Montana Dreams

by Kim Law

  “Poor Jaden.” She tucked her head back into his neck, and against his better judgment, he pulled his arm free and wrapped it around her. And suddenly, she was all warm curves and sweet smells, all of it hitting him in more places than where she touched, and he reminded himself that he wanted Megan.

  “I promise you that I’m fine.” He had to get his mind on something other than how good Arsula felt snuggled up against him. “But if you’re hell-bent on worrying about someone . . .”

  He stopped talking. She’d stiffened when he’d cursed, and he grimaced down at her.

  “I’m sorry,” he offered. “I know you don’t like cursing.”

  “Thank you. And it’s not me who doesn’t like it so much as it was Aunt Sul.” She chuckled lightly and dropped her forehead to his shoulder. “And I guess she’s still in my head.”

  “I can understand that. Will you tell me about her?”

  She looked back up. “Do you really want to know?”

  The way she looked at him, as if someone had asked what she really wanted for her birthday for the first time in her life, made him want to know even more.

  “I do.” He nodded. He wanted to do anything that would give her that happy glow. “Start with her dislike of cursing.” He winked, and her body relaxed against his. “Maybe understanding her will stop me from doing it so much.”

  She laughed, and then her smile turned nostalgic. “Aunt Sul was the best,” she said on a sigh, and her body softened against his even more. “After I turned seven, I started getting to stay with her for a week every summer. Just me. Not my brothers. And that first year a boy from school had taught me quite a few words I knew I shouldn’t be using.” She grinned. “I tried them out while at Aunt Sul’s, thinking she was the ‘cool’ aunt and would find it endearing. She literally washed my mouth out with soap, instead. And then she did it again . . . once a day for the entire week. After that, she decided that what I needed was more Jesus in my life, so she began picking me up every Sunday.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she gave a little shrug. “And she did that until the day she died.”

  His chest tightened for her loss.

  “When did she die?” He wiped away an escaping tear.

  “The year I turned fifteen. She’d gotten sick and tried to hide it from us. Cancer,” she told him. “I dreamed about it one morning before she picked me up for church, and when I confronted her, she admitted that she’d messed up. She hadn’t gone to the doctor soon enough, and it was too late for treatment.”

  Jaden brought his other arm around her. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “I know you loved her.”

  “Yeah.” Her head moved, nodding against him, and he tightened his arms even more.

  Not ready for her to extricate herself, he dropped his head to the bed again and tucked hers against his shoulder. His position on the floor had him sitting eye-level with the stack of books that had been on the corner of the mini fridge since he’d moved in, and for the first time, he read the titles.

  Then surprise had him squinting at the spines.

  A couple of the books had been used in his junior- and senior-level psychology courses. Another two sounded interesting enough; they were about the brain and how it worked. There was also one about dreams, one about balancing chakras, a horror novel, and then a final book that he thought he recognized as being written by a romance author.

  He stroked his palm over her hair. “You didn’t go to college, right?”

  Her body stiffened against him. “Are you about to insult me about that again now, too?”

  “No.” He tucked in his chin and looked down at her. “I’m not. And I’m sorry I did to begin with. I shouldn’t have, and the only excuse I have is that I was hurting . . . and angry . . .”

  “And childish,” she grumbled, and he smiled.

  “Yeah. That too. I apologize for that as well. Dani always said I could be a horrible patient.”

  He waited to see if she would reply, and when she didn’t, he went back to staring at the stack of books.

  “So your three brothers,” he began a few minutes later, “they all went to medical school?”

  “My dad, too.”

  “They must be a smart bunch.” He didn’t comment on her intelligence, but for the first time since meeting her, he began to wonder about it in a positive light.

  Was she anywhere near as capable as her brothers?

  “They’re super scholars,” she informed him in a bored tone.

  “And your mom is a teacher?”

  “Was a teacher.” She pushed against his chest and sat up—though her thigh remained pressed to his. “She also told me to tell you hello, by the way. For some reason, she thinks you’re ‘a new man’ in my life.”

  He knew he wore a look of surprise. “Your mother thinks I’m a new man in your life?”

  “Yes.”

  “And how does your mother even know I exist?” He narrowed his eyes, wondering what had been said. “You’ve been talking about me?”

  “No, actually. I didn’t mention you at all.”

  “So what are you saying? That your mother knew about me because she’s also a little”—he decided to rephrase his question due to the glare Arsula leveled on him—“because she has a ‘gift’ as well?”

  Arsula chuckled at his save. “Actually, she doesn’t have a gift.”

  “Then I don’t understand. How would she have known I exist?”

  And why did he sound as if he might think someone could just know about another person?

  Sheesh. Arsula was making him loony.

  “Get this.” She scooted around until she faced him, crossing her legs in front of her, and leaned her elbows on her knees. “She came to this conclusion because I apparently only forget to call home when there’s a new man in my life.”

  “Ah.” That made much more sense. “And there are a lot of new men in your life, I take it?”

  “No,” she stressed. “That’s the thing. It’s why her comment was so odd.”

  Jaden thought this entire conversation was odd, but he refrained from pointing that out. He did add to it, though. “You told me before that the women in your family are born with a gift.”

  The happiness that suddenly shone back at him had him forgetting whatever else he’d intended to say. Arsula hadn’t smiled at him like that since the night of the wedding.

  “Why are you so happy?” he asked.

  “Because you not only remembered what I told you about the women in my family, but for the first time, you just asked about it without looking like you were sucking on a lemon.”

  He supposed he had. So he smiled along with her. “Why doesn’t your mother have a gift?”

  “I don’t know. She’s the only one it seems to have missed.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Right?” Again, she smiled, and Jaden decided that he could get used to that. “I’ve always felt bad for her. I’d share mine if I could.”

  He touched the back of his fingers to her cheek, and he knew he didn’t want the evening to end. “Let’s forget the desk tonight, Arsula. Do something else instead.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  He glanced over to where the TV hung on the wall. It was currently tuned to a music station. “Watch a movie with me?”

  She hesitated only long enough to look at the TV and then at the hard-back chair she often used. “I suppose I could do that.”

  “Good.” He nodded toward where they sat. “Help me get off the floor first?”

  Smile three was directed his way, and he decided he was a little bit in love with the curve of her lips. “I can do that, too,” she confirmed.

  She rose, and when she held a hand down to him, he wrapped his fingers around hers. But as he stood, he didn’t let her go. Not until she looked up in question.

  “Truce?” he said. They’d pretty much been living with one since Wednesday afternoon. But he wanted it official.

  “Truce,” she
agreed.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Arsula opened her eyes to the sound of an infomercial and to the feeling of utter contentment. And then she stared at the profile of the man sleeping next to her. She was in bed with Jaden. Again.

  Dang it!

  But at least this time they weren’t naked.

  She glanced down the length of their bodies, as if to make sure, before rolling from her side to her back. Reinstituting the separation she’d insisted upon when she’d first moved from chair to mattress—and then adding to it by cramming her pillow into the space—she then asked herself what in the heck she thought she was doing.

  Sure, the couch was shoved under the television and the chair didn’t come close to being comfortable. But really? Letting herself be talked into his bed? Was she that gullible?

  She was not. Nor was she pleased about the feelings she’d awakened from.

  She glanced back over at Jaden. Dreams that left a person with such a sense of peace and fulfillment could be a good thing. They could signify a relationship worth exploring—or even one worth hanging on to. But waking with those feelings while curled next to a man who was still hung up on another woman?

  Bad thing.

  Especially when the idea of being with that man was the furthest thing from her mind.

  Almost the furthest thing.

  Her breath hitched at the thought, because she had to face up to the fact that the idea of being with Jaden had passed through her awareness a time or two. But only since Megan had offered “permission” to date him. Her thoughts hadn’t ventured into wanting to date him, though. More like . . . what would dating him actually be like? The last few days had been far easier. They’d gotten along better, and there’d been little to no stress. Therefore, against her better judgment, her subconscious had insisted on pulling the idea out at odd hours of the day.

  Arsula turned back to the ceiling. She didn’t want to date Jaden. And she wouldn’t even if he had moved on from Megan. He was her “charge,” not a potential boyfriend. Not to mention, his attitude thoroughly reeked of superiority.

  His head jerked suddenly, pulling Arsula’s attention back to him, and she watched as his eyes twitched behind his lids. He was having a dream.

  “Dad.” The single word came out sharp and loud. “Daaaaad!”

  She felt like an interloper as she lay there, but her need to help wouldn’t let her look away.

  “Where are you?” he whispered now, and heartbreak pulled at his features. Then he jerked again, and this time the move dragged him from the dream.

  He seemed dazed as his eyes opened, and as he lay there, eyes blinking and his breathing coming back under control, Arsula held her breath. She waited for him to see her. To remember that halfway through the movie she’d climbed into bed beside him. And she wondered what he’d think about it this time.

  Finally, he seemed to focus, and his gaze went to the TV. Then to the ceiling.

  He lay there silently for another moment, his attention not straying from what was essentially the floor of her bedroom, before he slowly turned his head and looked at her. He took in her face . . . and then the pillow wedged between them.

  Then he sank back into his own pillow.

  “Christ,” he muttered.

  She had to agree.

  A few seconds passed before he turned back. “Morning.” His voice came out as a rough rumble.

  “Good morning.” She studied him quietly. He didn’t seem upset to find her there—exactly. More like resigned. “You were dreaming about your dad just now?”

  As she’d watched, the thought had whispered through her that his dad could also play a role in the pain Jaden carried. For what reason, she had no idea. As far as she knew, Max was great. But she was also aware that she didn’t know everything.

  “I . . .” Jaden closed his eyes, his brow wrinkling as if trying to recall, before he finally nodded. “I guess I was.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  His lips instantly flattened. “No, Arsula. I don’t want to tell you about my dream so you can then try to tell me what it means.”

  “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

  His tone had annoyed her, but she ignored the insult implied within. She didn’t need him to believe in her gift for it to be true. She didn’t even need him to open up to her in order to narrow in on the root of what might be causing him pain. Not completely. All she had to do was listen and hear.

  And what she’d just “heard” was a replay of the conversation at the hospital the morning she’d offered to let Jaden stay with her. His family had tossed out several ideas of where Jaden could stay, but in them—she’d realized—their dad had never once been mentioned. Gloria had. In the vein of Jaden not wanting to be a bother to her. But neither Jaden nor his siblings had said a word about their father. And that was something worth bringing back out to explore later.

  Jaden scrubbed his hands over his face, the act seeming to awaken him further, and his jaws stretched wide with a yawn. “Waking up with you seems to be becoming a habit,” he mumbled.

  “Two times doesn’t necessarily make a habit.”

  He cast her a look. “It also doesn’t make it right.”

  True, she thought. But neither of them made a move to change things.

  Instead, Jaden just kept sizing her up, and after several seconds his mouth quirked at the corners. “Right or not, I suppose I should at least be thankful you aren’t throwing things this time.”

  “And right or not, I suppose the lack of flying objects might have something to do with you not looking at me as if I have the plague.”

  He blossomed into a full-on grin. “You probably do have the plague, don’t you?”

  “And you probably did deserve for me to knock you down my stairs.”

  His laugh caught her off guard. It was loud and booming, a sound she’d heard from him only once before, and her heart began to beat too fast. She rolled back to her side, keeping the pillow between them as she did, but lying there like that, just the two of them talking in the predawn light, was more intimate than she should be participating in.

  Jaden yawned again . . . then he rolled to face her as well. And then all humor faded.

  As he regarded her, the moment silent and suddenly too intense, Arsula lowered her gaze to the bed. She wasn’t sure what was going on with them, nor whether she liked it. But she also knew she wasn’t quite ready to get up.

  Reaching for an excuse that would allow her to stay, she asked, “Who were you going to tell me to worry about last night?”

  “When?” His tone came out too soft. Too personal.

  Her pulsed raced faster. “Right before we started talking about your mom. You said, ‘If you want to worry about someone . . .’”

  “Oh.” He gave a perturbed grunt and shifted in place. “I meant my dad.”

  “Max?” She pushed to her elbow, the memory of dancing with Jaden’s dad resurfacing, as well as the sense that something hadn’t been right with him. She should have dropped by and checked in on him already. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “Actually, I don’t know that anything is.”

  The man was sidestepping. “Then why are you worried?”

  “I’m not worried. It’s Dani who is.”

  She stared back at him. Everything inside her had tightened with the mention of his dad’s name, and it remained that way. “Why is Dani worried?”

  And she didn’t believe for a second that Jaden wasn’t worried as well. Thin lines now bracketed his mouth.

  He didn’t answer immediately, seemingly attempting to get his thoughts in order before doing so, but finally offered up a response. “She mentioned last night that at times Dad seems ‘off.’ That’s all. And she apparently caught him using a cane one day. All normal growing-old things.”

  “Yet your intuition is telling you there’s a problem?”

  He scowled. “I don’t rely on my intuition, Arsula.”

  “But ma
ybe you should.”

  “And maybe you should stop trying to ‘fix’ me.”

  They hadn’t spoken about the reason she’d moved to Birch Bay since that first night, and at his words, the tension eased from her shoulders. “I don’t want to ‘fix’ you, Jaden. That was never my intent. People don’t need to be fixed.” She touched her fingers to the center of his chest. “I just want to help you out in here. I can sense your turmoil. You reek of it.”

  “If I reek, it’s because I haven’t had a shower in a couple of days.” He winked at her and covered her hand with his. She could feel the steady thump of his heart. “Don’t worry. I’m fine in there, Lula-bell. I promise you.”

  Shock hit her like a bucket of ice water.

  “What?” he questioned.

  She tugged her hand from his. “Nothing. It’s just that my mom calls me Lula-bell sometimes.” “Lula” had come from her brother closest in age being unable to say Arsula, or even Sula, when she’d been born.

  “Is that so?” Jaden pursed his lips as if considering something of great seriousness—though mischief danced in his eyes. “Then my intuition says that I should like your mom. Tell her I said hi in return, will you?”

  She pulled a face. He was mocking her again. “I’ll get right on that, jerk. That’ll make her entire day.”

  He laughed, his smile radiating happiness, and he suddenly wrapped his arm around her waist. The pillow remained between them, but the warmth from his skin seeped through her cotton shirt.

  “Can I ask you a question, Lula-bell?”

  She maintained an unaffected gaze. “Sure. What do you want to know?”

  His gaze flicked over her head before he spoke again, but came just as quickly back. “What’s the deal with the cupcake?”

  She bit down on her smile, but it still escaped. Two weeks it had taken, but the man had finally asked. She’d tossed the flowers the week before, when they’d turned brown and begun to crumble, but she’d left the cupcake—with its now sad-looking leaning candle—sitting exactly where she’d placed it that first day.

  “I wouldn’t recommend eating the cupcake at this point,” she warned. His breath touched her face with every exhale. “If it’s not already, it could be a science project any day now.” Blue fuzz had begun to peek out from under the icing several days ago.