Glad Tidings

  She must have fallen asleep because a harsh ringing jolted her awake a couple of hours later. She leapt off the sofa and stumbled dazedly around before she realized the sound came from the phone. She rushed across the room.

  A greeting had barely left her lips when her father’s booming voice assailed her.

  “Where the hell are you?”

  “Hello, Dad,” she muttered, her heart sinking. How like him to get to the subject at hand without anything in the way of preliminaries. “How are you, too?”

  “I want to know where you’re living and I want to know right now!”

  “I beg your pardon?” she asked, stalling for time. Obviously her father had discovered her small deception.

  “I talked to the managing editor of the Seattle Review this morning and he told me you haven’t worked there in weeks. He said you’d quit! Now I want to know what this craziness is you’ve been feeding your mother and me about a special assignment.”

  “Uh…” By now, Maryanne was awake enough to know her father wasn’t in any mood to listen to excuses.

  “You lied to us, girl.”

  “Not exactly…” She paused, searching for the right words. “It was more a case of omission, don’t you think?”

  “You’ve had us worried sick. We’ve been trying to get hold of you all afternoon. Where were you? And who the hell is Nolan Adams?”

  “Nolan Adams?” she echoed, playing dumb, which wasn’t all that difficult at the moment.

  “Your mother mentioned his name, and when I called the paper, some woman named…Riverside, Carol Riverside, claimed this was his fault.”

  “Dad, listen, it’s all rather complicated, so I think—”

  “I don’t want excuses, I want facts. You decided to work on the other side of the country. Against my better judgment, I arranged it for you with the promise that I wouldn’t intrude—and look where it’s gotten me! To have you deceive us by—”

  “Dad, please, just settle down.”

  He seemed to be making an effort to calm himself, but more than likely the effort was thanks to her mother. Maryanne could hear her arguing softly in the background.

  “Can I explain?” she asked, waiting a minute for the tension to ease, although she wasn’t sure what to say, what excuses she could possibly offer.

  “You can try to explain, but I doubt it’ll do any good,” he answered gruffly.

  Now that she had the floor, Maryanne floundered.

  “I take it this all revolves around that columnist friend of yours from the Sun?” her father asked. “That Adams character?”

  “Well, yes,” Maryanne admitted reluctantly. But she didn’t feel she could place the whole blame on him. “Leaving the paper was my decision—”

  “Where are you living?”

  That was one of several questions Maryanne was hoping to avoid. “I—I rented an apartment.”

  “You were in an apartment before. It doesn’t make the least bit of sense for you to move. The Seattle has a reputation for excellence.”

  “Yes, Dad, I know, but moving was necessary.” She didn’t go on to explain why. She didn’t want to mislead her father more than she already had. But at the same time, if she told him she couldn’t afford to continue living at The Seattle, he’d certainly demand to know why.

  “That doesn’t explain a damn thing,” Samuel Simpson boomed.

  Maryanne held the phone away from her ear and sighed heavily. She was groggy from her nap and discouraged by her relationship with Nolan. To complicate matters, she was truly in love for the first time in her life. Loving someone shouldn’t be this difficult!

  “I insist you tell me what’s going on,” her father said, in the tone she remembered from childhood confrontations about missed curfews and other transgressions.

  She tried again. “It’s not that easy to explain.”

  “You have three seconds, young lady, to tell me why you’ve lied to your parents.”

  “I apologize for that. I’ve felt horrible about it, I really have, but I didn’t want to say anything for fear you’d worry.”

  “Of course we’d worry! Now tell me exactly what it is we should be worrying about.”

  “Dad, honestly, I’m over twenty-one. I should be able to live and work where I please. You can’t keep me your little girl forever.” This conversation was not only reminiscent of several she’d had with Nolan, it was one she should have had with her father years ago.

  “I demand to know why you quit the paper!”

  Maryanne refused to be intimidated. “I already explained that. I had another job.”

  “Obviously you’re doing something you’re too ashamed to tell your parents.”

  “I’m not ashamed! It’s nothing illegal. Besides, I happen to like what I do, and I’ve managed to live entirely on what I make, which is no small feat. I’m happy, Dad, really happy.” She tried to force some cheerful enthusiasm into her voice, but unfortunately she didn’t entirely succeed. How she wished she could brag about selling her articles. Surely she’d receive word soon!

  “If you’re so pleased about this change in jobs, then why do you seem upset?” her mother asked reasonably, joining the conversation from an extension.

  “I—I’m fine, really I am.”

  “Somehow, sweetie, that just doesn’t ring true—”

  “I don’t like the sound of this,” her father interrupted impatiently. “I made a mistake in arranging this Seattle assignment for you. It seems to me it’d be best if you quit whatever you’re doing and moved back to—”

  “Dad, I refuse to quit now.”

  “I want you to move back home. As far as I can see, you’ve got one hell of a lot of explaining to do.”

  “It seems to me,” Maryanne said after a moment of strained silence, “that we should both take time to cool down and think this over before one of us says or does something we’re all going to regret.”

  “I’m calm.” The voice that roared over the long-distance wires threatened to impair Maryanne’s hearing.

  “Daddy, I love you and Mom dearly, but I think it would be best if we both slept on this. I’m going to hang up now, not to be rude, but because I don’t think this conversation is accomplishing anything. I’ll call you first thing in the morning.”

  “Maryanne…Maryanne, don’t you dare—”

  She didn’t allow him to finish, knowing it would do no good to argue with him when he was in this frame of mind. Her heart was heavy with regret as she replaced the receiver. Knowing her father would immediately call again, she unplugged the phone.

  Now that her family had discovered she wasn’t working at the Review, everything would change. And not for the better. Her father would hound her until she was forced to tell him she’d taken a job as a waitress. Once he discovered that, he’d hit the roof.

  Still thinking about what had happened, she put on her flannel pyjamas and pulled out her bed. With the demanding physical schedule she kept, sleeping had never been a problem. Tonight, she missed the clatter of Nolan’s typing. She’d grown accustomed to its comforting familiarity, in part because it was a sign of his presence. She often lay awake wondering how his mystery novel was developing. Some nights she even fantasized that he’d let her read the manuscript, which to her represented the ultimate gesture of trust.

  But Nolan wasn’t at his typewriter this evening. He was giving a speech. Closing her eyes, she imagined him standing before the large dinner crowd. How she would have enjoyed being in the audience! She knew beyond a doubt that his eyes would have sought her out….

  Instead she was spending the night alone. She lay with her eyes wide open; every time she started to drift off, some small noise would jerk her into wakefulness. She finally had to admit that she was waiting to hear the sounds of Nolan’s return.

  Some time in the early morning hours, Maryanne did eventually fall asleep. She woke at six to the familiar sound of Nolan pounding on his typewriter.

  She threw on her robe, thr
ust her feet into the fuzzy slippers and began pacing, her mind whirling.

  When she could stand it no longer, she banged on the wall separating their two apartments.

  “Your typing woke me up!” Which, of course, wasn’t fair or even particularly true. But she’d spent a fretful night thinking about him, and that was excuse enough.

  Her family had found out she’d quit her job and all hell was about to break loose. Time was running out for her and Nolan. If she was going to do something—and it was clear she’d have to be the one—she’d need to do it soon.

  “Just go back to bed,” Nolan shouted.

  “Not on your life, Nolan Adams!” Without questioning how wise it was to confront him now, Maryanne stormed out of her apartment dressed as she was, and beat hard on his door.

  Nolan opened it almost immediately, still wearing the tuxedo from the night before, without the jacket and cummerbund. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled past his elbows and the top three buttons were open. His dishevelment and the shadows under his eyes suggested he hadn’t been to bed.

  “What now?” he demanded. “Is my breathing too loud?”

  “We need to talk,” she stated calmly as she marched into his apartment.

  Nolan remained standing at the door. “Why don’t you come in and make yourself at home?” he muttered sarcastically.

  “I already have.” She sat on the edge of his sofa and waited until he turned to face her. “So?” she asked with cheerful derision. “How’d your hot date go?”

  “Fine.” He smiled grimly. “Just fine.”

  “Where’d you go for dinner? The Four Seasons? Fullers?” She named two of the best restaurants in town. “By the way, do I know Prudence?”

  “No,” he answered with sharp impatience.

  “I didn’t think so.”

  “Maryanne—”

  “I don’t suppose you have coffee made?”

  “It’s made.” But he didn’t offer her any. The fact that he was still standing by the door suggested he wanted her out of his home. But when it came to dealing with Nolan, Maryanne had long since learned to ignore the obvious.

  “Thanks, I’ll get myself a cup.” She walked into the kitchen and found two clean mugs in the dishwasher. “You want one?”

  “I have some,” he said pointedly, stationing himself in the kitchen doorway. He heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Maryanne, I’m busy, so if you could get on with—”

  “My father knows,” she said calmly, watching him closely for some sort of reaction. If she’d been looking for evidence of concern or regret, he showed neither. The only emotion she was able to discern was a brief flicker of what she could only assume was relief. That wasn’t encouraging. He appeared all too willing to get her out of his life.

  “Well?” she probed. “Say something.”

  “What the hell have you been telling him?”

  “Nothing about you, so don’t worry. I did mention you to my mother, but you don’t need to worry about that, either. She thinks you and I…Never mind.”

  “What does your father know?” Nolan asked.

  She sipped from the edge of the mug and shrugged. “He found out I wasn’t on special assignment for the paper.”

  “Special assignment? What does that have to do with anything?”

  “That’s what I told my mother when I moved.”

  “Why the hell would you tell her something like that?”

  “She was expecting me to send her my columns, and call every other day. I couldn’t continue to do either of those things. I had to come up with some excuse.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “You might have tried the truth.”

  Maryanne nodded her agreement. If she’d bungled any part of this arrangement, it had been with her parents. However, there wasn’t time for regrets now.

  “Dad learned I moved out of The Seattle. I didn’t tell him where I was living, but that won’t deter him. Knowing Dad, he’ll have all the facts by noon today. To put it mildly, he isn’t pleased. He wants me to return to the East Coast.”

  “Are you going?” Nolan’s question was casual, as though her response was of little concern to him.

  “No.”

  “Why not?” The impatient look was back. “For the love of heaven, Annie, will you kindly listen to reason? You don’t belong here. You’ve proved your point. If you’re waiting for me to admit I was wrong about you, then fine, I’ll admit it, and gladly. You’ve managed far better than I ever dreamed you would, but it’s time to get on with your life. It’s time to move back into the world where you belong.”

  “I can’t do that now.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Because…I’ve fallen—”

  “Look, Annie, it’s barely seven and I have to go to work,” he said brusquely, cutting her off. “Shouldn’t you be getting dressed? Walking around the hallway in your pyjamas isn’t wise—people might think something.”

  “Let them.”

  He rubbed his face wearily, shaking his head.

  “Nolan,” Maryanne said softly, her heart in her throat. “I know you didn’t go out with anyone named Prudence. You made the whole thing up. This game of yours isn’t going to work. It’s too late. I’m…already in love with you.”

  The whole world seemed to come to an abrupt halt. Maryanne hadn’t intended to blurt out her feelings this way, but she didn’t know how else to cut through the arguments and the denial.

  For one wild-eyed moment Nolan didn’t say anything. Then he raised his hand, as though fending off some kind of attack, and retreated from the kitchen.

  “You can’t be in love with me,” he insisted, slowly sinking to the sofa, like a man in the final stages of exhaustion. “I won’t allow it.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Unfortunately it’s too late,” Maryanne told him again, no less calmly. “I’m already in love with you.”

  “Now just a minute,” Nolan said, apparently regaining his composure. “You’re a nice kid, and to be honest I’ve been impressed—”

  “I am not a kid,” she corrected with quiet authority, “and you know it.”

  “Annie…Maryanne,” he said, “listen to me. What you feel for me isn’t love.” His face revealed a bitterness she hadn’t seen before. He walked toward her, gripped her shoulders and gazed down at her.

  “That won’t work, either,” she said in the same quiet voice. She wasn’t a poor little rich girl who’d only recently discovered who she was. Nor had she mistaken admiration for love. “I know what I feel.”

  She slipped her arms around his neck and stood on tiptoe, wanting to convince him of her sincerity with a kiss.

  But before her mouth could meet his, Nolan jerked his head back, preventing the contact. He dropped his arms and none too gently pushed her away.

  “Are you afraid to kiss me?”

  “You’re damn right I am,” he said, burying his hands in his pockets as he hastily moved even farther away.

  Maryanne smiled softly. “And with good reason. We both know what would happen if you did. You’ve done a good job of hiding your feelings, I’ll grant you that much. I was nearly fooled.”

  “Naturally I’m flattered.” His expression was darkening by the second. He stalked across the room, his shoulders hunched forward. He didn’t say anything else, and Maryanne strongly suspected he was at a loss for words. Nolan was never at a loss for words. Words were his stock-in-trade.

  But he was confronting emotions now, not words or concepts, and she knew him well enough to realize how uncomfortable that made him.

  He’d hidden his feelings behind a mask of gruff annoyance, allowing her to believe she’d become a terrible nuisance in his life. He needed to disguise what he felt for her—to prevent her from learning what everyone else already knew.

  Nolan was in love with her.

  The mere thought thrilled her and gave her more courage than she’d ever possessed in her life.

  “I fully expect you to be flattered,”
she said gently, “but I’m not telling you this to give your ego a boost. I honestly love you, and nothing my parents say is going to convince me to leave Seattle.”

  “Maryanne, please…”

  He was prepared to push her away verbally, as he had so often. This time she wouldn’t let him. This time she walked over to him, threw both arms around his waist and hugged him close.

  He raised his hands to her shoulders, ready to ease her from him, but the moment they came to rest on her he seemed to lose his purpose.

  “This is ridiculous,” she heard him mumble. He held himself rigid for a moment or two, then with a muttered curse buried his face in her hair. A ragged sigh tore through his body.

  Experiencing a small sense of triumph, Maryanne pressed her ear to his chest and smiled contentedly when she heard his racing uneven heartbeat.

  “You shouldn’t let me hold you like this.” His voice was low and hushed. “Tell me not to,” he breathed as his lips moved through her hair and then lower to the pulse point behind her ear and the slope of her neck.

  “I don’t want you to stop…” She turned her head, begging him to touch and kiss her.

  “Annie, please.”

  “I want to be in your arms more than anywhere. More than anything.”

  “You don’t know what you’re saying….”

  She lifted her head enough for their eyes to meet. Placing her finger on his lips, she shook her head. “I’m a woman, a grown woman, and there’s no question of my not knowing what I want.”

  His hands gently grazed her neck, as though he was still hesitant and unsure. Kissing her was what he wanted—she could read it clearly in his dark eyes—but he was holding himself back, his face contorted with indecision.

  “Go ahead, kiss me,” she urged softly, wanting him so much her whole body seemed to ache. “I dare you to.”

  His breathing was labored, and Maryanne could sense the forces raging within him. A fresh wave of tenderness filled her.

  “You make it so hard to do what’s right,” he groaned.

  “Loving each other is what’s right.”

  “I’d like to believe that, but I can’t.” He placed his hand on her cheek and their eyes locked hungrily. He searched her face.