High Plains Passion

by Beaudelaire, Simone

  The answer satisfied him. “I love you, Lydia,” he mumbled against her lips. “Will you be mine?”

  “Of course,” she responded, “I already am. I always have been. And in case you didn't know, I love you too.”

  He knew. How could he not? Her pleading eyes had told the tale for ages. Still, the words felt good, like a soothing balm on the sore places left by his first wife's passing, and that of his tiny son. He might never fully heal, but he suspected with Lydia's help, he could move past the pain and live fully again.

  A wolf whistle shattered the embrace. They turned to see Cyril Fulton, one of Wesley's many uncles, regarding them with amusement. “'Bout time,” the middle-aged man commented. “But don't you think you could pick a better spot? Sparking in the street ain't too mannerly.”

  “Go away, Cyril,” Dylan growled. “I can tell by the way you're talking that a night in jail wouldn't be a bad thing for you.”

  “Testy, testy,” the man replied, staggering off.

  “He's right,” Lydia said. “I guess, since we've been spotted, there won't be any way to keep this a secret – not that I want to – but if you had any doubts, it's too late. We're official now.”

  “I think we've been official for quite a while. Sounds like everyone's been waiting for this,” Dylan replied. His words had the charming effect of turning Lydia's plump cheeks a lovely, glowing shade of pink. He touched his lips to one spot of color and the then the other before leading her back out of the shade. Once again the sun seemed determined to claw and rend the skin from their bodies in its unrelenting heat.

  “Do we go to whatever's left of the reception?” Dylan asked his companion as they reached the street. He indicated to the right, south, where the Heitschmidt home awaited them. To the left, north, lay Lydia's café with her living quarters above.

  “It might be better if we made an appearance,” she said at last. “For one thing, getting caught kissing would be a minor scandal. If we didn't turn up somewhere public….”

  “I see your point,” Dylan replied.

  “And besides,” Lydia continued, “poor Addie's so new in town. I want to be sure she has someone on her side. Someone to ease her transition.”

  Dylan steered them right, and they moved quickly, though not quickly enough to prevent the late afternoon heat from drawing perspiration to every inch of their bodies. They passed through the main street of town, where one-story and two-story shops and homes competed in color schemes that did not coordinate with each other. One might be white with black shutters, the next green with a striped awning, and so on. The overall result was a cheerful hodgepodge of colors, sizes and patterns, made even more garish under the blinding sunset.

  In Dylan's mind, so many houses so close together seemed crowded. He recalled the town of his birth, the large farms, the empty spaces clustered with trees and standing boulders. A town the size of Garden City no longer bothered him, but the few times he'd gone to Wichita or even Kansas City, he'd felt uncomfortably packed in. Glad I'm here, he thought as they passed the Jacksons' oversized, dark-blue home, its black-painted lacy gingerbread decorations recalling the coloring of the owner's wife and daughter: black hair, blue eyes. Even on a house, the palate seemed unwelcoming. Shaking his head, he grasped Lydia's hand more firmly. Yes, there are people here I could do without – the Jackson women being at the top of the list – but I would put up with their snobbish ways a hundred times over for the opportunity to hold Lydia Carré's hand.

  At last they arrived at the Heitschmidt home, which, though just as large as the Jacksons', had a welcoming feel about it. Decorated in a style Dylan attributed to James' German ancestry, the plain strips of wood decorating the exterior had a cleaner, less cluttered feel than fancy gingerbread. A broad, well-maintained porch greeted visitors and ushered them into a generous parlor where, at the moment, the tiny wedding party perched on various chairs and sofas, sipping iced lemonade and nibbling the cake Lydia had provided. The remains of the treat, placed on a sideboard that normally graced the dining room, had been a beauty, Dylan could see. The white vanilla interior practically glistened with butter, and a pinkish-yellow filling oozed between the layers, scenting the room with summer peaches. White frosting had crushed sugar like snowflakes clinging to its exterior, decorated with an arrangement of candied purple flowers.

  “That's beautiful,” he told her. She beamed.

  “I wanted something elegant for the bride,” she replied. “Just because a wedding happens fast doesn't mean it has to be pitiful or unattractive.”

  “I really appreciate it, too,” the small, redheaded woman replied, approaching the couple. “You and Mrs. Heitschmidt really made my day special. I'll treasure these memories forever.”

  Dylan couldn't help but smile at the girl's sincerity. Her appearance made him think even better of his new deputy, who clung to her fingers, watching attentively to ensure she was enjoying their special day. The girl – what's her name, Addie? Yes, Addie – though short in stature, had the kind of firecracker personality that dared the ill-intentioned to try anything funny. And yet something seemed to haunt her dark eyes, as though she'd seen too much and was trying to understand how to move forward. Even in the carefully cut gown, her pregnant belly revealed just how close the couple had come to disaster. And yet, Dylan could see the love on Jesse's face, and on Addie's too. They adored each other. I know how that look feels. I wonder when Lydia would like to take the plunge.

  “So glad you could make it,” Becky said, every inch the gracious hostess, though the irony in her serene smile told him Lydia would be getting the teasing of her life when the two women found some privacy. He glanced at his lady and saw her beaming. Oh well. Everyone's going to know, and everyone's going to weigh in, I guess.

  “Yeah, we took a small detour,” he told the lovely blond, “but we made it in the end. And now, if it's all right with you, I think I have to try a piece of this cake. You know, see if it's up to Miss Lydia's usual standards.”

  Lydia laughed and swatted his arm. “It's better,” she insisted immodestly.

  “It is,” James Heitschmidt agreed around his fork. Then he swallowed, his freckled Adam's apple bobbing. “I've never tasted a cake this good.”

  “Oh, go on.” Lydia blushed around her smile.

  “Better get some before I finish it,” the store owner warned, moving toward them and resting his hand on his wife's shoulder. Becky grinned at him.

  This is what life is all about, Dylan thought as he helped himself to a large slice of the tempting confection. Friends, food, banter, and the love of a good woman. It doesn't get any better than this.

  After the bride and groom left, Dylan cornered Lydia on the porch of the Heitschmidt home. “Do you need help with anything?” he asked.

  “No thanks, Dylan,” she replied, “I'm fine.”

  “All right,” he agreed easily. “I need to get back to work. I'll be extra busy for a few more days, until Jesse gets started, but then I should have some free time, you know, to court you properly.”

  Lydia smiled, his words warming her deep inside. “I'd like that, though with my unusual schedule, we'll have to discuss what kind of courtship we can have. Oh, I'm so glad for this, Dylan,” she added, her urge to gush overtaking her. “It's like a dream.”

  “This dream came true, sweet Lydia.” He smudged his lips over hers, tickling her with his mustache.

  A squirming sensation fluttered through Lydia's belly, along with a sensation of heat that seemed to radiate outward and downward. She bit her lip.

  “I don't want to go,” he murmured. “Now that I finally have you I never want to leave.”

  “Soon, Dylan. We'll be together soon. I'll stop by and see you once I close up the café tomorrow, all right?”

  He kissed her again. “Sounds perfect.” Dylan's mouth grew hungry on hers, crushing her lips instead of caressing them. His tongue probed. She gasped, and it loosened her lips. He plunged in, claiming her mouth in a way she hadn't kn
own existed. At first the wet penetration startled her. It felt strange and foreign. But her body, it seemed, knew how to respond. The squirming heat in her loins carried with it an unfamiliar sensation of moisture in the secret places she rarely thought about. She hummed, her hips arching unconsciously as she sought the relief of pressure against the spot. To her surprise, the seam of Dylan's neatly pressed trousers seemed to protrude more than she'd expected.

  “Dylan?” she asked.

  “I want you, honey,” he replied. “I hope you won't insist on a long courtship.” The strained, raspy sound of his voice, coupled with the insistent way he clutched her hips and pushed her against that overfull seam turned the squirming in her belly to nerves.

  Dylan didn't press for an answer. Instead he brushed her lips with his once more and, with a dip of his hat, left for the jail.

  Lydia touched her mouth with her fingertips, wondering what exactly had just happened.

  “Lydia,” Becky called from the parlor's open window, “can you come here please?”

  Grinning, and knowing a full accounting would be demanded, she returned to the stuffy indoors.

  Becky stood guard over the remaining half of the wedding cake, while her husband hovered. “James, I'm not telling you again, shoo. This is Jesse and Addie's cake, and I don't want you keeping me up all night moaning about a belly ache.”

  “Rebecca,” he whined.

  “No, get, go on.” She flapped her hands at her husband. “I want to talk to Lydia without you anyway.”

  “Oh my Lord.” James rolled his eyes towards heaven. “The hens will be clucking.”

  “Be glad Cody wasn't here to listen to you taking the Lord's name in vain,” his wife remonstrated. “You don't want him to take you aside again, do you?”

  James made a face at his wife and stomped out of the room in a comically false display of temper. Lydia and Becky looked at each other and burst out laughing.

  “Where is everyone else?” Lydia asked between wheezes.

  “They traipsed right passed you, you goose, while you were sparking with the sheriff for the whole world to see.” Rebecca wiped her streaming eyes with one hand. With the other she held the little swell of her belly.

  “Goodness, everyone's expecting,” Lydia commented.

  “I know,” Becky replied with a sigh. “I'm excited, even if my sister isn't. Of course, when I only have two months to go and I'm big as a house, I might not feel quite so joyful then.”

  “I think you will,” Lydia replied. “You and James have such a lovely relationship. I'm afraid Allison and Wesley aren't doing so well. Or am I wrong? You'd know.”

  “Let's sit,” Becky suggested, indicating the sofa. The two ladies each claimed a spot by one of the upholstered arms.

  Leaning on the soft fabric, Lydia turned to regard her friend. “What's going on?” she asked. “I know Allison hasn't been feeling the best lately.”

  Becky sighed. “She doesn't tell me everything either, but I get the feeling that marriage to Wesley has proven to be a grave disappointment to her. He's sort of… shell shocked after that nightmare of a first marriage he endured and now he's not at all like his old self. Allison doesn't know what to do, and now that she's nearly at the end of her pregnancy, she can hardly make herself try anymore. I think she's just taking care of Melissa as best she can and ignoring Wes, because she can't cope with his weird habits and unaccountable moods.”

  Lydia frowned. “That's a shame, and I've heard from everyone how they always planned to marry. Why did he marry someone else? That never made a bit of sense to me.”

  Becky closed her eyes, her mouth twisting. “Gentleman's indiscretion,” she replied. “Samantha was expecting Melissa. Wes couldn't deny the possibility she might be his, so he married her.”

  Lydia made a face. “Why on earth would a man bed down with one woman when he's practically married to another?”

  Becky shrugged. “Young men do stupid things,” she said, toying with the fringes on the edge of a small black pillow. “Young women too. One reason for everyone to wait to grow up a bit. Some of them move away from that nonsense and learn how to act right.”

  “Maybe a few,” Lydia replied. “I don't have much faith in the male of the species. I've seen too much.”

  Becky's frown deepened. “So have I. If James hadn't come along, I think I would have been content to remain single. Love is a huge risk. You give your heart and…” she paused, bit her lip and then rushed on. “And then they leave you sad and alone, with everyone gossiping and pointing fingers.”

  “You know,” Lydia commented dryly to her friend, “You're not making the most appealing case for a courtship.”

  Becky smiled without humor, that serene, meaningless smile she'd worn for years and only recently allowed to turn genuine. “I'm not trying to make a case for anything. For those of us fortunate to have a skill, a trade, trying to snare a man isn't necessary. It's actually a blessing because then you can choose a really good one, and move on if he proves to be a bad prospect.”

  “I don't think Dylan is a bad prospect,” Lydia commented, reviewing what she knew about her suitor.

  “I do,” Becky replied. “He's kept you on a string for years. Watch him carefully for signs of waffling.”

  What? What's she saying? Becky's blunt advice roused a hint of defensive anger in Lydia. “I hardly think, after the internal battle he had to go through to get to this point, that he's going to back off. He seems committed now. Besides, this is Dylan we're talking about.”

  Becky's expression softened. “I hardly know the man. He intimidates me. But you know him better than I do. Do you think he'll marry you eventually?”

  “He's hinted at it,” Lydia admitted. “Though after this conversation you and I have been having, I'm not sure how I feel about that. What made you decide to marry after remaining single for so long?”

  Becky rolled her eyes. “James rolled into my heart like a train,” she said. “I fell hard for him long before he spoke, but once he decided what he wanted, he had me in a family way and hitched up in no time.”

  “Oh dear,” Lydia bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Wrong order?”

  “Completely.” Becky laughed, a genuine laugh this time. “I didn't realize it until later, but…” she seemed to be counting in her head. “It must have been a good month before.”

  Lydia's thoughts chased down that avenue before she had a chance to reflect on them. Secure in the company of the least judgmental, kindest person she'd ever met, she dared to ask what she hadn't realized had been weighing on her mind. “What's it like, Becky?”

  “Being with child?” the lovely blond asked.

  Lydia shook her head. “Being with a man. I've heard things… seen things that make me wonder. I've never tried it…” her cheeks heated beyond the stuffiness of a July day. “But it always seemed like something women have to put up with to make a man happy, but it isn't very nice.”

  Becky drew in a slow, deep breath, obviously considering her words. “I can be like that,” she admitted. “Between you and me, there was a time… back when I was seventeen and engaged. We decided to experience… that, and it wasn't much of anything.” She frowned and her own cheeks took on a pink hue, like a rose painted on a china cup. “Nothing at all, really. It was awkward and uncomfortable, though I didn't experience much pain. The pain came later when he abandoned me. I didn't think anyone would bother with me after that, not if they knew, and I didn't want to lie.”

  “Oh.” Lydia reached across the sofa and patted Becky on the arm. “That's a shame. I'm sorry.”

  Becky shook off the unpleasant memory, and her grin turned naughty. “Don't be. James doesn't care, so all is well. Though I did get quite a scare when we accidentally lost control that one time. I thought I would lose him, but I didn't. See, that's how you know a true man instead of an overgrown boy. He stays around to honor his commitments.”

  “And now?” Lydia pressed, eager to hear more about the positive
side of her friend's obviously happy marriage.

  “Well, James convinced me from that first time on that he can be trusted with my heart… and also with my body.” Her blush fired brighter but the smile on her lips spoke volumes. “Let me tell you, the right man, a kind, patient man, will make you forget every negative thing you've ever heard, seen or experienced. It's like nothing you can imagine, until you've tried it. I'm glad James and I are married. Otherwise I'd be considered a terrible hussy, because I wouldn't be able to stop.”

  The burning in Lydia's cheeks threatened to set her ablaze. “Goodness,” she said at last. “It's that nice?”

  “Oh yes,” Becky agreed with a nod. “And if your Dylan is the man you think he is; he won't let you down either.”

  Lydia bit her lip. “Strange. So strange.”

  “I know it must seem so,” Becky agreed, “the way everyone acts, but it's as natural as life. It IS life.” Her hand stroked absently over the bulge in her belly where her child was growing. The cycle complete. A man and woman love each other. They take each other in their arms and new life is created. The thought had never occurred to Lydia before, but in that moment, the transcendent beauty of it brought tears to her eyes. I'll never bear a child, I'm not even sure I want to, but I do want to understand what she's talking about. It's nothing like what I've heard before.

  Lydia exhaled, releasing old thoughts and negative feelings to waft away in a hot, stale breeze that blew in the window. They swirled in the dust on their way out onto the prairie. New awareness dawned. Dylan wants me. He wants to touch me the way James touches Becky. That's what it all means. That's what it's all for. The idea lodged, but she couldn't consider it. Not yet. Reticence still warred with burgeoning desire, but she felt no urgency. Maybe someday. We've only been courting a few hours.

  A ferocious yawn rose up out of nowhere, yanking Lydia out of half-improper contemplations. “Sorry. This is the time I usually rest. Early mornings when you have to bake bread for breakfast,” she explained to her friend.