Whirlwind

Grimly, he set off into the forest again. “I can’t live under the same roof with her. It’s impossible.”

She was a troublemaker. A naughty youngster bent on wreaking havoc wherever she went. She was the last thing Cliff needed. Already she’d gotten him all churned up inside. Heaven only knew what might happen if she stayed.

He walked for a couple of miles, but it did no good. Still muttering under his breath, he found himself heading for the hilltop that overlooked Tyler—a sparsely treed vantage point that had once been part of the Gerhardt farm. The Gerhardts, he knew, had been forced out of the dairy business by the crunch in farm prices, and their land had not yet been taken over by the conglomerates that were moving into the area. The top field was overgrown now, the lush grass congested by tangles of wildflowers.

Cliff stopped at the break in the trees, resting his hands on the weathered fence post, his gaze drawn by the panorama that spread out before him. It was a scene that had often calmed him. The green pastures of neighboring farms, dotted with cattle, were bordered by darker fields of alfalfa, corn and the pale green-yellow of new oats. It would have made a pretty postcard—picturesque and serene.

But he didn’t feel serene as he glared at the wide landscape that spread out majestically before him. The warm breeze that rustled in the leaves of the trees at his back did not ease Cliff’s mind. Nor did the warmth of the sun relieve the tension that tightened the muscles of his neck and shoulders.

“Cliff!”

A gentle voice called to him from the field below, and a fragile woman stood up from where she’d been plucking wildflowers. She lifted a slender hand to the brim of her straw hat and called, “Is that you?”

It was Alyssa Baron, perhaps his only friend in Tyler. Cliff waved weakly, not sure he wanted to see even Alyssa this morning. But he vaulted over the fence a moment later and went down the hillside to meet her.

She had brought her basket and was filling it with cornflowers and daisies. To ward off the morning chill, she had pulled a pair of casual but clearly expensive slacks and scalloped sweater over her slim frame. Her pruning shears swung from the worn ribbon on her belt, and bits of earth clung to her manicured hands.

Alyssa’s fair skin was flushed with sunlight and she wore no makeup to conceal her age. With her light hair pulled back into a clip under the hat, she looked ten years younger than she should have. Her blue eyes were large and expressive.

For a queer second, Cliff noted how much she looked like Liza. But Alyssa’s was a fragile kind of femininity counterbalanced by the strength in her expression. Liza was more vibrant, in personality as well as appearance. Her features were like her mother’s, but exaggerated—not quite so delicate. And her voice wasn’t gentle.

Alyssa’s was as soothing as the soft sound of the morning breeze. On a self-deprecating laugh, she said, “I can’t get used to the way you just appear out of the forest. It’s like magic. How can you move so quietly? A man your size?”

He didn’t answer, and she thrust her basket into his hands, chatting as if he’d made a clever riposte.

“Don’t tell anyone,” she went on blithely, “but I’m stealing flowers. Do you think someone will arrest me? I’m in charge of arranging centerpieces for the senior citizen dinner tonight, and of course I left it to the last minute! Aren’t I awful?”

Alyssa Baron wasn’t awful. She was beautiful, and she possessed one of the purest hearts in the world.

She was also very perceptive.

Looking up at him, she said suddenly, “What’s wrong, Cliff?”

“Nothing.”

Alyssa smiled with understanding. “Not sleeping again?”

He shook his head. “It’s not that. I just...it’s been a long day.”

She laughed. “My dear, it’s not even noon yet! What’s going on?”

He couldn’t tell her about Liza’s arrival in Tyler, Cliff realized. That was Liza’s business, not his. He knew how Alyssa was going to react to that news, and he didn’t want to be around to watch. Alyssa might cry. She wore her emotions quite close to the surface when it came to her children—Liza especially. How many times had she expressed her feelings about her wayward youngest daughter? Cliff didn’t think that he could stand breaking the news of Liza’s return and watching Alyssa’s eyes fill with pain as she soaked in the information.

So he said, “I’m not used to being around people.”

“Ah,” Alyssa said wisely. “Did you go into town this morning?”

“Just for a minute.”

“That always upsets you,” she said, shaking her head. “I wish it didn’t. People don’t hate you. They don’t know you, that’s all. You make them nervous, I suppose. You don’t know how to chat.”

Cliff laughed shortly. “No, chatting isn’t my strong suit.”

“It’s all right,” Alyssa replied, bending into the flowers again and snipping stems with her shears. “I know you’re perfectly nice. Someday everyone else will figure that out, too.”

As Alyssa cut more flowers for her centerpieces, Cliff held her basket and considered her words. He didn’t disagree. Not aloud, anyway. But Cliff knew in his heart that he wasn’t perfectly nice. He could be perfectly awful—that was the problem. And if he wasn’t careful, somebody could get hurt by his awfulness.

He hated the thought of hurting anyone. Perhaps that was why he’d come to live at Timberlake in the first place. To be alone. To stay away from people in case he went truly crazy.

That was his biggest fear, he supposed. Going really nuts. It could happen, he knew. He’d read about other guys who’d come home from Southeast Asia and lived normal lives for a few years before snapping out completely. Posttraumatic stress disorder, it was called. Funny how something so terrible could be made to sound easy to cure.

Staying at the lodge was safe, though. Cliff saw Alyssa Baron once every couple of weeks—that was it. Oh, a clerk at the grocery store or at Murphy’s Hardware might say a word or two when he made his monthly foray into town, but he forged no real connections. Cliff preferred life that way.

Now Liza had steamrolled into the lodge and it scared the hell out of him. Cliff realized he was trembling again as he held Alyssa’s basket. It was being around people that frightened him. He knew he was capable of doing terrible things to his fellow man.

And Liza. She had the power to push him over the edge, Cliff decided. Not knowing the kind of horror she would unleash, she’d taunt and torment and goad him until he exploded. What might he do to her if he went crazy? The thought terrified him.

Alyssa straightened and read his expression. Alarmed, she put her hand on his arm and said, “Cliff?”

He shook off her touch. “I’m sorry. I’m—I’m not...”

“What can I do to help?”

Nothing, of course. Just stay away, he wanted to tell her. Get your headstrong daughter out of the lodge before I do something insane.

But he didn’t say that. He wasn’t capable of expressing those feelings, not even to Alyssa, who’d been a kind of therapist for him over the years, whether she knew it or not. Alyssa had accepted Cliff from the beginning without making demands on him. She had not insisted that he talk. Nor had she forced him to spill his guts and explain himself to her. She’d simply taken him into her life the way he was—broken and frightened of the world. And of himself, maybe.

She said, “Don’t be upset.”

A lot of responses boiled in his head, fighting to get out. But he said on a tight sigh, “Sometimes I just want to forget everything.”

“You will. You’ll get over it, Cliff.”

“Should I?” he asked, half to himself. “Should I keep trying to put it in my past?”

Alyssa sighed, too, sounding troubled. “I don’t know what to tell you. Some people think it’s best to confront the worst, but I...well, I’m not an expert. I just hate seeing you so distressed, Cliff. Every time you start thinking about what happened over there...”

“I did some bad things,” he said, closing his eyes and letting the sunlight warm his face. “I don’t want to be that way again.”

“You won’t!” In a rush, Alyssa said, “Cliff, that was a terrible time. You did what you had to do to protect people you cared about.”

Alyssa said more, but Cliff had stopped listening. She didn’t know everything. Not the worst, anyway. She knew why he’d gone into the hills and befriended the people of that mountain village. She knew how he’d found himself trapped with them when the enemy struck. He’d learned from the Hmongs and taught them his own skills, and they’d fought together. They’d managed to find escape routes for women and children.

But after that...well, he’d been unable to tell Alyssa the rest of his story. Perhaps she could guess the kinds of atrocities he’d seen. Maybe she imagined what he’d done to survive and to shepherd the innocents to safety. But Cliff couldn’t bring himself to tell gentle Alyssa Baron about the nightmare he’d lived in Cambodia.

Nor could he tell her how terrified he was that it might happen all over again—that the bonds of reason might snap inside him and trigger something horrible.

Alyssa’s hand was on his arm again, and she shook him. “Cliff,” she said severely, “stop thinking like that! Stop it! You’re only making it worse for yourself!”

Maybe she was right. With an effort, Cliff pulled his mind back from the quagmire of his past.

“I’ll be okay,” he said.

She smiled up at him, kindhearted and beautiful. “I know you will.”

Cliff left her on the hillside picking flowers. He didn’t tell her about Liza.

He returned to the lodge a couple of hours later. He didn’t keep track of time, but his stomach started growling, so he headed back through the woods, not sure what lay ahead.

He found Liza on the wide front porch. She’d dragged one of the old wicker chairs outside and sat in it with her bare feet propped up on the railing, long bare legs stretched out and a sketchbook propped in her lap. A huge pair of sunglasses obscured her eyes and reinforced her spoiled-starlet look.

Cliff stopped at the bottom of the steps, half afraid to get any closer. She looked beautiful and unstoppable—a predatory female looking for trouble. He hesitated in the trees, not ready for another volatile confrontation.

“Good news,” Liza called, catching sight of him and smiling broadly as he warily approached. “My car can be fixed.”

“Good news indeed,” Cliff replied sourly, mounting the porch steps. “You can leave.”

“Not yet. Carl had to take it to his garage to make the repairs.”

“That means you’re stranded here.”

“You got it. We’re all alone together, Forrester.”

She laughed and peeled off her sunglasses, to pin him with an observant gaze. Her dangly earrings caught the sunlight, and the black devil winked at him. “You ran off,” she said. “Just when things were heating up.”

“I tend to stay away from heat.”

“That’s a mistake,” Liza pronounced with a catlike smile. “A little fire’s good for the soul.”

“My soul’s just fine,” he retorted.

She eyed him again, but didn’t go so far as to accuse him of lying. Instead, she pulled her feet off the railing, crossed her legs, tapped her sketchbook and said airily, “I’ve made a few decisions while you were out.”

“Oh?”

“I’m going to stay here awhile.”

Cliff nearly choked. He wanted to explain, to warn her. There was danger here, didn’t she see that? He struggled to put the right words together. “Miss Baron—”

“And I’m going to fix up the lodge. I’m going to make it into a resort.”

“What?”

She grinned at his reaction, twirling her colorful sunglasses. “It’s a good idea, don’t you think? This place could be fabulous. It was really special years ago, and it could be great again. All it needs is a little TLC, and fortunately, I find myself with a little free time on my hands.”

“Hold it—”

“So I’ve been making lists and drawing some ideas. I thought I’d start with the common areas first—the dining room, then the bar and lounge.”

“Wait just a—”

Liza didn’t listen, but began to outline her plans with blithe enthusiasm. “The kitchen’s a real wreck and will need a major overhaul if it’s going to serve many guests, but I like the rustic flavor of everything else, don’t you? If you ask me, rustic is making a comeback.”

“Will you please—”

“I’ll need some fabric books, of course. The place really cries out for chintz, right? And wall coverings will have to be chosen with caution, since—”

“Will you shut up for one minute?”

She blinked. “Sure. Something on your mind, Forrester?”

He was filled with dread and anger. Throttling both emotions, Cliff managed to grind out, “Just what the hell are you doing?”

“Aren’t I making myself clear? I’m going to refurbish—”

“Why?”

“Why? Why not, for heaven’s sake? It’s beautiful up here!”

“The only way it’s going to stay beautiful is if people leave it alone! You can’t fix this place up. People will start coming here and tramping through the woods, running powerboats on the lake—”

“Of course they will! It’ll be lovely!”

“It’ll be horrible!”

She laughed at him. “You can’t keep the lodge a secret, Forrester. It’s been your private playground long enough. We’re going to make it look wonderful, and people from all over will come and—”

“We?” he snapped. “Who’s we?”

“You and me, of course. You could use some real work to do, I think, to snap you out of this hermit phase. With my creative ideas and your strong back—”

“Go to hell, Miss Baron!”

“What’s the matter?”

He threw himself into pacing up and down the porch, trying not to think about breaking her neck on the spot. “For one thing, I have not been placed on this earth to do your bidding, Miss High and Mighty! And secondly, I hate the whole idea and refuse to have any part of it! I have a deal with your grandfather, which says I can stay here alone in exchange for the job of taking care of—”

“We can discuss the quality of your fishy work some other time,” Liza said dryly. “Meanwhile, I think we should concentrate on the future and—”

“My future has nothing to do with your future,” Cliff snapped, standing over her. “So you can forget about me fixing up the lodge for any reason whatsoever.”

She began to tap her pencil, calmly and deliberately. “I’m sorry to hear you say that, Forrester,” she said. “It’s a good thing that blood is thicker than water, I guess.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That my granddad has the final say. And I know he’s going to tell me I can do whatever I like.”

Cliff balled up his fists and choked down a shout of complete fury.

Liza smiled demurely up at him from her chair. “Let me be honest, okay? I need a project, Forrester. I’ve arrived at a crossroads in my life, and this is the perfect thing for me. I’m going to do it.”

Seeing the gleam in her eye, Cliff had no doubt she was going to get exactly what she wanted. A project—that was what she called what would turn out to be a multimillion-dollar construction job involving hundreds of skilled professionals and months if not years of painstaking work. And Liza talked about it as if she could throw up a few new curtains and end up with a finished landmark.

Worst of all, she clearly had no idea how impossible the whole idea was.

With enormous difficulty, Cliff said, “You don’t understand.”

“About what?”

“About me. And this place.” He tried to dig into his brain to find the words, but it was hard. He’d never been able to verbalize his trouble—never had to. That was why he’d come here in the first place. So he wouldn’t have to talk. He said, “It’s...I need to be here.”

She waited expectantly, and when he couldn’t say more, she prompted, “Okay, so what’s the big deal?”

“I have to be alone.”

“Oh, nonsense!” She laughed again—beautiful and innocent and naive.

“It’s true,” Cliff argued, aware that he had started to sweat. “I can’t...I can’t be around people.”

“Why not? It’s not like you’re pug ugly or something. I mean, women would fall all over themselves in Chicago if you walked into town. Listen, Forrester—”

“No, you listen,” he retorted, his voice rising unevenly. “I can’t do it. You can’t bring more people. You can’t—”

“Oh, yes, I can,” said Liza, smiling like a naughty angel. “And you’re going to help me, Forrester.”

“Like hell!”

“Oh, come on. You’re not going to let a little inconvenient sexual attraction get in the way, are you?”

“What sexual attraction?”

She grinned. “Do you deny it?”

“My God—”

“’Fess up, Forrester! You think I’m the sexiest little tidbit who ever knocked your socks off, right? Take it easy. We’ll have a good time and still get the work done. You’ll see.”

Cliff escaped before he caved in and did some real damage. He stormed into the lodge and left the silly little bitch humming happily on the porch.

CHAPTER FOUR

THOUGHTFULLY, Liza watched Cliff stride off the porch. What was he so churned up about? She couldn’t imagine.

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