He picked up her plate containing the half-eaten shortcake and set it on her desk.
“Take it,” she said. “I don’t want it. I shouldn’t have eaten with you in the first place.”
“You’ll save all your meals for Taylor? Is he the only one fit to eat with?”
“You aren’t fit to sit at the same table with him.”
“That’s the best compliment I’ve heard this year. I’ll see you tomorrow morning and, remember, the afternoon is mine.” He put his rucksack on his back and left her room through the window.
Amanda sat down on the bed, her body feeling heavy and weak after her encounter with that man. What an utterly bizarre few days it had been, with everything turned upside down. Taylor was telling her he couldn’t bear the sight of her, and this awful man, Dr. Montgomery, was making her act like a schoolgirl again. It was as if he were making her forget all her years of training with Taylor. Twice she had looked up from her studies and caught herself thinking of food—not good-for-you food but the kind Dr. Montgomery kept forcing on her.
As she thought, she looked across the room at the strawberry shortcake on her desk. Telling herself she was not going to eat it, she went to it and picked up the plate. There was no fork but, in spite of that, in spite of telling herself no, she picked up the sticky cake in her hands and began to eat as if she were starving.
When she was finished she looked at her gummy hands in horror, and even while refusing to believe what she was doing, she began to lick her fingers. Once finished, she sighed in disbelief of herself, then went to the door and silently opened it. She made her way down the dimly lit hall to the bathroom, making as little noise as possible in the hopes that Taylor wouldn’t hear her.
When she came out she glanced nervously at Taylor’s door, but there was no light. Nor was there a light on under her father’s door or Dr. Montgomery’s. Turning, Amanda saw a light shining from under the door of the spare bedroom where her mother spent her days. For just a moment, Amanda wondered what her mother was doing at this time of night. Years ago Taylor had forbidden Amanda to spend time alone with her mother as he thought Grace Caulden was a bad influence on her daughter. And Grace soon learned her daughter’s precise movements, so they rarely saw one another.
Amanda shook her head. This, too, was Dr. Montgomery’s fault for disrupting her orderly life. Her mother was a bad influence on her, just as Dr. Montgomery was a terrible influence on her. But she had to put up with him until the hops were harvested and all danger of a strike was past. When that was done, then she could return to her normal life. Once again she and Taylor could sit in the parlor after dinner and discuss intelligent, meaningful things. They could eat food that was good for one’s body. And she would know what was going to happen during a day. There wouldn’t be any more riding in speeding cars or having a man climb in your window during the night. And there wouldn’t be any more anger in her. She was calm and quiet when she was with Taylor, but when she was with Dr. Montgomery she was constantly having to repress her anger.
Back in her room, she changed into her nightgown, put the spread back on the bed, then hid the dirty plate Dr. Montgomery had left behind. It wouldn’t do for Mrs. Gunston to find it in the morning.
She cleared the top of her desk because Mrs. Gunston reported on the condition of her room each day to Taylor. Amanda felt a little guilty about not studying more, but she felt so tired and sleepy with her full stomach and, besides, what was the use of studying? Dr. Montgomery never talked about anything intelligent. He merely ate and drove his little car faster than the wind. Both of which she detested, she reminded herself.
Tomorrow she’d do better than she had today. Tomorrow she’d act as if Taylor were standing beside her. She would direct their conversation to intelligent, enlightening matters, and nothing he could do would make her show her anger at him.
And she’d not eat his food, either! And when he drove fast, she’d demand that he slow down. She’d have to deal with him firmly and show him that she
was indeed master of her own life. How dare he say she was oppressed! She’d show him that she was capable of making her own decisions.
She went to sleep and dreamed of creamed corn and fudge and roast beef, and when she woke she was ravenous, and the thought of a single poached egg and a dry piece of toast revolted her. But she stamped the feeling down so that she was in control again when Mrs. Gunston came to wake her.
Chapter Eight
When Hank woke the next morning he felt great. Last night with Amanda, he had done just what he meant to do: he had made her show emotion. If he could rouse her anger, he could rouse other emotions in her, and emotion was the key to making her realize she was being controlled by someone else.
He was whistling when he went down to breakfast, and he was greeted by a scowl from Taylor Driscoll. “Good morning,” Hank said cheerfully. “Ready for another hearty breakfast of ham and eggs?” Smiling, he passed Taylor and went into the dining room. How in the world could Amanda think she loved that ramrod-stiff caricature of a man?
He smiled warmly at Amanda, who was already seated at the table behind her meager breakfast, and went to the sideboard to help himself to the feast laid out there.
“Bacon?” he asked Amanda before Taylor entered the room. “It’s awfully good.”
“And bad for your body,” she said coolly.
“ ’Fraid he’ll catch you eating it? Well, don’t worry, you can make up for it at lunch. I’ll feed you something good.”
Amanda wanted to say something scathing to this man but Taylor came into the dining room. She was beginning to genuinely hate Dr. Montgomery. There seemed to be no end to his vanity. He presumed that he knew what was good for everyone else in the world.
She looked from Taylor to Dr. Montgomery. They were both good-looking men, but she liked Taylor’s dark handsomeness better than Dr. Montgomery’s blond boyish good looks. She liked the way Taylor sat up straight, the precise, clean way he ate. Dr. Montgomery ate with too much enthusiasm and he had a lazy, slouching way of sitting. He was too big, too…too masculine. Yes, she definitely liked the reserved strength of Taylor. Taylor was a man who knew exactly what he wanted in life and went after it. And Amanda knew what Taylor wanted from her, whereas Dr. Montgomery seemed to want…Well, she didn’t really know what he wanted—but whatever it was, he wasn’t getting it from her.
At the end of the silent meal, Amanda went with Dr. Montgomery to his car. She didn’t even bother to ask him to go in the limousine. He started in on her at once. “Are you hungry?” “Do you want to stop somewhere and eat?” “Would you rather go swimming than to the museum?” “Did Driscoll give you a test this morning?” “Did Driscoll buy that dress for you?” “Would you like to pick out some new clothes for yourself?”
On and on the man went, but Amanda refused to get angry. He was a foolish, egotistic, overbearing man who liked to believe he knew everything about everyone else’s life and he wasn’t worth getting angry over.
He drove slowly to Terrill City, and Amanda used the time to watch the way he shifted gears. By the time they arrived at the museum she was able to anticipate when he was going to make a gear change. At least she was learning something, she thought, rather than wasting her time with this frivolous man.
At the Pioneers’ Museum he was rude and impatient. She was telling him about the tragedy of the Donner Party that was represented in the museum. “It was then that the rescuers found the remains of the others,” she said, hinting at the cannibalism but not wanting to speak directly of it.
“I guess it beat shoe leather,” he said irreverently. “Look, I have to make a phone call to arrange for this afternoon. Wait here for me.”