Authors: Lynn Viehl
Frostfire (17 page)
Sometimes Elle imagined that they lived like dolls in a playhouse, just two figurines that were moved around and posed by some giant, unseen hand.
“Is it some boy?” her mother asked suddenly. “Is that what is responsible for this behavior?”
Elle choked back a laugh. “I go to an all-girls school, Evelyn.” She hated using her first name, but her mother refused to be called Mom, Mother, or anything else. “The only time I see boys is when we drive through town, and you don’t let me out of the car.”
“Don’t lie to me. I know how resourceful you teenagers are.” Evelyn finished her drink. “Who is it, then? The brother of one of your friends? Are you meeting one of them behind my back?”
“Well, there is this really cute altar boy I see every Sunday at church, but I think he’s a little young for me.” She cringed as Evelyn strode over to her. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.”
“I’m not laughing,” she snapped. “Neither should you, considering what your birth mother did to you.”
Not my birth mother again.
Elle closed her eyes. “Please, Evelyn. Don’t.”
Elle closed her eyes. “Please, Evelyn. Don’t.”
“Don’t what? Don’t talk about her, the schoolgirl who conceived you in the backseat of some car, and abandoned you the day you were born?” Her mother made a contemptuous sound. “Don’t remind you that if it wasn’t for me, you’d be in some dreadful foster home, being starved or beaten or molested?”
“I’m very grateful that you adopted me,” Elle said quickly. “I know how lucky I am.”
“I didn’t simply adopt you, Lillian.” She sat down beside her and took hold of her hands. “I saved you. I gave you my name, and brought you into my home, and cared for you. I put you in the best Catholic school in the country so that you could get a decent education.” She drew back, her expression hurt. “And
this
is how you repay me.”
this
is how you repay me.”
“I try, I really do.” Criticizing the stern nuns who taught her would only enrage her mother, who thought that the sisters were perfect. “It’s me. I’m just not that smart. I forget the rules sometimes and I speak out of turn. But I’ll work harder, I promise. And I’ll behave.”
“I’ve never expected you to get straight A’s, have I? All I’ve asked is that you do your best.” Evelyn sighed. “With these grades you won’t even graduate, much less get into Holy Cross.”
“I know.”
“Sister Maria Paul called me at work this morning.” Evelyn folded her arms. “She says you’re becoming incorrigible. That you’re a bad influence on the other girls. She believes you’d be happier in public school.”
Elle stared at the nails the nuns had clipped short.
I would be.
I would be.
She didn’t realize she’d murmured it out loud until Evelyn grabbed her chin and made her look up. “Don’t even think it, you stupid little twit. With a public school record, you’ll never get into Holy Cross.” She got up and went to the window overlooking the formal gardens.
“I know it’s important to you, Evelyn.” Maybe this was the right time to talk about it. “But I think you should know that I want to go somewhere else for college.”
Her mother turned around. “
What
did you say?”
What
did you say?”
“You know how much I like working with the dogs and the horses.” She had to talk fast now before Evelyn’s temper exploded. “Every time Dr. Devereaux comes by to check on Dancer or give Royal his shots, he does ask me to help him. He says I have the touch, that animals trust me.” She could see how pink her mother’s face was, but she had to say the rest. “I don’t want to go to Holy Cross. I’m going to apply to vet school. I want to be a veterinarian.”
Evelyn seemed to wither in front of her eyes. “I should have seen this coming. You’ve spent half your life mucking around in that wretched barn and fooling around in the kennels.”
“It’s what I want to do with my life.” Elle watched her mother move like a sleepwalker toward her desk. “You want me to be happy, don’t you?”
“I want you to be a good girl, Lillian,” she said, as she had whenever Elle defied her. “Be a good girl, and you’ll get your reward.”
She was so tired of hearing that. “I can be a vet and still be a good girl, can’t I?”
Evelyn didn’t answer her; she picked up the phone and dialed a number. “Lyle? Yes, it’s Evelyn. Are you still interested in Dancer and the other horses? What are you offering?”
Elle rose. “What?”
Evelyn listened, and then nodded. “That’s acceptable. You can pick them up in the morning. Yes. See the stable manager. You’re quite welcome.”
“Wait. Evelyn. You can’t sell the horses.” Elle rushed to the desk and picked up the phone. “Call him back. Tell him it’s a mistake. You changed your mind.
Evelyn, please.
”
Evelyn, please.
”
“It was foolish of me to indulge this ridiculous obsession you have with animals, but there is still time to correct the situation.” Evelyn took the receiver from her and hung it back up. “There will be no more talk about being a vet, or defying my wishes. You are going to apply yourself in school, bring up your grades, and behave yourself. When you graduate, you will attend Holy Cross.”
“You can’t sell Dancer.” Elle backed away from her. “I’ve had him since he was a colt. You
gave
him to me for my birthday.”
gave
him to me for my birthday.”
Not a flicker of pity passed over her mother’s cool features. “I know you’re upset now, but it’s for the best. Someday, when you understand, you’ll thank me for doing this, Lillian.”
“For doing what? For taking away everything I care about? The only thing that makes me happy?” She was shrieking now, but she couldn’t stop herself. “How could you? How could you?”
Elle ran from the sitting room and out into the reception hall, dodging around her mother’s housekeeper as she raced through the dining room and into the kitchen, where the cook and two maids were preparing the evening meal.
“Miss Lillian?”
Elle didn’t stop as she flung open the side door and flew outside, racing toward the barn. Huntley, the stable manager, came out of his office and blocked her path.
“Your mother just called down, miss,” he said. “She wants you back up at the house.”
“I’m not going back.” Elle went around him and strode back to Dancer’s stall. The gelding poked his head out and whickered softly as he watched her take down her saddle. When Elle turned and found Huntley standing between her and her horse, she took a deep breath. “My mother just sold Dancer and the other horses to Lyle Hamilton. He’s coming in the morning to pick them up.”
“So she told me, miss. I’m very sorry.”
He didn’t get it. “Mr. Huntley, once the horses are gone, what do you think you’re going to do around here?” Before he could answer, she added, “God, what am I going to do?”
“I think you’ll go back to the house, miss. I’d walk you up, but I have to head into town now.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I’ll be picking up some supplies, getting a haircut and maybe a bite to eat. Probably’ll take me a good two, three hours.”
“Thank you, Mr. Huntley.”
As soon as the stable manager left, Elle saddled Dancer and mounted him, leading him out through the back of the barn. If Evelyn saw her from the windows, she couldn’t do anything to stop her. All the stable hands had gone home for the day, and Mr. Huntley’s Jeep was halfway down the long drive. None of the maids could ride.
Neither could Evelyn.
Elle barely nudged Dancer with her heels before he took off, breaking from a walk into a fast lope like a rocket. She crossed the back pasture and wheeled him around to the stretch of fence separating Emerson land from the first slope of the hills beyond it.
She’d never attempted to jump a fence with Dancer, but when his muscles bunched under her, she knew they would clear it as easily as they had all the practice poles. He landed like an Olympian, keeping her safe in the cradle of the saddle as his long, strong legs tackled the slope.
Elle had to rein him in as they passed the tree line and made their way into the woods, where Evelyn had strictly forbidden her to ride. The sunlight had already begun to fade, and with no moon to light the way, she’d have to turn back.
“Or we could keep going,” she said, leaning forward to rest her cheek against the roughness of his mane. The sound of her voice made him flick his ears, and he turned his head to eye her. “Would you like that, Dance? Would you ride off with me into the sunset?”
Going back meant more than losing the horse she loved. What little freedom Elle had would be taken from her as well. She’d never go to vet school. She’d finally become the perfect doll for Evelyn to dress and pose as she pleased forever.
It was impossible to run away from home on a horse—Elle knew that—and as they came out of the trees and faced a high, rocky incline, she knew her illicit ride had come to an end. She dismounted, leading Dancer to a patch of grass speckled with dandelions. She bent to pick one that had gone to seed, and as she straightened, she silently made her wish.
I wish my mother would love me for me.
Elle puffed a breath at the dandelion, and watched the fluffy seeds burst away from the stem, spreading out on the breeze as they flew away, taking her wish with them.
Dancer lifted his head and shuffled to the side, snorting and then whinnying as he back-stepped.
“Wait a sec.” Elle tried to grab the dangling reins, but he turned suddenly, knocking her away as he barreled off toward the trees. “Dancer, wait, I mean, whoa—”
The body that hit her was big, heavy, and silent, plowing her into the grass under its weight. Before Elle had a chance to breathe, she saw narrow green eyes, and then a mouth filled with sharp white teeth.
Cougar?
It hissed like a snake, its cool breath blasting her face before it dropped its head and sank its fangs into her throat.
Elle writhed under the deadweight, her scream trapped by the teeth tearing into her throat and the claws digging deep into her shoulders. All she knew was hot, tearing pain that grew so enormous it pushed her into some small corner of her mind where she could only huddle in terror.
The gush of blood from her throat bathed her and the big cat in a wet, warm spray, and as it lifted its muzzle to strike again, Elle felt something besides the agony of her wounds: the cougar’s terrible hunger.
She couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, and then her hand inched up and rested against the tawny fur. It felt so soft, this deadly thing, its pelt like polished silk. She didn’t want her life to end, not this soon, but the wounds the cat had inflicted on her were too terrible to survive. Now that she knew the end had come, she felt only regret. If only she had been able to control the wildness inside her, she might never have ended up here, at the mercy of this beautiful, wild thing.
A rough tongue lapped at her cheek, and Elle coughed a little as the unbearable inferno of pain burned down to a glowing, incandescent heat. She counted down her heartbeats as they slowed, and felt the chill of the ground beginning to seep over her, putting out the last of the fire.
The night came then, as fast as Dancer had taken her, and Elle went gladly on her final ride.
SEARCH FOR RUNAWAY TEEN HEIRESS ENDS10/01/00SANTA LUCIA, CA—After a year of searching for sixteen-year-old Lillian Emerson, who vanished from her family’s estate, Santa Lucia Police Chief Ormond Teller has announced that the investigation into her disappearance will be suspended.“It is with great personal regret that I am calling off the search,” Teller told reporters. “I still believe Lillian is out there somewhere, alive and well, but we have exhausted all of our leads, and our officers are needed on other cases.” When asked where he thought Lillian was, Teller responded, “I can’t say, but wherever that is, I don’t think she wants to be found.”Like her daughter, Evelyn Emerson has also vanished from the public eye, and has not been seen since the day Lillian ran away. Ms. Emerson is now rumored to be residing in Chicago, where she runs her interior-design empire from Emerson Interiors’ corporate headquarters on Michigan Avenue. Ms. Emerson has refused all interview requests, and Emerson’s attorney, Wallace Bridger, has repeatedly defended his client’s reluctance to talk about her daughter’s disappearance.“Evelyn has never given up hope that Lillian will come home someday,” Bridger recently told reporters. “Her efforts to find her daughter have been tireless, and will continue until such time as she can confirm that Lillian is alive and well. She has no desire to put her deepest personal pain on display in order to titillate the public.” When asked why Evelyn Emerson has never offered any reward for information regarding her daughter’s whereabouts, as is typical in such cases, Bridger dismissed the question. “This isn’t a murder or an abduction. Lillian ran away from home. It was thoughtless and cruel, but she knows she can come back whenever she wants to.”
Chapter 11
T
he shadow moving toward Ethan became a man, and in his arms he carried the limp body of a woman. The man wore only ordinary clothes covered with new snow, and although a flannel shirt covered the woman’s torso, all she had on her feet were socks. The man walked down, kicking his way through the drifts and hefting the woman up when he sank.
he shadow moving toward Ethan became a man, and in his arms he carried the limp body of a woman. The man wore only ordinary clothes covered with new snow, and although a flannel shirt covered the woman’s torso, all she had on her feet were socks. The man walked down, kicking his way through the drifts and hefting the woman up when he sank.
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