Yes Is Forever Read online

  “May I be the voice of reason for a minute?” Laura protested. “I know Bruce and, Donna, love, he’s had plenty of practice in not getting re-hooked. He’s a good-looking guy with lots of money. A fantastic house. A boat some would kill for. Do you think the women don’t try?”

  “Of course they try,” Donna said patiently. “But I’ve got a lot going for me.”

  “Like what?” Laura asked, but before Donna could answer, the waiter came for their order.

  “I think I’ll go along with your pita sandwich,” Laura said. “So that’s two of those, and we’ll be joined by another person in a few minutes. He’d like the scallops. His name is Bruce Fenton—I told the maître d’ he’d be along.”

  When the waiter had gone, Donna resumed talking. “Like what, you asked. Well, for one thing, the old friendship between our two families is an advantage. Dad, and later Mom, have been friends with you and Mark and Bruce since the beginning of time, I think. So Bruce is used to having me in his life. I mean…his guard isn’t up against me. How could it be? I’ve been part of his scene for years. We haven’t spent that much actual time together, only occasional visits, but when I was a kid I used to call him all the time because he was the only one who really listened, and lately…well, he’s been making as many calls as I have for a long time. He cares about me. And all I have to do is help him realize how much.”

  “And if he doesn’t realize? What then? It seems to me you could find yourself nowhere.”

  “That’s what I have to accomplish this summer,” Donna said emphatically. “Make him look at his real feelings for me. As a woman, I mean.”

  Laura regarded her intently. “Don’t underestimate Bruce. He’s very perceptive, and he’s likely to catch on quickly. And my educated guess is that as soon as he gets an inkling of what’s going on he’ll turn and run. I think maybe the old family feeling will be against your case, rather than for it. The last woman he’d start something with is the daughter of a friend of the family. Don’t you see that? I hope you aren’t disappointed, but I’m afraid that as soon as Bruce sees you—really sees you—you’ll be lucky to wave to him as he speeds past.”

  “Ah. But I’ve already thought that out. I intend to involve him.” Donna laughed somewhat gleefully until she saw the shock in Laura’s eyes. “No,” she said hastily. “Not that. Don’t look so horrified. Nothing sexy. Not yet, anyhow. I mean to involve him in something interesting, something he won’t want to give up.”

  “Well, he plays a fair game of tennis when he can’t avoid it,” Laura said uncertainly. “You’re not thinking of trying to involve him in some sort of health program, are you? Jogging followed by a sunflower-seed omelet at six in the morning? I can tell you now. Don’t waste your time.”

  Donna fell back in her chair and laughed. “No, no. I’ve worked it out very carefully. I’m counting on, A, his frustrated social-worker instincts, and B, his familiarity with the Chinese community and—oh, here he comes now.”

  She watched the maître d’ escort Bruce to their table, loving every line of him, every motion that made up his careless, loose-limbed walk. The air seemed to thin as she took in the tall lean physique, the casually elegant suit, the fair hair, just a trifle too long, falling over his forehead and brushing the top of a crisp white collar. Loving a man was wonderful.

  “What a great way to spend the lunch hour,” he said, smiling, his mobile mouth turning down slightly in that fascinating way Donna remembered so often when they were apart. He sat and picked up his napkin. “This is my salad, I take it. You’re both looking gorgeous. But I suppose you know that.” He turned his attention to Donna, his blue, blue eyes glinting with humor. “Happy anniversary.”

  She stared back blankly.

  “Your first week on the job.” He patted her hand. “How’s it going? Still like it?”

  “Oh…oh, yes. Great. I love it,” she stammered. “And everybody seems satisfied with my work. That is,” she amended, “nobody’s complained, that I know of.”

  “Mark says she’s doing fine,” Laura said, her eyes looking from one to the other, a tight smile touching her lips. She seemed tense, and Donna wondered if Bruce would notice, but he appeared not to.

  “Go ahead, start your lunch,” Laura told him. “Donna and I have pita sandwiches coming, but you get a salad first.”

  “Okay, if you don’t mind.” He picked up his fork. “Discussing anything with Mark always gives me either a whale of an appetite, or it kills it completely. Today I kind of won, so I’m feeling like king of the mountain and I’m ravenous.”

  “Bruce, I wish you would grow up,” Laura said mildly. Then she added, “What are you going to do for Donna’s first-week anniversary?”

  “I dunno. Any suggestions?” Bruce said, looking back at Donna again with open fondness.

  “Well, Mark and I are tied up tonight—some people are coming to dinner. Maybe you could take her out somewhere.”

  Donna could feel her skin growing warm. Laura was being a little obvious, and she was tempted to give her a gentle kick beneath the table but was afraid she’d kick Bruce instead.

  He speared a tomato wedge and paused with it halfway to his mouth. “That would be a good idea, only I’ve already got something on. Tomorrow night’s no good, or Sunday…let me see…” The tomato remained in midair while he considered.

  Donna risked a glance at Laura, who gave her a distinct I-told-you-so signal.

  “Wednesday,” Bruce said, oblivious to the charged atmosphere around him. “I’m free Wednesday night. We could go out for dinner…some place with dancing and young people. Would you like that, Chickie? Or is there somewhere particular you’d enjoy?”

  Donna didn’t let her annoyance show. Chickie. She despised it when Bruce called her “Chickie.” He’d done so when she was thirteen. And a place with young people? As if he were a hundred and ten!

  “Well,” she said slowly, trying to appear thoughtful. “I think maybe I’d like to go to Chinatown again. I haven’t been there in a long time.”

  “Fine,” Bruce agreed pleasantly, taking another forkful of salad. “That’s it, then. Chinatown next Wednesday.”

  Donna took the opportunity to study him. His down-swept lashes were blond at the tips, his cheekbones high and clearly defined. Laugh lines fanned out from his eyes and made creases beside his mouth. When he smiled, deep dimples formed in those creases. With an effort, she turned her attention to Laura. “You know you mentioned my natural mother, Prairie Crawford, a while ago, and it crossed my mind again that although I know her, I’ve never even met my biological father.”

  “Do you ever wonder about him?” Laura asked with quick interest. “Did you ever want to meet him?”

  “Yes, I did.” Donna turned her shoulder as the waiter placed her order in front of her. “Every once in a while I think of it. It’s a…a loose end, you know? Something I don’t feel quite right about.”

  Bruce’s attention was on her again. “Do you know anything about him at all?” he asked.

  “Not much, really. His name is Raymond Sung. And let me see. He was kind of a wild one along with my birth mother. They did drugs and got into any trouble they could. He and Prairie met here in San Francisco.”

  Laura was looking pensive. “There are probably hundreds of Sungs in San Francisco,” she said. “Do you know anything else? I remember when your dad adopted you after his marriage to Sara he—”

  “A few things,” Donna cut in quickly. “Mom already found out a bit when she adopted me, before she and Dad met: my biological father’s name, that his family were bankers or something like that. Then Dad found out from Prairie that Raymond Sung was an artist, or wanted to be one. Prairie told me that, too, the last time she came to visit.” Donna placed one hand in her lap and crumpled her napkin. She felt slightly sick. This was very close to out-and-out deceit, which she hated, especially the bit about wanting to meet her real father.

  “Wait a minute,” Bruce said. “I thought you said o
nce that Prairie named you after somebody named Don—he wasn’t your father?”

  Donna forced herself to laugh. She’d done as planned, she’d captured Bruce’s whole attention, and she was supposed to feel good. “She did name me after him, but he wasn’t my father. He was named Don Hatch or Hatcher. He was her man of the moment, I gathered, so that’s why I was named after him. Prairie thought at the time she had a permanent arrangement with this Don person.” This was beginning to feel like a bad idea. Even as she dealt lightly with the few known details of her early days, the pathetic truth wounded Donna afresh.

  Laura shook her head in wonderment. “Poor little Prairie.”

  “No, not really,” Donna said. “She’s never unhappy, you know. That’s just her way of life. I don’t think she wants to be any way but the way she is.” At least I hope not, she wanted to add.

  “I suppose you’re right,” Laura agreed.

  “What else do you know about Raymond Sung?” Bruce asked. “That is, besides his name and the fact that he wanted to be an artist. What was his citizenship status, do you know that? Was he from this area, or did he drift in from somewhere else?”

  “He was a good swimmer,” Donna answered and grinned, trying not to think about how her father and mother would react to this conversation. “Does that help?”

  They all laughed.

  “Oh, yes, and he had a motorcycle. That seemed to impress Prairie. At least, she remembered it vividly enough to mention it several times.”

  “Well, that really rounds out the picture,” Bruce chuckled. “A Chinese-American male named Raymond Sung, from somewhere or other, who wanted to be an artist, swam and had a motorbike. With that complete a profile, he would be a cinch to locate.”

  Donna stared at her plate. Her hands were tightly knotted in her lap. “I may give it a try anyway,” she said in a small, tentative voice.

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?” Bruce asked, bending closer to her, his intense blue eyes holding sudden sympathy.

  “Quite serious,” Donna said softly. She was aware that Laura took a quick sip of water and raised her napkin to her lips.

  “I’m sure he could be found,” Bruce was saying.

  “Think so?” Donna gave him total eye contact and prayed he wouldn’t see into her thudding heart. She put a hand on his tanned wrist and willed her eyes to do no more than flicker from the impact of feeling his warm skin beneath hers. “It doesn’t sound like a total waste of time to try?” she asked, almost hopefully.

  He held her fingers in a firm grip. “I could certainly give it a try. I’m not without resources, you know.”

  Donna didn’t move. Bruce’s hand was broad, the fingers long. She wished she never had to move. This had to be dealt with carefully. There must never be any question of hurting anyone, least of all her family. “I can’t trouble you with this, Bruce,” she managed to say at last. She heard a little gulp from Laura, but refused to turn in her direction. “I was just going to go down the list of Sungs in the telephone book. I thought a few calls each day…” Her voice died away uncertainly.

  Bruce grinned wryly. “Then, after you finish with the Sungs, you can start on the Soongs, I suppose. Don’t forget Chinese names are rendered into English pretty much on a phonetic basis. You don’t know how your father pronounced it, do you?”

  “No. I just know how Prairie pronounced it, and I thought it would be S-U-N-G.”

  “But you’ve never seen it written down?”

  “No,” Donna admitted. “It’s a hopeless job, isn’t it? I’d better forget it.” She began to wish she’d never thought up such a wild strategy for gaining and holding Bruce’s attention.

  “Of course it isn’t hopeless,” Bruce said quickly. “We’ll give it a try anyhow. After all, we have the whole summer.” His words were so close to what Donna herself had said that she almost spilled her tea.

  When lunch was finished and Bruce had to hurry back to the office for an appointment, he mentioned the search again.

  “Don’t worry about Raymond Sung, Chickie. We’ll find him, if he can be found. We’ll talk about it at the office on Monday. And don’t forget our date next Wednesday. Will seven be okay?”

  “Yes, wonderful.” She smiled radiantly at him.

  Bruce stood and flung his arms wide. “Wear your dancing shoes, kid. I cut a mean figure on the dance floor.”

  As soon as he was gone, Laura tossed her napkin on the table; she looked scandalized. “Donna. What have you done? You dangled the appropriate carrot and Bruce galloped right after it.”

  Donna didn’t need to be told she’d probably made a terrible mistake. “Oh, Laura. I’ve got a horrible feeling I’m going to regret this. All’s fair in love and war, as they say, but I think I’ve already gone too far. I don’t want war, not if Bruce is on one side and my folks are on the other.”

  “Let’s not overreact.” Laura braced one elbow on the table and cupped her chin. “I really think you do love Bruce. I could see it in your eyes every time you looked at him. When he notices, his reaction should be interesting. Maybe things will work out, but you’re going to need more than luck, and I don’t like this Raymond Sung thing you’ve started. Don’t I remember both your father and mother trying to locate him? They never did, did they?”

  “No. They did try—twice, in fact. For legal reasons, I think. You have to advertise for both natural parents before the courts will release a child for adoption. Mom did it first, because she was still single when she adopted me. Then, when she married Dad, he went through the process. So I’m what you might call double-adopted. And neither one of them was able to find Raymond Sung. He was a drifter, bless him. He drifted into Prairie’s life and then drifted out again. Nobody knows where to. Nobody ever will.”

  “You set poor Bruce up.” Laura shook her head. “Shame on you. Bruce is such a do-gooder. Now you’ve given him a little do-good thing to do, and he’s going to work his tail off all summer trying to find a man who can’t be found.”

  “I know,” Donna said weakly.

  “What if he finds out?” Laura persisted, frowning. “What if he learns Evan and Sara already tried to locate your father and failed? Then what’s he going to think?”

  “Well…” Donna felt panicky. “I’ve already messed up, haven’t I? I’m going to have to tell Bruce I’m not interested in finding Raymond Sung at all. He’ll think I’m a childish idiot.”

  Laura picked up her purse. “You’re probably right, Donna. You should tell him. But you’d better pick the right time. Say Wednesday, when the two of you are out? You’ll both be laid-back, and you can make a joke out of it. Bruce is pretty even-tempered, but he can get riled if he thinks someone doesn’t take him seriously. That’s what gets between him and Mark sometimes.”

  “Yes,” Donna murmured, pushing back her chair. “I’ll tell him on Wednesday. I want Bruce to know that I take him very seriously.” And, she decided, she could already have blown her chances with him for good. “He can get riled,” Laura had said. It occurred to Donna for the first time that she had never in her life seen Bruce angry.

  BRUCE PARKED HIS Lamborghini at the curb in front of his Pacific Heights house and turned off the engine. The afternoon consultation had been a waste of time. It had been his own fault because he’d been preoccupied, and now he’d have to meet with the clients again before they went into court on Monday.

  He didn’t feel like going into his empty house tonight, any more than he felt like going to the party Sally Viorst had talked him into attending, later.

  One more party. One more round of laughing faces, and booze, and empty talk. He didn’t miss Anne. Their marriage had been a disaster, and was best forgotten. But he did sometimes miss what he’d hoped a wife would bring to his life.

  He sighed and reached behind the seat for his briefcase, climbed from the car and headed for the front steps.

  The scent of roses filled the hall as he shut the door. Good old Violet. His housekeeper did a great job of t
rying to make his house a home. Too bad she couldn’t infuse his brain with the right attitudes to complete the charming picture. His body lived here, but heaven knew where his heart was, if he still had one.

  In his study, he poured a small amount of Scotch over a glassful of ice and settled at his desk to attack the mail.

  He picked up the paper knife and set it down again, slowly. Something had happened to him today, something that had begun months ago, insidiously, and had grown bit by bit. Today, in that restaurant with Donna, he’d finally identified the little sensations he’d chosen to deny until today. He could no longer ignore what he felt. The girl…intrigued him. And by choosing to be honest with himself, he must also face that there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about what he now acknowledged as fact. He must do nothing.

  Donna had looked at him like…a woman? A woman interested in a man? “No, dammit, no,” he said aloud and leaned back, holding his drink to the light, watching the amber liquor glow. He couldn’t believe Donna felt more for him now than she ever had—trust and love, the love good friends could share if they were very lucky. Maybe he needed Sally Viorst and her party more than he’d realized. When he started fantasizing about a nineteen-year-old girl who trusted him, he must be spending too much time alone.

  But Donna’s face was unforgettable, her eyes—he’d seen the way men looked at her. Men at the office who were years older than she was. He might have to warn her about that; she was young and inexperienced. Yeah, he’d have a few words with Donna…

  The phone rang and he snatched up the receiver. “Bruce,” he said, then added, “Fenton,” and felt like a fool.

  “Sorry,” a man’s voice said. “I must have the wrong number.”

  Bruce put the receiver slowly back into its cradle. He’d actually expected, no, hoped to hear Donna’s voice. He finished the drink in one swallow and went to look out the French doors at the ochre evening sun.

  Who was he fooling? What he felt for Donna definitely no longer resembled the amused, brotherly instincts she’d aroused in him for years. Back-off-and-tread-lightly time had arrived.