“I’m sorry, Ted.” As Amanda Watson looked up at him a shadow clouded her usually bright blue-green eyes. “I guess I’m just not in the mood for dancing tonight.”
“Me either,” Ted confessed. C. C. Earl was playing at the Café Car and the band was as hot as always, but Ted was too tense to enjoy himself. Taking Amanda’s hand, he led her back to their table. “C’mon, let’s blow this joint.”
The situation was almost comical, Ted thought as he and Amanda put on their coats and stepped out of the steamy, smoky club into the cool spring night. Deciding to make a weekend trip to Chicago in his new secondhand coupe, Ted had written ahead to Amanda to let her know that of course he would stop in Detroit to visit her. Ted’s arrival, however, had apparently come as a complete surprise to her. After months of agonizing separation, Amanda hadn’t even been home to meet him—she’d stayed after school to work at the newspaper office! His letter must have been lost in the mail, Ted figured. What was worse, though, was that not only had Mrs. Watson and Samantha known nothing about his proposed visit, but they’d also known nothing about Ted’s relationship with Amanda. Samantha had gone with Ted to pick up her twin, but instead of directing him to the high school, she’d taken him to the local lover’s lane and tried to kiss him. Ted didn’t like to remember the pain and outrage in Samantha’s eyes when he had rejected her attentions and told her that his heart belonged to another—her twin sister.
Ted and Amanda walked to Ted’s car in silence. When Ted opened the passenger door for Amanda, he noticed a sparkle of tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said in a small, remorseful voice. “I ruined our weekend. I ruined everything!”
“Amanda.” Leaning back against the side of the car, Ted pulled her into his arms. Amanda rested her cheek against his chest and he stroked her hair, now cut in a chin-length bob like her sister’s. “You didn’t intend for things to work out this way. You just wanted to spare Sam’s feelings.”
“And look what happened!” Sniffling, Amanda put her hand in Ted’s jacket pocket, searching for his handkerchief. “Because of my supposedly good intentions, Sam is even more hurt than she would have been if I’d been up-front from the start.”
And you don’t know the half of it, Ted thought. He’d spared Amanda the more intimate and disturbing details of his encounter with Samantha that afternoon.
“She’ll never forgive me,” Amanda continued, this possibility inspiring a fresh bout of tears.
Ted couldn’t deny that both his and Amanda’s friendships with Samantha were in serious jeopardy. In addition, he suspected that he looked like a bit of a cad in the eyes of Mr. and Mrs. Watson. They must think he was simultaneously wooing both of their daughters. The whole thing made Ted terribly uncomfortable. He almost wished he’d just stayed in Rosse and studied that weekend.
The Watson home was dark when they pulled into the driveway. Ted reached for a light as they stepped through the side door, but Amanda put a hand on his arm to stop him. “Don’t,” she whispered. “It’s nicer in the dark.”
Amanda wound her slender arms around his neck and began kissing him passionately. Bending, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the living-room couch, where they’d shared their first kiss a few months earlier.
“Maybe Sam will be angry at me forever, but do you at least forgive me?” Amanda asked Ted.
“Of course.” He kissed the tip of her nose, then gently brushed each of her eyelids with his lips. Maybe Amanda had made an error in judgment by not telling Samantha of her and Ted’s feelings for each other, even though she had written Ted to say she had. But Ted knew her intentions were solid gold. He’d never known anyone with a heart so gentle and loving, anyone as unselfish and pure. He was so lucky to have found her! It must have been fate that made him and Harry roommates.
“I love you, Amanda.”
“And I love you,” she murmured. Their mouths met again; desire swept away the earlier worries of the day. It felt so good to hold Amanda close, to feel her heart beating against his through the delicate silk of her peach-colored dress.
“Maybe we should say good night,” Ted said, his voice husky.
Amanda drew back with a small sigh. “I suppose you’re right.”
He could tell she was reluctant to leave the comfort of his arms. “Everything will turn out A-OK,” Ted promised. “I’ll wager that in the morning everything will be back to normal in the Watson household. A good night’s sleep is what we all need.”
“I hope that does it!” Amanda agreed, pulling Ted close for one last embrace.
So much for a good night’s sleep! Ted thought as he and Amanda sped back to the Café Car in his coupe. Gripping the steering wheel with one hand, he lifted the other to rub his sleep-bleary eyes. He’d just drifted off when Amanda had woken him. Apparently, a messenger had come by the house—Ted’s friend C. C. Earl was in some kind of trouble and needed his help. Without a second thought, Ted had thrown his clothes back on.
Now, as they approached the Café Car, Ted caught his breath sharply. Trouble wasn’t the word for it! “Whoa! What’s going on here?”
Amanda was also gaping at the scene. The entrance to the club was barricaded off, and by the blinding glare of floodlights, Ted could see a crowd of people milling about excitedly.
He braked alongside the barricades. Immediately the car was approached by two heavyset men in dark suits. “Miss Amanda Watson?” one of them asked. Ted’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. How did the man know her name?
“Yes, that’s me,” Amanda said hesitantly.
“Agent Samson.” The man flashed a badge. “Perhaps you’d like to step out of the auto.”
Amanda started to open the door on her side of the car. Ted put a protective hand on her shoulder. “Is there a problem, sir?” he asked.
“Not for this young lady.” Agent Samson helped Amanda out of the car. “I’d just like to thank her for doing her duty and bringing you to us.”
“Me? To you?” Ted looked up at Amanda through his open window. “Amanda, I thought Earl sent for me.”
To his surprise, she didn’t meet his eyes. Instead, she looked at Agent Samson. “We hear you’ve been financing your college tuition with some illegal money,” Samson said.
Ted’s confusion was growing by the second. He had absolutely no idea what the agent was talking about. Since when was it illegal to write for a newspaper? “Excuse me?”
“You know what’s in this car as well as we do,” Samson snapped.
The next thing Ted knew, he was being dragged forcibly from the coupe by two other agents. “What’s going on?” Ted demanded. “What does this have to do with Miss Watson? If you do anything to hurt her...”
“The only person who’s hurt me is you.”
Ted stared. It was Amanda who’d spoken, and she was crying. This must be some kind of bad dream, Ted thought. But no. The floodlights were real, and the agents, and Amanda’s tears. “Amanda, why are you crying? I don’t understand what’s going on here.”
“Maybe she’s crying because her boyfriend turned out to be a crook,” said Agent Samson.
“A crook?”
“Yeah. Now, how’s about you open up the trunk for us so we can take a look at what you got in there?”
Ted opened the trunk; he could think of no reason not to. He knew it was empty except for his tennis racket and a spare tire—nothing to interest the FBI. But when the lights hit the contents of the trunk, Ted gasped in surprise. It was full of bottles! And not just any kind of bottles. Liquor bottles.
Ted was so stunned he barely heard Agent Samson’swords. “... a crime to be transporting intoxicating drink...” Then the agent addressed Amanda. “Thanks for making us wise to this guy.”
That got through to Ted. “You knew what was in my trunk?” he asked her. “You told them that I had...? But what about Earl?”
“This isn’t about Earl, Ted,” Amanda sniffled. “It’s about you running bootleg liquor.”
The questions crowded Ted’s mind. How had the bottles gotten into his trunk? When had Amanda discovered them? And why, why hadn’t she confronted him first, before going to the police? They loved and trusted each other. How could she have been ready to believe the worst of him?
“Amanda, you don’t think I really put this stuff in here, do you? Why didn’t you say something to me? I would have told you I didn’t know a thing about it.”
“And you’d expect me to believe you? The same fellow who took my sister up to Overlook Valley and... oh, I can barely say it... tried to—to seduce her!”
For a split second, it was Samantha Ted was seeing, not Amanda. Samantha’s rage when he’d rejected her kisses, Samantha’s brooding silence for the rest of the day... But obviously she hadn’t been completely silent. She’d told the story to her sister—only it was the wrong story. Ted could almost understand why Samantha would lie. She’d been deeply hurt. But how could Amanda have believed her?
“You’ve got it all wrong,” Ted told Amanda, who was now sobbing. He reached out for her, simultaneously wanting to shake her and to fold her close to his heart.
One of the agents seized Ted’s wrists and handcuffed him. “Amanda, believe me,” Ted called as he was dragged to awaiting car. At that moment, he didn’t care that he was being arrested. It didn’t matter what the Feds thought of him. But Amanda just had to be on his side! “I never made a move for your sister. And I didn’t put the bottles in my car.”
“Sure you didn’t,” Agent Samson scoffed. “They just walked in there by themselves.”
“Please, sir. Somebody else must have planted those—” Suddenly Ted froze. No. It couldn’t be. She loved him. She might be hurt on her twin’s behalf, but she would never turn on him so completely. She couldn’t have so little faith in him. She would never go that far...
Ted faced Amanda. His voice dropped almost to a whisper. “Did you do this because you thought I made a play for your sister?”
Amanda stared back at him, her eyes now dry. She didn’t answer.
It was like looking at a stranger. Where was the Amanda he’d come to know, to love, to trust? How could she have been so quick to accept Samantha’s accusation without even giving Ted a chance to tell his side of the story?
“You can’t be the girl I fell in love with,” Ted cried as he was pushed into the unmarked car.
Still Amanda did not speak. She simply stood and watched as the Feds drove him away.
Ted sat on the edge of the hard cot, his head in his hands. He hadn’t moved for hours, not since the Feds had shoved him into the windowless Detroit jail cell. Was it morning yet? He didn’t know, and didn’t care.
He sat up, however, when Officer Joe Johnstone unlocked the door to his cell. “I’ve got good news for you, pal,” the burly, white-haired cop announced. “You’re off the hook and free to go.”
“I am?” Ted jumped to his feet, his eyes lighting up with sudden hope. Maybe Amanda had relented and made a plea on his behalf. “What happened?”
“The Feds couldn’t make the charges against you stick.” Johnstone swung the door wide so Ted could pass through. “It was too clearly a setup.”
Ted’s shoulders slumped again. The light died in his eyes. He walked slowly from the cell. “A setup. I guess that’s right. The girl I love—” Ted paused to correct himself. “The girl I loved set me up.”
“Tough break, kid,” Johnstone commiserated, handing over Ted’s wallet and car keys. “If you want my advice, in the future stay away from the flashy dolls. They only cause trouble.”
Ted just nodded, too dispirited to speak.
Outside the station, he found his car parked at the curb. Ted climbed into the driver’s seat and sat for a moment with the engine idling. Where was he going to go? He was too upset to go back to the Watsons’ for his belongings. He had nothing more to say to Amanda.
Swinging the coupe onto the street, Ted hit the gas and headed for the highway to Chicago. He didn’t care that by exceeding the speed limit, he was risking another brush with the law. He was too eager to leave Detroit far behind him.
The Lincoln Park apartment was empty. Sarah had left a note. She and her neighbor, a middle-aged widower named Joe, were on an “outing,” but Sarah wrote that they’d be back in time for dinner and hoped Ted would be in town so he could join them.
Dejectedly, Ted wandered into his old bedroom. Opening the desk drawer, he took out two treasures: the gold ring that had belonged to his English grandfather, Theodore Wakefield, and the journal kept in the 1880s by his half-Indian grandmother, Dancing Wind.
Ted studied the design on the ring. It was an unusual family crest, a many-petaled rose. He slipped the ring on his finger, enjoying the smooth, well-worn feel of the gold. Sitting alone in the empty apartment, a strange sensation of timelessness enveloped Ted. He’d never felt this lost and confused, not even on the night when he had discovered the truth about his parentage and run off to Rosse on the midnight train. I’m back where I started and it’s nowhere good, Ted thought morosely. What had he accomplished in the years on his own at college? He still didn’t know who he was. As for what he wanted to do... In addition to sounding the death knell for his love for Amanda, the previous night had poisoned his love of jazz. He didn’t have the heart to return to Ohio and resume his writing and his studies, or to face his roommate, Harry.
Ted flipped through the brittle, yellowed pages of Dancing Wind’s diary, wondering about the woman who had filled the volume with the tiny, slanted script. All at once, something occurred to him. Maybe part of the reason he felt like a stranger to himself was because he was a stranger to his family history, which had been hidden from him all the years he was growing up. There were so many questions that Sarah had never been able to answer. Theodore Wakefield, Dancing Wind... who were they, really? Where did he, Edward Wakefield, come from?
A sudden inspiration infused Ted’s mind and body with new energy. I won’t go back to Rosse, but I won’t stay in Chicago, either, he decided. He had a car and enough cash to pay for gas. He’d journey west to learn more about the grandparents he had never known, to learn about his roots. And maybe I’ll learn something about myself in the process.
