Julian smiled at her and held out his hand. "I tried the front door.
It's locked. Give me the key, will you?" Callie hesitated and Julian
snapped his fingers. "The key, green eyes. Wake up. It's been a long day
and I'd like to end it."
Callie shifted from one foot to the other, not quite meeting his gaze.
He wasn't going to like this, but there wasn't much she could do about it.
"Well, you see, that's the problem. I don't have the key."
"No key? Who has it?" He frowned. "Not Maudie?"
"No. Not Maudie." She cleared her throat. "Actually, no one has it."
"No one," he repeated. "No one? You locked the door and no one has the
key?"
"You know we never lock doors around here," she told him. "At least we
didn't until today. So if there ever was a key to that door, it's long
gone now."
Julian closed his eyes, marshaling his thoughts. "What made it so
imperative that you lock the door today?"
"Because of Brutus, of course. I didn't want him to get out."
"Not this again," he muttered beneath his breath. "Callie, listen to
what I'm about to say and please, try to remember it. Brutus is a dog. A
dumb animal. A creature with a brain the size of a pea and with as much
intelligence as your common, everyday fungus. He does not have human
feelings. He does not have human anything. Nor can he open
closed doors."
"Yes, he can."
He thought for a moment, then smiled kindly. "Okay. Let's pretend I buy
the premise that Brutus can open doors. If he could--which he can't--but
if he could, then why didn't you simply chain him up? That way you
wouldn't have to lock a door you can't open."
She gasped and drew herself up to her full five foot three inches. "Chain
him? Chain Brutus? How could you think of such a thing? Do you realize how
inhumane that would be? How cruel? He'd never forgive me. Never."
"So he'd never forgive you. I think he's going to be a darned sight
less forgiving when we can't get into the house and he ends up starving to
death. Or didn't that occur to you?"
Callie struggled to ignore his sarcasm, hanging on to her dignity
through sheer willpower. "For your information, I left a window open," she
informed him. "All we have to do is climb in and go around and unlock the
door from the inside. It's very simple."
His eyes closed again. "I don't believe this. You mean, you lock all
the doors because that mutt can open them, but windows are all right to
leave open because he can't climb out through those?"
"Well, yes, he can. But he won't."
"God give me strength. Please, I really want to know. Why won't Brutus
climb out the window? Does it involve some sort of special doggy
honor--thou shalt not escape out windows, but if thou gets open the
dooreth, thou mayeth?"
Her reply was saccharine sweet. "I want you to know something, brother
dear. I hate you. I'm not angry with you, but I've come to realize that I
honestly, sincerely hate you."
"Thanks."
"Don't mention it."
"You still haven't explained about the window, Callie."
The man was impossible. Why were they dwelling on details, when they
could be breaking into the house? He crossed his arms over his chest and
Callie realized it would be faster to just answer him.
"Ever since Brutus skidded through that sliding glass door, he's been
terrified of all glass, including windows," she explained. "I'll tell you
something, Julian. I'll regret to my dying day that Gwen got pushed into
the lake."
If Julian found it difficult following the progression of the
conversation, he didn't show it. "You're sorry she was--"
"Pushed in. Yes. I've spent the better part of the last year feeling
guilty about it. Now I realize why. You two were made for each other. She
was just as precise and perfect as you."
"Thank you again," Julian said, not quite suppressing a smile.
"Regardless of what you may have thought, I never held that lake incident
against you."
"You deserved each other," Callie continued, ignoring his interruption.
"Why Brutus didn't understand that, I'll never know. For some reason he
thought you two--"
"Callie!"
"What?"
"Where's the window?"
"Around back. Why? What's wrong?"
"Not a thing, if we stop the conversation now, before you say something
I'll regret." He walked down the steps and headed around the side of the
house, speaking as he went. "I always forget that coming back here is like
stepping into an episode of the Twilight Zone. I'll have to
remember to write that down. You tend to retain things better when you
record them."
Callie trailed along behind him, determined to be understanding. After
all, Julian wasn't acting like himself. Reaction to Maudie's death must
have set in and humoring him seemed the best option. He just needed a
long, cool shower and a hot dog or more cookies or something. Once she got
inside, she'd go boil water for him and open a bag of Oreos.
Besides, she shouldn't have mentioned Gwen in the first place. His
former girlfriend was clearly a taboo topic. And Callie couldn't blame him
for that. If she were honest, she'd admit the incident last summer would
never have occurred if she'd been more willing to get along with Gwen. So
the woman's personality had a few flaws--or more than a few flaws.
Personality wasn't everything. It would have taken a bit of work, Callie
admitted, but she could have found something positive about
dear Gwen. Julian had. Too bad it was such a struggle to figure out what.
Julian stopped so abruptly, Callie almost ran him down. He stared up in
disbelief at a small, narrow window situated just above shoulder height.
"That's it? That's the window I'm supposed to crawl through?"
"No," she replied, remembering just in time to humor him. "That's the
window I'm supposed to crawl through. Even if you could fit
in there, you've still forgotten one small detail."
"Which is?"
"Brutus is on the other side."
"So?"
So much for humoring him. You could only humor someone for so
long--which in Julian's case amounted to about ninety seconds. "I have no
doubt Brutus heard every cruel, nasty remark you made out on the front
porch. And even if he didn't, Aunt Maude told me what happened on your
visit last winter. I can guarantee you, Brutus won't have forgiven you for
that so soon."
"What are you going on about now?"
She put her hands on her hips, speaking sternly. "The firecrackers you
set off last New Year's Eve while I was in Chicago chaperoning our sixth
grade field trip. You know how frightened Brutus is of loud noises. He was
very upset."
"He was upset? He was upset! Did Maudie tell you what he
did to my bed? Did she?"
She felt the color burn her cheeks. "He was asleep on top of it when
you set the silly things off. He couldn't help it. It was an accident."
"It was deliberate. You know it and I know it."
"Do I?" She opened her eyes wide. "How could it have been deliberate? A
creature with a brain the size of a pea and the intelligence of your
common, everyday fungus, committing such a despicable act,
deliberately?"
He took a deep, deep breath. "How do we get in the house, Callie?"
"You're supposed to lift me up to the window and I'll climb in."
He eyed the window and shook his head. "I don't know. Looks chancy." A
wicked gleam glittered in his dark eyes. "I don't suppose you'd care to
make a small wager about whether you can do it without ripping something,
would you?"
"I don't make bets anymore, Julian," she answered in her most decorous
voice. "I haven't for ages."
Julian grinned. "One year does not an age make, sister dear. Which is
how long it's been since our last wager. And the only reason you won't bet
is because you always lose. Don't you want to try and get even? Bet you a
nickel you can't do it."
She pretended to look shocked. "I'm surprised at you, Julian. You
realize, don't you, that this is a very serious character defect on your
part. You should have outgrown it long ago. Betting isn't logical. It's
not good business. It's not like you," she informed him.
"But make it a quarter and you're on."
"Done."
"So? What are you waiting for? Do you want to get in or not? If so,
then hoist me up there."
The sun had dipped below the horizon and the shadows grew steadily
deeper. The air seemed filled with a chorus of high-pitched chirps and
whirs from the many different insects, the deep bass thrumming of a
bullfrog setting the beat. An evening breeze blew warm, almost sultry,
stirring the chestnut brown curls of her hair about her neck and
shoulders.
In the darkness, she could just make out the white glimmer of Julian's
smile. "Let me get this window open a little further and then I'll...hoist
you up to it," he said.
He leaned toward her, and Callie could smell his crisp, light cologne.
She stared up at him, fascinated by the way the first, gentle rays of
moonlight etched his face into hard, uncompromising lines. Julian seemed
so...so different.
He reached past her to brace his arm against the side of the house and
lifted the other to further open the window. Accommodating him, Callie
squeezed back out of his way, and up against the rough clapboard siding of
the house.
The front of his shirt brushed across the front of her sundress and she
caught her breath at the unexpected sensation. What an odd reaction,
she thought, only to feel an even stranger reaction at the touch of his
strong, firm hands around her waist.
"Hold onto my shoulders," he instructed, apparently as unaffected by
her proximity as she was affected by his.
She did as he ordered, laying her hands on the broad expanse of his
shoulders, the warmth of his skin burning her palms through the material
of his shirt. She frowned in confusion. This was only Julian. For the past
eleven years, he'd been her brother, nothing more.
And he was still her brother, she told herself. Yet she couldn't quite
suppress the realization that they weren't truly related.
"Callie, you're going to have to help a little. If you cling any
harder, they'll need a crowbar to get us apart."
"Sorry," she muttered. She forced her fingers to loosen their death
grip on him and pulled back.
"Ready?" At her nod, his grip on her waist tightened and he lifted her,
propping her on the edge of the window sill. "You all right?"
"Yes." She cursed the breathless quality of her voice, but she couldn't
help it. She could feel his chest, firm and broad, pressed against her
legs. His arms slid from her waist to rest on either side of her thighs,
ready to catch her if she should slip. For one insane instant, she was
tempted, horribly tempted, to lean forward and allow her body to tumble
into his arms.
"Callie?"
She swallowed. "Yes?"
"I'm sure your view from up there is very pleasant. And I certainly
wouldn't want to interrupt anything. But, move it!"
A bucket of cold water square in the face couldn't have caused her to
react any faster. Callie ducked her head beneath the raised window and
slid inside the house, her skirt catching on a splinter of wood. The sound
of it ripping resounded in the warm night air.
There was a deep chuckle from outside. "I told you so," he called up to
her. "That will be twenty-five cents."
She considered slamming the window closed and leaving Julian locked
outside for the night. But knowing him, he'd find some reasonable solution
to his predicament and get in anyway. Julian was very results-oriented.
"So what else is new?" she muttered beneath her breath, and then hastened
out of the bathroom and into the main hallway, flipping on lights as she
went.
"Brutus?" she called out.
A light snuffling sound and a funny little groan came from the room in
front of her, and then Brutus lumbered into view. She hurried over to him
and slipped to her knees. Shoving his ornamental brandy cask out of her
way, she wrapped her arms around his massive neck.
"Hello, sweetheart," she whispered into his floppy ear. She traced the
strip of white hair that ran down the center of his head and surrounded
his nose, splitting the symmetrical brown and black markings that masked
him like a raccoon. "You poor thing. Has it been horrid for you stuck here
all alone?"
He whined a reply, and buried his face against her shoulder, his breath
warm and gusty on her skin. His tail thumped noisily as he flipped it back
and forth, hitting the hallway walls.
For a long while they sat there, Brutus "talking" to her with light
sighs and tiny yips and Callie responding, telling him every detail she
could recall of Maudie's memorial service. She didn't know how long she
would have remained there, if Julian hadn't reminded her of his presence.
A loud prolonged banging resounded through the house and with a little
gasp, Callie jumped to her feet.
Brutus barked in protest.
"Don't say it," she ordered. "I know you're not happy with him right
now, but he has reason to be a wee bit annoyed at you, too."
With a snort, Brutus turned his head away.
The noise coming from the front door let her know that if she didn't
get there soon, they'd need a new door. "I'm coming!" She gave Brutus a
final look of warning, a wasted effort since he continued to sit with his
back to her.
"Callie! Open this door! If you don't open up right now--" She unlocked
the door and swung it open. He stood on the doorstep, glaring down at her,
his dark eyes burning with fury. "What the hell kept you? No, don't tell
me. Let me guess. That stupid mutt. You two got all wrapped up in chatting
about your day, and forgot you'd left me locked outside."
"Well, yes," she admitted.
"Move." When she continued to stand, staring at him blankly, he
repeated himself, his voice firm and final. "Move. Keep your distance and
move out of my way. First. I want you to clear a path of all living
objects from this door to my bedroom or I won't be responsible for what
happens to them. Second. When the pizza man arrives, just send him on up.
I'll take care of the tip, myself. Third--"
"Julian--" She broke off at his expression and backed out of the way.
He took one step across the threshold and stopped dead, staring around
in disbelief.
Huge holes had been punched every few feet in the hallway walls, wires
hanging from the gaping wounds like confetti. Black spray-painted lines
and arrows marred what remained of the plaster and in one corner of the
floor, someone had pried up several of the oak boards. A fine layer of
gray dust covered everything. Julian looked around in disbelief, then
walked to the nearest door and flung it open.
"My God," he muttered. "No wonder you took so long letting me in. Have
you called the cops yet?"
"What?"
He grabbed her arm, pulling her back toward the front door. "Come on.
Get behind me. We're getting out of here. They could still be in the
house."
"Who?"
"Who? The people who trashed this place, of course. Come on! Call to
that hellhound if you won't leave without him, but we're going. Now."
She resisted his attempt to hustle her out of the house. "Oh. You must
mean the redecorating. I know it looks a trifle messy, but it always does
when you first pull it apart. Once we get the walls back up--"
"That's not funny," Julian bit out.
Callie blinked in surprise. "It wasn't meant to be. You haven't seen
the study yet. How do you think I found Maudie's note? Once we get the
walls back up and the plaster hauled away, it'll be gorgeous. Honest."
Words temporarily failed him. "This is deliberate? How
could you? The home I grew up in, the house I love--" He glared at her.
"The house I love with its walls on. The house that's been
in my family for nearly one hundred years--you did...did this
to it? On purpose?"
She tried not to look as insulted as she felt. "Well, of course. Maudie
said--"
"Move."
"What?"
"Move. Keep your distance and move out of my way. First. I want you to
clear a path of all living objects from this doorway to what's left of my
bedroom or I won't be responsible for what happens to them. Second. When
the liquor store man arrives, just send him on up. I'll take care of the
tip, myself. Third. Don't tempt me to tell you what's fourth and final."
From the book:
Where There's A Will
by Day Leclaire
Harlequin Romance #3139 -- August '91
ISBN: 0-373-03139-4
