Treasure Hunt (Part VI)

He took a breath and continued. “Now, I want you to prepare the statement I shall make to the press. It is to announce the dismissal of Tom Burkett for dereliction of duty, leading to the loss of the statue. Of course, you'll couch it in terms that reflect favorably on the museum. The tone should be positive, expressing regret at the lapse of one of our employees and also emphasizing the firm action taken by those in authority.

“I realize that could be a bit sticky,” he conceded. “After all, the decision I'll be presenting is mine, and the announcement mustn't appear to be self-serving. I am sure, however, that I can count on you to handle it diplomatically.

“Oh, and Kathryn? It seems to me that, as an old friend, Tom would take word of his firing best from you. It's rather late now, but perhaps you could stop in the morning and break the news to him.”

Bruce had become so used to my agreeing to his every request that he didn't wait for my protest. I found myself talking to empty air. Finally, I placed the receiver back on the hook. A wave of guilt washed over me as words like “callous” and “self-centered” crept into my mind. What was happening to me, I wondered? Bruce was the man I expected to marry. I should be agreeing with his decision. But I couldn't.

It was all too much. The attack, the fight with Andy, then the accident, the threat, and now the realization that Bruce and I were entirely unsuited. There in the darkened hallway I leaned my head against the wall and bawled.

The pounding at the front entrance had to be loud to drown out my sobs. By now I was beyond wondering what further misery might be waiting. Dashing back my tears, I stumbled to the entrance and flung the door wide.

“Just where have you been?” Andy demanded. The same question, I thought distractedly, that Bruce had asked minutes earlier. A replay of that scene was the last thing I wanted. I started to close the door. Andy's foot stopped me. “Oh, no, you don't,” he said. “I want some answers.” He pushed his way past me to switch on the hall light. “You can begin by explaining why you skipped out on me this morning. I told you I'd be here to pick you up, you remember.”

It was then he turned. I must have looked a mess, with my face streaked and my hair uncombed. “Good Lord,” he breathed. I stood mute and yielding when his hand came up to tilt my face to his.

Suddenly, his hand dropped away. With a groan, he pulled me to him. Warm fingers entwined in my hair as he wrapped me in his arms. Then his lips were on mine, crushing out the memory of all that had gone before.

Involuntarily, my hands crept to the nape of his neck in response to the tumult I felt leaping inside me. Willingly, I abandoned myself to his kiss. His fingers tightened convulsively behind my head, and I clung tenaciously as his mouth moved to follow the trail of tears down my cheek. He lingered at the hollow of my throat. I moaned, then once more surrendered my lips when his tongue returned to invade my mouth.

His explorations slowly subsided into a long, sweet, drawing of responses deep with me that until this moment had remained unplumbed. Finally, I was released, emotionally spent.

Andy's expression, when I gathered the courage to look at him, was quixotic. Was he wondering, as I was, how the torrid scene had happened? I had always thought of myself as having control; yet, there in his arms, I had allowed my feelings to take possession. I was too bemused to speak. My brain registered only Andy's presence and the strange palpitations created by his nearness.

“Well, ma'am,” he said solemnly, “how about we rustle up some coffee, and then you can tell me just what's been goin' on back at the ranch while I was away.”

The awkward moment evaporated. I should have been relieved. Instead, I felt let down. Had his actions been merely a tactic to distract me from my problems? If they were, his kisses had created another one.

Andy, however, seemed unaware of the tempest raging inside me. He passed me on his way to the kitchen without so much as a glance. The casual dismissal struck me like a cold shower. It took a bit of mental shaking to recover. Seconds ticked by before I was able to follow him down the hall.

Neither of us had eaten dinner. When the contents of my refrigerator yielded up ingredients for a spinach frittata and tossed salad, I went to work. All the while I was at the stove, Andy kept up a stream of casual conversation, so that by the time I turned the eggs onto a platter, I had nearly convinced myself that the scene in the hallway had never happened. That is, until Andy seated me at the table and his hand accidentally brushed my shoulder. Involuntarily, I jumped, and Andy moved away.

He sat down, his face perfectly calm. I waited in silence while he picked up his blue-and-white-checked napkin and spread it across his knee. When he finally raised his head, his words were typically Andyesque. “And how was your day?”

Striving to match his casual manner, I began my recitation. He listened quietly, asking few questions. Only when I'd finished did he make his pronouncement. “And Little Red Riding Hood went traipsing off into the woods alone. Katie, these men are even more cunning and a lot more dangerous than any wolf. And now that they see you as a threat, they'll be even more ruthless. Maybe it was presumptuous of me to insist you stay out of this, but you'll have to admit now that my reasons were pretty darned valid.”

“They were also chauvinistic.”

“Okay, okay. I was still on my knight-in-shining-armor kick. But if I'm willing to allow your contention that two heads are better than one, will you agree at least to let me in on your plans?”

Of course I knew he meant to join me on any future expeditions. Hastily, I covered my flush of pleasure at the thought. “Then I'm back in? My point,” I said flippantly.

“Conceded. But the game's not over yet.”

The pull of his gaze held mine as his eyes probed my face. “How are you planning to break the news of his firing to Tom?” he asked.

“I...I haven't decided yet. I was thinking I might talk Bruce out of it.”

Andy's eyebrows shot up. “Under ordinary circumstances, you'd no doubt convince him without half trying. This time, though, he has a stake in the outcome. He might just be more adamant with his own future on the line. Of course,” he added, gathering up the empty plates and carrying them to the sink, “you know him best.”

I was no longer sure of that. One thing I did know. Bruce would never back down once word of his decision got out. “Well, it's certainly worth a try,” I said aloud. “I need to talk to him alone.”

The rattle of the dishes as Andy sat them on the counter turned my attention back to the present. He stayed to help with the cleanup, but twenty minutes later we were saying goodnight.

At the door, he turned. His hand came up, fingers extended as though to trace my cheek. The floor seemed to tremble beneath me before his arm abruptly dropped again. “Lock the gates and draw the bridge after me, Princess,” he said. “See you on the morrow.” Then he was gone.

I leaned my head against the door, desperately denying what I knew to be the truth. My attachment to Bruce had been based on proximity, nothing more. It was Andy I loved. But even as I accepted the knowledge that the wondrous flame he had ignited within me would never be quenched, I recognized another truth; my feelings were not returned.

My suggestion the next morning that keeping Tom on would demonstrate his understanding and compassion didn't sway Bruce's decision. Tom was to be told before Bruce made his announcement. When the old man opened the door, the effects of the past week's ordeal plainly showed, but he was dressed and sober. Dreading my mission, I headed for the kitchen, thinking to soften the blow over coffee. Once we were seated and Tom asked what I was doing away from the office, I knew it was time to begin.

He took the news surprisingly well. Only a grim tightening of his jaw betrayed his inner feelings. His words as he rose to look out over the garden were almost philosophical. “My job for the statue. That's fair enough, I suppose. I should have guessed that's how it would end.”

“Andy and I haven't given up yet,” I told him. “We'll keep on working.”

He shook his grizzled head. “There's been enough trouble already.”

“You mustn't think that! Nothing is too much trouble when it's right.”

His shoulders straightened, and he faced me with determination. “That's true. No matter what, you gotta stick to what you believe.”

I left him then, feeling greatly relieved.