“But the law … it’s always meant so much to you, Justine. Will you be able to handle it?”
There was a flicker of doubt, of unsureness, in Justine’s gaze. “I hope so, Sue. I’m certainly going to try,” she answered Susan as honestly as she could. “I do know that I want this baby … almost as much as I’ve always wanted that career. If determination is all that counts, I’ll manage fine.”
The smile that her roommate bestowed upon her was filled with hope, tinged with skepticism. Justine accepted it, knowing it was only the first of many such friendly expressions of doubt she might expect. But she had to be prepared. Her life had undergone a total emotional reversal in the past hours; it was up to her to set her course and follow it faithfully.
When she arrived in Sloane’s office, a well-planned and decorated room in an ultramodern suite of offices, she was fully composed. Only the charcoal smudges beneath her eyes told of her need for rest. But that would come, she told herself. It was simply a matter of settling into a schedule once more. As for her eyes, her cheeks, her lips—they were full of life, bright and glowing, radiating the warmth she felt at the thought of the seed—Sloane’s seed—that grew inside her.
“You’re looking better,” he commented, staring hard at her when she arrived. For a moment of heart-stopping hesitation, she wondered if he could tell—or might guess—her secret. But the meeting went on without delay, setting her mind at ease. Having read the preliminary material Sloane had sent to her office, she could readily follow the directives he gave now. Taking notes on her long legal pad, she engrossed herself in the work, denying the very presence of the man whose lean frame was never far from her, whose eyes were uncomfortably keen and attentive, whose thick head of silver hair haloed about him deceptively.
Her seeming immunity to his manly appeal gave her courage—and the growing belief that she might just pull it off! The next few weeks passed, similarly without a hitch, further buoying her. In the presence of others, Sloane, it appeared, presented no threat to her sensibilities. So she told herself—over and over and over again at every weak moment of self-doubt.
The chore of shopping for clothing for the trip was simplified by the list which Sloane provided. In great detail it outlined the necessities—down parka and heavy denims, woolen socks, flannel shirts, mittens, long underwear, knit hat—that the chill of the Arctic nights, even these at the end of the northern summer, might require. Justine carefully selected items that left room for growth, though her stomach remained as flat, her waist as narrow, as they had always been.
Having settled the basics in her mind regarding her pregnancy, she was determined not to worry. If Ivy, Gates and Logan balked at her plans, there would be other firms, other opportunities. Thanks to the professional reputation she had already established, she anticipated no trouble in supporting both herself and the baby.
Her dreams were filled with images of a child—tall, straight, and healthy. He would be a miniature of his father, with a dark headful of hair such as she might have imagined Sloane’s to have been in his youth. With every dream her love grew, now given the outlet that Sloane’s emotional estrangement had denied her. She had presented him with her terms, and he had rejected them. Here in her womb was one who would not. If Sloane’s devotion was to be beyond her reach, she would find it in his child.
The thought of motherhood grew more appealing with each passing day. Indeed, everything seemed to be working out to her satisfaction—until the day of departure arrived and Sloane escorted her aboard the Lear jet used exclusively by his corporation.
“Where are Jerry and Bob?” she asked, seeing neither of the subexecutives whom Sloane had designated as part of this exploratory team.
He spoke quietly with the pilot before turning to face her. “They’ll be meeting us in Juneau. We’re making a slight detour.”
“Detour? To where?” Suspicion widened her eyes, giving her the look of a lost child. In her deliberate attempt to avoid a weight gain, she had somehow managed to lose several pounds. Her cheeks were more finely sculpted now, her arms and legs even more slender. The overall effect was not displeasing; rather, it gave her an air of studied maturity, becoming in a sophisticated way.
Sloane looked down on her indulgently. “Don’t be alarmed. We’re stopping in Atlanta for a late lunch, then we’ll move on to St. Louis for the night. We’ll catch the others tomorrow evening.”
The faint pallor which crept up beneath the blusher on her cheeks illustrated the sense of foreboding which suddenly assailed her. Justine felt cornered once more by this man. As the momentary terror at the thought of what she had, knowingly or not, let herself in for surged through her, she swallowed hard. “Is it a business lunch … in Atlanta?” She knew the answer even before Sloane confirmed it.
“No.” He spoke without hint of emotion. “We’re having lunch with my parents at their home.”
“Sloane! How could you!” she exclaimed impulsively, then caught herself as quickly, lowering her voice. The hum of the plane’s engine and the sensation of movement told her it was too late for escape; exerting her utmost self-control, she willed herself to calmness. “Why didn’t you warn me, Sloane?”
“I told you to wear a comfortable traveling dress, didn’t I? What other preparation do you need?”
Looking down at the soft fabric of her pale blue sundress and the length of slender leg which stretched from hem to stylishly tan high-heeled sandals, she knew that her appearance would be the least of her worries. Stomach churning, she regarded Sloane again.
“What do they know about me?”
“Only that you are a lawyer and that you’ll be accompanying me to Alaska.” The rock hardness of his dark eyes was not hidden behind the studied relaxation of his face. Justine felt less than assured—until his eyes suddenly softened. “Take it easy, Justine. It won’t be all that bad. They won’t bite, you know!”
If only theyhadbitten, she was to rue later, things might have been easier to accept. As it turned out, Justine felt herself drawn to Sloane’s parents with a force comparable in strength, though different in nature, to that by which she had been drawn to their son from the start. James and Constance Harper exuded a warmth with every word and gesture—from their presence at the airport in Atlanta to greet the plane, to their vibrant chatter in the car along the route to their house, to the gracious intimacy of the house itself—a Georgian colonial decorated with taste and care—to the informality of the lunch which was eaten on an open patio overlooking lush orchards, to the send-off they gave Sloane and Justine, back at the airport, with heartfelt embraces all around.
In the airplane again, Justine found herself strangely sad. The tarmac blurred beneath the landing gear, and as the craft moved into position for takeoff, her cheeks were wet with tears.
“Are you all right, Justine?” Sloane’s arrival from the cockpit startled her. “Has something upset you?”
Quickly she looked away, her feelings all too open, her heart all too vulnerable. “No,” she forced herself to whisper, then paused. “They’re lovely people, Sloane. I enjoyed meeting them. I can understand why your childhood was such a happy one. They love each other very much.” Her mind replayed the small, nearly missed gestures of affection that had passed between the senior Harpers—the clasp of hands, the meeting of eyes, the quiet exchange of smiles, the shared pride in their son. Was that what it could be like?
“That they do, Justine. They may not have the physical energy they once had, but they are very much in love.” He settled into a seat near her and fastened his seat belt moments before the plane left the ground.
Justine’s head was turned away, her eyes glued to the window. In those few short hours they’d spent in Atlanta, James and Constance Harper had touched her. Now, she felt the loss—a loss she never dreamed she might feel. Against her every effort tears slid, one by one, down the softness of her cheeks. Loneliness overwhelmed her; guilt at the deception she’d practiced drove her deeper into her seat. As grandparents the Harpers would have undoubtedly offered a boundless love. Was it fair to deprive them of what would be a great joy to them? Was life fair?
Sloane’s gentle voice broke into her daze, close and filled with concern. “What is it, sweetheart?” His use of the endearment hastened the flow of her tears, until his strong fingers reached out to brush them from her cheeks. “Was it that upsetting for you—meeting my parents?”
The fist at her mouth bore the brunt of teeth which dug mercilessly into it in a vain attempt to staunch the tears. Slowly, she removed it. “It’s strange,” she began falteringly. “I feel as though I’m leaving old friends….”
“You could see them again …” His words died with the suggestion of the future. Breath caught in her throat, she waited for him to finish.If you marry me.Wasn’t that the logical conclusion? But she couldn’t marry him. She wouldn’t marry him. And she would never see James and Constance Harper again.
