The Millionaire's Marriage Demand(31)

Once they were safely married, the ring on her finger, he'd relax.  They'd have three days together beside the ocean, in the cottage with  the big bed. They'd be fine.

Impatiently he pushed the buzzer again. Perhaps she'd been late from  work and was still in the shower. He'd like to surprise her wet and  naked, he thought, desire like an ache in his belly.

A couple had entered the building behind him; the man held the security  door open for him. "Thanks," Travis said briefly, and took the stairs  two at a time. But when he knocked on Julie's door, there was no answer.  He stood still, straining to hear any sounds through the wood.

Only silence. He knocked again, louder, visited by the unpleasant certainty that she wasn't there. The apartment was empty.

The ache in his gut was no longer desire, but fear. He waited another  few minutes before knocking again, again without a response. Then he ran  downstairs. He hadn't gone to his condo after work; maybe there was a  message there for him.

Fear transformed itself into terror. She was in the early stages of pregnancy. Surely she was all right?

As he lunged for the door, the little boy said, "She went away."

Travis turned. "Who?"

"The lady with the green eyes."

"What do you mean, she went away?"

"After lunch she came downstairs with a suitcase and got in a red car and drove away."

"Do you know where she went?" Travis croaked.

"I didn't ask. My mother says it's rude to ask people too many questions," he said virtuously.

Wishing the boy's mother a thousand miles away, Travis said, "Thanks for telling me."

"She didn't even smile at me. Perhaps she's mad at me."

"I don't think she's very happy right now," Travis heard himself say. "She's not mad at you."

The boy gave him a gap-toothed grin, hauled his bicycle around in a  circle and pedaled fast toward the end wall. Travis let himself out,  wincing at the thunk of rubber against plaster. When he got to his  condo, there was no note from Julie among his mail; but his answering  machine was blinking. Steeling himself, he entered his password.

"Travis, this is Julie. I-I'm really sorry, but I can't go through with  this. The wedding, I mean. I've rented a car and I'm going away for a  few days, please don't try to follow me. I need to be alone to think. I  just don't know what to do, ever since I met you my life's been out of  control …  I'll be in touch sometime next week. I-goodbye."

His first reaction was relief that she hadn't had a miscarriage; his  second, fury that she could run away. But how could he blame her for not  being able to think? He hadn't been behaving very rationally the last  couple of days.

How about the last couple of months?

He poured himself a beer and stood by the window, watching one of the  island ferries pull away from the dock. He had no idea where she'd gone.  Even if he did, she didn't want him following her. So was he going to  placidly sit home and wait for her to phone?

It was too late to reach Bryce and tell him not to come. How was he  going to face his best friend? And what was the point in having a best  man if there wasn't to be a wedding?

He knew what his third reaction was. He just didn't want to admit it.  Pain, pure and simple. Julie had turned him down. Worse, she'd run away  from him.

What other choice had he given her? What room to negotiate? None. No, he'd been too busy playing the macho, masterful male.                       
       
           



       

He slathered peanut butter on a thick wedge of bread and munched it  standing by the window. Comfort food, he thought. Sticks to your ribs  and the roof of your mouth. He washed the sandwich down with the last of  his beer, cleaned his teeth, looked up an address in the phone book and  left the condo.

The woman who answered the door of an obsessively neat bungalow bore  almost no resemblance to Julie. He said politely, "Mrs. Renshaw? I'm  Travis Strathem, Julie's fiancé. Is she here by any chance?"

"She's supposed to be with you."

"May I come in?"

The living room was tidy, bland and excruciatingly clean, as different  from Julie's warm, eclectically decorated space as it could be. Then a  man walked into the room. Desiccated, thought Travis, and introduced  himself. He said, sitting down without an invitation, "Julie's run away.  It's largely my fault, I haven't handled things well the last few days.  Do you have any idea where she might have gone?"

"Run away?" Pearl squeaked.

"She's pregnant," Thomas said accusingly.

"Yes. Does she have a favorite haunt she might have gone to?"

"If she did, we wouldn't know about it," Pearl said, twisting her fingers in her lap. "Julie was always a very private child."

"Nonsense, Pearl."

"It's not, Thomas. We were too busy arguing to pay her much attention."

Thomas puffed up like a bantam rooster. "Must you discuss our private lives in front of a stranger?"

"He's not a stranger. He's the man who wants to marry Julie and he's the  father of our grandchild," Pearl announced, then sat down hard on a  puce wing chair, looking astounded at her own effrontery.

Despite the confusion of emotion in his chest, Travis was intrigued. He  said intuitively, "Did Julie come to see you last night?"

Pearl looked at Thomas, who looked at Pearl. Neither seemed prepared to  answer him, so Travis added carefully, "Julie's very afraid of marriage.  She seems to think that love doesn't last. That it can't."

"Ridiculous," Thomas snorted.

"We've ruined her life," Pearl wailed.

Travis said forcefully, "Your daughter is the only woman I've ever met  with whom I want to spend the rest of my life. Yes, she's pregnant, but  that isn't why I want to marry her. She stands up for herself, she loves  adventure, she's intelligent and capable." He broke off with an  impatient gesture. "Hell, I sound like I'm writing a resume. She's also  so beautiful she cuts me to the heart."

Pearl quavered, "Thomas, you used to tell me how beautiful I was. A long time ago."

Thomas looked at her across the room. His voice creaking like a hinge that needed oiling, he said, "You still are, Pearl."

As Pearl blushed like a young bride, Travis saw the first fleeting  resemblance to her daughter. He had no idea what was going on, although  he sensed it was cataclysmic. Before he could think what to say next,  Pearl blurted, "Julie was very angry with us last night. So this  afternoon, Thomas and I phoned a marriage counsellor. Our first  appointment is next week."

Julie must have been angry, Travis thought, smothering a smile. "That's a big step," he said in his best bedside manner.

"All this therapy stuff, don't know what good it does," Thomas huffed.

"We're going to find out," Pearl said. "Julie gave us an ultimatum, Mr.  Strathem. She was really extremely angry." And she gave a small, secret  smile.

Thomas had better watch out, thought Travis with another inner quiver of  amusement, and got up to leave. "So neither of you has any idea where  Julie might have gone?"

"Give us your phone number, and if we hear from her we'll contact you," Thomas suggested.

This was a huge endorsement. Travis did so, and took his leave. His next  stop, he'd already decided, was Leonora's. He'd arrive without warning  and take the risk that she wasn't home. But when he pressed her  intercom, she answered, the connection so poor he couldn't tell if she  was pleased to hear from him or not. Again, he took the stairs two at a  time. He'd be in shape for his wedding, he thought wryly. If there ever  was one.                       
       
           



       

"Hello, Travis," Leonora said.

She was wearing a slim-fitting denim skirt and a white sweater, her hair  pulled back with a vivid scarlet scarf. She looked both wary and  pleased to see him. He walked into the living room and stood by the  window, his back to the light. "Julie and I were to have been married on  Sunday," he said. "But she's run away. Do you know where she is?"

"No. She was here yesterday afternoon. She's very afraid of commitment. And of her own feelings."

"She went to see her parents yesterday and read the riot act to them."  He smiled at the tall, elegant woman who was his mother. "I'd like to  have been there."

"Step one, anger. Step two, forgiveness," Leonora said.

"Are you applying that to me as well?"

"I know you're angry with me. And rightly so."

He said in frustration, "My mother died. I'm having trouble bringing her-you-back to life."

"I do understand." For a moment Leonora's voice faltered. "I only hope it's something you want to do."