Banjo Man Page 15

  Glasses were raised and words of welcome scattered like confetti as Laurie smiled in surprise.

  “She’s a fine young girl, our Laurie, no matter what.”

  Laurie’s smile faded. “Dad, I—”

  “No, wait, sweetie, I’ve got one more thing to say. It’s a surprise, and I’m so proud of my little girl, I want to share it with everyone.”

  Laurie’s face went blank. What could her father possibly have to surprise her with? A queasy, sickening fear swept through her.

  “Laurie’s been working for Senator Murphy for only a couple of months now, and already my girl has gotten herself a promotion!”

  Laurie started to rise, trying to stem the flow of his words. “No, Dad, you’re wrong—”

  Bill O’Neill laughed jovially and reached over to touch her shoulder lightly. “That’s my Laurie, always humble. No, my dear, I’m not wrong. Why, I spoke to the senator not more than three hours ago.”

  “No …”

  “Yup, and he told me what a fine job you were doin’, and that he wanted to take full advantage of someone so fine and honest and capable.” He paused for effect, and Laurie slumped back into the chair as her father continued.

  “It just so happens that the fine senator is up for reelection next year, and wants to open a campaign office right here in Pittsburgh. What’s more, he wants our little Laurie to manage it for him—right here—back where she belongs.”

  Laurie didn’t feel the warmth of the smiles that approved her father’s announcement, nor did she feel herself jerk Rick’s restraining hand off her arm. She didn’t feel herself rise. All she felt was an incredible anger tearing at her, peeling off layers of old habits, inhibitions, fears.

  Slowly, she faced her father, her eyes wide, and flashing with a strength she didn’t even know she had. “No, Dad.”

  “No? Of course you will, Laurie. I already told him you would.”

  “Well, I will take the responsibility of telling him I won’t.”

  Her abrupt departure left no room for argument.

  She climbed the stairs and flung herself on the bed that was still covered by the same frilly bedspread of her youth. She lay there, staring out the window at the familiar pattern of trees and houses, trying desperately to think.

  And then she heard men’s voices harsh with anger coming from the hall below.

  Opening her door, she saw Rick at the bottom of the steps, her father one step above, blocking his way.

  “You can’t treat her that way, Mr. O’Neill,” Rick insisted. “She’s a grown woman—”

  “And who are you, some rough-looking vagabond, to tell me what’s good for my daughter?”

  “I happen to love your daughter very much, Mr. O’Neill. And I know what she needs. She can’t come back here now, don’t you see? She’s not Sister Loretta Ann anymore, not your little Laurie—”

  “Love her! You don’t even know her! She’s not ready for the likes of you. Why, Laurie needs—”

  Rick’s voice was calm and deep. “I assure you, I can give her everything she needs. I can take care of her.”

  Laurie stormed out of the shadows and down the steps until she stood between the two men in her life. Struggling to keep her voice under control, she faced first one, then the other, her eyes flashing fire.

  “Dad, I’m not coming back home. I love you, but your little Laurie is gone.” Her eyes met his and held, braced by the courage that anger had lent her.

  And then she spun on Rick, her composure crumpling. “And you, Rick—I thought you would understand!”

  Before either man could reply, she rushed into the kitchen, kissed her mother a tearful good-bye, and drove off in the darkening night, alone in Rick’s Jeep.

  Fifteen

  There was a sharp, angry rap on the door early the next morning.

  Laurie had been expecting it, and she rose wearily, wiping her palms down the front of her robe. She opened the door.

  “I’ve come for my keys.” Rick stood with his legs apart, his hands shoved in his pockets, a scowl marring his handsome face.

  “I know. I’ll get them. Come on in.”

  She turned, not waiting to see if he followed her, and picked up the keys from the kitchen counter.

  “Here.” She held them out.

  He took them, careful not to touch her hand.

  “Thanks a lot for stranding me up there.”

  “I had to get away—”

  “And me? You just left me up there with your impossible family!”

  “No! Don’t you ever, ever call them that! They’re wonderful, loving people!”

  “Yeah, you think so? Then how come you left, with no hugs and kisses for all those lovely people, no good-byes to Aunt Florence and Aunt Peg and Grandmom Jane? And no good-bye to me! As if I were on their side, one of the people making your life difficult.”

  “Well, you are, in a way! You’re just like them, wanting to rule my life, decide everything for me.”

  “Me? I don’t want to do any such thing!” He stared at her, wanting to take her in his arms and love her, but held at bay by her cold, hard anger. “Laurie, I want you to be what you want to be, live the way you want to live, and love me. Those three things are not mutually exclusive, darlin’! It’s just that you equate love with dependence and—”

  “And you don’t, Mr. Westin?”

  “No!”

  “Ha!”

  “What? What in the hell does that mean?”

  “It means I think you want to be in charge, make the decisions, take over where my father left off.” Angrily she brushed the tears off her cheeks, disgusted with herself for letting them fall. “I heard you: ‘I can take care of her!’ ” she said, cruelly mimicking the words she had heard him say to her father.

  “I meant, care for, as in … in …” Frustrated beyond words, Rick made an angry gesture with his hands. “As in taking care of some straight young sapling, offering it the sun and wind and sweet rain. That’s all I meant.”

  Laurie stood silent, stubborn, her back half-turned to him. She was not going to listen, not going to be charmed out of her anger. She had to push them away, all of them, if she were going to get any freedom, any space to breathe. Even now she was strangling, as if a hand were at her throat.

  She settled her face into a hard mask and shrugged. “That’s what you say now because you know that’s what I want to hear. But you were caught out yesterday. Then, when you didn’t think I could hear, you said what you really mean!”

  “Oh, you know that for a fact? Were you inside my head, inside my heart—or is this just something you know from your vast experience?”

  “Don’t mock me!” she yelled, wanting to hit him.

  “Damn!” He turned, breathing fiercely through parted lips, his hands jammed hard against his hips. He shook his head, clenching his teeth so tightly the muscles popped along his jaw.

  “Laurie, I haven’t done anything. You’re the one who walked out without talking to me. You left. You left me there, alone. You didn’t even wait for the concert; you left me there with no one to sing to. And then I had to sit in the damn airport waiting for a six A.M. flight, and fly home alone. And you’re the one who’s mad? Hell, woman—”

  “Don’t curse at me, Rick!”

  “I’ll do whatever I damn well please. I am furious! Fit to be tied.” A short, harsh bark of a laugh tore from his throat. “I can’t believe I am even standing here—”

  “Then don’t.”

  He flinched, his narrowed eyes searching her face in disbelief.

  She should have been still. She wanted to be still, to stop all of this. But it was as if her newborn anger had hold of her; she couldn’t control it.

  “Go, then.” She jerked one shoulder up and down, her face empty. “Because if you’re waiting for an apology, you’re not going to get one. I am done apologizing for my life, my actions, my decisions. I’m done with it, hear me?”

  “That’s too bad, Laurie, because this
was probably the one time you should have.”

  Rick strode to the door and yanked it open. He stopped with one foot in the hall, his hand still knotted around the doorknob. She could see his back heave with unspent emotion, and wanted to run and wrap her arms around him, hold him, love him, but something held her rooted to the floor.

  When he spoke, his voice was rough, unfamiliar. “I love you, Laurie. More than I ever hoped to love anyone. And I know you love me, though you’re fightin’ against it so hard you’re liable to tear us both apart. But, darlin’, I leave Saturday for Kentucky … with or without you.”

  He turned, a rueful smile curving his lips, only his dark eyes betraying him. “Laurie, did I ever tell you I was scared of heights? Damn, the higher you go, the harder you fall.”

  An hour later she marched up the steps of the Rayburn Building and into Senator Murphy’s offices.

  “ ’Morning, Laurie, how was your vacation?” Paula asked with a welcoming smile.

  “Lousy!” she snapped, then softened her tone. “Sorry, Paula. Is the senator in?”

  “Uh-huh, and alone. I’m glad I’m going to be out here, not in there.” Ducking her head, she went quickly back to work.

  Laurie knocked once on the door to the inner office, waited for the answering “Enter,” and stepped inside.

  Senator Murphy pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and smiled. “Oh, good, Laurie. Just who I wanted to see.” He flicked the intercom button. “Paula, hold my calls.” Then he turned his attention back to Laurie. “Now, dear, I spoke to your father and understand you may not want to accept that position in Pittsburgh.”

  “Senator, that’s not quite correct. What he should have told you, what I made perfectly clear to him, is that I definitely won’t accept that position in Pittsburgh. I do thank you, and I appreciate your confidence, but I find I’m going to be making some changes in my life and—”

  “Now, Laurie, your dad and I have been friends a long time. I know he can be a little stubborn, a little opinionated—”

  “Pigheaded, Senator?”

  “Even that, dear, but he loves you.”

  “Of course. And I love him. And he will be proud of me, but on my terms from now on.”

  “Can I at least talk you into continuing your work here? You’ve done an outstanding job, and it would be hard to replace you.”

  “Senator, that’s the nicest thing you could have said to me. Thank you. I’ll finish out this week—longer if I’m still in town and you haven’t found a replacement. But I am definitely leaving.”

  “And where are you going?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted with a smile, hoping her expression didn’t show how much it scared her to say that. “I want to see some of the world, to see how other people live, so that I can decide how I want to live.”

  “But, child, with your background, how can you? How will you manage, how will you deal with everything?”

  “That’s just why I must. And, Senator, as you’re so fond of saying, ‘All you have to do is do it!’ ”

  Paula looked up with raised brows as Laurie exited.

  “How’d it go?”

  “Great,” she said, wide-eyed. “I quit.”

  “Want to talk?”

  “No, Paula, I don’t think so. I want to do this all on my own, and then I’ll sink or swim with it. But thanks.”

  “Quite all right, Laurie. I understand.”

  * * *

  Ellen was not quite as easy to keep at bay.

  “What do you mean, you don’t want to talk?” she shouted over the phone. “Of course you want to talk! I’ll be right over.”

  Ten minutes later she was there, carrying a white paper sack.

  “It’s chocolate chocolate-chip. Ice cream helps me deal with stress. Have some.”

  “But I’m not stressed, Ellen,” Laurie insisted, dropping onto the sofa.

  “Hmmph.” Ellen dismissed her words with a wave and a frown. “Could have fooled me; you look like death warmed over.”

  “I do not! I look fine.”

  “Hmmmph! And bad as you look, Rick looks worse. What have you done to that man?”

  “Me? Did he tell you that?”

  “Are you kidding? He wouldn’t say a word if he were bleeding to death inside. Which is just what it looks like, if you want my professional opinion.”

  “I don’t! If there is something I’ve had quite enough of, it’s other people’s opinions.”

  At the hurt look on Ellen’s face, Laurie dropped her head into her hands with a groan.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. But I just don’t want to be made to feel guilty. I’ve got to finally start living my own life.”

  “So who’s stopping you?”

  “My father, my family, Rick—”

  “Hold on a minute, Laurie Bridget Margaret O’Neill! Now, part of that I readily believe. Remember, I half grew up in your house. I know—and love—your dad, the beneficent tyrant! And all your well-meaning aunts … yes, they could try to live your life for you. Family has a way of doing that. I mean, look at me. ’Nun for a Day’! But Rick? No, you can’t sell me that bill of goods!”

  “You don’t know anything about it.”

  “No? Remember, I’ve known him a long time. Seen him with a lot of women, some who wanted him, some who wanted to use him, some who just wanted to be seen on his arm. And that man has never been anything but honest and straightforward. Bold as brass sometimes, and not always easy, but always honest.”

  “I’m not talking about honesty.”

  “Yes, you are! Because if he said he loves you—which I’ll stake my life he has, given the look of him now—then he meant it, Laurie! That means he loves you as you are, as you’ll be forever. It’s just too bad you don’t know what a rare gift that is.”

  “Ellen—”

  “Yes? Is there some other quality of Rick’s you’d like to discuss? Bravery? Loyalty? Chastity … well, let’s skip that one!”

  “Ellen!” Laurie yelped, then she relaxed and smiled. “You did that on purpose, to make me laugh.”

  “Did it work?”

  “I’m smiling. Will that do?”

  “Not quite. You’ve got to see the foolishness of what you’re doing with Rick. You’re digging yourself into a hole, and for no reason. You want to love him; he’s there. If you don’t, if you’re not ready, then tell him so. If you want to ride the hills with him, then go. If you don’t, stay and find a job, or travel elsewhere. Do whatever it is you want to do. But don’t hurt him and yourself; don’t make yourself so miserable you push the whole world away. You know, that’s taking the easy way out! Once again the decision is out of your hands. It’s everyone else’s fault: their bossiness, their stubbornness, their narrow point of view.” She paused, looking Laurie square in the eye. “And you know better than I that none of that applies to Rick Westin.”

  Laurie sat for a moment, her hands folded in her lap. Then she sighed. “I guess I have a lot of thinking to do.”

  “Great!” Ellen said, leaping to her feet. “Then I’m taking my ice cream and going home. Now I need it!” And with a grin she squeezed Laurie’s shoulder affectionately and left.

  Laurie cleaned the apartment from top to bottom, then gathered a load of laundry and sat in the basement, watching the clothes spin in the dryer. Her thoughts were spinning even more frantically.

  How should she know what to do? How should she know what was right? What was wrong? What to say yes to? When to say no?

  Despite Ellen’s words, she was afraid to let go of her anger for even a moment. It was like the little Dutch boy’s finger in the dike; remove it and a whole flood of feelings would come pouring through to drown her. At least the anger was manageable; she could be calm, rational, do what she had to do.

  And what she had to do was be a mature, independent woman. Right?

  When she got back upstairs, the phone was ringing. She heard it from out in the hall and stood with the key in her hand, her forehe
ad pressed against the door. Finally it stopped and she went in, dropped the clothes on the counter, and put up some hot water for tea.

  She wished for a jugful of Raj’s fiery brew, and then rubbed the heels of her palms into her eyes to banish the thought. Even that glimmer of a memory brought others sweeping into her brain: the party, Rick’s fascinated, approving smile, the warmth of his arms, their lovemaking.

  No, she mustn’t think of that… of him. If she did, she was lost. She had to stay firm and resolute. She had to stand on her own two feet. Enjoy her independence.

  Later that night the phone rang again. A tremor of excitement shattered her calm, and she sat for a moment with her mouth going dry, her palms damp. Then she lifted the receiver.

  “Hello? Oh, Mom, hi. I’m glad it’s you. Yes, I’m fine.” She leaned one hip against the wall, her shoulders sagging, her heart slowing to a steadier beat. “And you and Dad? How are you both?”

  Her mother’s soft, warm voice droned on, and Laurie felt as though she had stepped outside herself, standing there talking and at the same time watching herself talk. She knew she looked quite calm and capable.

  “No, Mom,” she said in answer to her mother’s final question. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. Not yet. But I’ll let you know. And don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

  She hung up and straightened her narrow shoulders. There, that hadn’t been so bad. See—she’d manage this independence just fine!

  She measured off that miserable week by phone calls.

  Tuesday night her sister called.

  Her heart made its customary leap to her throat at the sound of the first ring, but it dropped back into her chest as soon as she recognized Katy’s excited voice.

  “That was some grand exit you made, sis! You’ll have this dull bunch talking for years.”

  “Katy—that was not at all what I was trying to do! You know, I should really be furious with you, and I would be if I weren’t working so hard at staying calm and in control.”

  “Sounds awful! But I’m sure there’s some remedy. How’s Rick been? He sure was not calm when he left Pittsburgh! I mean, the concert went great, but he was boiling!” Her young, audacious laughter filled Laurie’s ear.