A Ruling Passion Page 5

  where her mother's rich clients lived, or New York, or California. But

  when she got to Palo Alto, she didn't want that either; she wanted to

  live in the hills where the wealthy were. Never once had she found a

  place where she felt she belonged.

  She parked her car in an illegal but unobtrusive spot near her apartment, front end in, so the KNEX-TV sticker in her back window would be visible and look official. She always parked in this small spot, ever since her second year when she moved to an attic apartment in a private home just off campus, cleaning house in exchange for her rent. The parking place was in the alley, just big enough for her microscopic Fiat, and she had never gotten a ticket. Luck or skill, Sybille thought as she locked the doors. Not that it really matters which it is; I need both.

  Her dress for the evening was laid out on the bed; she had ironed it that morning before going to class. Her shoes stood below the narrow, slitted skirt; her underclothes were on the bed nearby; and the scent of gardenia filled the room. She had bought herself a corsage.

  Valerie had told her most of the women wouldn't have flowers since it wasn't a black-tie dinner, but it was Sybille's first party off campus, and she was so excited she had to do something extravagant. So she bought one gardenia and wore it pinned to the short emerald-green jacket that went with her green-and-gold dress. Her mother had made the dress for a special occasion; this was the first time she would wear it. She stood before the small mirror over the bureau, turning and twisting to see all parts of herself It always bothered her that she wasn't tall and willowy. Stand tall, she told herself Head high. I'm Valerie Ashbrook's guest and I'm going to dinner at the home of Thos Carlyle, who owns KNEX-TV and probably has no idea I work for him, and I'll be meeting people who are really important. And if I do things right, someday I'U be invited there on my own, not because Valerie thought I was a charity case. I'll be invited because I'll be as important as the rest of them.

  Precisely at seven o'clock she was in fi-ont of the house, where Valerie had said she would pick her up. She stood there, near the curbing, feet together, head high, for twenty minutes, until a black limousine pulled to a smooth stop beside her and Valerie opened the back door. "Goodness, you're prompt."

  "Did I get the time wrong.>" Sybille gave a swift glance at the dark-blue velvet interior of the car, and instantly memorized it. A small bar and telephone were at one side, a television set was on the other. Valerie, she saw, was wearing black, simpler than her own dress, more stylish, more sophisticated. "I thought you said seven."

  "I did; I'm late. Somehow I couldn't get myself organized."

  "Oh." No apology, Sybille noted, and wondered if that was the way Valerie always behaved. She saw so little of her on campus, and she knew none of her friends; maybe all of them were casual about things like being on time. Even the invitation to the party had been casual; they had run into each other in the library a few days before and when Sybille mentioned KNEX, Valerie said she knew the owner. "He and his wife are giving a dinner party and they told me to bring a friend; would you like to meet him?" Just that easily, Sybille was on the guest list for Thos Carlyle's dinner.

  The driver drove toward the hiUs. "I thought you drive a Mercedes sports car," Sybille said. "Is this your limousine?"

  "Lord, no, who wants a boat like this? This is Thos's. He doesn't like the idea of young ladies driving up to the hills alone at night, especially me, since he and my parents are so close. He probably told them he'd keep an eye on me, and he's such a gallant gentleman, I don't argue."

  "But why would you?" Sybille asked. "It's wonderful."

  "Well, for one thing, we go at the driver's speed, instead of mine. Tell me whafs happening at the station. I heard someone got fired."

  "He wasn't fired, he's going to the network. It's the greatest thing in the world for him. How do stories get around so fast? It only happened a couple of days ago."

  "Oh, this place is so small, and people love to be bearers of news, good or bad. Is that something you want—to go to the network?"

  "Of course; what else would I want? It's where everything happens. All the things I'm doing are to get there as fast as I can."

  Valerie stirred in her seat, uncomfortable, as always, with intensity. "How can you have it so settled? All laid out, like a roadmap. Nick is like that; he's got it all figured out, where he's going, how he's going to get there, what he'll do when he's there. He's not as fierce about it as you are, but both of you sound sort of like sergeants: charge the hill, don't look left or right until you get to the top. Don't you ever relax and just have a good time?"

  "You're jealous," Sybille said shrewdly.

  There was the briefest pause, then Valerie laughed. "Guess again. I'm not an onward-and-upward type."

  Sybille glanced out the window. They were in the hills overlooking Palo Alto, winding up slopes covered with the lush green and brilliant gardens of March. It was hard to believe, she thought, that by late summer, weeks of dry weather would have turned all this to a pale yellow-brown. She looked at the houses they passed, sprawling cedar and stone, set into the hills, and wondered what Valerie thought of them. Did these magnificent houses look small and ordinary to her? Did she think about living up here; about how free someone would feel with a house on one of these hills, looking down on the town and the peninsula, all the way to the bay? Or did she think it was just another nice neighborhood, not nearly as exciting as some of the others she could choose from, anywhere in the world?

  Everything she wants, she gets, Sybille thought.

  "I've been waiting for you and Nick to come to the station," she said, turning back to Valerie.

  "We've talked about it; we just haven't had time. Maybe when I do the pitch for the antique-auto show."

  "That's next week."

  "I'll tell him about it." The limousine followed a curve in the road. "It's just a few minutes from here; let me tell you about some of the people you'll be meeting." Valerie listed some names with brief descriptions, and Sybille stored them away. "It's not fair to throw them at you all at once, but you'll sort them out when you're there."

  "I'll remember," Sybille said. "Thanks." She tried to think of other words, other ways to thank Valerie for the evening. Why was it so hard for her to be grateful to Valerie? It always had been, from the time they met, when they were five and Valerie asked her if she wanted to go for a swim in their pool. "Will Nick be here tonight?" she asked, to break her silence.

  "No, he has to work. It's just as well; he doesn't much like these dinners. This is the third time in the last two weeks he's turned me down when I've invited him."

  "Is this really good, the two of you? More than just dating, I mean. Really... close?"

  Valerie's eyebrows rose, and with a sinking feeling Sybille knew she had committed a serious blunder: she had no right to ask such a question. It would be a long time before Valerie confided in her again, even a litde bit. "This is the house," Valerie said as the limousine turned into a driveway. She glanced at Sybille. "My God, you look as if you're going to the dentist. Listen, these are just nice ordinary people; you're not afiraid of them, are you?"

  "No, of course not. I just don't do this very often."

  "You'll be terrific," Valerie said, and her voice was so natural Sybille knew she wasn't faking to make her feel better. 'Tou're very pretty and you've got a lot to talk about and there's something about you... Nick saw it; he said you were strong and very sure of what you want. People like that, especially men. You'll be fine, really; you haven't got a thing to worry about."

  Sybille felt a rush of gratitude. "Thanks."

  "Let's go, then," Valerie said, and Sybille followed her out of the car. Just believe her, she told herself; why would she lie? But Sybille had never been able to accept a compliment gracefully. She always wondered if there was a catch somewhere.

  She followed Valerie with her usual quick step. "Have a good time," Valerie said at the door and Sybille nodded, but
still, as she walked

  into the large room fear gripped her, especially when Valerie disappeared right after introducing her to their hostess. Sybille watched her move among the guests as comfortably as if she were on the campus, and she thought angrily that she had no right to leave her alone; she should have stayed at her side. Valerie was always like that: swinging wildly from generosity and praise to total thoughdessness. She did just what she felt like at the moment without concern for what was past or what lay ahead.

  While Valerie was the center of attention, Sybille stood at the edges of groups, hstening to conversations, smiling when others laughed, always looking intently at the speaker as if she were the one being spoken to. In that way she spent the evening, saying almost nothing while the guests stood about the living room, having drinks, and then sat at three round granite-topped tables for dinner. She watched, she listened, she took note of dresses, gestures and mannerisms, and the anecdotes about television and local and national poHtics that filled the conversation, giving her her first view from the inside. It was the most exciting evening she'd ever known, and it showed her exactly what had been missing in her plans for the future. Now she expected not only to become wealthy and powerftil in television, but also to be part of the life of powerftil people.

  "Thank you," she said to Valerie at eleven o'clock when the limousine stopped in exactly the same spot it had picked her up only a few hours before.

  "I'm glad you could come," Valerie replied. "I hope you had some ftm; you were awfully quiet."

  "I was watching, and learning a lot. You don't have to worry about me, Valerie. I had the most fun I've ever had in my Ufe."

  Nick pulled ahead of Valerie, his horse flying as they reached the crest of a rise and began the downward run. He hadn't ridden in years and was rediscovering the exhilaration of it, the unbridled energy and sense of freedom that swept over him with the wind. He bent low over the horse's sleek neck, and so it was the flying hoofs of Valerie's horse he saw first as she caught and passed him, shouting something he could not hear. She looked back at him, laughing as she turned her horse toward the hills, increasing the distance between them. But Nick, urging his horse on, caught her and then they rode side by side. The matched energy of their horses and the thrill of their speed flowed between them like an embrace, and when at last they stopped, Valerie

  moved her horse close to his. "It's like making love, don't you think? Like we were inside each other."

  "Not quite." He grinned at her. "As I recall, there's a distinct difference."

  "Well, but not in essence. We were riding each other just now, weren't we? In a mystical sense, anyway: I felt so much a part of you."

  She could always surprise him. As far as Nick could tell, she took nothing as seriously as he took almost everything, but then she would come up with quirky, interesting ideas that showed she'd thought about things in an almost analytical way. But Valerie wasn't analytical; everybody knew that. She was spoiled and willful and resdess. She was also absolutely captivating, which had nothing to do with how serious she was, but had everything to do with why he spent so much of his time thinking about her. This morning he had missed a class to ride with her—she had missed one, too, but she brushed it aside—and he had two papers to finish, and a project at work that would keep him up most of the night. But he barely thought about any of that; he was completely absorbed by the warm, hazy day, the excitement of riding, the fascination of Valerie.

  "No mystical sense?" she said mockingly, when his silence stretched out. "I should have known; it must be as forbidden as magic in your book of rules."

  "I'm open to it," he said. "A scientist is always willing to listen."

  "Oh, you want proof How dreary. Do you know what I love best about riding? Cutting loose from everything. The whole world goes by in a blur, all pale and misty, and the only thing that's real is me, but I'm totally different. I'm my own universe: pure space, pure movement. As if time disappears and there's only speed and eternity. Now, how does a scientist feel about that?"

  "He feels he should have been a poet," Nick said quiedy. "I may have felt something like that when we were riding, but those weren't the ideas that came to me."

  "Well, they're yours now," Valerie said carelessly. "You can do what you want with them. We'd better start back; I have a paper due tomorrow and we're rehearsing the first act of Misalliance tonight."

  "Before or after dinner?"

  "During, I guess; it's called for six-thirty. It's going to be a contest between Shaw's dialogue and our corned-beef sandwiches. Do you want to watch?"

  "They don't want an audience, do they?"

  "The star gets to bend the rules. If you want to watch, you can watch."

  "Another night, then; I'd like to. I'll be working most of tonight."

  She sighed. "Nose to the grindstone," she murmured, and rode off, leaving him behind.

  But she rode at an easy pace and soon Nick was beside her. Their horses moved in tandem, their bodies rose and fell in a matched rhythm, and they were content to ride that way, without speaking, sharing their smiles as the perfect afternoon slid slowly past.

  They were only a mile from the ranch where they would return the horses when they heard a harmonica and an accordion playing a lively tune, and the shrieks and laughter of children. "Let's go see," Valerie said, and, following the sounds, they came to a carnival on the outskirts of Los Verdes. There seemed to be hundreds of children milling about, and a few adults who stood out like tall weeds in a field of waving grass. "Oh, lovely," Valerie said and, jumping down, tied her horse to a fencepost with a loose knot. "Nick, come on; don't you love these?"

  "It's been a long time." He'd said the same thing about riding when she first invited him. So many rediscoveries, he thought as he tied up his horse. And discoveries too. Forgotten were the papers due the next day, the rehearsal that evening, Nick's job. They wandered hand in hand through the carnival, tossing horseshoes, shooting at moving ducks, fishing for prizes in wooden barrels, playing miniature golf and skittles. They rode the ferris wheel twice, watched the delight in the eyes of children on the merry-go-round and the miniature train, and then, at the far end of the carnival, they came upon a puppet show.

  Valerie grabbed Nick's hand. "I don't believe it; it's just like the one I had when I was growing up." They stood behind a crowd of children sitting cross-legged on the grass, and Valerie gazed at the little theater almost hungrily. "It was all glittery like this one, only with gold spangles instead of silver. When I turned on the stage lights, the gold was like stars and everything was a fairyland." She laughed softly, caught in her memories. "My cousins and I used to make up plays and put them on for the family, until the plots got so gruesome nobody would watch. Sometimes we couldn't watch them, either; we'd scare ourselves so much we wouldn't do it again for weeks. But we always came back and made another one even more awftil. Isn't it amazing how children love to terrify themselves with the worst that might happen? I can't imagine why; I refuse to think about those things now. It's much better to think everything will always be gold spangles that look like stars. I wonder if it's still in the basement on the farm. If I ever have

  children, Fd love to see what they do with it; there must be thirty puppets there, just waiting to be brought to life."

  On the small stage, two puppets were playing Ping-Pong. "If you have children?" Nick asked.

  "Oh, I suppose I will someday. I haven't given it much thought. Not for a long time, anyway; I wouldn't have them if all I'd do is give them to somebody else to bring up, and I'm not about to let some kids take up all my time right now." She caught a glimpse of his curious look before he masked it. "I'm only twenty!" she exclaimed. "Why do you keep expecting me to make all these decisions? I'm not ready. Anyone who has children ought to be settled and wise, and I'm not. Not yet, anyway. Oh, look, what a clever idea!"

  One of the puppets had taken a wild swipe at the Ping-Pong ball and sent it sailing out to the audience. With shrieks of
glee, the children grabbed at it; a little girl snatched it and hugged it to herself. When the children looked back at the stage, the puppets were quarreling. "Look what you did! You lost the ball!" "I didn't! You hit it wrong and it bounced off my paddle!" "I hit it right! You didn't know how to hit it back!" "I hit it right! You hit it wrong!" 'HTou hit it wrong!" "Listen, dummy, there's two ways to do things: my way and the wrong way. That's all!"

  The children were laughing and jumping up and down and Nick and Valerie looked at each other. "The reason nations go to war," he murmured, and she laughed. "It's a lesson in power politics."

  But in a minute the puppets were reconciled. "Maybe there is another right way besides mine," said the one who had caUed his friend a dummy. "But it's an awful nuisance, having to learn two ways." "That's okay," said the other. "A little nuisance isn't so bad if it means we can play together without fighting all the time."

  "Moral for the day," Nick said as he and Valerie walked back the way they had come. "But it's not power poUtics, as we know it."

  "No. It's not even marriage as we know it."

  He gave her a swift glance. "Then what was that play about?"

  "A love affair," she said, laughing. "Couldn't you tell? It's the only time two people really work at being on their best behavior. There are the horses; my God, it's so late, let's see how fast we can get back."

  "In a minute." Nick put his arm around her and brought her to him to kiss her. They stood for a long moment beneath the tree. Music and the laughter of children drifted to them, the air was fragrant with sunlight and flowering shrubs, and they held each other close, their breaths mingling.

  "I like that," Valerie said when they moved a little apart and smiled at each other. "What inspired it?"

  "A wonderful day. And I wanted to be on my best behavior."

  She laughed. "But I expect that of you. Otherwise this would be a very unsatisfaaory affair. Come on, we're going to race back."

  By the time they reached the ranch, their horses neck and neck, Valerie was thinking about the play she would rehearse that night; she had forgotten the puppets. But Nick never forgot them. Because that afternoon was the first time he knew he wanted to marry her—and that he could not ask her because she would turn him down. That afternoon was the first of many afternoons and evenings he would tell himself that she wasn't ready yet; he would have to wait for just the right time.