Swept Away. Gwynne Forster

could say that.”

      Richard made a pyramid of his hands, bracing his index fingers against his chin. “The two of you were managing to be pleasant up to the time you left here, though I suppose that was for my sake. What happened out there on that beach?”

      Schyler let out a long, heavy breath, sat forward and dropped his head in his hands. After a minute, he sat up and looked at his father. “Up to then, I’d never touched her. Out there, I did, and what we felt hit both of us like a volcanic eruption. Then…well, I got to talking about you, and…” He threw up his hands. “It’s over before it started. At least as far as I’m concerned, that’s the beginning and the end of it. It never stood a chance anyway.”

      Richard shook his head as if in wonder at the incredulity, the seeming otherworldliness of events that had governed his relationship with his daughter almost since her birth. He looked at the son who had filled his empty life and given him a reason for living. A reason to set goals and to work hard to achieve them. He had to find a way to communicate to Schyler the folly of giving up, of fooling yourself into believing you could do without anyone who could do without you, but he had to tread softly. Schyler was, after all, a grown man and proud of his independence.

      “I see you’ve resigned yourself to living without her,” he said, measuring his words as carefully as he could. “I did that once, and I’ve regretted it every day since. Not anymore. My daughter and I will come to terms. Good terms. I don’t doubt it for a second. You think you’re young, strong and invincible, that you’re bigger than anything that can happen to you. But you wait until this thing starts eating away at your guts, slicing through your innards like acid, dulling your senses. Wait till every woman you look at—white, black, Asian or brown—looks just like her. You haven’t been miserable, Son. You haven’t hurt so badly you wanted to die. Just pray to God it all gets straightened out.” He grasped mentally at the breath that seemed to have escaped his lungs. “Do you know where she lives?”

      His flesh crawled. He’d never known how his father had suffered. He’d grown up wanting to be like him, to do everything his father did. He’d even chosen his father’s profession of engineering. But he didn’t want for himself what his father had just described. Yet, he didn’t see how it could be avoided.

      “I can easily find out where she lives,” he said. “Tell me, do you know why she resents you?”

      Richard massaged his forehead with the fingers of his left hand. “I can only guess that Esther concocted some trumped-up explanation for why we weren’t together. And whatever she said didn’t make me look good but covered up for her.”

      Schyler restrained the whistle pushing at his lips. “It must have been a pretty strong indictment.”

      “It had to be to cover up for…Maybe some day when it doesn’t hurt any longer, I’ll tell you all of it. But I can’t stand to rehash it now.”

      “You mean…After so many years, you—”

      Richard interrupted him. “Yes, it hurts. If I can bring Veronica into my life, that will help, but nothing will ever erase the…” He slapped both his knees with his palms. “The soufflé is first-class tonight. How about some?”

      How could his father possibly smile after the gut-wrenching tale he’d just told? “You bet,” Schyler said, trying to keep his voice light. “Don’t you get tired of chocolate?”

      Richard’s grin eased over his face and settled in his eyes, eyes that now reminded Schyler of Veronica. “Me? Haven’t you figured it out? You’ve forced so much of it on me that I’ve gotten where I have to have my daily chocolate fix.”

      They laughed, stood and walked arm in arm to the kitchen. Each faced a battle: Richard intended to win his. If he didn’t, Schyler and Veronica wouldn’t stand a chance. But Schyler had resigned himself to what he considered the hopelessness of a meaningful relationship with Veronica, and moved his mind on to other things.

      As Veronica walked, her steps slowed and her energy seemed to dissipate. She leaned against a lamppost and tried to collect her wits. What had made her do it? Run from him like that? The hold Schyler had on her and the way he’d demonstrated it…No. She had to be honest with herself. That wasn’t the reason. She’d met a man different from the one her mother had told her about. A man set in a very different mold. And she could have liked him. A lot, too. But for thirty years he’d been a monster, someone she detested, and she couldn’t shove that aside or wash it away just because he cooked the best rice she’d ever tasted. She knew she’d wounded him when she didn’t go back for his prized soufflé, and she’d hurt Schyler, too. Her spirit crumpled when she realized that she envied Schyler her father’s love, his pampering and the status a successful father gave his children. She didn’t like admitting it, because she’d always considered jealousy beneath her, believed it robbed a person of common sense and dignity. She pulled herself away from the post and walked on. Richard Henderson didn’t add up. He was an enigma that she knew she’d never figure out without being around Schyler, and she couldn’t risk that danger. She had no intention of letting herself become involved with Schyler.

      She got in her car and realized she hadn’t locked it. There was something to be said for a village the size of Tilghman, she mused, but she’d be leaving it come morning. Maybe for good.

      Several days later she found herself in Baltimore, back in her old territory lunching with Enid.

      “So tell me about this fling you had over in Europe. Meet any hunks?”

      Veronica let her gaze roam around Wilma’s Blue Moon Restaurant, reflecting on the hours she’d spent at that same table discussing CPAA’s business with Enid and others of her staff and marveled that she didn’t miss it.

      She decided to tease Enid. “I didn’t see anything but hunks. If you’re looking for one who’s different, go over and take your pick. Of course, you might have to take their ideas about women right along with them. I had a fling, but it was an affair with freedom, you might say. Me and Mother Nature all alone. It was incredible.”

      Enid cocked her head to one side. “Then why’d you come back so soon? If I’d been in your shoes, girl, the people in this town wouldn’t know where I made my last tracks. They don’t deserve you.”

      Months ago such a compliment would have pleased her, but now she shrugged it off. “That’s behind me, Enid.” She told her friend about her mother but nothing more.

      “Seen Mr. Henderson since you’ve been back?”

      Had she ever! “I knew you’d ask that. Anything new with him?” She hoped Enid wouldn’t catch her evasion. “Who’s he after now?”

      Enid’s dreamy-eyed expression brought a sheen of perspiration to Veronica’s forearms. Was what she felt for Schyler merely the usual reaction of the average woman? His regular due?

      “Girl, I wish he was after me,” she heard Enid say.

      She didn’t want to watch Enid drool over Schyler Henderson. She sipped the last of her coffee, gave Enid and Wilma the tiny porcelain Swiss yodelers she’d bought for them in Interlaken and bade her friend goodbye.

      “Let me know where you’ll be, honey,” Enid said.

      Veronica wrote her name, address and phone number on a piece of paper. “In case it’s been erased from your computer, here it is, but be careful who gets hold of it.” She started off, turned back and hugged her friend. “See you.”

      Enid ducked her head, but Veronica had seen her tears. “Don’t worry about me, Enid. I’ll be all right. But there’s so much I haven’t done, seen and felt, things that I’ve dreamed of since childhood. Now may be my only chance to live fully. To the hilt. And I’m not letting it slip by. I’ll stay in touch.”

      Enid nodded and walked away.

      Veronica stopped in Kmart, bought a jumbo-size umbrella with a long handle and headed for the train to Owings Mills. When she reached the train