well and that was that.