Whirlwind (17 page)

“I'm not leaving,” he whispered back, taking her languid body into his arms again and settling into the cushions once more. His long legs tangled with hers, and Liza's hand lay over his heart. “Go back to sleep.”

Before she lost consciousness, Liza wondered if Cliff had slept at all. Perhaps he'd sat up all night, holding her, watching her sleep, still afraid to let his guard down.

In the morning, she woke and found herself alone. She pushed the mop of her hair back from her face and checked the time. Nearly ten.

“Cliff?”

No answer.

Liza pushed out from under the tattered blanket he'd carefully used to cover her, and called his name again. Hearing no response, she padded to the kitchen for a large glass of orange juice.

“At least I'm starting to feel better,” she noted, sipping the juice.

On the kitchen counter sat a bottle of cold tablets, and Liza picked them up. “I guess Cliff isn't so lucky.”

Cliff. She shook her head, remembering the events of last night. She had learned so much about him. Yet there was more to learn. Much more.

Had he meant what he said when he'd told her he didn't trust himself? She wondered if he feared suffering a flashback at the wrong moment. Had he abstained from love—from life itself—because he was afraid he'd go crazy and hurt someone?

The need to find out everything there was to know about the man burned inside Liza like a candle flame.

“He's going to be okay,” she murmured to herself. “I'm going to make sure of it.”

She poured another glass of juice and went looking for him. The sound of a tractor engine drew her outside, and she stepped through the front door.

Liza hoped to find Cliff on the veranda.

She didn't expect to find her mother there.

“Mom!”

Liza almost panicked. She wasn't ready yet. Too many years of turmoil between herself and her mother couldn't be resolved easily. She needed more time to prepare!

“Mom—”

Alyssa Ingalls Baron had turned hastily. She looked lovely, of course. She always did, Liza thought. She was wearing immaculate white trousers with a starched white shirt, a simple belt and large gold earrings. Elegant, but casual. Perfectly combed and lightly made up, Alyssa
didn't need to rely on elaborate hairstyles and expensive cosmetics to look wonderful. But she did look pale and unnaturally agitated. Under most circumstances, Alyssa Baron looked cool and composed. This morning, however, she could not conceal the anxiety that lurked behind her wide blue eyes.

“Liza,” she breathed, frozen to her spot on the porch.

Stupidly, Liza blurted out, “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.” Alyssa ventured a smile, but it quivered at the corners of her mouth. “Your grandfather told me you were here at the lodge.”

“Just for a little while,” Liza said hastily. “I—I should have come to see you, I guess. I'm sorry. Really. I've been busy.”

Her words sounded lame, and Liza felt a pang of guilt for even trying to lie. She could see her mother knew exactly why she hadn't made any effort to stage a reunion. There was still too much tension, too much that hadn't been spoken between them. Liza flushed.

Quickly, Alyssa took a step forward and grasped Liza's free hand. Her own was trembling. “You look lovely, darling. Your hair is so much longer than the last time—why, I can't believe how much you look like your grandmother!”

It was exactly the wrong thing to say. Without thinking, Liza snapped, “Don't start that already, please?”

“I'm sorry,” Alyssa said, contrite at once. She turned pale and released Liza's hand. “I forgot. You like to think of yourself as your own person.”

“I
am
my own person!”

“Of course, of course.” For once, Alyssa looked flustered and she backed up a pace. “It's...well, it's wonderful to see you again.”

“It's nice to see you, too,” Liza murmured, ashamed that she'd lost her temper already. It had always been that way. Alyssa was so damned gentle and controlled all the
time. Trying to communicate with her was like trying to knock over a brick wall. Even as a little girl, Liza had been determined to batter down her mother's cool facade. But she'd never managed, never been strong enough to penetrate her mother's icy shell. Now she felt foolish for trying.

Alyssa pasted another quivering smile on her face and forced her voice to sound bright. “I thought I might coax you into having lunch with me in town today. What do you say? We could have a salad and talk—”

“Actually, I've got things to do.”

“Oh.”

“There are some workmen coming, you see. Joe Santori's doing some preliminary work so he can give me an estimate on the cost of fixing up the whole place.”

Alyssa controlled her expression to avoid showing disappointment. She looked across the lodge yard and nodded. “I noticed Joe's truck. He's got a good reputation around town. And your grandfather told me about the ideas you've had for refurbishing the lodge. It all sounds very nice. Very nice indeed.”

“Do you mean that?”

Alyssa's light blue eyes touched Liza's. “Of course.”

Liza couldn't think of a thing to say. If only she'd had a chance to prepare! She stood on the veranda in her bare feet, holding the glass of juice and feeling foolish.

Alyssa managed to fill the awkward gap by waving a hand at the lodge and saying cheerily, “The old place looks pretty good, doesn't it? It's been a long time since I've been here, but it hasn't changed much.”

Liza decided to try making conversation and said, “I can't remember ever seeing you at the lodge when I was a kid.”

“No, I never came up here.” Alyssa might have blushed, but she hid that reaction by trying to laugh. “I like to stay close to home, I guess.”

“You spent hours in the garden, and you love walking
outdoors,” Liza argued automatically. “I'd have thought the lodge would be the perfect place for you. How come you stayed away?”

Alyssa avoided Liza's gaze by looking out at the lake. “Oh, bad memories, I guess. My mother used to live here. Coming to the lodge just reminded me of her, so I—I stayed away.”

Funny, Liza thought, how she'd never really noticed how much the whole family seemed to suffer from mother-daughter conflicts. She had forgotten that Alyssa's relationship with Margaret had been practically nonexistent.

“How old were you when Margaret disappeared?”

“Seven,” Alyssa said, smiling weakly. “A very impressionable age, you see. I suppose I've stayed away all these years because of some silly, emotional childhood vow I made to myself.”

“Hmm,” said Liza, thinking about Cliff's questions last night. Here was a chance to learn more about Margaret's disappearance. Feeling her way cautiously, she observed, “You and Granddad have both avoided the lodge.”

“Until today,” Alyssa said, changing the subject adroitly. “Today I woke up thinking I just might burst if I couldn't see my dear Liza, so...here I am!”

Liza contemplated her mother, who showed every evidence of trying hard to be cheerful. But the signs of tension were unmistakable. For once, Alyssa looked surprisingly uneasy. Was it the lodge? Or did stouthearted Alyssa Baron feel nervous about seeing her rebellious daughter after their long estrangement?

The sight of her mother's anxiety caused another twinge of guilt in Liza. Abruptly, she said, “Why don't you come inside, Mom? I'll make a pot of tea.”

“Oh, no. I couldn't—”

“Sure you can. I've been fighting a cold, and some tea would do me some good.”

“You've been sick?”

“A little cold, that's all. Come on.”

For an instant, Alyssa looked as if she might refuse, but her motherly concern took over.

She followed Liza to the screen door. There, she balked on the threshold and said quietly, “I haven't set foot in the lodge in more than forty years.”

Liza laughed and pushed the door wide. “Well, don't be shocked. Yesterday I got a little carried away. Take a look at the results.”

“Goodness!”

Alyssa stepped over the threshold and gaped at the mess Liza had created the day before. “What happened here?”

“I had an idea for opening up the entrance. What do you think?”

For an instant, Alyssa seemed at a loss for a suitable compliment. Then she said, “Uh, very...interesting.”

“I think it's going to be a national showplace. C'mon into the kitchen.”

Liza led the way to the kitchen, not noticing at first how Alyssa lagged behind and glanced curiously into the lounge. She peeked briefly into the dining room, too. Her footsteps were hesitant, her posture almost cringing as she walked through the lodge, which struck Liza as odd. She was startled to see her mother gripping the trim around the kitchen doorway to keep herself upright.

“Mom! What's wrong?”

“I'm fine,” Alyssa said hastily. “Just a little dizzy, for some reason. Goodness, I didn't expect to react to these rooms this way.”

“What way?”

Alyssa smiled ruefully and entered the kitchen. “I don't know. It's just odd. I would like that cup of tea you mentioned.”

“Okay. This way.”

Moving efficiently, Liza put the kettle on the stove and rummaged through the meager supplies in the refrigerator,
looking for something she could offer her mother. “How about some toast? We've got whole wheat bread and some jam, I see. Or maybe a piece of fruit—”

“Just the tea, I think.”

With a kick, Liza closed the fridge. “Tea it is. Maybe I'll gulp a cold tablet while I'm at it.”

“I hope you're taking care of yourself.”

“I'm doing the best I can.”

Alyssa put her handbag on the counter. “I guess you've made friends with Cliff.”

Proud of herself for remaining calm, Liza said, “I'd hardly call us friends. He tolerates me, that's about it.”

“He's a very nice young man, you know. Just misunderstood.”

Liza eyed her mother curiously. “Do you understand him?”

“Not entirely. He's...complicated.”

Very complicated, Liza wanted to say. She found the tea bags in a cupboard.

Alyssa said, “I hope you're being kind to him.”

“Not especially kind, no.”

“Liza, Cliff has been through some terrible experiences. We owe him some peace, I think.”

“Maybe he's had too much peace.”

“What do you mean?”

“I'm no expert, but it doesn't take a psychiatrist to figure out that several years of solitude haven't done him a hell of a lot of good. I think it's time somebody tried shaking him up a little.”

“Liza—”

“Maybe he needs to confront some of his problems to get rid of them. And you know me. I'm great at stirring up problems.”

Alarmed, Alyssa said, “Liza! Surely you're not—”

“You don't need to give me any advice about Cliff,
Mother. You always had your say about the boys I dated in high school, but this—”

“Because you always managed to pick the most inappropriate young men to date.”

“What's appropriate for a high school girl?” Liza demanded.

“A young man who doesn't have a jail record,” Alyssa said promptly. “Remember that boy who stole motorcycles? Oh, what a character! Why you brought him home, I can't figure out even now.”

“Because he was fun,” Liza said sharply.

Alyssa gave her a cool look. “I assumed it was because he made your father angry.”

“Dad didn't mind him. It was you who hit the ceiling.”

“I never...” Alyssa caught herself and sighed. “Why are we arguing about a relationship that's been over for ten years at least?”

“You brought it up,” Liza said sulkily.

“Yes, I did, and I'm sorry.”

Several moments passed, then Alyssa squared her shoulders. “I didn't come to upset you, Liza,” she began. “I came for a very different reason. I thought we could patch things up.”

At once Liza tensed for another fight. “Mother—”

But Alyssa overrode her protest. “Just let me say a few things, all right? I hate confrontations, as you know, so I'd like to speak my piece first and you can explode afterward. I'm glad you've come home, darling. In fact, I hope you'll decide to stay.”

“Mom—”

“I know, I know. I shouldn't apply any pressure. If I do, you're sure to do exactly the opposite—”

“I'm not as ornery as you think. I just—”

“We've got different styles,” Alyssa cut in gently. “We're different people. I know you hate hearing it, but you're a lot like my mother that way. Margaret was always
a firecracker. Everything had to be a turmoil for her. Well, I can't stand it, Liza. I couldn't stand it then, and I can't take it now, either. I'm just not the kind of person who can shout and—”

“I don't shout.”

“No, but you make your opinions known. I can't do that.”

“So what's the point? I'm not going to change, Mother.”

“I'm not asking you to,” Alyssa said. “Just be a little more understanding, can you?”

“I understand plenty.”

“Do you?”

The teakettle began to whistle at that moment, and Liza snatched it off the burner. She grabbed the box of tea bags, trying to decide how to play the scene. Concentrating on the act of dropping the tea bags into cups, she gritted her teeth and said, “I understand my own feelings, if that's what you mean. But I haven't any idea where you're coming from. You don't say what's on your mind, so I have to guess. It's always been that way.”

Tightly Alyssa said, “I know we've always had our differences. Maybe because we have different ways of handling our emotions. But I think it all boiled down to your father, didn't it?”