It Had to Be You Part 13

"How do you do. I'm Molly Somerville." She extended her hand, and he shook it solemnly.

"h.e.l.lo, Miz Molly. You must be Phoebe's sister."

"I'm Phoebe's half sister," she stressed. "We had different mothers, and we're not at all alike."

"I can see that. You're up kind of late, aren't you?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"It's pretty noisy. Did you get to meet the players and their families?"

"Phoebe wouldn't let me." She wasn't certain why she felt compelled to lie, but she didn't want to tell him she was the one who had refused to go outside.

"Why not?"

"She's very strict. Besides, I'm not fond of parties. Actually, I'm a solitary person. I'm planning to be a writer when I grow up."

"Is that so?"

"I'm currently reading Dostoyevski."

"You don't say."

She was running out of conversation, and she cast about for another topic to hold his attention. "I can't imagine they'll study Dostoyevski at my new school. I start there on Wednesday. It's a public school, you know. Boys go there."

"Haven't you ever gone to school with boys?"

"No."

"A pretty girl like you should get along just fine."

"Thank you, but I know I'm not really pretty. Not like Phoebe."

"Of course you're not pretty like Phoebe. You're pretty in your own way. That's the best thing about women. Each one has her own way about her."

He'd called her a woman! She tucked that thrilling compliment away to be savored when she was alone. "Thank you for being so nice, but I know my limitations."

"I'm pretty much an expert on the subject of females, Miz Molly. You should listen to me."

She wanted to believe him, but she couldn't. "Are you a football player, Mr. Calebow?"

"I used to be, but I'm the head coach of the Stars now."

"I'm afraid I don't know anything about football."

"That seems to run on the female side of your family." He crossed his arms. "Didn't your sister bring you to the game this afternoon?"

"No."

"That's a shame. She should have."

She thought she detected disapproval in his voice, and it occurred to her that he might not like Phoebe either. She decided to test the waters. "My half sister doesn't want to bother with me. She got stuck with me, you see, because both my parents are dead. But she doesn't really want me." That, at least, was true. She had his complete attention now, and since she didn't want to lose it, she began to fabricate. "She won't let me go back to my old school and she hides the letters I get from all my girlfriends."

"Why would she do something like that?"

Molly's active imagination took over. "A streak of cruelty, perhaps. Some people are born with it, you know. She never lets me leave the house, and if she doesn't like what I've done, she feeds me bread and water." Inspiration struck. "And sometimes she slaps me."

"What?"

She was afraid she had gone too far, so she quickly added, "It doesn't hurt."

"It's hard to imagine your sister doing something like that."

She didn't like to hear him defending Phoebe. "You're a potent man, so her physical appearance has affected your judgment."

He made a funny choking sound. "Do you want to explain that?"

Her conscience told her not to say anything more, but he was being so nice and she wanted so much for him to like her that she couldn't help herself. "She acts differently around men than she does around me. She's like Rebecca, the first Mrs. de Winter. Men adore her, but she's quite vindictive underneath." Once again she thought she might have gone too far, so she tempered her statement. "Not that she's entirely evil, of course. Just mildly twisted."

He rubbed his chin. "I'll tell you what, Molly. The Stars are part of your family heritage, and you need to know something about the team. How about I ask Phoebe to bring you to practice some day after school next week? You can meet the players and learn a little bit about the game."

"You'd do that?"

"Sure."

The rush of grat.i.tude she felt toward him blocked out her guilt. "Thank you. I'd like that very much."

At that moment Peg stuck her head in the door and scolded Molly for not being in bed. She said good-bye to Dan and returned to her room. After Peg left, she retrieved Mr. Brown from his hiding place and snuggled beneath the covers with him, even though she was much too old to be sleeping with a stuffed animal.

Just as she was drifting off to sleep, she heard a soft scratching at her door and smiled into her pillow. She couldn't open the door because she didn't want Phoebe to discover that she'd let Pooh into her bedroom. But, still, it was nice to be wanted.

10.

As Phoebe looked down at the videotape that lay on the pa.s.senger seat next to her, she knew that showing up unannounced at Dan Calebow's house was the stupidest thing she'd ever done. But instead of turning Bert's Cadillac around and going back home, she peered through the glare of the headlights toward the side of the road trying to find the wooden mailbox that Krystal Greer had told her to watch for. As she looked, she rehea.r.s.ed what she would say when she got there.

She would be very casual, tell Dan that Paul had shown up with the videotape not long after he'd left the party. She'd known Dan wanted to see the tape before he went to bed, and she'd decided to deliver it since it was such a beautiful night for a drive. No trouble, really.

She frowned. It was one o'clock in the morning, so maybe she shouldn't say anything about it being a beautiful night for a drive. Maybe she'd simply say she hadn't been sleepy and had felt like taking a drive to relax.

The truth was, she wanted to see him again before she lost her nerve. She had been deeply shaken by that moment when she'd felt such an overpowering urge to kiss him. Now she needed to see him alone, where they wouldn't be interrupted, to try to discover what those feelings meant.

She could come up with a million reasons she shouldn't be attracted to him, but none of those reasons explained the way he had made her feel tonight, as if her body were slowly coming alive. The sensation was both terrifying and exhilarating. He hadn't made any secret of the fact that he disliked her, but at the same time, she sensed he was attracted to her.

Without warning, she felt tears gathering in her eyes. For years she hadn't even let herself dream that something like this could happen. Was she being a fool or was there a chance she might be ready to reclaim her womanhood?

Her headlights picked up the wooden mailbox, and she blinked her eyes. There was no name on it, but the number was right, and she braked as she turned into the narrow, graveled country lane. The night was cloudy, with barely enough moonlight to reveal an old orchard. She drove across a small wooden bridge and around a gentle curve before she saw the lights.

The rambling stone farmhouse wasn't anything like the sleek bachelor's pad she had imagined. Built of wood and stone, it had three chimneys and a wing off to one side. Steps led up to an old-fashioned front porch that was surrounded by a spindled railing. In the welcoming light that glowed through the front windows, she saw that the shutters and front door were painted a pearly gray.

Her tires crunched in the gravel as she pulled up to the house and turned off the ignition. Abruptly, the exterior lights went out followed by the interior ones. She hesitated. She must have caught him just as he was going to bed. Still, he wasn't asleep yet.

s.n.a.t.c.hing the videotape up from the seat before she lost her nerve, she opened the car door and stepped out. An owl hooted in the distance, an eerie sound that made her even more uneasy. As she walked cautiously toward the front porch, she wished it weren't so dark.

Resting her hand on the railing, she gingerly climbed the four stone steps. In the thick darkness the chirp of the crickets sounded ominous instead of friendly, like creaking hinges in a haunted house. She couldn't find a doorbell, only a heavy iron knocker. She lifted it, then flinched as it hit with a dull thud.

Seconds ticked by, but no one answered. Growing increasingly nervous, she rapped again, then wished she hadn't because she knew she had made a terrible mistake. This was embarra.s.sing. There was no way she could explain her presence. What had she been thinking of? She was going to slip away and- She gasped as a hand clamped over her mouth. Before she could react, a powerful arm grabbed her around the waist from behind. All the blood drained from her head and her legs buckled as she found herself pinioned.

A menacing voice whispered in her ear. "I'm taking you into the woods."

She was paralyzed with fear. She tried to scream but she couldn't make a sound. It was just like the night when she was eighteen. Her feet left the ground, and he carried her down the steps as if she weighed nothing. Blackness and panic suffocated her. He dragged her toward the trees with his mouth pressed against her ear.

"Fight me," he whispered. "Fight hard, even though you know it won't do you any good."

The sound of that familiar accent penetrated her panic, and she realized it was Dan holding her captive! Her mind reeled. It was happening again! She had been attracted to him, flirted with him, and now he was going to rape her! Her paralysis unlocked. She couldn't let this happen to her a second time.

She began a desperate struggle for her freedom, kicking and trying to jab him with her elbows, but he was strong, so much stronger than she, with iron-hard muscles that had been shaped by years of physical conditioning. He hauled her into the woods as if she weighed no more than a child. She tried to scream, but the pressure of his hand on her mouth was merciless.

"That's good. You're putting up a good fight, sweetheart. You're making me work for it."

She bucked in his arms and tried to scream beneath his palm, but he held her fast. She could dimly make out a round wooden structure ahead, and as he dragged her closer, she saw that it was a gazebo.

"I'm going to give it to you good," he whispered. "Just the way you like it. Give you that hurt you want so bad." He hauled her up the steps through an arched opening in the ivy-covered latticed walls. He wasn't even breathing hard.

"You're going to be helpless. I can do anything to you I want and you won't be able to stop me."

He dragged her into the darkness, and terror clawed at her the same way it had in that hot, dark pool shed so long ago. Keeping one hand clamped over her mouth, he shoved the other under her skirt and reached for the waistband of her panties.

"First I'm gonna rip these off."

The awful sounds coming from deep in her throat were garbled from the pressure of his palm. She hadn't wanted this. Please, G.o.d, don't let this happen to her again. Once again, she heard that horrible whisper at her ear.

"Maybe I should start here instead. Is that what you want me to do?"

He released her mouth and grabbed the bodice of her dress in his fist. With one hard jerk, he ripped.

Two things happened simultaneously. A violent scream erupted from her lips. And the hand cupping her breast froze.

"Val?"

He groped her breast. His entire body stiffened. And then he jumped away from her as if she were radioactive.

She began to sob. The amber glow from a yellow bug light mounted on a post suddenly flooded the interior of the small gazebo, illuminating outdoor furniture, a sisal rug, and the fact that he was staring at her in horror.

"Phoebe! Jesus ... Jesus, Phoebe, I'm sorry, I- I didn't know it was you. I- Val was supposed to ..."

Her teeth were chattering and her whole body had begun to shake. Where he had ripped her dress, the bodice gaped, revealing one of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She clawed at the material, while she backed away, tears running down her cheeks.

"Phoebe ..." He rushed toward her.

She leapt back, frantically clutching her torn dress. "Don't touch me!" she sobbed.

He froze and backed away, holding up his hands. "I'm not going to hurt you. I can explain. It's all a mistake. I didn't know it was you. I-I thought you were my ex-wife. She was meeting me here."

"Is that supposed to make it better?" Her teeth wouldn't stop chattering, and her chest spasmed as she tried to swallow her sobs.

He took another step, and once again she backed away. He immediately stopped moving. "You don't understand."

"You b.a.s.t.a.r.d! You perverted b.a.s.t.a.r.d!"

"Dan!"

Phoebe froze as she heard the sound of a woman's voice.

"Dan! Where are you?"

Relief washed through her as she realized they were no longer alone. Then she saw the expression of entreaty in his eyes and watched as he pressed one finger to his lips, commanding her silence.

"Here!" she shouted. "In here!"

He dipped his head. "s.h.i.t."

"Dan?" A slim, attractive woman wearing a simple floral cotton dress stepped into the gazebo. "I heard a-"

She broke off as she saw Phoebe. Her gaze flew to Dan. "What's going on?"

"What we have here," he said unhappily, "is a case of mistaken ident.i.ty."

The woman took in Phoebe's torn dress and mussed hair. Her eyes widened in consternation. "Oh, G.o.d."

As Phoebe's terror began to ease, she realized something was happening here that she didn't understand.

"It was dark," he told the woman, "and I thought she was you."

The woman pressed her fingertips to one temple. "Is she discreet?"

"Discreet, h.e.l.l! She's scared to death! Can't you see what I've done to her?"

The woman's voice grew so cool and businesslike that Phoebe immediately hated her. "Who is she?"

"Phoebe Somerville," he replied, apparently realizing that Phoebe was in no condition to answer for herself.

"The Stars' owner?"