A Will and a Way

independence went hand in hand with Pandora’s set of values. But she’d lied—over and over again—to herself, the worst form of deception.
    It was time to stop, Pandora told herself. Time to face the truth of her feelings if only in the privacy of her own heart and mind.
    How long had she been in love with Michael? She had to standand move around the shop as the question formed in her mind. Weeks? Months? Years? It wasn’t something she could answer because she would never be sure. But she was certain of the emotion. She loved. Pandora understood it because she loved only a few people, and when she did, she loved boundlessly. Perhaps that was the biggest problem. Wasn’t it a sort of suicide to love Michael boundlessly?
    Better to face it, she told herself. No problem resolved itself without being faced first and examined second. However much a fool it made her, she loved Michael. Pandora rubbed at the steam on the windows and looked out at the snow. Strange, she’d really believed once she accepted it she’d feel better. She didn’t.
    What options did she have? She could tell him. And have him gloat, Pandora thought with a scowl. He would, too, before he trotted off to his next conquest. She certainly wasn’t fool enough to think he’d be interested in a long-term relationship. Of course, she wasn’t interested in one either, Pandora told herself as she began to noisily pack her tools.
    Another option was to cut and run. What the relatives hadn’t been able to accomplish with their malice and mischief, her own heart would succeed in doing. She could get in the car, drive to the airport and fly to anywhere. Escape was the honest word. Then, she’d not only be a coward, she’d be a traitor. No, she wouldn’t let Uncle Jolley down; she wouldn’t run. That left her, as Pandora saw it, with one option.
    She’d go on as she was. She’d stay with Michael, sleep with Michael, share with Michael—share with him everything butwhat was in her heart. She’d take the two months they had left together and prepare herself to walk away with no regrets.
    He’d gotten to her, Pandora admitted. Gotten to her in places no other man had touched. She loved him for it. She hated him for it. With her mood as turbulent as her thoughts, she locked the shop and stomped across the lawn.
    “Here she comes now.” With a new plan ready to spring, Sweeney turned away from the kitchen window and signaled to Charles.
    “It’s never going to work.”
    “Of course it is. We’re going to push those children together for their own good. Any two people who spat as much as they do should be married.”
    “We’re interfering where it’s not our place.”
    “What malarkey!” Sweeney took her seat at the kitchen table. “Whose place is it to interfere if not ours, I’d like to know? Who’ll be knocking around this big empty house if they go back to the city if not us? Now pick up that cloth and fan me. Stoop over a bit and look feeble.”
    “I am feeble,” Charles muttered, but picked up the cloth.
    When Pandora walked into the kitchen she saw Sweeney sprawled back in a chair, eyes closed, with Charles standing over her waving a dishcloth at her face.
    “God, what’s wrong? Charles, did she faint?” Before he could answer, Pandora had dashed across the room. “Call Michael,” she ordered. “Call Michael quickly.” She brushed Charles away and crouched. “Sweeney, it’s Pandora. Are you in pain?”
    Barely suppressing a sigh of satisfaction, Sweeney let hereyes flutter open and hoped she looked pale. “Oh, missy, don’t you worry now. Just one of my spells is all. Now and then my heart starts to flutter so that I feel it’s coming right out of my head.”
    “I’m going to call the doctor.” Pandora had taken only one step when her hand was caught in a surprisingly strong grip.
    “No need for that.” Sweeney made her voice thin and weary. “Saw him just a few months past and he told me I’d have to expect one of these now and again.”
    “I don’t believe that,” Pandora said fiercely. “You’re just plain working too hard, and it’s going to stop.”
    A little trickle of guilt worked its way in as Sweeney saw the concern. “Now, now, don’t fret.”
    “What is it?” Michael swung through the kitchen door. “Sweeney?” He knelt down beside her and took her other hand.
    “Now look at all this commotion.” Mentally she leaped up and kicked her heels. “It’s nothing but one of my little