Читать книгу Wild Honey - Veronica Sattler - Страница 11

TRAVIS GUIDED his rental car along the narrow shaded streets of Georgetown’s Heights section. He ignored the stately homes with their manicured lawns and picturesque gardens that made up the posh residential neighborhood. He’d seen it before. One of those homes belonged to his family. But no McLean was in residence now. They always went to their Virginia estate in June, staying through September to escape Washington’s notorious summer heat.

Not that he’d drop by if they were here. He was persona non grata with the lofty McLean clan, thanks to his spiteful tyrant of a father, and there was nothing to be done about it. In his own way, your father loves you… Travis’s mouth twisted angrily as Judith McLean’s words echoed through his mind. If that was love, he was damned lucky to have escaped it.

His features steadied with resolve when he spied the entrance to Georgetown University up ahead. His mother had mentioned that Sarah was taking summer courses. With the aim, he supposed, of finishing in three years. He found himself grinning. His sister was a straight-A student with energy to burn. Just like her to be in a hurry!

The grin faded as he slowed for the entrance to the university. By the time he was discharged from the hospital, he’d made up his mind to visit her. If she’d see him. At one time he’d never have questioned this; Sarah was a gutsy little thing and had always had a mind of her own. But five years could change a person, especially one as young as his baby sister. No telling how well the old bastard had succeeded in intimidating her.

Well, he thought as he swung into the entrance drive, he’d soon find out.

“TRAVIS! OH, Lord, is it really you?” Sarah McLean’s voice rose with excitement as she flew down the stairs of the old mansion that housed her sorority. Breathless, caught between laughter and tears, she reached the landing and flung herself at her brother. “Oh, Travis, I can’t believe it. You’re here!”

“In the flesh, pumpkin,” Travis managed past the lump in his throat, “in the everlovin’ flesh.” His left arm was still in a sling, yet he caught the slender brunette to him with his right, lifting her off the floor with ease.

Both laughing and crying, Sarah wound her arms around his neck, clinging as if she’d never let go. “Travis McLean,” she said, “I’d kill you if I didn’t love you so much! How come you never wrote? Never answered my letters?”

She found herself swiftly lowered to the floor, her brother’s eyes leveled intently on hers. “I never received any letters, Sarah,” he said quietly. “And I wrote over two dozen before I finally gave up.”

“But…but…”

“It’s easy to guess what happened,” he said, taking in her bewildered face. “You wrote from Sunnyfields?”

“Well, yes, since it was summer. But I always put the letters in the mailbox myself or gave them to Higgins to…”

“Yeah, well, rural mailboxes have a way of bein’ accessible to others besides the postman,” Travis said grimly. “And Higgins’s salary, of course, is paid by—”

“Daddy.” Sarah shook her head and heaved a sigh. “I s’pose I was pretty naive, but I never dreamed a servant who’s known me all my life would—”

“How ‘bout the father who’s known you all your life?” Travis asked bitterly.

Before she could respond, a pair of sorority sisters banged through the front door, calling out greetings to Sarah. She waved to them, then looked at her brother. “We can’t stay here and talk decently,” she murmured sotto voce, “so let’s find—God in heaven! What happened to your arm?”

“Nothin’ mortal, darlin’, and it hardly even hurt, I swear.” Travis put his free arm around her shoulders and ushered her toward the door. “I’ll tell you ‘bout it when we get some privacy if you want.”

“I want,” she said firmly. Just like Travis to make light of an injury. Her tone told him she wouldn’t be put off by some fairy tale.

The sorority sisters, dressed in cutoffs and T-shirts boasting Greek letters, had paused in the vestibule. They eyed Travis with interest. Not surprised—her brother definitely qualified as a hunk—Sarah took pity on them and performed introductions. Then she and Travis headed outside.

The sultry weather made it impossible to remain outdoors for long. They drove to an air-conditioned coffee shop Sarah knew would be deserted at that hour. Left alone after the waitress had served them a pair of iced coffees, brother and sister both spoke at once.

“Tell me about that…”

“Tell me all about…”

They laughed in unison, their eyes meeting with a shared humor that said the past five years might never have been. They’d always been close, despite the fourteen-year difference in their ages. Realizing how deeply he’d missed that closeness, Travis silently cursed himself for not engineering a reunion sooner. “You first, pumpkin,” he said with a hint of chagrin.

“The arm,” she replied with a gesture at his sling. “All you told me in the car was that it was just a flesh wound.”

He gave her a lopsided grin. “Not good enough, huh?”

“Better believe it,” she said as she reached for her coffee.

He sighed, then gave an edited version of the shoot-out that had resulted in the deaths of several members of an international drug cartel. For security reasons, he didn’t name names; he suggested she go to the library and view microfiches of the Miami Herald for the date in question if she really wanted to know more.

“No thanks,” said Sarah with a wave of her hand. She leaned back in her chair and studied him. A. look of awe dawned on her pretty face. It reminded him of the way she’d looked at him once when he’d scored a winning touchdown for the Harvard football team.

“So you’re truly in the thick of it.” She shook her head slowly. “Spyin’, runnin’ around the globe, chasin’ after—”

“Not all that much anymore,” he interrupted with a shrug. “The world’s changed in the past few years. Our focus has had to change with it. It’s true CIA officers have mostly operated overseas, largely as diplomats, but—”

“Diplomats?” she asked archly.

Travis smiled. “Officially, anyway. But nowadays there’s an increasin’ emphasis on NOCs.”

“Knocks?”

“N-O-C-S,” he said, spelling out the acronym; he was aware this information was public knowledge and didn’t compromise security. “Stands for ‘nonofficial covers’. What it usually means is that the agent is quietly placed in an American business that operates overseas, rather than in some war-torn country. Or, as was more often the case, in an embassy, through the diplomatic corps.”

“But why?” Sarah had done some reading on the CIA since learning her brother worked for it. She knew about the dangers for men who did “field work.” And about case officers who’d operated during the Cold War. Under embassy cover, they’d cruise foreign ministries and cocktail parties, collecting intelligence on the former Soviet Union and its satellites.

“Well,” Travis said, “more and more, we find ourselves dealin’ with individuals who aren’t fightin’ guerrilla wars and aren’t on the diplomatic circuit. Nuclear smugglers, terrorists, drug traffi—”

“Please! I don’t think I want to know that much, after all.” She shuddered. “But it’s clear you’re still brushin’ up against some dangerous characters, Trav. Seein’ you in that—” she gestured at the sling “—well, it wouldn’t be normal if I didn’t worry, would it?”

“No, I reckon it wouldn’t,” he said with a tender smile.

She took a sip of coffee, then stared pensively into the glass. “Mother worries too, Trav,” she said quietly. “She never talks much about it.” She met his gaze. “But she’s taken to readin’ the Post more than she ever did before you left. And when she’s done, I see the worry in her eyes.”

He nodded and told her about their mother’s visit to the hospital.

“Trav, that’s wonderful! She finally mustered the courage to see you.”

He stifled an obscenity and glared at her. “Come off it, Sarah! Wonderful? What’s so wonderful about a fifty-nineyear-old woman needin’ courage to see her own son?”

Sarah winced at the bitterness in his voice. With a deep sigh, she reached for his hand on the table and gave it a squeeze; the squeeze was returned, and she smiled sadly. “It’s been awful for everyone, havin’ the family ripped apart like this. Mother’s suffered the most, I think. You must know how difficult Daddy made it for—”

“What, exactly, did Daddy do, Sarah?” He’d wanted to ask their mother, but somehow hadn’t been able to; the encounter had been awkward enough as it was. “What’d the SOB threaten? To disinherit you ‘n’ Troy, maybe? That’d make sense, I s’pose. Unlike me, y’all had your schoolin’ to complete. But Mother has her own money, from her trust. Y’all would hardly’ve gone penniless if she’d stood her ground.”

Sarah heaved a sigh and shook her head. “Unfortunately Daddy knew exactly where we were vulnerable. You see—” pain and anger flashed in her eyes “—he threatened to refuse to help Troy pass his surgeon’s boards.”

Travis swore vehemently under his breath. Pushed into medicine despite having no aptitude for it, Troy had had a difficult time of it. Quiet gentle Troy, who’d gone dutifully to med school, remaining there only through vast amounts of time and money spent on tutors. They’d all known that passing his surgery boards would be the biggest hurdle. That Trent McLean himself, brilliant surgeon that he was, had been the one who was supposed to see Troy through them.

“Maybe not passin’ them would have been the best thing that could’ve happened to Troy,” he said angrily. “Maybe then he could’ve joined Aunt Louise at Stanford.” If Troy had to be in medicine, they both believed he’d have been happier in research. As his mother had reminded him, an aunt in research at the West Coast institution had offered to sponsor him. But their father had insisted on surgery. Just as he had with Travis.

“Maybe,” Sarah replied, “but I don’t think Mother was willin’ to take the chance with Troy’s future. And you were right about the will, incidentally. That was the first thing Daddy threatened, along with forbiddin’ Mother to help you.”

Travis snorted. He’d had no doubt he’d been cut off, but money was never that important to him; lean years in the military had told him he could live without luxuries. No, losing his inheritance was the least of his regrets.

“What about you, Sarah?” he asked, studying her face. “Happy in the family career plan?”

She eyed him carefully, aware she was about to drop a bombshell. “I’m not in the family career plan any longer, Travis. As of last semester, I’m not pre-med, but pre-law.”

“Huh?” His bemused look was almost comical, and she grinned at him.

“I said I’m—”

“I heard you,” he cut in dazedly, “but I still don’t believe it. What happened?”

She smothered a giggle. “Steve Townsend happened, for one thing, although that only started the process.”

“Who the hell is Steve Townsend?”

She was smiling, and he thought he detected a blush under her tan. “He’s…well, let’s just say he’s my new ‘significant other.’ He also happens to be a top-performin’ second-year law student at Georgetown.”

Travis groaned. “I think I’m beginnin’ to get the picture.” Holy Hannah! She imagines she’s in love, and now—

“No,” Sarah said, “I don’t think you do. I may or may not be in love with Steve. I haven’t decided yet—too soon to tell, I expect. But my feelin’s for the man had nothin’ to do with my decision, Trav. What happened was, after we began seein’ each other, I helped Steve with some research…” She paused as if to gather her thoughts and took a sip of coffee.

“And—?” he prompted irritably. He wasn’t certain why he felt irritated, but he felt a vague stirring of guilt. A voice niggled at the back of his mind, saying she was following in his footsteps and no good could come of it. It was one thing to be the rebel himself, but another matter entirely for his kid sister to be influenced enough to take the same route.

“And,” she said, “in helpin’ with that research, I stumbled across a discipline that fascinated me. I mean fascinated in a way medicine never could. It’s a whole new world, Trav, and I can’t get into it fast enough.”

He stared at her, hearing the conviction in her voice. It wasn’t the boyfriend, then; he’d only been a catalyst. That was a relief, but his stirring of guilt only grew; he realized just how gutsy his little sister was—and perhaps just how like himself she was.

“Does Father know about this?” he asked tightly.

“About Steve?” she asked, deliberately misinterpreting.

“You know what I mean,” he growled, then offered a sheepish smile. “Sorry, pumpkin. Guess I’m still havin’ a hard time digestin’ this. But since you brought him up…”

“Not to worry on that score,” she assured him. “Steve’s been out to the farm a few times, and they like him. ‘Course, I haven’t mentioned that we’ll be sharin’ an apartment in the fall, but I’m workin’ on it.” She grinned. “By the time it happens…well, they’ll adjust to the idea.”

Little Sarah, all grown up. Travis wondered if he could adjust to the idea. He shook his head, as if to clear it of outgrown notions.

“Back to the big one,” he reminded her. “You haven’t told them ‘bout your new career, have you?” He knew that his mother would’ve said something if she had.

“Not yet. They all think my takin’ summer courses is to finish early. I’m actually pickin’ up credits for pre-law.”

He stifled a groan, but Sarah caught the hint of regret in his eyes. “Don’t you dare go blamin’ yourself for my decision, Travis McLean! Or gettin’ involved, either. It’s about time the men in this family realize a woman—especially this woman—is capable of makin’ her own choices.”

He seemed to chew on this, silent as he sipped his iced coffee. She watched him, wondering what he was thinking. Not too long ago she’d come across material about controlling parents in some of her course work. One of the things that had made an impression on her was that controlling parents—like her father—often spawned controlling offspring. And Travis had always, though in a far gentier manner than their father, been a little too ready to take over the lives of those he cared about.

Sarah wasn’t worried about herself. She was strong enough to resist his well-meaning impulses. But she worried about him Would this blind spot in her otherwise sensitive brother cause him problems someday?

“Sarah—” Travis’s voice was concerned when he finally spoke “—are you sure, absolutely sure, about this thing?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anythin’ in my life.”

He nodded. He believed her. But sweet God almighty, did she realize what a bomb she’d be dropping? Smack in the middle of their already fragmented family? Did she see the enormity of this? Was she prepared to be cut off-like him?

“Look, Sarah,” he began carefully, “you know what’ll be runnin’ through his mind when he hears. Maybe I can—”

“Hold it right there, big brother! I meant what I said. I’m a big girl now, and I don’t need you runnin’ interference for me. I want your promise—right now—that you’ll stay out of it. It was my decision, no matter what you think, and I’ll handle it. Promise me you’ll respect that.”

He expelled a long breath, then regarded her adamant face. “You’ve got it,” he said. Baby sister really had grown up. Grown up smarter and gutsier than he’d ever suspected. He’d loved her from the first, but now he really admired her, too.

Yet as he escorted her out, Travis couldn’t help worrying that Sarah’s decision would wrench the family further apart. One thing hadn’t changed: the old man was still a heartless bastard who’d never tolerated being crossed.