and warmth. And then reality thrust itself into my consciousness, and with a rush of sudden intense pain I remembered the events of yesterday.
Sebastian was dead. I would never see him again.
I held myself still, breathing deeply, thinking about him, recalling so much about him, so many little things. We had been divorced for eight years, and I hadn’t seen all that much of him in the last three. But before then he had been such an important and integral part of my life for over twenty-one years. Twenty-one. An auspicious number to me. I had been twenty-one years old when Sebastian had first made love to me.
His image was so very clear in my mind at this moment. I saw him exactly as he was that year, 1979. I was twenty-one. He was forty-one. Twenty years older than I, but he never seemed it, not ever.
Closing my eyes, I pictured him walking into the library downstairs. It was the night of my twenty-first birthday. Sebastian had thrown a fantastic party for me at Laurel Creek Farm, held in two flower-decked marquees in the garden. The food had been delicious, the wine superb, the band the best, imported for the occasion from Manhattan. It had been a glorious evening. Until Luciana had ruined it. She had been so nasty to me toward the end of the evening I had been taken by surprise, thrown off balance, and horrified by the mean and hateful things she had said to me. Stunned and hurt, I had fled. I had come home to Ridgehill…
Tires screeched, slowed to a stop on the gravel. A car door banged ferociously.
A split-second later Sebastian stormed into the library, his body taut, his face white.
Forlornly, I stood by the French windows leading out to the garden. My handkerchief was screwed into a damp ball in my hand; tears were still close to the surface.
I had never seen him looking so furious before, and as I stared at him I realized he was terribly upset.
He stared back at me, and his eyes were chips of blue ice in his drawn face. “Why did you run away like that? Like a frightened colt?” he demanded in a stern voice. Then he crossed the room in a few long strides and drew to a standstill in front of me, stood looking down at me.
I was silent.
“Why?” he demanded again.
“I can’t tell you.”
“You can tell me anything, and you know it! You’ve been confiding in me since you were a little girl,” he said, his anger still apparent but under tight control.
“I just can’t. Not about this.”
“Why not?”
I continued to gape at him stupidly. Then I shook my head emphatically. “I can’t.”
“Come along,” he exclaimed in a warmer, more cajoling tone. “We’ve always been such good friends, you and I. Real pals. Vivienne, please tell me what happened, what made you bolt.”
When I said nothing, he went on swiftly, “It was Luciana, wasn’t it? She upset you.”
I nodded, but still I did not open my mouth.
“She hurt you…she said something…contemptible. Didn’t she?”
“How do you know?”
“I know my daughter only too well,” he snapped. “Tell me what she said.”
“Sebastian, I can’t. I’m not a snitch.”
He scrutinized me a little more intently, and nodded to himself. “Integrity’s bred in the bone, especially in your bones. Do you know, Vivienne, you’re the most honorable person I’ve ever met, and whilst I understand your reluctance to tell tales out of school, I do think you ought to confide in me. After all, the party was very special…to us both. Certainly giving it for you meant a great deal to me, and I was startled when you ran off the way you did, looking so upset. In all fairness, I think you should tell me exactly what happened.”
He was right, of course he was. Taking a deep breath, I plunged: “She said I was a problem to you. A nuisance. That you wanted to be rid of me. She said you resented me, resented having to look after me, having to pay my tuition at Wellesley. She said I was a charity case, a nobody, just the brat of one of your—” I stopped short, unable to continue, and swallowed hard.
“Go on,” he commanded in a clipped, rather brusque tone.
“Luciana…She said I was just the brat of…of one of your whores,” I whispered.
His mouth tightened in anger, and I waited for him to explode. But he did not. He merely shook his head, looking dismayed, and muttered in a tight voice, “She’s a liar, my daughter. There are times, Vivienne, when I believe she’s the cleverest liar I’ve ever known. A better liar than Cyrus, and that’s saying something. But she’s very often foolhardy, stupid in the lies she tells. As she has been tonight. Yes, Luciana is a little fool.”
“I’m not a nuisance to you, am I?” I whispered.
“Of course not! Surely you must know that by now. Haven’t I proved to you that I care about you, care about your well-being? And what about your party? I wanted to give it for you, and I enjoyed doing so.”
I nodded. I could not say a word. It wasn’t that I was tongue-tied. Rather, I was mortified and angry with myself. I realized how ridiculous I must look to him, how untrusting of him I must appear. He had never let me down, and I knew him to be a scrupulous man, a man of his word. Naturally he didn’t resent me. Nor did it matter to him what my school fees cost, or my clothes and my upkeep. Money had never mattered to him. He had so much of it, he was almost contemptuous of it. Or so it seemed to me. Certainly he gave a great deal of it away. I had been an idiot, listening to Luciana. She had driven me away because she was jealous of me and my relationship with her father. All of a sudden I thought of her jealousy when we were children. She had manipulated me tonight; worst of all, I had allowed that manipulation.
He put his hand under my chin and lifted my face to his. “Tears, Vivienne? Oh dear, what a sad ending to such a beautiful evening.”
“I’m sorry, Sebastian,” I answered, sounding choked. “I’m so very sorry.”
Wiping my damp cheeks with his hand, he murmured, “Hush, darling, hush, there’s nothing to be sorry about.”
“I shouldn’t have listened to her.”
“No, you shouldn’t,” he agreed. “And remember, don’t pay attention to a thing she says in the future. Or anything Jack says, for that matter. He’s not quite as bad as she is, and he’s not a liar, but he can be devious.”
“I won’t listen to either of them,” I promised. I took a step forward, looked up into those bright blue eyes which were so carefully regarding me. My own expression was intense. “Please say it’s all right between us.”
His sudden wide smile made his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Nothing will ever come between us, Vivienne. We’re far too close, and we always have been. We’re friends for life, you and I. There’s a very special bond there. Well, there is, isn’t there?”
I nodded. I couldn’t speak. I was overwhelmed by him, by the potency of his looks, his sexuality; and I was engulfed by my own erupting emotions. I wanted him to belong to me, I wanted to belong to him in the truest sense. I tried to say something but no words would come.
Looking momentarily puzzled, he gave me a questioning glance, his eyes narrowing as he said, “You’ve got the most peculiar expression on your face. What are you thinking?”
I took another step nearer, leaned into him, and kissed him on the cheek. Finally finding my voice, I said, “I was thinking how wonderful you are, and how wonderful you’ve always been to me. And I want to thank you for my birthday party. My very special party.”
“You’re very welcome,” he said.
Holding my head on one side, I gazed up into