Free Blue Waltz by Linda Francis Lee Page A

will!"
    "Like hell you won't!" This time, it was Adam's control that exploded. "You may think I'm worthless and can't do anything right, but I will do whatever it takes to make you leave this alone!"
    One slash of dark brow raised. "Is that a threat, brother?"
    Emotions scudded across Adam's classically carved face like so many storm clouds in an otherwise flawless sky. With a sudden curse, he turned away. "There are times when I wish we weren't related. You're dead inside, Stephen. You have no feelings. You are cold and hard, ruthless. You know nothing about living or caring for people, really caring for people. You only care about propriety."
    The words hit Stephen hard. Another day he might have been angry. How many times had he tried to explain to Adam that it wasn't propriety he cared about, rather
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    responsibility? But this day too many other emotions churned in his mind to make room for this discussion. Suddenly, he was tired, though it was a fatigue that went beyond mere lack of sleep. And no matter what Adam believed, the fact remained that Stephen had been given little choice in his responsibilities. He had performed them to the best of his abilities. Nothing more, nothing less.
    A tiny ray of sun, faded and weak against the thick clouds in the sky, peeked through. It caught in a pool of water that lay on the ground outside the window, sending a hint of multicolored rainbows out into the world. Stephen suddenly thought of rainbows and pots of gold, precious jewels in buried treasures. He had given up his belief in such things long ago. But suddenly he remembered a time when he did believe. '
    "Do you remember Sutter's Hill?" Stephen asked suddenly, his voice strong but quiet.
    "Sutter's Hill?" Surprised echoed in Adam's voice.
    "Yeah, you know, up on—"
    "Old Man Wilbur's land."
    "Yes, Old Man Wilbur." He chuckled. "He was a mean old man."
    Adam smiled slightly, tentatively. "You used to say he was a mean old coot."
    Stephen's laughter rang loud and true. "Me?" Had he really?
    "Yes, you," Adam replied, still looking out the window.
    "Do you remember," Stephen continued quietly, "the day we climbed up into Old Man Wilbur's tree?"
    Adam shook his head and grimaced. "My backside is sore just thinking about it."
    Laughter laced with words as Stephen spoke. "I
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    couldn't sit down for a week. He was as mad as I've ever seen after he caught us tossing berries at him."
    "He probably never would have figured it out if the whole blasted bucket of berries hadn't fallen out of the tree."
    Both men laughed softly. But their quiet laughter trailed off when they both recalled standing at their front door, on either side of Old Man Wilbur, his dirt-covered fingers attached to their ears.
    Stephen grimaced. "Father didn't think it was quite so funny."
    "No, I don't suppose he did. But you know," Adam seemed to consider, "I've always wondered if Mama wasn't trying to hold back a laugh."
    "No!" Stephen hesitated, thinking. "Really?"
    "Sure. Where do you think I got the idea to gather the berries in the first place?"
    "From Mother?" Stephen's voice rang with incredulity.
    Adam nodded.
    "She told you to drop berries on Old Man Wilbur's head?"
    "Well, not in so many words, Stephen. But one day she told me about doing the same thing when she was young." He furrowed his brow. "I believe her victim was an Old Man Cabot. She, however, didn't get caught. Or if she did, she left out that part of the story."
    "I can hardly believe it," Stephen said with a shake of his head.
    "Don't you remember how after Papa gave us whippings then left for the office, she had Cook make us hot cocoa with an extra dollop of whipped cream?"
    Memories of long ago shimmered in Stephen's head. He remembered his mother as she smoothed first Ste-
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    phen's then Adam's hair, before placing cups of cocoa on the table for them. Stephen hadn't given it much thought at the time. He only remembered feeling miserable at