Chapter 12: MUM'S THE WORD

Monday, November 17th… Steve'd tossed and turned for hours until an exasperated Dora'd dragged a blanket and pillow down to her sitting room and camped out on the daybed where she'd managed to clock a few hours of restless sleep herself. Returning bleary-eyed to their suite in the morning to shower and dress, she glanced enviously at her now soundly sleeping husband. Probably he wouldn't even notice she hadn't spent the entire night with him. Not even the noise of the shower disturbed him, or the sounds of closet doors and drawers being opened and closed.

Dressed for the morning ride except for her boots which lived in the mudroom downstairs, Dora was sorely tempted to wake up Steve. Just because. But that would be mean, and meanness'd never been one of her character flaws... not like Ron back in... in a millisecond the flashback was there and gone... Ron having done or said something extraordinarily cruel and herself telling him to get out of her sight... but why? As she cautiously made her descent to midlevel, Dora clung to the banister in case a second or even third episode occurred in quick succession as sometimes now happened, leaving her slightly dizzy. In the kitchen Miz Bee took one look at Dora's face and with her famed economy with words barked 'Sit!' while pointing at the table in the breakfast nook.

Dottie was perched at her usual place in her favorite tatty chenille wrapper. Across from her Jesse slumped over his white china mug of coffee, in jeans and a gray sweatshirt that had seen better days. At least he'd shaved and combed his hair. The table was littered with pages of the Tockwith Examiner. Dottie and Jesse each had a section propped against the coffee carafe between them.

"Good morning, everyone!" Dora said, taking her place at the foot of the table and removing the carafe to pour her own coffee. Dottie returned the greeting and, now that the prop was gone, ostentatiously rearranged the paper in order to continue perusing the obits and horoscopes. Jesse merely grunted and slid his glasses down to better read the financials. Jesse was not a Morning Person and couldn't manage to get his contacts in before noon.

Dora'd just got her coffee sugared and creamed to her satisfaction and was reaching for an unappropriated section of newspaper when Miz Bee loomed over them with the first platter. 'Clear!' she commanded and papers were promptly whisked from the surface. In the kitchen, Miz Bee was Queen and her Word Was Law... just as Dottie had taught her.

Although there really was no need for adult children to keep their mother apprised of their daily activities, the girls usually did anyway. At dinner yesterday Julia'd announced that she and Ian would be arising before dawn and driving south to the New Forest for the preview of ponies to be auctioned at the Beaulieu Road sale later in the week. After delivering their two younger girls to their Stryker grandparents for the day and an overnighter, Sarah and Jason were off to the City for an evening of dining and theatre. Annie'd be staying over with a school chum.

Michael and Trini'd also left earlier on a visit to friends in Manchester, brushing off Miz Bee's protests about missing the most important meal of the day but promising to be back in time for dinner. Jesse, as far as Dora knew, had no morning plans and neither did she other than wait for Steve to get up and have his breakfast before they went out on their morning ride.

The three at table were still eating and chatting about inconsequential matters when Steve shuffled in, mumbling 'Good morning' without much conviction and dropping into his chair with a haggard, preoccupied look. He put hardly anything on his plate and then picked at it, finally pushing it away. Father and son didn't speak and were quite plainly avoiding looking at each other.

Dora cut her eyes over at Steve. He wasn't dressed for riding. "Something on your mind this morning?"

He snapped out of his thoughts and gave his wife what Jesse thought was one of the fakest attempts at a smile he'd ever seen. "What? Oh... no. No. Everything's fine."

"Aren't we riding today?" she inquired mildly.

"Sorry, luv... not today," he said brusquely. "I have some... um... business matters to attend to." He stood up and came around to kiss Dora on the cheek, placing his hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze... just as he used to do when they were young and he wanted to get her attention but wasn't yet comfortable with any physical contact more intimate than that. Dora wasn't a bit fooled and her alert level percolated up a notch.

"But you enjoy yourself... and don't go alone... take Jesse with you." He started to leave the room, then turned around. "Don't forget... Ron and I are driving to Kingston this afternoon. He wants me to look at some boat he's thinking of buying. Don't hold up dinner for me... we might be late getting back... oh... and don't mention anything to Hazel... it's meant to be an anniversary surprise."

After Steve had gone, Dora set down her coffee cup with great deliberation. Placing her elbows on the table and folding her hands together under her chin, she stared unsmiling past Steve's empty chair and out the window.

Dottie and Jesse glanced at each other before studiously returning their attention to their plates, both recognizing Dora's 'thinking' posture and unwilling to disturb it.

It was most unlike Steve to forego their daily hack, no matter what other business lay at hand. In fact, the only times they didn't go were if one of them were sick or the weather simply too inclement to venture out. Her sixth sense advised her that some unpleasantness was afoot that Steve was keeping from her... and that somehow Jesse was involved. She knew, too, that direct inquiry wasn't going to elicit information from either one.

Jesse was so like his father in many ways but fortunately without the high temperament and inclination to argue that Steve'd so often unleashed on her in the early days. Granted, she herself'd always been quick to rise to the bait. She was thankful that the both of them had eventually smoothed out their incompatible edges. They hadn't had a row since... she couldn't remember when. Jesse, on the other hand, never raised his voice and rarely argued. If pressed, he would simply clam up, which only made Steve angrier.

"Your father seems to be upset about something," Dora commented blandly, shifting her eyes to her son. "I don't suppose you've any idea what that might be?" It was both a question and an accusation of complicity.

Jesse conveniently shoved a large hunk of sausage in his mouth to avoid having to respond immediately. He wasn't any more convincing a liar than his father. He waved his fork around helplessly before chewing and swallowing.

"You're imagining things, Mom. Dad's probably just out of sorts about this party. You know he doesn't like crowds. And he hates having people making a fuss over him."

With eyes still on her son and his blatant attempt to appear innocent, she picked up the two-way from the table and paged the stable. "Jack, are you there?"

A disembodied voice answered at once. "Yes, Aunt Dora?"

"Would you get Jerry and Questor ready? We'll be down in fifteen minutes." Dora didn't bother to explain that Jerry would be Jesse's mount today rather than Steve's, knowing that Steve wouldn't mind. Both Ross boys had inherited their father's eerie Doctor Dolittle-esque ability to communicate directly with animals... horses in particular. The old horse would be safe in Jesse's hands and not pushed past his limitations.

"I'll have 'em ready, Aunt Dora."

"Thank you, Jack." She keyed off the two-way.

Jesse raised an eyebrow. "Am I being press-ganged?"

"Surely you can spare an hour or two for your poor old Mum," Dora said firmly. "Goodness knows when Yvonne and the children get here we won't have a minute to ourselves."

Jesse's heart sank. When his mother spoke like that, it meant A Serious Talk was in the offing. "Who was that?"

"One of your second cousins—Evan's boy. You remember him, don't you... and his twin sisters Eleanor and Eloise? He's between school terms at the moment and wanted to earn some pocket money. A little scatterbrained unless supervised but gets the job done if you keep after him. Takes after his granddad," adding with a sigh, "Blood will tell."

No kidding… and you don't even know the half of it... yet.

By the time mother and son had walked down the drive to the South Barn, the redheaded Jack had the horses ready and waiting for them. They both thanked him and mounted up, ambling around the Ladyfan Lake and turning left onto the bridle path that looped around the smaller Spirit Pond in the woods before eventually rejoining the drive. They'd gone quite a ways before Dora spoke. "I'll never get used to it."

"Get used to what?"

"Being called 'Mom'... it's so... guttural. Your sisters and brother call me 'Mum.' It's so much more soft and friendly, don't you think?"

"My sisters and brother don't live in the States."

"Too true!" She heaved a heart-rending sigh. She always promised herself, during her son's visits, that she wouldn't bring up the fact that he lived an ocean and most of a continent away... but somehow it always managed to insinuate itself into the atmosphere.

"Mother... give it a rest, okay? Please?"

Dora'd never completely accepted her boys' defection, one after the other, from the country of their birth... and their family. She'd dissolved in tears upon learning that Jesse'd obtained his American citizenship. She'd had to face up to the reality that her firstborn wouldn't be coming 'home'—his life, his home was elsewhere... permanently. The second blow had come from Michael, who simply showed up one Christmas between terms at uni with his new boyfriend and stated intentions to live and work in the south of France in future. Steve was the one who'd fallen apart on that occasion.

She mentally chastised herself for having once again managed to irritate Jesse on that touchy subject and returned to the one that had occupied her attention at the breakfast table.

"I'm worried about your father. Did you notice how withdrawn he was at dinner, and again this morning?"

"Already asked and answered," was the terse reply.

Dora glanced over at Jesse, her face troubled and anxious. "He doesn't have any sort of health problem, does he? Something he's told you and is keeping from me?"

"No, Mom... Mum... funny you should ask, though... he asked me the same question about you. Hey... here's a thought... why don't you try asking each other!"

"Jesse!"

"Sorry, Mom… Mum! But really... no, it's nothing like that."

"Nothing like what?"

"I just meant, if he's sick or not feeling well, he hasn't said anything to me about it."

Dora didn't look convinced but tsked to her mount and increased the pace.

"Can I ask you a question, Mum?"

"Of course."

"Has Dad ever done anything that you thought... that you felt you couldn't forgive?"

Dora laughed. "Oh... many times over. I've been so angry with that man I could pinch his head off. But in the end I've always forgiven him." After a few moments she said, "What sort of question is that?"

"Just a general sort."

"I see. And what brought that up?"

"Nothing in particular... I was just wondering."

Jesse looked away and she could see the muscles in his jaw working. With a mother's instinct she knew he was either deeply agitated or lying through his teeth... she'd bet on both.

"Vonda once said if she ever found out I had another woman she'd throw me out and then kill me. Or maybe the other way around. In either case, I'd never get a second chance." Jesse knew it was a lame diversion but it was the best he could come up with off the top of his head.

Dora reined up abruptly. "Oh Jess... are you and Vonda in trouble? Are you having an affair? Or is she? Please don't let it be that!"

"No, Mum... I was just wondering if, say, someone had committed an indiscretion before he married and his wife found out later, would that count? Would she, maybe, leave him?"

"I'd be highly surprised if there's a man alive who hasn't committed an indiscretion or two before he married. Your father certainly did. I mean... I couldn't have proven anything at the time but one always senses things, doesn't one...?"

"Yes, you've mentioned that before. But were you okay with that… then?"

Dora laughed. "Not a bit. I moped and cried and carried on like a toddler who's dropped her lolly in the dirt. And I was so angry and jealous I could chew horseshoes and spit nails. But I couldn't say anything about it to him, could I? We weren't boyfriend and girlfriend. It's not like he was my personal property. Your father's very much his own man and always has been."

"But..." Jesse persisted, "hypothetically speaking... if you found out now—today—that Dad'd been with someone else in... you know... that way, before you got married—with someone you knew—would you be mad enough to leave him?"

"Let me explain something to you, son. For years I was terrified that some other younger, prettier woman would come along and take him from me... but he's always been steadfast. I think I've gotten over that... finally... even though, in my eyes he's just as handsome and desirable as he ever was and the world still swarms with predatory women. No, I can't think of anything that would cause me stop loving him...or make me want to leave him. Unless..." Her voice trailed off.

"Unless what?"

"Nothing. Never mind. Go on."

Jesse gnawed his lower lip before positing his next question. "What about you, Mom... did you ever have someone else?"

"Really, Jesse! That's not the sort of question a son should ask his mother, for heaven's sake!"

"Maybe not... but I bet you'd answer if it were one of the girls asking."

"That's because it's different for us... women can discuss relationship issues prosaically! Men are all brag and bluster... it's all about conquest for them."

Jesse grimaced. "Chill, Mum! I wasn't asking who you slept with... I was just wondering if you'd ever had a serious boyfriend other than Dad."

"None of your business."

Right at that moment she was hit by a flashback so intense it took her breath away: the memory of her very first real kiss... firm hands cupping her face, the pressure of soft lips against hers and a hard body against hers, the velvety smoothness of a man's bare torso beneath her fingertips, the rising heat of desire—all of which, until that moment, had been foreign sensations to her. The incident was as crystal clear in her mind as if it had occurred forty minutes ago instead of forty years. It had taken place on the south bank of the big lake... and the man had not been Steve. Jesse's voice broke through, banishing the spell.

"Mum... what is it? Are you all right?"

Dora felt like her face was on fire and knew it had to be just as red as it felt.

"I'm fine," she choked out. "Just... remembering something, is all."

Jesse's look of concern turned to one of understanding and a slow grin spread across his face. "Aha... so there was someone else! Come on, Mum... give over! Who was it?"

"No one you know or ever will!"

They had been progressing sedately, more or less side by side, although Dora's high-strung and aptly named Questor repeatedly attempted to surge forward and Dora kept having to rein him back. In his advancing age Jerry had become a phlegmatic soul and didn't mind being hindermost. In companionable silence the riders exited the tunnel of trees and rejoined the paved drive, at which point the pavement veered right and up to the house while the unpaved remains of the former farm track angled left and circled up to the tableland that lay southwards of the house. Dora allowed Questor to pick up the pace on the upward slope and he soon galloped out of sight at the crest of the hill. Jerry wasn't having any of it and refused to move faster than a bumpy gait more extended than a walk and but somewhat shorter than a trot.

By the time Jesse'd urged the old gelding up the slope, Dora'd dismounted and scrambled atop a granite outcropping to wait for them.

The surrounding land'd once been cultivated, row crops mostly, but under Steve and Dora's ownership had been allowed to revert to its natural state of tall waving grasses and the occasional bush. From atop the boulders one had a splendid aspect, overlooking the next valley, of the hamlet of Wike and its surrounding farmlands dotted with clusters of woodland, and in the far distance cloud-veiled hills. Questor was tethered by his headcollar lead to a scrawny wind-contorted tree, happily munching dried grasses.

Dora was now sitting on her rock with one knee drawn up and leaning back on both hands, equanimity and composure restored. When Jesse pulled up and gave her a questioning look, she shook her head negatively and patted the boulder, indicating he was to join her.

Jesse sighed and slipped off Jerry, tying his lead to the same tree, which wouldn't serve as any kind of restraint if either of the horses had in mind to test its immobility as a hitching post. It took two tries including one embarrassing slip at which he tore a hole in one knee of his jeans before Jesse was able to scale the boulder and settle beside his mother. Minutes passed in which they didn't speak and she held her face to the breeze.

"His name was… oh dear… I can't remember," Dora stated quietly, not looking at her son.

"Oh?"

"He was an American, here only a short while... a week perhaps? Hadn't thought of him in years... how odd!"

"Were you in love with him?"

"I don't know… I don't remember. I suppose not... it was right after that your father and I were engaged..."

"So Dad knew him?"

"Had to've..."

"And Uncle Ron... and Aunt Hazel and DoDo and Slugger?"

"Yes... yes, of course. They were all here at the time. I can't, at the moment, recall any other particulars..."

"Strange no one's ever mentioned this boyfriend before..."

"Yes, isn't it? Oh well... it was a very long time ago." Having dismissed that topic briskly, Dora turned to face Jesse.

"I've answered your questions... most of then, anyway. I'd appreciate the courtesy of your answering mine." He heard the steel in her voice.

"What's going on with your father?"

"Already told you. There's nothing for you to worry about."

"Don't lie to me, son. I already know about the argument."

"What argument? Who told you there was an argument?"

"You spent two hours closeted with your father in his study yesterday. Voices were raised. Did you think no one would notice... or mention that fact to me?"

"That new girl, what's-her-name... or DoDo!" Jesse muttered bitterly. "Blabbermouths!"

"DoDo doesn't blabber. She merely mentioned it—when I asked—what you and your father had been up to while I was out shopping."

"Can't a fellow have some quality private time with his dad?" Jesse whined. "We talked about guy stuff, okay?"

"Horse pooh!" Dora said briskly. "You two can barely last two minutes in each other's presence, let alone two hours. I hate it, but that's how it is and always has been. DoDo said you were both shouting. I want to know what you were arguing over. You have to tell me."

"No. I can't."

"Can't... or won't?"

"Both. It's a private matter, Mother. It's not my place to tell."

Dora blithely uttered an expletive and Jesse's mouth fell open. His mother never, EVER used bad language. Before she could say anything else, he jumped in.

"Please listen to me... don't... DO NOT... ask him about it... not yet. It's something he has to think about and work through before he brings it to you but I promise you he will tell you about it... either tonight or tomorrow."

She turned her head and fixed her eyes on his. Jesse thought he saw anxiety in them.

"It's another woman, isn't it?" She spoke so softly he wasn't sure he heard correctly.

"Mom... NO! It's not that all..."

"If it's so private... and important... why would he tell you first and not me?" she asked, tears starting to brim.

"You've got it backwards. This was something Dad knew nothing about until I told him... just yesterday. It's not a financial or health issue... and definitely not another woman—not a current one, anyway... but, yes... it's important... it'll have a significant impact on all of us... but he has to be the one to explain it. Can you please just let it go until then?"

Before she could riposte, a rider topped the crest of the hill and came cantering toward them.

LONDON

Much earlier, at Heathrow International Airport... Aided by favorable tailwinds the Boeing 747 touched down almost forty-five minutes ahead of schedule, giving the witches-on-a-mission ample time to clear customs and make their way to the Elemis spa where they quickly restored their travel-ravaged visages to a semblance of normality and changed into appropriate attire. With their hair freshly and fashionably coiffed and wearing knee-length tweed skirts with twinsets, pearls and sensible shoes, they merged seamlessly with the streams of travelers marching resolutely toward departure gates and ploughing relentlessly toward their watering holes of choice.

With Elayne brandishing her BA VIP Executive Gold Member Club Card, they were greeted at the entrance to the lounge by a smarmy maitre d' with a lisping Catalan accent who solicitously guided them to a secluded nook. They ordered a light champagne breakfast, texted Dorothy advising their revised ETA, arranged for a chauffeured hire car to transport them from Leeds-Bradford to Harrogate, and confirmed their hotel reservations. Elayne had considered then discarded the idea of chartering a light aircraft for the next segment of their journey. A few enquiries had yielded two seats on a commuter prop departing in forty-five minutes that would get them to Leeds by midmorning. It was only a fifty-five minute flight—they could rough it with the hoi polloi for that negligible amount of time.

Elayne scarfed down her eggs Benedict in record time and was polishing the last crumbs off her plate when the signature tune of the Wicked Witch from the Wizard of Oz floated out of her capacious pocketbook. She went digging, to no avail, for her cell phone and spectacles. "How come whatever you need allus sinks to the bottom!" she moaned. By the time the items were located the call had gone to voice mail and Elayne said a bad word.

"It's Dottie. She says to give her a buzz soon's we get to the hotel. She's goin' down to the barn after breakfast to see Maude an' ain't got good reception in there. She'll back up at the house by the time we get to Harrogate, though."

"We still haven't discussed what it is—exactly—we're planning on doing once we get there," Sally said after a waiter had drifted by to replenish their champagne.

"I reckon the first order of bidness, once we get settled in, is we work us up a battle plan."

"What you mean 'we', white woman? I only met these people a few times. What makes you think they'll remember me? What's my role in all this?" Sally fumed.

"Oh, they'll remember... eventually. Dottie will, anyhow, since she knows you're comin'. She's aimin' to meet us at the hotel where we can have us a sit-down an' go over what we did an' why we did it, what's gone wrong, an' how we gonna fix it. I figger she an' I can tackle Dora an' you can deal with Jesse."

"Jesse? Why him? We've never even met!"

Elayne shrugged. "Gotta meet him sooner or later, since he's gonna be a in-law. Might as well be sooner an' he can help us decide the best way of approaching Steve."

"If only we knew what was happening right now," Sally said.

"Hang on a sec, honey. I got an idea." Elayne reached for the bowl of complimentary nuts (deluxe, no peanuts) and dumped the contents onto an unfolded napkin. Then she poured both flutes of champagne into the bowl as Sally watched with curiosity.

"What on earth...?"

"Instant scrying pool!" Elayne crowed, removing her trifocals and bowing her head over the bowl, scrutinizing the contents with one eye closed while mumbling some indistinct incantation.

"Uh huh... uh huh..."

"Well, what do you spy with your little eye?" Sally asked impatiently, watching as the champagne swirled cloudily of its own accord before stilling itself and presenting a vague image.

"Shush! Gimme a minute... okay... nuthin' much... they's all sittin' around the table with long faces, like somebody done tee-teed in their grits. Oh wait... Steve's gettin' up, shakin' his head no about somethin'. Dora's just sittin' there with her mad face on... now she's talkin' on a cell phone. Okay... now her an' Jesse is gettin' up an' leavin' the room, too... an' Dottie done took her cell phone outta her pocket..."

Just then Elayne's phone sounded off again... Duh dee duh dee duh DEE DEE Duh dee duh dee duh DEE DEEEEEE! She flapped a hand at Sally, not taking her eye off the bowl. "Get that, sweetie, would you?"

Sally fumbled with her own trifocals, tilting her head back to read the text message on the tiny screen. "It's Dottie again... she says she can feel your eyes on the back of her neck and please quit that 'cause you're making her butt crawl."

Noticing that the oily maitre d' was hovering nearby, Sally flipped the phone shut. After inquiring if mesdames had found all to their satisfaction, he announced that their flight was ready to board and that an attendant had arrived to accompany them to the correct gate. They arose, collecting their carryons. At the last second, Elayne picked up the bowl, slurped down the rest of the champagne and thrust the empty container at the astonished man.

"Waste not, want not," she declared with a not-so-dainty burp and they trotted toward a pony-tailed cheerful-looking young woman in green and yellow livery.

Distance from Heathrow International Airport to Leeds Bradford International Airport: 170 miles