Anchor In The Storm Part 27

Pauline sighed. "Please don't take it personally. It's hard to keep track."

So that was their game. She made her eyes large and innocent. "Are you saying he's a ladies' man?"

Trudy raised one white shoulder. "So they say."

Across the room, Arch talked to an older gentleman and Bitsy, with Mrs. Chamberlain gripping his arm. But his gaze reached out to Lillian.

"Hmm." She tapped her finger to her lips. "They must not know him very well. He dated his last girlfriend for over a year, and he hasn't dated since."

"Until you." Pauline gave her a too-sweet smile.

As much as she wanted to protect Arch, she couldn't lie. "We aren't dating."

"No?" Helen glanced toward the band. "So that's why he hasn't asked you to dance."

"No. He knows I don't dance."

"You don't?" Trudy frowned. "Don't they know how to dance in Iowa?"

"Ohio, and yes, they do. But I don't dance."

Helen clucked her tongue. "Such a shame. Archer adores dancing. You should have seen him whirling Bitsy around the dance floor in Boston. A vision."

Oh, they were good, but Lillian had dealt with catty girls all her life. She needed to break away and find someone else to talk to-Dr. Detweiler or Arch's grandparents, perhaps.

"Why don't you dance?" Trudy asked. "Two left feet?"

Lillian stared at the brunette who had served a line on a silver platter. "No left feet."

"No left . . . that doesn't make sense."

"I don't have a left foot." Lillian hiked up her gown over her knees. "This one's fake."

"Oh!" All three women gasped and recoiled.

Lillian marched off through the break in the circle, her skirts whishing around her ankles. The nerve of some people, thinking they could elevate themselves by putting others down.

"Lillian?" Arch dashed over, concern etched into his face. "Did I just see you-"

"Insufferable sn.o.bs." She related the conversation in a heated run-on sentence. "Well, I showed them."

The corners of his eyes crinkled with laughter. "Would you like to really show them?"

"Yes." She jutted out her jaw. "Any ideas?"

"Dance with me."

"What? I don't-"

"You didn't ice-skate either. This will be easier. A simple slow dance. Just follow me."

Her cheeks puffed up with air. Did she really want him to hold her again?

"Come on." Arch took her hand, led her to the dance floor, and gathered her in his arms while the band played "So Rare."

When she found her voice, she used it. "I don't remember saying yes."

Arch stood in the dance position and tipped his head to the side, waiting.

"All right, but I fail to see how this will show them." This position was worse than the full embrace because she could see his face. So close. She feigned fascination with the band.

"Follow me. Side to side. Step, touch. Step, touch. Nothing difficult."

"Not for you." She frowned at her clumsy feet, but at least she didn't have to look at Arch. "Now explain."

"Simple. Bitsy wants to marry me. In fact, any of those three would marry me for the Vandenberg fortune."

"They're gems. You should s.n.a.t.c.h one of them up."

He chuckled. "But I don't want to, and they know it. They see me gazing adoringly at you, yet you won't even look at me."

Her breath hitched, she met his gaze, and she tripped. His arm on her waist set her feet in motion again-but not her lungs.

That expression. The same one he'd given her when she came down to dinner, but closer and more intense.

She jerked her gaze away.

"See?" he said. "I snub them for you, and you snub me for . . . no one. You win."

"Great." She forced out a light laugh. "I won. Thank you for your help. Now you can stop pretending to gaze at me adoringly."

His sigh ruffled her hair. "My darling Lillian. Whatever makes you think I'm pretending?"

Every muscle went taut, then squirmed. "Don't talk like that. Please don't. I trusted you."

"Come on. Let's go for a walk outside."

"I don't want to. I want-"

"You want to speak your mind. Not here. You just won. If you make a scene, you'll lose. Let's go outside, and you can say every word as loudly as you'd like."

Maybe Jim could rescue her. Where was he?

"Lillian, come on. Let's go for a walk."

"Fine." She gritted her teeth and let him lead her out of the ballroom, down a back staircase, and across a patio to the grounds that sloped down to the sea.

Lillian flung away his hand and marched along the pathway under a half moon. "I trusted you, Archer Vandenberg. You said we were friends, only friends. That was the deal."

"I never promised I wouldn't fall in love with you."

Love? Lillian whirled around. He stood silhouetted against the muted light from the ballroom windows, soft music floating past him. "I-I thought you were better than that."

"Better? What are you talking about?" He stepped closer, dark and unreadable.

She strode down the path, her chest straining from the pain. "What kind of man falls in love with a cripple? Normal men don't. Normal men reject me."

His footsteps followed. "I didn't fall in love with a cripple. I fell in love with a beautiful, vibrant, clever-"

"Stop it." She waved her arm behind her, swatting away his words. "No man wants a cripple unless he's crippled inside, twisted, sick-"

"Lillian, sweetheart. What did he do to you?"

She spun around, breath racing.

Arch stopped several feet away. "I deserve to know. You're judging me by what he did, and I don't even know what I'm up against. I-I'm fighting blind, below decks."

Lillian pressed her hand to her forehead, dizzy, knees wobbling. "I need to sit down."

"There's a bench under that tree."

She sank onto the bench with her back to the ocean, the cold of the stone seeping through layers of chiffon. How could she tell him? The story was shameful. She'd never told a soul.

Arch stood at the end of the bench, facing the sea. Silent.

Music drifted to her through the trees, the tune indiscernible. "Why should I trust you?"

"Don't you know me by now?"

"I-I thought I did, but then you said you . . . you-"

"I said I love you. Why would love make me less trustworthy?"

She folded her arms and leaned over them. "He said he loved me too."

Arch didn't move, didn't speak, always the gentleman. If she told him about Gordon, he'd think less of her. Wouldn't that drive him away? Wasn't that what she wanted?

Lillian steeled herself, her forehead inches from her knees. "I met Gordon my first year at Ohio State. He said it was love at first sight. I was overjoyed-I'd never dated before. And he reminded me of that constantly. He said I should be grateful he paid me any attention. No one else would. I should . . . I should . . ."

"Go on."

Her shoulders hunched up. "We'd been going steady for a month. One night he took me on a picnic by the river. The ground was sandy, and sand is bad for my prosthesis. He told me to take it off. He'd carry me. I didn't want to, but he claimed I didn't love him, didn't trust him. Since I-I didn't want to lose him, I let him put my prosthesis in the trunk of his car."

A breeze sent curls across her cheek. "It was October, and it was chilly, and the usual college crowd wasn't around. Gordon got fresh. And he-he wouldn't stop. I couldn't get away. I screamed, but I couldn't see anyone."

"He had his way with you." Arch's voice came out hard and tight.

"He would have. There were three boys farther down, drinking. They heard me, and they stopped him."

"See. Some good men in this world."

Lillian snorted. "You know what they said? They said Gordon was disturbed for wanting a freak like me. They humiliated him into taking me home. I was so furious, I broke up with him on the ride back. Well, that was a mistake, because when he dropped me off at the dorm, he refused to open the trunk. He left me there, dirty, dress torn, hopping on one leg."

"Oh, Lillian."

She wrenched her head to the side, away from his pity. "The housemother called me a-a-she questioned my virtue. And I had to use my crutches to get around campus. People stared even more than ever. Gordon said if I apologized, he'd take me back and return my prosthesis, but I refused. I lasted a week. I needed my prosthesis. I couldn't afford a new one on my own, and I couldn't tell my parents."

"They would have-"

"Don't you see? How could I tell them? So I called Gordon. After he brought back my prosthesis, I broke up with him again. I let myself be weak with him, and he . . . and he . . ."

Arch sat on the arm of the bench and held out a handkerchief.

"I don't cry. I never cry." She sat up and pushed back her hair to show him.

"My darling girl." He stroked her cheek, handkerchief still in hand. "I would never take advantage of your weakness. It-it's a gift you've given me. Something to treasure."

The compa.s.sion in his eyes undid her. Not pitying compa.s.sion, but admiring compa.s.sion, mixed with grat.i.tude, mixed with love, mixed with his own weakness. "You . . ." Her voice choked, and she swallowed hard. "You're taking a chance on me too."

His gaze roamed her face, one finger tracing her jawline. "In a way. Every woman I've dated has only wanted me for my money. But you're different. If you ever fell in love with me, you'd be looking past these superficial trappings and seeing me, the real me, who I am inside."

She ached for him. He deserved to be loved like that. He already was. And shouldn't he know it?

In the distance, waves shushed to the sh.o.r.e, stretching and retreating. If the Lord was her sure anchor, couldn't she take the chance to accept love, to give Arch the love he longed for?

He sighed and lowered his hand. "I'm willing to wait. I won't push you."

"I already do." The words tumbled out.

"Hmm?" One eyebrow raised.

Oh, why did her mouth have to be as clumsy as her feet? "I-I already love you. Like that. Who you are."

His chin and his eyelids sank. Silent.

She gripped a handful of chiffon. "I didn't say that right, did I?"

His eyes opened, gleaming in the moonlight. "You said it perfectly. I just didn't expect to hear it so soon. If ever."

"Oh." She tucked in her lips. Now what? He'd kiss her, wouldn't he? Was she ready?

From his perch on the arm of the bench, he draped one arm along the stone behind her and set his other hand on her cheek, back into her hair, and he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her-her forehead?

"I love you so much," he murmured against her skin. "We'll be weak together, strong together, you and I."

A puff of breeze swirled between them, too much s.p.a.ce between them. Now that she'd made up her mind, now that she'd confessed her love, she didn't want to hold back even a little.

She worked her hand up and over his shoulder and tugged him down to the bench beside her.