Читать книгу Sins of Omission - Fern Michaels - Страница 16

The comfortable room was oppressive with the roaring fire. Reuben was feeling lethargic and useless; the vineyards were at rest for the season. After some initially trying days, Daniel and Bebe were settled into a routine of lessons, with Faroux just as easily teaching two bright students as one. Mickey spent long hours going over her financial records and keeping wine charts. Reuben read every book in the crowded library that dealt with winemaking. He’d asked thousands of questions and was surprised at Mickey’s expertise. While she didn’t actively operate the wineries, she knew to the day and hour what went on. It was time now for him to ask her if he could take over some of the responsibility, have a more active role in running the business.

When Mickey lifted her head from the ledgers in front of her, Reuben smiled at her and mouthed the words, “You are so beautiful.” Mickey returned his smile with a roguish wink.

Reuben closed his book. “Mickey, have you given any thought to my suggestions of last evening?”

“Yes, considerable thought. I’m not sure…what if…I don’t think my wines are—”

“No doubts,” Reuben said coolly. “You have first-quality wines. It’s time to share them with the rest of the world. Once in a while you have to take chances. Remember what you said about the young woman who designs your clothes? Your instincts told you she was going to be famous someday. A feeling, that’s all you had to go on, and you went with that feeling. I feel the same way about the wines…it’s time. You have to strike while the iron is hot, Mickey. If you don’t, someone else will get the jump on you. I want us to jump in with both feet. The only thing we can lose is some of our time and a few cases of wine.”

“What if the foreigners don’t like our wines?” Mickey asked, frowning.

“The Fonsard wineries and their product are the finest in all Europe. When you have the best, there is nothing to dislike. Talk to your bankers in Paris. If they agree that it’s a sound move, will you give the go-ahead?”

“Yes. Yes, I will. But…” Mickey faced him anxiously. “Reuben, it will be an all-consuming job for you to undertake. When will we have time together?”

“Is that what’s bothering you?” Reuben laughed. “Don’t you know I need you at my side while I work on this? I am going to need your French expertise! My American ingenuity will do the rest.”

Once Mickey made the decision to go ahead, she felt much better. It did make things simpler, and Reuben was right, there was no reason to stagnate. The past several harvests had yielded some of the best wine Fonsard ever produced. Sharing it, becoming known, would be something Jacques would have done, had he lived. She felt sure the bankers, conservative though they were, would see that it was a good, sound investment for Fonsard. Most important of all, it would give Reuben something worthwhile to do. And working side by side would take them both away from Bebe. If there was any one thing that helped her make up her mind to endorse the idea, it was this.

“Partners?” Reuben grinned.

“Partners,” Mickey agreed. She knew then she would do whatever she could to make this man happy. Anything.

During the second week of December, Reuben dragged Mickey to the wine cellar, where she kept a small office. Ledgers, receipts, and bills were filed neatly in stacked boxes. Together they pored over the ledgers until Reuben learned Mickey’s bookkeeping system. They decided to visit Château la Fonsard in Bordeaux, one of the largest wineries in the region. There Mickey would place Reuben in the expert hands of her head vintner, a position Reuben might assume someday. Monsieur Poitier had been grumbling about retiring, but since he lived on the château grounds he could remain available for consultation.

The days were full and demanding for Reuben, and he loved every minute of them. Mickey thought she’d never been so happy. At night she prayed that nothing would ever spoil her happiness.

The days raced toward Christmas and the holiday season. Four days before Christmas Mickey called a halt to lessons and told Reuben they were on a holiday from their office in the wine cellar. It was time to decorate the house, shop, and get things ready for the villagers who would visit the château to share the celebration.

The château took on new life as Mickey’s “petite family” did their utmost to please her—trips to the fields for evergreens, trips to the village to shop, mysterious packages arriving by post from Paris, and hours shared in the kitchen helping Nanette prepare the feast and goodies. It was Reuben who swung the ax that toppled a twelve-foot fir tree. Everyone clapped their approval with cold, numb hands. Then they all tugged and pulled the monstrous tree to the sleigh, laughing and giggling like children. Mounds and mounds of fragrant balsam for the mantel, the staircase banister, and the doorways were added to the sleigh.

Her face rosy with cold, Mickey laughed and said, “I think, little ones, that we must walk back to the château, there is no room in the sleigh. Also, we must gather holly and leave our tribute to the birds by hanging pieces of suet and bread. Once we return to the château we will feast on cake and hot chocolate. Bebe, you are frozen! I told you to dress warmly, that this would take hours. Perhaps we can find a spot for you in the sleigh. What do you think, Reuben? We’ll save the poor child’s frozen feet.”

“I think,” Reuben said as he hefted the last pile of balsam onto the sleigh, “that she should walk like everyone else. Before we left I told her to go back and get warmer gloves and boots. It was a suggestion she chose to ignore.”

“Chéri, she could get frostbite.”

“She won’t,” Reuben said callously. “She has to learn, Mickey. I know she’s young, but she thinks we talk just to hear ourselves like she does. She can walk with the rest of us.”

Bebe listened to the exchange with mixed emotions. Almost from the moment she had boarded the sleigh she’d been sorry she hadn’t run back into the house for warmer gloves and a hat, to say nothing of the boots. Silly, stupid pride made her automatically reject any suggestions from Reuben. Well, she was paying for it now; she’d never been so cold. The pity in Daniel’s eyes made her ashamed. The concern in Mickey’s face made her want to weep. But it was the anger and contempt she saw in Reuben that made her determined to walk back to the château if it killed her.

She stared directly at Reuben, making a controlled effort to keep her teeth from chattering. “I think we should get started. It will be dark soon.”

“Bravo!” Daniel whispered as he reached for her arm. She quickly pulled it away but smiled at him, a crooked little grimace.

“I’ll get back on my own, Daniel. I can’t let him get the best of me. Not yet, anyway.”

Daniel trudged alongside her. “Bebe, this isn’t a game. It’s not you against Reuben. You have to stop thinking there’s a contest between the two of you. Don’t spoil things with hate and anger.”

“I don’t hate him, he hates me! I just don’t know why. These past weeks I’ve tried to do everything he said, and I hardly ever sass him back—but I just know he’s waiting for me to step out of line. He still isn’t satisfied. I didn’t ask to ride in the damn sleigh, did I?”

Daniel hated it when he had to defend his friend. He liked Bebe. He liked the way she could laugh at herself when she made what she called one of her ridiculous mistakes. He liked the way she hunkered down to learn the French verbs. And when she made a mess of the language, her friendly little winks and crooked smiles delighted him. He particularly treasured her small confessions and some of the secrets she shared with him on their walks over the frozen fields. So often he wished that he could confide something in return, but he had no secrets, only hopes and dreams. He told her about the dog, and wanting to call it Jake. She’d smiled and said she understood. She’d confided in return that the nicest, the warmest feeling she’d ever felt in her life was when Mickey cradled her in her arms the first night she’d arrived. She wanted, needed family love, but she had nothing to give in return, so how could she expect anyone to give her something so precious? Be yourself, he’d said, the way you are with me. The rest will fall into place. And always, after every serious talk, she’d look at him with tears in her eyes and ask, “Why does he hate me, Daniel?”

“With Reuben you have to prove yourself,” he’d reply reluctantly. “It’s either black or white. There are no gray areas with Reuben. You have to understand that.” He’d pat her shoulder awkwardly and she’d smile—and immediately he’d feel a sense of disloyalty to Reuben.

“Just concentrate on putting one foot ahead of the other,” he said to her now. “It’s only another kilometer or so. I know a shortcut. Do you want to take it?”

“Not on your damn life,” she said, teeth chattering.

“I had chilblains, so did Reuben. It’s not pleasant. At least take my scarf.”

“No. I’m not going to get chilblains. If I did, your friend would say I got them on purpose to ruin Christmas for everyone. I’ll be fine, Daniel.”

When she slogged into the courtyard of the château, Bebe thought she was one step away from death. All she wanted was to get upstairs and crawl into bed. It would take hours to get warm. Maybe she’d never be warm again. But instead of running ahead she looked Reuben square in the eye and asked, “Do you need me to help carry the greenery inside?”

Reuben was about to say yes until he saw the look on Daniel’s face. “No, you did your share. Go inside and get warm. Later you can help string the garlands and decorate the tree.”

Mickey felt herself swoon at the look on Bebe’s face—unbelieving, then relieved, and finally transformed by a warm, wonderful smile. She was beautiful, all rosy cheeks and windblown hair.

An hour later Bebe was submerged in a tub of hot water. Nothing in her life had ever felt as good as the warmth that caressed every inch of her flesh.

Daniel sat on his bed, patiently waiting his turn in the bathroom. He toyed with the idea of knocking on Bebe’s door and…saying what? That Reuben was…Again he felt at a loss. What exactly was Reuben? Possessive, protective? Would Bebe understand that? Probably not; he wasn’t even sure he understood what he was thinking. He pictured Bebe in her room crying her eyes out. And here he sat, caught in the middle.

Bebe needed some kind of support, but how was it going to look to Reuben if he took sides? Reuben, he knew, would consider it a betrayal on his part if he got too close to the girl. Before Bebe’s arrival, the three of them had agreed that she was to be his companion and study along with him while Mickey and Reuben were busy with the wineries. Now, it seemed, that was changing.

Be Bebe’s friend but don’t get involved? Bullshit! If today was any indication of what things were going to be like, he would have to get involved. Out there in the snow he’d felt like crying for the girl. If he’d had his way, he would have slung her over his shoulder and carried her back.

She was certainly plucky, she’d proved it again today. In some ways she reminded him of Jake. How many times Jake had admonished him. Don’t let them see you cry, don’t ever let them see you cry—if you do, you’re lost. The words brought back memories—and, as usual, the one that stayed with him was the one he wished to forget….

It was autumn, and all the leaves were like burnished gold, and the pumpkins were ripe in the field behind the orphanage. Jake had taken him by the hand and said they would snitch a little pumpkin for Bennie and Stevie, two five-year-olds who slept next to them in the dormitory. Daniel hated the idea of snitching but knew the little boys would love the pumpkin. They were halfway across the dry field when they saw an injured sparrow. They forgot about the pumpkin then, and it wasn’t until later that Daniel ran back and grabbed the first one he saw, a tall, spindly one that was lopsided and without a stem. Stevie and Bennie never noticed.

Jake had big hands, bigger than his own, and they’d been so gentle with the tiny sparrow. “He can’t fly. And if he can’t fly, he can’t be free,” Jake said with ten-year-old logic. “That makes him like us. We aren’t free either.” They tried everything to patch up the little bird, but his wing was so tiny and they didn’t have a knife to whittle a splint. They fed him crumbs soaked in milk for two days, and when they returned on the third day, the sparrow was lying on its side, its legs straight in the air. It was the first time he and Jake had seen death. He remembered crying, long and hard. Jake hadn’t cried, but his eyes were wet. “We have to bury him,” Jake said, “or some wild animal will eat the body.” So they scooped out a hole in the ground with their bare hands and covered the bird with leaves before piling the dirt on top of it. He’d kept right on crying, not caring what Jake said about not letting anyone see. At last Jake had put his arm around him, and they’d walked back to the orphanage together. Jake cared, but Jake was tough.

Bebe was like Jake, Daniel decided, tough on the outside, where it counted, and soft on the inside. He made up his mind to be Bebe’s friend the way Jake had been his friend. If his friendship got in the way of his feelings for Reuben, he’d figure something out—but not until he had to.

As he trotted down the hall for his turn in the bathroom, Daniel felt about 110 years old.

When Bebe finally came downstairs hours later, she felt weak as a newborn kitten and wanted only to sleep. But she wouldn’t give Reuben Tarz the satisfaction of lacing into her again. She’d force her eyes to stay open, eat dinner, and help with the garlands. One way or another, she’d get through the evening in grand style.

And she did. Dinner that evening was actually one of the more pleasant meals she’d attended since her arrival at the château. Reuben seemed to be particularly polite and hospitable; when he addressed her directly she was so surprised she almost fell off her chair. She could feel herself flush, and she stammered like a little girl trying to please, knowing she was making a bad job of it. Reuben looked amused until he noticed Daniel glowering across the table. Then, for his friend’s sake, he did his best to stifle the dislike he felt for Bebe.

“Mickey, why don’t we wait till tomorrow to hang the garlands? I think we’re all tired this evening. That cold air was brutal. If Daniel’s eyes feel anything like mine, we should be resting with compresses.”

“I think tomorrow will be fine. Let’s schedule our decorating for midafternoon so Bebe and I can shop in the village.” Mickey smiled warmly around the table, knowing everyone would be in agreement. The trip to the fields in the biting cold had done her in, too. “Tonight there will be hot chocolate instead of coffee, and then we’ll retire. I think we’ve all earned a good night’s rest.”

Bebe was so relieved she wouldn’t have to struggle through the evening, she almost cried. She looked up to find Reuben staring at her directly. Flustered, she knocked over her wineglass, and in her attempt to mop it up she spilled her water. This time the tears erupted. “It’s your fault,” she screamed at Reuben. “If you wouldn’t stare at me like that, I wouldn’t have spilled the wine. You’re so damn spooky, you scare me!” She pushed back her chair and ran up the stairs, with Daniel right behind her.

“Chéri, were you staring at the child?” Mickey asked softly.

“I guess I was, but I wasn’t seeing her, if you know what I mean. I think she’s overtired. Aren’t young girls usually nervous and irritable every so often?”

Mickey laughed, a rueful sound that did not go unnoticed by Reuben. “I suppose so, but it’s been a long time since I was a young girl. I’m sure tomorrow will be better for all of us. Bebe is excited about our shopping trip. She said she has something special she wants to get Daniel. So special, she said, his eyes will light up with happiness. What do you think it could be?”

A small stab of jealousy flashed through Reuben. Bebe was going to get his friend something that would make his eyes light with happiness. Only a book could do that. He chuckled inwardly. He was getting a pocket watch for Daniel, a real Swiss timepiece with his initials and the date engraved by a friend of Mickey’s. What could that spoiled brat give Daniel that would be better than his own gift? It had to be a book. After you read a book, you either memorized it or you forgot it. A timepiece was forever.

Reuben forced his mind back to the present. “I thought you said you were finished with shopping,” he teased.

Mickey leaned back in her chair. “One is never done. Please, you must give me a clue to the present you and Daniel got me. I have never seen such secrecy. Just one little hint?”

“Nope. You give me a hint about mine,” Reuben countered playfully.

“Absolutely not. It wouldn’t be a surprise then. Anyway, you shouldn’t be getting a present—you’re Jewish,” Mickey said, smiling.

“Ah, penalized for being what I am. I’m nothing, Mickey. I don’t even know if I believe in God.”

“Of course you do. You told me long ago, you prayed to Him for Daniel, so you do believe. Don’t ever say that, chéri, for He might punish you.”

Reuben didn’t like the direction the conversation was turning in. “What would I have to give, to promise, to get you to rub or even tickle my back?” His eyes were hot and smoldering as he leaned across the table.

“Give? Promise? Such unadulterated nonsense. Simply ask me.” Mickey could feel the heat starting to build within her.

“I’m asking.”

“It sounds like a demand to me.”

Reuben laughed. “Will you please rub and tickle my back?”

“But of course! We’ll tickle each other’s fancies!” Instantly Mickey became aware of the smoldering fires deep within his eyes, of the sudden tightening of the cords in his neck. The sensation of touching became overpowering. She imagined she could feel his smooth skin and rippling muscles beneath her fingertips. She hungered to run her hands through that thick mane of black hair, to hear him moan his delight. And then, when he would turn over to take her in his arms, her lips would graze the flat of his belly and the hairs that pointed downward….

He knew her little joke even before she uttered the words. It was a cue, a perfect little opening to their lovemaking. He adored her when she writhed and stretched like a cat beneath his touch. Even this moment his fingers ached to touch her, to run the length of her body, to bring her pleasure.

They both forgot the chocolate and climbed the staircase to the bedroom. Neither of them was aware that just a few feet away from them, Bebe lay exhausted on her bed, sobbing her heart out to Daniel.

“I want to go home, Daniel. I hate it here! No, that’s not true, I like it here. I like Mickey and I like you. It’s Reuben who’s making me miserable! Why, Daniel, why? Why does he treat me like he does?” Her golden hair was a tumble, her lower lip pouting to hold back tears, her delicate chin trembling.

Daniel shrugged, his puzzlement evident. “Bebe, why did you scream like that at the table? All you did was spill the wine. It wasn’t a catastrophe. If I’d been sitting in Reuben’s chair, I’d have been looking at you, too. You shouldn’t take offense so easily.”

Playing devil’s advocate didn’t come easily to Daniel, and he was uncomfortable with it. “It’s not good for you to keep thinking that Reuben hates you. Don’t play games to get your own way, Bebe. It won’t work here.” Then a bolt of lightning hit him. “You aren’t…you don’t…what I mean is, you don’t find yourself attracted to Reuben, do you?”

Bebe bolted upright, her golden hair tumbling to below her shoulders. “Where did you get such a stupid idea? I may be young, but I know about the birds and the bees. They’re sleeping together, you know it and so do I. I have eyes and ears, and what’s going on is…is…decadent. In America everyone thinks all Frenchwomen are whores, even my father.”

“Are you referring to Mickey?” Daniel challenged.

“No…yes…Oh, I don’t know. She’s so religious and saintly, giving money to the church and doing all kinds of good things for the poor, and then she takes a man half her age to bed. What does that tell you?” There were shards of ice in Bebe’s eyes, a sharp bitterness in her voice.

“You’re jealous of Mickey!” Daniel accused her.

“I am not!” Bebe retorted angrily.

“Yes, I believe you are,” Daniel mused. “I believe you want Reuben for yourself. You like Mickey, you may even love her, but she has something you want. You want Reuben. Admit it. Once you do, you’ll feel better. It’ll be our secret.” Daniel didn’t know where this insight was coming from, but even as he spoke, it all began to fall into place. “I’ll never tell,” he assured Bebe. “And you’ll have me to talk to. I think you need a friend, Bebe, a friend you can be honest with.”

“Daniel, I don’t want to talk—”

Daniel ignored her protest with a wave of his hand. “There’s no room for you in their relationship. You have to accept it. You can’t continue to cause friction. I can see through you, Bebe. You keep acting up, causing scene after scene, hoping Mickey will come to your defense, and that will drive a wedge between her and Reuben. It won’t work, and you’ll be the one who’s hurt in the end.”

“Don’t be so smug.” Bebe began crying again, huge tears rolling down her cheeks. “So what if it’s true, and I’m not saying it is, so what? Who cares?”

Suddenly she threw herself at Daniel, bursting into racking sobs. He’d never been this close to a girl before, and he didn’t know what to do with his hands. Bebe was hugging him tightly, sobbing on his shoulder. Almost of its own volition, one of Daniel’s arms surrounded her and the other stroked her golden head. Strange, wonderful feelings washed through him, but a stranger feeling warned him that he shouldn’t take advantage of the situation.

It occurred to him that he was mopping up after Reuben. Reuben had created this problem with Bebe, for whatever reason, and here he was trying to make things right. Was this a harbinger of things to come?

It never occurred to him that Bebe Rosen would and could use him to get to Reuben. He totally forgot that she had grown up among actresses; blinded by her soft arms around him, he wasn’t focusing on the fact that she was capable of playing a role and giving an excellent performance.

“Daniel, I don’t know what I would have done without you these past weeks,” Bebe said, sniffling. “You’ve been so good to me. You’re always there when I need someone. I wish I had a friend like you in California. All my other friends are fake and racy. The gossip columns say I’m just like them, but I’m not. I do like to have a good time, but I’ve been…a good girl. Do you know what I mean?” Her voice held a childish, innocent note. “C’mere,” she whispered, drawing him close. “I’m still a virgin. Bad girls aren’t virgins, are they? Don’t blush, Daniel, we’re friends, and friends can talk about anything. Are you a virgin, too? I’ll bet you are. You don’t have the same look in your eyes that Reuben has.”

“Reuben’s older….” Daniel wished his neck didn’t feel so hot; he knew his face was scarlet. It felt the way it did when he was running a fever.

They sat together far into the night, sharing secrets and confidences while Reuben and Mickey made love again and again.

It was still dark, with hours to go before dawn, when Bebe finally fell asleep, her hand curled sweetly under her cheek. Daniel kissed her brow, lightly breathing in her warm, clean scent. For a moment he felt almost light-headed. When he became aware of a thread of heat flowing through his body, he quickly left the room.

Under the covers in his own bed, in the darkness, he reached out for sleep with both arms, welcoming it like a long-lost friend.