Sandra Brown - Love Beyond Reason

LOVE BEYOND REASON

Contents:

Chapter 1

"The Denver City Council voted today to increase taxes by six percent for the coming fiscal year. Councilmen argued that--"

"Great," grumbled Katherine, "that's just what I need - another drain on the budget." She replaced the hairbrush she had been using in the well-organized drawer and reached for a bottle of lotion on the bathroom dressing table. She rested her leg on the commode seat as she smoothed a liberal application of the emollient to her long, shapely leg. She returned her attention to the voice coming from the radio on her bedside table in the adjoining bedroom.

"An armed man's attempt to rob a convenience store was thwarted today by Denver police. A tactical squad surrounded the building after receiving a call..."

Higher taxes and crime. What a wonderful note to end the day on, Katherine thought ruefully as she brushed her teeth.

Was this to be one of those nights when she allowed herself to wallow in self-pity and bitterness? Such introspection was rare, but she indulged herself whenever this melancholy mood settled over her.

It would be nice to say good night to someone, share a room, space, with him, breathe the same air, hear the same sounds. Him? Why had this nonentity taken a masculine form? She sighed. Living alone had its compensations, but it could be lonely too.

"Tomorrow's weather..."

Frowning, Katherine glanced at the radio and wondered if the late- night announcer ever got weary of talking to himself. Did he ever think about the souls he was talking to? Did he sense their loneliness and strive with his easy chatter to ease that solitude?

His voice was pleasant. It was well-modulated and distinct, but somewhat ... sterile. His casual bantering was rehearsed, anonymous, and impersonal.

God! What a dour mood I'm in, she chided herself as she pulled on her robe and left the bathroom. Maybe I should get a roommate now that Mary is married, mused Katherine as she went through the house on one last inspection before turning out the lights.

Katherine loved this old house. After her father died when she was barely six years old, her mother had managed to keep the house and had reared Katherine and her younger sister, Mary, as comfortably as she could on her postal clerk's salary. It hadn't been easy for the widow, but forced frugality had taught the girls to live economically.

Katherine checked the door locks and switched off the living-room lights just as she rejected the idea of a roommate. She and Mary had gotten along fine after their mother's death three years before, but they were sisters, and Mary's cheerful disposition made her easy to live with. Katherine might not be so lucky with someone else.

Mary. Dear Mary. Her life certainly hadn't improved with her marriage. No, thank you, Katherine thought wryly. She would remain independent and suffer through these short, though painful, spurts of loneliness.

"This bulletin just came in..."

Katherine reached for the button on the radio to set her alarm when she recoiled, staring fixedly at the wood- and-chrome box and listening in disbelief to what the announcer was saying.

"Tonight Peter Manning, a prominent figure in Denver 's business community, was tragically killed when his car spun out of control and crashed into a concrete abutment. Police reported that Mr. Manning's car left the road at a high rate of speed. He was pronounced dead at the scene. An unidentified wo- man, riding on the passenger side of the sports car, was also killed in the tragic accident. Peter Manning was the son--"

Katherine jumped when her telephone rang stridently at her side. She took deep gasping breaths before her trembling hand grabbed the receiver. She sank onto the bed as she raised the instrument to her ear. "Yes?" she wheezed.

"Miss Adams?"

"Yes."

"This is Elsie. I work here at the Manning estate. I met you--"

"Yes, Elsie, I remember you. How is my sister?" she asked urgently.

"That's why I'm calling, Miss Adams. Have you heard about Mr. Peter?"

It wasn't necessary to tell the maid that she hadn't been officially notified, but confirmed that she knew of Peter's accident.

"Well, all hell's broken loose over here. Mrs. Manning is hysterical, screaming and yelling. Mr. Manning is little better. Photographers and reporters are all over the place talking and waving cameras and microphones and flashing lights--"

"How is Mary?" Katherine interrupted imperiously.

"I'm coming to that. When the policeman told them about the wreck, they were all in the living room. When he mentioned that a woman was in the car with Peter, and that she was dead too, Mrs. Manning turned to Miss Mary, who is so sweet, and started yelling at her. She said such awful things to her, Miss Adams. She said if Miss Mary had been a better wife, Mr. Peter wouldn't have gone out at night to look--"

"Please, Elsie, is Mary all right?"

"No, Miss Adams, she isn't. She ran up the stairs to her room to escape Mrs. Manning. No one was paying any attention to her, even in her condition. I went in to check on her and she's bleeding, Miss Adams."

"Oh, God--"

"Yes, and she's in labor, I think. I thought you ought to know 'cause nobody around here seems to care about her. They're all thinking about--"

"Elsie, listen carefully. Call an ambulance. Get Mary to the hospital right away. I'll call her obstetrician. Don't tell anyone what you're doing. If you have to sneak Mary out through the kitchen, do it. Just get her in the ambulance. Okay?"

"Yes, Miss Adams, I will. I always liked your sister and thought--"

"Never mind all that now, Elsie. Just call the ambulance." Katherine couldn't afford to be exasperated by Elsie's garrulity, but she hoped the excited woman would get Mary to the hospital immediately.

Katherine cut that connection and quickly dialed the doctor after fumbling through the telephone book frantically searching for his number. Alphabetical order seemed to have escaped her, and she cursed her inepti- tude. She reached his answering service and quickly apprised the operator of her sister's condition. The operator promised to contact the doctor immediately and have him go directly to the hospital. Without thinking about her actions, Katherine stripped off her robe and nightgown and dashed to her closet. Pulling on a pair of jeans, she damned the Mannings and especially Peter. How could he? Hadn't he made Mary's life miserable enough without humiliating her by getting himself killed while another of his women was in the car with him? She believed Mary's tales of his physical abuse, but would that extend to his inducing her labor to deliver a seven-month fetus? God, help her, Katherine prayed while pulling a T-shirt over her head and stepping into a pair of sandals.

Without combing her hair or bothering to apply any makeup, she ran out of the house, climbed into her car, and headed for the designated hospital. She forced herself to drive slower than she felt compelled to do. She would be no help to Mary if she were injured or killed herself.

Mary, Mary, why didn't you see the kind of man Peter Manning was? Had she been so blindly captivated by the smile that graced the society page columns that she couldn't see the superficiality of it? Peter Manning, the Golden Boy, son of one of the wealthiest and most prominent families in Denver , heir apparent to bank directorships, real estate holdings, insurance companies, and numerous other enterprises, had become Mary Adams's husband a year ago.