Banner O'Brien Page 11

  He shook his head in furious despair. What the hell was he thinking thoughts like that for, when he’d never used force with a woman in his life? Damn, he’d never even had to pay a whore, let alone resort to rape.

  Muttering to himself, Adam wrenched his coat from a peg near the back door, took up the heavy basket Maggie had packed, however grudgingly, and left without another word.

  The sleigh awaited him in front of the stables, hitched to two of the sturdiest horses available. The usual supplies—coffee, flour, sugar, warm clothes—had been loaded behind the seat.

  He was just taking up the reins when Jeff rode in on his sorrel gelding. The sight of his brother made Adam laugh in spite of everything—his shirt was open almost to his waist, weather notwithstanding, and he wore no coat. His hair was rumpled and there were smudges of red lip rouge on his chin and just beneath his right nipple.

  Jeff looked the sleigh over and slid from his saddle. “Another mysterious journey?” he drawled, and there was anger in his gaze, along with a certain broken satisfaction.

  Adam ignored the question. This was ground they had covered before, and much as he would have liked to tell Jeff everything, he couldn’t. Especially not Jeff. “You look like you’ve been held prisoner in a brothel for the last two weeks,” he jibed, instead.

  Jeff grinned as a stable hand came to lead his horse into the barn. “Actually, it was only about half an hour,” he retorted. “Before that, I was willing.”

  Adam laughed again and brought down the reins with a determined motion. Beneath his amusement was the conviction that if he got to pondering the circumstances that had driven his brother to spend the night on the Silver Shadow there would be a loud argument.

  * * *

  Happily, Banner pronounced Clarence King well enough to get dressed and spend the day at the pond with everyone else. “No skating, though,” she added, wagging an index finger in warning. “If you fell, you could reopen your wounds.”

  Clarence promised that he wouldn’t skate and was joyfully flinging back his covers to dress when Banner left the ward for the outer office.

  Francelle was there, at her infernal typewriting machine, looking quietly vicious. “Adam isn’t here!” she snarled before Banner had a chance to speak at all.

  “I know that,” Dr. O’Brien retorted, though she had, until then, nursed a certain foolish hope that Adam might have changed his mind and stayed. “Are there any appointments scheduled today?”

  “No,” answered Francelle, bristling. “After all, the skating party starts at ten.”

  Banner drew a deep breath. “Francelle, people do hurt themselves and fall ill, even when there is a party going on.”

  Francelle shrugged. “Everyone will know to look for you at the pond, even if you don’t write where you are on the slateboard outside,” she said, in tones that betrayed a profound hope that Dr. O’Brien would be called away.

  “You don’t like me very much, do you, Francelle?” Long fingers poised over the typewriting keys, the girl shook her head. “Actually, no.”

  “Why not?”

  “I saw Adam kissing you.”

  Banner blushed a little, remembering. “And?”

  “And I knew him first. I love Adam.”

  “I see. And does he return the sentiment?”

  Despair shimmered in Francelle’s velvet-brown eyes. “He thinks I’m a child—a child, and I’m seventeen! Papa said the best way to suit myself for marriage to a doctor was to work in his office, but—”

  Banner suddenly felt sorry for Francelle, but because she knew the girl would not welcome her sympathy, she disguised it. “I’m glad the snow stopped.”

  Francelle didn’t even glance at the window, with its tracery of frost, and she clearly wasn’t going to be diverted from the subject at hand. “He has a woman, you know. Nobody knows who she is, but he visits her once a month, no matter what.”

  Banner forced herself to smile, to look as if she didn’t care. “So?”

  “So don’t you feel kind of—well—cheap, going around kissing somebody else’s fellow?”

  Fury sang in Banner’s veins and she stiffened, but before she could answer back Melissa came in, her dark curls glistening around a flushed, animated face.

  “Breakfast is ready!” she sang out. “And then we skate!”

  “I’ve eaten,” said Francelle in lofty tones, turning back to her machine.

  Melissa caught hold of Banner’s arm and fairly dragged her out through the ward and the long walkway. “Don’t mind Francelle,” she whispered. “She wants Adam in the worst way, and he’s so oblivious to her that he’d probably hang his coat on her if she stood still long enough.”

  Banner’s laugh was thin, for Francelle’s words were still ringing in her mind. He has a woman—nobody knows who she is—he visits her once a month.

  * * *

  The skating pond was hidden away in the woods in back of the house, and there was already a giant bonfire going at its edge when Banner and Melissa arrived.

  Several dozen people were there, the women watching and calling out encouragement, the men sweeping away the snow that covered the ice. Soon enough, the first skaters were venturing out.

  Pure glee swelled in Banner O’Brien’s throat at the thought of skating again—it was a pleasure she hadn’t enjoyed since her childhood. She sat down on a pine log, beside Melissa, and began undoing her shoes.

  But the thick gloves she was wearing made her fingers awkward, and she was still struggling with the last buttons on her shoes when Jeff suddenly appeared before her. “Allow me,” he said.

  Banner extended one foot in queenly acquiescence, while Melissa bounded off the log and made her way toward the pond, eager to skate.

  Jeff’s hands were deft, and he had Banner’s shoes off and her skates on and laced in no time. Rising from his haunches, he suavely offered his arm.

  The ice was bumpy in places, and Banner was wobbly, not having skated in so long a time, but Jeff managed to hold her up until her muscles remembered the mechanics of the sport and came into play.

  All around, other skaters whizzed by, like colorful etchings from a picture book, and the sky above was a pearlescent blue. The crackling bonfire and the scent of the surrounding pine trees added to the festive nature of the scene.

  “Do you have a party like this every Christmas?” asked Banner, smiling up into Jeff’s slightly wan face.

  He nodded, handsome in his woolly brown coat and dark trousers. “If it’s cold enough, yes.”

  Just then Katherine flashed by, laughing, her arm linked through that of Francelle’s father, the senator.

  “I didn’t think she liked him,” Banner remarked in a whisper.

  Jeff grinned. “She says he’s pompous and unbending,” he confided conspiratorially. “But she wants to make sure that the suffrage bill gets proper consideration in the legislature.”

  “Will it?”

  He considered. “I suppose. Even if it becomes law, though, it will still have to withstand the inevitable public outrage.”

  Banner frowned, sorry she’d pursued the subject but unable to give up the chase. “I honestly do not understand why anyone should be outraged, as you put it. After all—”

  Jeff held up one finger. “Wait. You don’t need to convince me, Banner. Believe me, I’m on your side.”

  They were stopped now, facing each other in the flood of happy skaters. “Even though liquor and brothels might be outlawed as a result of granting suffrage?”

  Almost imperceptibly, Jeff winced. “Liquor can be smuggled into the country,” he said after a moment. “And a man wouldn’t need to go to a brothel if he—”

  Banner blushed and skated away.

  “If he had a wife!” Jeff yelled after her, and in seconds he was beside her again, laughing at her with his eyes, guiding her hand through the crook of his elbow.

  Banner tried to ignore the amused glances of the other skaters. “Lots of those men have wives,” she whisp
ered furiously. Given her experiences with Sean, she was in a position to know. “And they still go to brothels!”

  “When I have a wife, I’ll be faithful to her,” he said.

  “You say that now,” Banner scoffed, and a part of her spirit, untroubled in the years since Sean had gone to jail, pulsed in rhythm with an old pain.

  Jeff stopped her again, forced her to face him. “Someone hurt you very badly, didn’t they, Banner?”

  She swallowed hard and nodded her head.

  “Who?”

  “I can’t tell you that,” she whispered miserably. “Not now, anyway. Please, Jeff.”

  He touched her cheek with a gloved hand and nodded. “All right, Banner—all right.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Banner!” Melissa came to an impressive stop inches away, her cheeks glowing, her eyes bright. “Come with me—I need you.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  Melissa flung an eloquent look at her brother and grimaced. “Jiggers, do I have to explain it now? I just need you, that’s all!”

  Banner followed her young friend off the ice and then trudged awkwardly after her until they were well into the dense woods. “What—”

  Melissa stepped behind a hazelnut bush and crouched.

  “Couldn’t you have done this alone?” Banner demanded, annoyed.

  “Of course not,” chimed Melissa. “It would have been a violation of the code of womanhood.”

  “Good Lord.”

  Melissa was righting her drawers and arranging her red woolen skirts. “Do you like Jeff?”

  Banner rolled her eyes. “Yes. Don’t you?”

  Melissa giggled. “I have to, goose—he’s my brother. Do you like him enough to kiss him and things like that?”

  “No!”

  “Good.”

  “What do you mean, ‘good’?”

  They were making their way back toward the pond now, shaky on their skates.

  “I want you to marry Adam,” Melissa announced, by way of an answer, and she was so matter of fact that Banner laughed out loud.

  “I see.”

  Melissa frowned prettily. “I wonder if he’d stop calling you O’Brien all the time, if you were his wife.”

  “Yes,” answered Banner, warm and kind of achy at the thought of being Adam’s wife. “He’d probably start calling me Corbin.”

  Melissa laughed. “You’re right,” she said, and then, reaching the pond’s edge again, the little scamp blithely skated away, leaving Banner on her own.

  “Hello, again,” said Temple Royce from beside Banner.

  Taken aback, Banner said nothing. It was surprising to encounter Mr. Royce here, considering the attitude Jeff had taken toward him the day before during the shopping expedition.

  Mr. Royce spread his elegantly gloved hands. Somehow he had divined Banner’s thoughts. “Mrs. Corbin invites the entire community to events like this. Since they’re always held outdoors, she doesn’t have to count the silverware afterward.”

  Banner was embarrassed and changed the subject. “How is Dr. Henderson?”

  “He’s recovering. How are you?”

  Banner gave some inane answer and then spotted Jeff out of the corner of one eye. He was approaching rapidly. To avoid the confrontation she knew was coming, she muttered a polite farewell to Mr. Royce and skated toward her friend.

  “What did he want?” Jeff scowled.

  Banner bridled a little. “For heaven’s sake, he was just passing the time of day!”

  Jeff subsided, but only grudgingly. “I’m sorry,” he said, at great length.

  Banner smiled at him. “Could we go and stand by the fire awhile? I’m cold.”

  At the fireside, Banner talked with Jenny while Jeff went off in search of hot chocolate. But Dr. O’Brien’s heart was far, far away, on the mountain where Adam was visiting his mistress.

  * * *

  At midday, Adam stopped the sleigh. The mountain was silent around him, except for the snorting of the tired horses and the occasional whisper of snow dropping from a tree bough.

  He shouted, and his breath made a white plume in the air. There was no answer.

  A familiar fear rose within him, but he fought it down. They were around somewhere, watching. Waiting. Knowing.

  Adam found a tin cup and the metal bottle of coffee Maggie always sent along. After two sips, he drew the flask from the inside pocket of his coat and added a stiff shot of brandy.

  Fifteen or twenty minutes later he gave the horses the feed he’d brought along and shouted again.

  This time, his greeting was returned.

  He set aside his coffee and began unloading the sleigh, stacking everything on a patch of snowless, needle-softened ground under a Douglas fir. The loamy scent of this little speck of earth soothed him, reminded him that spring would come eventually.

  When the food and clothing and supplies had all been carried to the base of the tree, he settled back against the rough trunk to wait. Sometimes they came; sometimes they didn’t.

  This time, they didn’t. After waiting over half an hour longer, Adam scanned the mountainside one final time, muttered angrily, and got back into the sleigh. The jingling of the harness bells made him think of O’Brien, made him long for her with an intensity that bordered on pain.

  Added to this was his despair. He opened the flask again and drank directly from it this time, swallowing brandy in searing gulps that gradually eased the knowing, the hurting.

  When the pain came back, he endured it.

  * * *

  The Corbin Christmas tree was a shimmering thing, though there were no candles in its boughs. It was covered with intricate, fragile ornaments and shiny spirals of gold and silver foil. Ribbons graced it, as did the magnificent star at its top.

  Banner tucked her carefully wrapped gifts into the branches, with the others that were already hidden there, and stepped back to admire the effect. It felt good to celebrate the holy birth again, to have someone to give presents to.

  “Have your toes thawed out yet? Mine haven’t.”

  Banner started. She’d thought that she was alone in the parlor, but now she saw Keith sitting in a chair near the fireplace, his bare feet stretched out toward the blaze.

  She smiled. The house was very quiet, now that the party was over and the family had gone off to hear midnight mass. “I’m quite warm, thank you.”

  He stood in a mannerly fashion and then sat down again, indicating the chair next to his with a gesture of invitation.

  Banner took the chair and folded her hands in her lap.

  “Why didn’t you go to church with everyone else, Dr. O’Brien?”

  Even though she ached inside—no matter how she tried not to notice, Adam wasn’t back from the mountain yet—Banner shrugged offhandedly.

  “Are you an infidel, like me?”

  Banner considered her divorce from Sean. “I guess I am,” she said.

  “Aren’t you going to ask how I managed to grow up in a fine Catholic family and end up as a Methodist?”

  Banner smiled. “I’m sure it’s none of my business. Why is it that there are no candles on your Christmas tree?”

  Keith laughed at the deft change of subject. “Adam won’t allow it. Too much danger of fire.”

  Adam. Now, how had he gotten into this conversation, when she had been trying so hard not to think about him? “Does he always dictate such things?”

  “Usually. Despite her modern thinking, Mama often defers to him. For all intents and purposes, he’s the head of the family.”

  “Adam is something of a tyrant, I think,” Banner said gently, her mind straying up the mountain again, in search of her heart.

  “I’ve never heard anyone condemned so tenderly,” observed Keith. “What do you really think of him, Banner?”

  “You won’t tell?”

  “You know I won’t, Banner.”

  “I think I love Adam.”

  Keith gave a startling shout of joy and b
ounded out of his chair to face Banner. “If he asked you to marry him, would you accept?”

  Banner blushed. She’d never intended to love again, let alone marry, but she hadn’t counted on Adam Corbin, either. “Yes,” she said miserably.

  Keith shouted again and then bent to kiss her forehead soundly. “Tell Adam how you feel, Banner.”

  “I couldn’t!”

  “Why not?”

  “It would be fast! And suppose he said—”

  “You might be surprised at what he’d say, Banner. Adam cares for you.”

  “But it’s only been a week since we met!”

  Keith turned away, took a small package from the mantelpiece. After a glance at the clock there, he came and placed the gift in Banner’s lap. “Adam asked me to give you this if he wasn’t back by now.”

  Banner’s heart surged into her throat and thumped a mad cadence there. Her fingers trembled as she undid the narrow ribbon and the tissue paper, and tears burned in her eyes when she lifted the lid of the wooden box inside and saw the pendant.

  It was a shamrock formed of gold filligree and suspended from a delicate chain.

  Keith kissed the top of her bowed head and discreetly left the room.

  For a time, Banner was too overcome to rise out of her chair. Presently, however, a distant metallic clamor brought her out of her dreamy state.

  After clasping the beautiful pendant around her neck, the skirts of her blue taffeta dress rustling musically, Banner made her way through the house to the walkway. There, she quickened her step, for she heard another clatter followed by a thundering, continuous crash.

  Clarence was snoring in his bed, undisturbed, so Banner hurried on.

  She found Adam in one of the examining rooms, and the sight of him made her forget the lovely shamrock at her throat. His shirt was open to his midsection, his hair was rumpled, and there was a stubble of a new beard darkening his face.

  He weaved unsteadily and grinned. “Hello, O’Brien,” he said, in the singular slur of the hopelessly inebriated, “and Happy Christmas to you.”

  Banner looked at the variety of surgical instruments scattered over the floor. “What happened?”

  Adam shrugged. “Spilled the damn things. Will you sleep with me tonight, O’Brien?”