Читать книгу Unfinished Business: the classic story from the queen of romance that you won’t be able to put down - Нора Робертс - Страница 7

The Knight farm was rolling hills and patches of brown and green field. The hay was well up, she noted, and the corn was tender green shoots. A gray barn stood behind a trio of square paddocks. Nearby, chickens fussed and pecked at the ground. Plump spotted cows lolled on a hillside, too lazy to glance over at the sound of an approaching car, but geese rushed along the bank of the creek, excited and annoyed by the disturbance.

A bumpy gravel lane led to the farmhouse. At the end of it, Vanessa stopped her car, then slowly alighted. She could hear the distant putting of a tractor and the occasional yip-yipping of a cheerful dog. Closer was the chatter of birds, a musical exchange that always reminded her of neighbors gossiping over a fence.

Perhaps it was foolish to feel nervous, but she couldn’t shake it. Here in this rambling three-story house, with its leaning chimneys and swaying porches, lived her oldest and closest friend—someone with whom she had shared every thought, every feeling, every wish and every disappointment.

But those friends had been children—girls on the threshold of womanhood, where everything is at its most intense and emotional. They hadn’t been given the chance to grow apart. Their friendship had been severed quickly and completely. Between that moment and this, so much—too much—had happened to both of them. To expect to renew those ties and feelings was both naive and overly optimistic.

Vanessa reminded herself of that, bracing herself for disappointment, as she started up the cracked wooden steps to the front porch.

The door swung open. The woman who stepped out released a flood of stored memories. Unlike the moment when she had started up her own walk and seen her mother, Vanessa felt none of the confusion and grief.

She looks the same, was all Vanessa could think. Joanie was still sturdily built, with the curves Vanessa had envied throughout adolescence. Her hair was still worn short and tousled around a pretty face. Black hair and blue eyes like her brother, but with softer features and a neat Cupid’s-bow mouth that had driven the teenage boys wild.

Vanessa started to speak, searched for something to say. Then she heard Joanie let out a yelp. They were hugging, arms clasped hard, bodies swaying. The laughter and tears and broken sentences melted away the years.

“I can’t believe—you’re here.”

“I’ve missed you. You look… I’m sorry.”

“When I heard you—” Shaking her head, Joanie pulled back, then smiled. “Oh, God, it’s good to see you, Van.”

“I was almost afraid to come.” Vanessa wiped her cheek with her knuckles.

“Why?”

“I thought you might be polite and offer me some tea and wonder what we were supposed to talk about.”

Joanie took a rumpled tissue out of her pocket and blew her nose. “And I thought you might be wearing a mink and diamonds and stop by out of a sense of duty.”

Vanessa gave a watery laugh. “My mink’s in storage.”

Joanie grabbed her hand and pulled her through the door. “Come in. I might just put that tea on after all.”

The entryway was bright and tidy. Joanie led Vanessa into a living room of faded sofas and glossy mahogany, of chintz curtains and rag rugs. Evidence that there was a baby in the house was found in teething rings, rattles and stuffed bears. Unable to resist, Vanessa picked up a pink-and-white rattle.

“You have a little girl.”

“Lara.” Joanie beamed. “She’s wonderful. She’ll be up from her morning nap soon. I can’t wait for you to see her.”

“It’s hard to imagine.” Vanessa gave the rattle a shake before setting it down again. It made a pretty, musical sound that had her smiling. “You’re a mother.”

“I’m almost used to it.” She took Vanessa’s hand again as they sat on the sofa. “I still can’t believe you’re here. Vanessa Sexton, concert pianist, musical luminary and globe-trotter.”

Vanessa winced. “Oh, please, not her. I left her in D.C.”

“Just let me gloat a minute.” She was still smiling, but her eyes, eyes that were so like her brother’s, were searching Vanessa’s face. “We’re so proud of you. The whole town. There would be something in the paper or a magazine, something on the news—or an event like that PBS special last year. No one would talk about anything else for days. You’re Hyattown’s link to fame and fortune.”

“A weak link,” Vanessa murmured, but she smiled. “Your farm, Joanie—it’s wonderful.”

“Can you believe it? I always thought I’d be living in one of those New York lofts, planning business lunches and fighting for a cab during rush hour.”

“This is better.” Vanessa settled back against the sofa cushions. “Much better.”

Joanie toed off her shoes, then tucked her stockinged feet under her. “It has been for me. Do you remember Jack?”

“I don’t think so. I can’t remember you ever talking about anyone named Jack.”

“I didn’t know him in high school. He was a senior when we were just getting started. I remember seeing him in the halls now and then. Those big shoulders, and that awful buzz haircut during the football season.” She laughed and settled comfortably. “Then, about four years ago, I was giving Dad a hand in the office. I was doing time as a paralegal in Hagerstown.”

“A paralegal?”

“A former life,” Joanie said with a wave of her hand. “Anyway, it was during Dad’s Saturday office hours, and Millie was sick— You remember Millie?”

“Oh, yes.” Vanessa grinned at the memory of Abraham Tucker’s no-nonsense nurse.

“Well, I jumped into the breach for the weekend appointments, and in walks Jack Knight, all six foot three, two hundred and fifty pounds of him. He had laryngitis.” A self-satisfied sigh escaped her. “There was this big, handsome hulk trying to tell me, in cowboy-and-Indian sign language, that no, he didn’t have an appointment, but he wanted to see the doctor. I squeezed him in between a chicken pox and an earache. Dad examined him and gave him a prescription. A couple hours later he was back, with these raggedy-looking violets and a note asking me to the movies. How could I resist?”

Vanessa laughed. “You always were a soft touch.”

Joanie rolled her big blue eyes. “Tell me about it. Before I knew it, I was shopping for a wedding dress and learning about fertilizer. It’s been the best four years of my life.” She shook her head. “But tell me about you. I want to hear everything.”

Vanessa shrugged. “Practice, playing, traveling.”

“Jetting off to Rome, Madrid, Mozambique—”

“Sitting on runways and in hotel rooms,” Vanessa finished for her. “It isn’t nearly as glamorous as it might look.”

“No, I guess partying with famous actors, giving concerts for the queen of England and sharing midnight schmoozes with millionaires gets pretty boring.”

“Schmoozes?” Vanessa had to laugh. “I don’t think I ever schmoozed with anyone.”

“Don’t burst my bubble, Van.” Joanie leaned over to brush a hand down Vanessa’s arm. All the Tuckers were touchers, Vanessa thought. She’d missed that. “For years I’ve had this image of you glittering among the glittery. Celebing among the celebrities, hoitying among the toity.”

“I guess I’ve done my share of hoitying. But mostly I’ve played the piano and caught planes.”

“It’s kept you in shape,” Joanie said, sensing Vanessa’s reluctance to talk about it. “I bet you’re still a damn size four.”

“Small bones.”

“Wait until Brady gets a load of you.”

Her chin lifted a fraction. “I saw him yesterday.”

“Really? And the rat didn’t call me.” Joanie tapped a finger against her lips. There was laughter just beneath them. “So, how did it go?”

“I hit him.”

“You—” Joanie choked, coughed, recovered. “You hit him? Why?”

“For standing me up for his senior prom.”

“For—” Joanie broke off when Vanessa sprang to her feet and began pacing.

“I’ve never been so angry. I don’t care how stupid it sounds. That night was so important to me. I thought it would be the most wonderful, the most romantic night of my life. You know how long we shopped for the perfect dress.”

“Yes,” Joanie murmured. “I know.”

“I’d been looking forward to that night for weeks and weeks.” On a roll now, she swirled around the room. “I’d just gotten my license, and I drove all the way into Frederick to get my hair done. I had this little sprig of baby’s breath behind my ear.” She touched the spot now, but there was no sentiment in the gesture. “Oh, I knew he was unreliable and reckless. I can’t count the number of times my father told me. But I never expected him to dump me like that.”

“But, Van—”

“I didn’t even leave the house for two days after. I was so sick with embarrassment, so hurt. And then, with my parents fighting. It was—oh, it was so ugly. Then my father took me to Europe, and that was that.”

Joanie bit her lip as she considered. There were explanations she could offer, but this was something Brady should straighten out himself. “There might be more to it than you think” was all she said.

Recovered now, Vanessa sat again. “It doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago.” Then she smiled. “Besides, I think I got the venom out when I punched him in the stomach.”

Joanie’s lips twitched in sisterly glee. “I’d like to have seen that.”

“It’s hard to believe he’s a doctor.”

“I don’t think anyone was more surprised than Brady.”

“It’s odd he’s never married…” She frowned. “Or anything.”

“I won’t touch ‘anything,’ but he’s never married. There are a number of women in town who’ve developed chronic medical problems since he’s come back.”

“I’ll bet,” Vanessa muttered.

“Anyway, my father’s in heaven. Have you had a chance to see him yet?”

“No, I wanted to see you first.” She took Joanie’s hands again. “I’m so sorry about your mother. I didn’t know until yesterday.”

“It was a rough couple of years. Dad was so lost. I guess we all were.” Her fingers tightened, taking comfort and giving it. “I know you lost your father. I understand how hard it must have been for you.”

“He hadn’t been well for a long time. I didn’t know how serious it was until, well…until it was almost over.” She rubbed a hand over her stomach as it spasmed. “It helped to finish out the engagements. That would have been important to him.”

“I know.” She was starting to speak again when the intercom on the table crackled. There was a whimper, a gurgle, followed by a stream of infant jabbering. “She’s up and ready to roll.” Joanie rose quickly. “I’ll just be a minute.”

Alone, Vanessa stood and began to wander the room. It was filled with so many little, comforting things. Books on agriculture and child-rearing, wedding pictures and baby pictures. There was an old porcelain vase she remembered seeing in the Tucker household as a child. Through the window she could see the barn, and the cows drowsing in the midday sun.

Like something out of a book, she thought. Her own faded wish book.

“Van?”

She turned to see Joanie in the doorway, a round, dark-haired baby on her hip. The baby swung her feet, setting off the bells tied to her shoelaces.

“Oh, Joanie. She’s gorgeous.”

“Yeah.” Joanie kissed Lara’s head. “She is. Would you like to hold her?”

“Are you kidding?” Van came across the room to take the baby. After a long suspicious look, Lara smiled and began to kick her feet again. “Aren’t you pretty?” Van murmured. Unable to resist, she lifted the baby over her head and turned in a circle while Lara giggled. “Aren’t you just wonderful?”

“She likes you, too.” Joanie gave a satisfied nod. “I kept telling her she’d meet her godmother sooner or later.”

“Her godmother?” Confused, Vanessa settled the baby on her hip again.

“Sure.” Joanie smoothed Lara’s hair. “I sent you a note right after she was born. I knew you couldn’t make it back for the christening, so we had a proxy. But I wanted you and Brady to be her godparents.” Joanie frowned at Vanessa’s blank look. “You got the note, didn’t you?”

“No.” Vanessa rested her cheek against Lara’s. “No, I didn’t. I had no idea you were even married until my mother told me yesterday.”

“But the wedding invitation—” Joanie shrugged. “I guess it could have gotten lost. You were always traveling around so much.”

“Yes.” She smiled again while Lara tugged at her hair. “If I’d known… I’d have found a way to be here if I’d known.”

“You’re here now.”

“Yes.” Vanessa nuzzled Lara’s neck. “I’m here now. Oh, God, I envy you, Joanie.”

“Me?”

“This beautiful child, this place, the look in your eyes when you talk about Jack. I feel like I’ve spent twelve years in a daze, while you’ve made a family and a home and a life.”

“We’ve both made a life,” Joanie said. “They’re just different ones. You have so much talent, Van. Even as a kid I was awed by it. I wanted so badly to play like you.” She laughed and enveloped them both in a hug. “As patient as you were, you could barely get me through ‘Chopsticks.’”

“You were hopeless but determined. And I’m so glad you’re still my friend.”

“You’re going to make me cry again.” After a sniffle, Joanie shook her head. “Tell you what, you play with Lara for a few minutes and I’ll go fix us some lemonade. Then we can be catty and gossip about how fat Julie Newton got.”

“Did she?”

“And how Tommy McDonald is losing his hair.” Joanie hooked an arm through Vanessa’s. “Better yet, come in the kitchen with me. I’ll fill you in on Betty Jean Baumgartner’s third husband.”

“Third?”

“And counting.”

There was so much to think about. Not just the funny stories Joanie had shared with her that day, Vanessa thought as she strolled around the backyard at dusk. She needed to think about her life and what she wanted to do with it. Where she belonged. Where she wanted to belong.

For over a decade she’d had little or no choice. Or had lacked the courage to make one, she thought. She had done what her father wanted. He and her music had been the only constants. His drive and his needs had been so much more passionate than hers. And she hadn’t wanted to disappoint him.

Hadn’t dared, a small voice echoed, but she blocked it off.

She owed him everything. He had dedicated his life to her career. While her mother had shirked the responsibility, he had taken her, he had molded her, he had taught her. Every hour she had worked, he had worked. Even when he had become desperately ill, he had pushed himself, managing her career as meticulously as ever. No detail had ever escaped his notice—just as no flawed note had escaped his highly critical ear. He had taken her to the top of her career, and he had been content to bask in the reflected glory.

It couldn’t have been easy for him, she thought now. His own career as a concert pianist had stalled before he’d hit thirty. He had never achieved the pinnacle he’d so desperately strived for. For him, music had been everything. Finally he’d been able to see those ambitions and needs realized in his only child.

Now she was on the brink of turning her back on everything he had wanted for her, everything he had worked toward. He would never have been able to understand her desire to give up a glowing career. Just as he had never been able to understand, or tolerate, her constant terror of performing.

She could remember it even now, even here in the sheltered quiet of the yard. The gripping sensation in her stomach, the wave of nausea she always battled back, the throbbing behind her eyes as she stood in the wings.

Stage fright, her father had told her. She would outgrow it. It was the one thing she had never been able to accomplish for him.

Yet, despite it, she knew she could go back to the concert stage. She could endure. She could rise even higher if she focused herself. If only she knew it was what she wanted.

Perhaps she just needed to rest. She sat on the lawn glider and sent it gently into motion. A few weeks or a few months of quiet, and then she might yearn for the life she had left behind. But for now she wanted nothing more than to enjoy the purple twilight.

From the glider she could see the lights glowing inside the house, and the neighboring houses. She had shared a meal with her mother in the kitchen—or had tried to. Loretta had seemed hurt when Vanessa only picked at her food. How could she explain that nothing seemed to settle well these days? This empty, gnawing feeling in her stomach simply wouldn’t abate.

A little more time, Vanessa thought, and it would ease. It was only because she wasn’t busy, as she should be. Certainly she hadn’t practiced enough that day, or the day before. Even if she decided to cut back professionally, she had no business neglecting her practice.

Tomorrow, she thought, closing her eyes. Tomorrow was soon enough to start a routine. Lulled by the motion of the glider, she gathered her jacket closer. She’d forgotten how quickly the temperature could dip once the sun had fallen behind the mountains.

She heard the whoosh of a car as it cruised by on the road in front of the house. Then the sound of a door closing. From somewhere nearby, a mother called her child in from play. Another light blinked on in a window. A baby cried. Vanessa smiled, wishing she could dig out the old tent she and Joanie had used and pitch it in the backyard. She could sleep there, just listening to the town.

She turned at the sound of a dog barking, then saw the bright fur of a huge golden retriever. It dashed across the neighboring lawn, over the bed where her mother had already planted her pansies and marigolds. Tongue lolling, it lunged at the glider. Before Vanessa could decide whether to be alarmed or amused, it plopped both front paws in her lap and grinned a dog’s grin.

“Well, hello there.” She ruffled his ears. “Where did you come from?”

“From two blocks down, at a dead run.” Panting, Brady walked out of the shadows. “I made the mistake of taking him to the office today. When I went to put him in the car, he decided to take a hike.” He paused in front of the glider. “Are you going to punch me again, or can I sit down?”

Vanessa continued to pet the dog. “I probably won’t hit you again.”

“That’ll have to do.” He dropped down on the glider and stretched out his legs. The dog immediately tried to climb in his lap. “Don’t try to make up,” Brady said, pushing the dog off again.

“He’s a pretty dog.”

“Don’t flatter him. He’s already got an inflated ego.”

“They say people and their pets develop similarities,” she commented. “What’s his name?”

“Kong. He was the biggest in his litter.” Hearing his name, Kong barked twice, then raced off to chase the shadows. “I spoiled him when he was a puppy, and now I’m paying the price.” Spreading his arms over the back of the glider, he let his fingers toy with the ends of her hair. “Joanie tells me you drove out to the farm today.”

“Yes.” Vanessa knocked his hand away. “She looks wonderful. And so happy.”

“She is happy.” Undaunted, he picked up her hand to play with her fingers. It was an old, familiar gesture. “You got to meet our godchild.”

“Yes.” Vanessa tugged her hand free. “Lara’s gorgeous.”

“Yeah.” He went back to her hair. “She looks like me.”

The laugh came too quickly to stop. “You’re still conceited. And will you keep your hands off me?”

“I never was able to.” He sighed, but shifted away an inch. “We used to sit here a lot, remember?”

“I remember.”

“I think the first time I kissed you, we were sitting here, just like this.”

“No.” She folded her arms across her chest.

“You’re right.” As he knew very well. “The first time was up at the park. You came to watch me shoot baskets.”

She brushed casually at the knee of her slacks. “I just happened to be walking through.”

“You came because I used to shoot without a shirt and you wanted to see my sweaty chest.”

She laughed again, because it was absolutely true. She turned to look at him in the shadowy light. He was smiling, relaxed. He’d always been able to relax, she remembered. And he’d always been able to make her laugh.

“It—meaning your sweaty chest—wasn’t such a big deal.”

“I’ve filled out some,” he said easily. “And I still shoot hoops.” This time she didn’t seem to notice when he stroked her hair. “I remember that day. It was at the end of the summer, before my senior year. In three months you’d gone from being that pesty little Sexton kid to Sexy Sexton with a yard of the most incredible chestnut hair, and these great-looking legs you used to show off in teeny little shorts. You were such a brat. And you made my mouth water.”

“You were always looking at Julie Newton.”

“No, I was pretending to look at Julie Newton while I looked at you. Then you just happened to stroll by the court that day. You’d been to Lester’s Store, because you had a bottle of soda. Grape soda.”

She lifted a brow. “That’s quite a memory you’ve got.”

“Hey, these are the turning points in our lives. You said, ‘Hi, Brady. You look awful hot. Want a sip?’” He grinned again. “I almost took a bite out of my basketball. Then you flirted with me.”

“I did not.”

“You batted your eyes.”

She struggled with a giggle. “I’ve never batted my eyes.”

“You batted them then.” He sighed at the memory. “It was great.”

“As I remember it, you were showing off, doing layups and hook shots or whatever. Macho stuff. Then you grabbed me.”

“I remember grabbing. You liked it.”

“You smelled like a gym locker.”

“I guess I did. It was still my most memorable first kiss.”

And hers, Vanessa thought. She hadn’t realized she was leaning back against his shoulder and smiling. “We were so young. Everything was so intense, and so uncomplicated.”

“Some things don’t have to be complicated.” But sitting there with her head feeling just right on his shoulder, he wasn’t so sure. “Friends?”

“I guess.”

“I haven’t had a chance to ask you how long you’re staying.”

“I haven’t had a chance to decide.”

“Your schedule must be packed.”

“I’ve taken a few months.” She moved restlessly. “I may go to Paris for a few weeks.”

He picked up her hand again, turning it over. Her hands had always fascinated him. Those long, tapering fingers, the baby-smooth palms, the short, practical nails. She wore no rings. He had given her one once—spent the money he’d earned mowing grass all summer on a gold ring with an incredibly small emerald. She’d kissed him senseless when he’d given it to her, and she’d sworn never to take it off.

Childhood promises were carelessly broken by adults. It was foolish to wish he could see it on her finger again.

“You know, I managed to see you play at Carnegie Hall a couple of years ago. It was overwhelming. You were overwhelming.” He surprised them both by bringing her fingers to his lips. Then hastily dropped them. “I’d hoped to see you while we were both in New York, but I guess you were busy.”

The jolt from her fingertips was still vibrating in her toes. “If you had called, I’d have managed it.”

“I did call.” His eyes remained on hers, searching, even as he shrugged it off. “It was then I fully realized how big you’d become. I never got past the first line of defense.”

“I’m sorry. Really.”

“It’s no big deal.”

“No, I would have liked to have seen you. Sometimes the people around me are too protective.”

“I think you’re right.” He put a hand under her chin. She was more beautiful than his memory of her, and more fragile. If he had met her in New York, in less sentimental surroundings, would he have felt so drawn to her? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Friends was what he’d asked of her. He struggled to want no more.

“You look very tired, Van. Your color could be better.”

“It’s been a hectic year.”

“Are you sleeping all right?”

Half-amused, she brushed his hand aside. “Don’t start playing doctor with me, Brady.”

“At the moment I can’t think of anything I’d enjoy more, but I’m serious. You’re run-down.”

“I’m not run-down, just a little tired. Which is why I’m taking a break.”

But he wasn’t satisfied. “Why don’t you come into the office for a physical?”

“Is that your new line? It used to be ‘Let’s go parking down at Molly’s Hole.’”

“I’ll get to that. Dad can take a look at you.”

“I don’t need a doctor.” Kong came lumbering back, and she reached down for him. “I’m never sick. In almost ten years of concerts, I’ve never had to cancel one for health reasons.” She buried her face in the dog’s fur when her stomach clenched. “I’m not going to say it hasn’t been a strain coming back here, but I’m dealing with it.”

She’d always been hardheaded, he thought. Maybe it would be best if he simply kept an eye—a medical eye—on her for a few days. “Dad would still like to see you—personally, if not professionally.”

“I’m going to drop by.” Still bent over the dog, she turned her head. In the growing dark, he caught the familiar gleam in her eye. “Joanie says you’ve got your hands full with women patients. I imagine the same holds true of your father, if he’s as handsome as I remember.”

“He’s had a few…interesting offers. But they’ve eased off since he and your mother hooked up.”

Dumbfounded, Vanessa sat up straight. “Hooked up? My mother? Your father?”

“It’s the hottest romance in town.” He flicked her hair behind her shoulder. “So far.”

“My mother?” she repeated.

“She’s an attractive woman in her prime, Van. Why shouldn’t she enjoy herself?”

Pressing a hand against her stomach, she rose. “I’m going in.”

“What’s the problem?”

“No problem. I’m going in. I’m cold.”

He took her by the shoulders. It was another gesture that brought a flood of memories. “Why don’t you give her a break?” Brady asked. “God knows she’s been punished enough.”

“You don’t know anything about it.”

“More than you think.” He gave her a quick, impatient shake. “Let go, Van. These old resentments are going to eat you from the inside out.”

“It’s easy for you.” The bitterness poured out before she could control it. “It’s always been easy for you, with your nice happy family. You always knew they loved you, no matter what you did or didn’t do. No one ever sent you away.”

“She didn’t send you away, Van.”

“She let me go,” she said quietly. “What’s the difference?”

“Why don’t you ask her?”

With a shake of her head, she pulled away. “I stopped being her little girl twelve years ago. I stopped being a lot of things.” She turned and walked into the house.