Hank handed her a handkerchief. “Nothing else? Just an ugly dress torn?”
“It’s a beautiful dress. The prettiest one at the dance.”
“Think so?” Hank said happily.
Amanda blew her nose again. “I don’t know what happened. He was so kind at the dance. And it was nice to have a man want to kiss me.”
Hank felt personally insulted. “I keep kissing you and you don’t seem to think it’s so nice.”
“Yes, but you just want to teach me a lesson. You want me to change myself into what you want me to be, and Taylor wants me to be whatever he wants. Sam just thought I was…that I was pretty.”
Hank knew there was more truth in her words than he liked to admit. “But you flirted with him and made him think you were easy.”
“I just wanted to feel wanted.”
“I see. You want to tell me what happened today with you and Taylor?”
She shuddered at the memory of the scene in the library. “No, I don’t.”
“That bad, was it?”
She sat up in his lap, and for all the intimacy of their contact they may as well have been sitting in a parlor on chairs.
“Something I’d like to know is, if you wanted a man to make you feel desirable, why didn’t you come to me?”
“You?” she asked. “But you don’t make me feel desirable. You make me feel stupid. You make me feel that everything I do is wrong. You yell at me, ridicule me, threaten me, tell me I have no idea what life or love is. Taylor may not make me feel like a femme fatale but he thinks I’m smart.”
She got off his lap, stood and tried to pull the torn parts of her dress together. “Taylor chooses my clothes; you pick out a dancing dress for me. I really don’t see any difference except that Taylor does it without shouting. I must say, though, Dr. Montgomery, I do like your food better than Taylor’s, but as for day-to-day contact, I much prefer Taylor’s quietness, and after tonight I am further convinced that he’s the man for me. Tell me, are dates always this much ‘fun’? I think I’ll stay home next time if you don’t mind. Now, may we return to my home where I’m safe?”
She turned away and got in the car, trying to conceal that her body was still trembling from Sam’s attack. During the years she’d stayed at home with Taylor as her tutor, she seemed to have missed out on part of her education. Taylor never kissed her, but then along came Dr. Montgomery and he did. Yet Dr. Montgomery didn’t maul her or hurt her, nor did his hands feel like slime on her skin like Sam’s had.
She turned her face to the wind and tried not to cry. For the thousandth time she wished she had never met Dr. Montgomery. If Taylor rarely kissed her, it wouldn’t have mattered because she never would have known about kissing or fast little cars, or dancing, or succulent food if she hadn’t met Dr. Montgomery. And she wouldn’t have become reacquainted with Sam or Reva, who had given her dagger-looks all evening. How different her life would be now if he’d never come.
And now she needed to get it back where it had been. She had to get home, sneak into the house (something else she’d never done before he came) and get to her calculus book so she could pass her test in the morning.
Hank stopped the car some distance from the house so no one would see the lights or hear the moto
r. “Amanda,” he said, turning toward her, “you really can’t blame me for what happened tonight.”
“Of course not. I asked you to please take me to the dance. I even begged you to buy me a dress with half the bodice transparent. And I’ve told you how much I love your little picnics and all the other entertainments you’ve planned for me. Why should I blame you for any of the dreadful things that have happened to me since your arrival? My fiancé can barely stand the sight of me; I’m attacked by an old friend. But I’m sure it’s all been my fault, not yours.”
Hank didn’t answer her but turned and started walking with her back to the house. He knew that what he was doing was right, but sometimes she made him doubt himself. Maybe he should take her at her word and leave her alone.
At the door to her bedroom, Hank took Amanda’s hand and kissed her palm. “Good night, Miss Caulden,” he said softly, then went into his room before she could speak.
He didn’t sleep well that night but kept hearing over and over Amanda’s words that he had no right to interfere in her life. She was right when she pointed out that all the bad things that had happened to her had been caused by him. Tonight she had been nearly raped, and if she had been, it would have been his fault. She had not wanted his help, yet he had forced himself on her.
At three A.M. he got out of bed and walked to the balcony outside. He could see Amanda’s light still on and see the shadow of her bent over her desk. She was no doubt studying her calculus, trying her best to please the man she loved.
Hank walked back into his room and began to pack. He wasn’t sure what he’d been trying to prove with Amanda, but right now he felt like a complete failure. The missionaries who went to Hawaii had felt they were right, but in the end they had brought disease and destruction to the Hawaiians—just as he was destroying Amanda, the woman he—He stopped. He didn’t know how he felt about Amanda but he did know he’d do most anything before he hurt her. Maybe it had all been vanity, to see if he could take her away from Taylor Driscoll. And what if he’d won? Would she become another Blythe Woodley, who thought he should marry her? Would Amanda also tear up wallpaper samples and throw them at him? She was better off where she was, with Taylor, and if she wanted every minute of her life put on a schedule, then it was her choice.
He wrote a thank-you note to Mr. and Mrs. Caulden for their hospitality, although he’d never seen her and rarely seen him, then he tried to write to Amanda but couldn’t. What could he say? Forgive me for trying to take control of your life when you have given control to someone else?
At 5:30 he heard movement upstairs and knew that it was nearly time for Amanda’s punishment test. He swallowed his anger at such an injustice and closed his suitcase. It wasn’t his problem any longer—never had been, for that matter—and went downstairs. As he left his thank-you note on the hall table, he noticed a light on in the library and that the sliding doors weren’t quite closed.
Telling himself it wasn’t any of his business, he peeped inside. Amanda, looking small and fragile, sat behind the massive desk, a paper and pen before her. But her head was on the desk, her hand palm up beside her. She looked like a sleeping child.
He felt a pang of remorse. She was asleep because he’d kept her out late and she’d spent the rest of the night studying. Silently, he slid one door open, then shut it and went to her. She was so soundly asleep she didn’t hear him and didn’t move as he took the test paper off the desk and looked at it. It was a difficult, complicated test and Hank cursed Driscoll once again.