by Jeanne Allan
The plane's engines droned in her ears, the repetitive sound exacerbating nerves already worn raw by the events of the past week. One week, only seven days, but long enough to totally change the course of one's life. Last week she had been Dallas Anne Wyatt, spinster and elementary school counsellor. She looked down at her left hand—a gold band sparkled in the sunlight. This week she was Mrs Clayton Peter Dalton, wife and almost mother. Almost, because the court hearing wasn't until next week.
She glanced across the cockpit. That Clay could pilot a plane was only one of the many discoveries that she was making about her husband. He approached life with a self-assurance that sometimes bordered on arrogance and overrode obstacles with the confidence of a man to whom nothing was impossible. Her new husband liked a huge breakfast, hated television, cursed telephones and spent an inordinate amount of time on them. He was considerate to waitresses and salespeople but had no patience for incompetence or stupidity. He had to shave twice a day and ate his steaks rare.
He slept on the right side of the bed—a fact that she knew only from noticing which side of his bed was rumpled. He had moved into her town home to help her with the myriad details involved in quitting her job and moving, but they had not slept together— a condition that she had made. If custody of Nicky was not granted to them, there would be no impediment to their seeking an annulment. Clay had not even kissed her since the night they'd agreed to marry. Unless one counted the perfunctory peck on her cheek that had followed their hasty wedding in the small chapel in Las Vegas this morning. From the moment that Dallas had agreed to his proposal, Clay had been polite, considerate and perfectly willing to postpone intimacies; Of course, he'd already got his way about the marriage.
Dallas looked out of her window. The Colorado landscape mirrored her marriage. On her right, the snow-topped mountains were beautiful. And as cold and forbidding as her husband. Below them, the countryside sprawled, barren and inhospitable. Cars beetled along concrete ribbons, no doubt anxious to reach more civilised surroundings. The only other sign of life was the shadow of the small plane they'd boarded in Colorado Springs, the plane that was swiftly carrying her towards the Dalton Ranch. Towards an existence that bore little relationship to the one she'd left behind.
Dallas was swamped by a wave of longing for Alexandria. Today was Saturday. Back in Virginia she could be getting on the underground Metro headed towards Washington DC to see an exhibition at the Smithsonian Institution or to have tea at the Hay Adams Hotel or to browse through the Shops at National Place or Garfinckel's.
Garfinckel's. Where Clay had purchased, over her objections, the short, simple white dress she'd worn for their wedding. Wedding dresses celebrated unions of love. Dallas would have been content to wear the first dress she pulled from her wardrobe, but Clay had insisted, saying that she'd only get married once. A chilling reminder that there would be no turning back.
The hard knot in Dallas's stomach grew. This was her second trip to Clay's Colorado ranch. The first had been for the funeral. Her parents had been unable to get there from Germany. At the cemetery slashing pellets of snow had driven the tears from her face, but Kyle's family had been dry-eyed and stone-faced. It wasn't until afterwards that Dallas had discovered that they blamed Alanna for the fatal accident. In her hurt and bewilderment Dallas had lashed out at them. At least there was another Dalton son. Her angry defence of her cousin had hardly endeared her to them, and now she was planning to live among those very people.
'Not long now,' Clay said. 'Those two mountains ahead of us are called the Spanish Peaks. Indian legend has it that the rain gods live on the summits. The thin ridges of rock around the peaks are volcanic dikes. Just north of them is La Veta and the small airport we use.' He sounded more like a tour guide than a groom bringing his brand-new bride to her new home.
Nervously Dallas twisted the band on her finger.
The movement caught Clay's eye. 'Too tight?'
Suffocating, she wanted to shout. But she didn't. She had made her decision based on what was best for Nicky. It was too late to change her mind. Besides, she wasn't the only one entrapped in this loveless marriage. Not that Clay's situation could be compared to hers. He was returning to his home, his family, his friends. There was no reason for him to be terrified—as she was. She fought the panic that threatened. Clay was still waiting for his answer. 'No, it's fine.'
Clay frowned. 'So what's the matter?'
'This isn't exactly how I anticipated my wedding-day,' she evaded.
'Me neither.' He paused. 'I'm sorry your parents couldn't make it.'
'It's just as well. In spite of my explanations, Mother persisted in treating this as some type of Cinderella story. All she could talk about was how I followed you around at Alanna's wedding.'
Clay chuckled. 'You were so skinny. With a mouth full of braces.'
The amusement in his voice cut deep. It was painful to remember the gawky teenager who'd fallen head over heels in love with the groom's brother. The week of the wedding had been a gay whirlwind. When they weren't at parties, Dallas had dragged Clay on a sightseeing tour that had encompassed all the historical and cultural sights in the DC area. He'd seemed to share her enthusiasm for sitting in George Washington's church pew, or peeking into Robert E Lee's childhood bedroom, or listening to the recorded words of Abraham Lincoln, or wandering the halls of Congress. She'd thought that he was interested in her anecdotes of famous personalities and her favourite museums. It wasn't until Alanna had taken her aside after the wedding that Dallas had learned that Clay had been making fun of her and her youthful enthusiasm behind her back the entire time. Even now, ten years later, the knowledge still hurt. Pride required that she treat the subject lightly. 'You poor thing. Everyone knows it's required for the maid of honour to fall in love with the best man, but you must have been terribly embarrassed.'
'Actually, I was flattered. You were sweet and bubbly and you saw good in everyone. I can still remember that wide-eyed, innocent look on your face when you wanted me to kiss you. I was tempted, but I knew you were too young, that you'd never been kissed before.'
'I'd been kissed lots of times,' she lied. 'By boys. You were six years older. I wanted to know how a man kissed.'
Clay shifted in his seat. 'Alanna always boasted that she was your role model, that you were exactly like her. I never believed it could be true.' He stared out of the window. 'But you're a carbon copy of her, aren't you?'
'I'd be flattered if that were true,' Dallas said, 'but I own a mirror.'
Clay waved a dismissive hand. 'I don't mean in appearance. Alanna's hair was dark brown, almost black, her eyes were green and her skin milky white. She was dramatic, exotic, a hot-house orchid blooming in the desert. A person could be deceived into thinking that you were the farmer's daughter.' He reached over and touched the tip of her nose. 'No freckle would have dared mar Alanna's perfect nose. You've got almost as many as Nicky has.'
Dallas pushed away his hand, wounded by his disparaging appraisal. 'Alanna and I were only cousins.'
'Yet you seem to have a number of her habits. The same twist of your head, your walk, the way one corner of your mouth turns up when you're amused. Not that I've seen you amused very often.'
'My life hasn't been very amusing lately.'
'That's odd. Mine's been a real barrel of laughs.' His voice was taut with pain, his hands clenched the controls, his knuckles white with tension.
Compassion and a sense of shared bereavement swept over Dallas. 'I'm sorry. I…' If they were going to live together in peace and harmony, she'd have to be honest with him, even if doing so made her vulnerable. 'It's just that I'm so nervous.'
'Since I know how much flying you've done, I have to assume it's my being the pilot that frightens you.' His voice was cool. 'As it happens, I've had my pilot's licence since I was twenty, and the ranch bought this plane almost five years ago.' He hesitated, his face set in hard lines. 'Kyle was flying a Navy jet when he crashed. There's no comparison betwe
en that and this plane. You needn't worry—I haven't lost a passenger yet.'
'Don't be so obtuse. I'm nervous about when we get to the ranch. Our marriage. What if we fail? Living day in and day out with a stranger. Suppose I have habits you can't stand? If every time I open my mouth, you're going to be angry with me… And I've never been a mother. Maybe I won't be able to meet Nicky's needs. Is love enough? And your father… he was hardly friendly at the funeral. What if I've quit my job, married you and the judge won't let us have Nicky? This is all a horrible mistake. You should have let me take Nicky in with me. It might have been rough, but I had friends and support in Virginia. We would have managed. Here,' she waved out of the window, 'I feel as if I'm being transported to Mars.' Her voice caught. 'You can't imagine how scared I am.'
'What have you been doing? Lying awake at night thinking up problems? Quit worrying about it.'
'Easy for you to say. You probably don't have enough imagination to worry about what could go wrong.'
'Is that right? Well, if you're so much better at worrying, how come you didn't think about what we'll do if you miss the big city so much that you're miserable? Our malls and museums scarcely compare to Washington's. I've asked you to give up a lot. How do I compensate for that? What if you don't like my friends and neighbours? You've had a job that was important to you. Will you be able to find that same satisfaction out on the ranch? As for Nicky, I've never been a father. I don't know if I can even remember the prayers I said as a kid.'
Dallas stared at him in disbelief. 'You're scared, too.'
He gave her a wry smile. 'Did you think you had a monopoly on being terrified?'
She nodded. 'I'm not sure why, but somehow the idea of your being scared makes me feel better.'
'Maybe fear, like misery, likes company. At least you have the advantage over me in one area: Nicky's the spitting image of you. The same dark honey-coloured hair, the same hazel eyes with touches of golden brown and green, and the same skin that's the colour of ripening peaches. You could be her mother.'
Dallas shook her head. 'But I'm not. What if your friends and neighbours are suspicious of this marriage? Won't it hurt our chances of getting custody?'
'Why should they be suspicious? We'll tell everyone that we met at Kyle's and Alanna's wedding, met again at the funeral and discovered we had a lot in common. Nicky's a lot,' he said as she made a disparaging sound. 'I flew out to Virginia and convinced you to marry me. And every word is the truth.'
'There's truth and there's truth.'
'See that little hill over there?' Clay pointed to the east. 'It's the neck of an ancient volcano. The Spanish named it Huerfano generations ago.'
'Poor little hill. It looks so lonely and abandoned rising all alone from the plains like it does. What does Huerfano mean?'
'The orphan. Alanna used to joke that it was a fitting symbol for her and Kyle and me.' After a short pause, he added, 'Her father never tried to keep in touch with her, and when she died, we couldn't locate him. Alanna was determined that her daughter grow up knowing always how very much she is loved.'
'Just because I'm frightened of what's ahead, doesn't mean I'll back out,' Dallas said. 'You can save your pep talk.'
'Maybe it wasn't for you, but for me. Look behind us. See how Huerfano sticks out? It's visible for miles. In fact, years ago it marked the old trail from Taos to Denver. Maybe we'd do well to remember that. If we let our love for Nicky guide us, I don't see how we can go wrong.'
CHAPTER TWO
Nicky was sitting on the porch steps watching for them, her sturdy little body still encased in pyjamas although it was the middle of the afternoon. The minute Dallas and Clay stepped from the car that had come to the airfield to meet them, Nicky raced down the walk and hurtled her small body into Clay's outstretched arms. 'Where's my present?' she demanded of him.
Clay laughed and tossed her up in the air before hugging her tightly to him. 'In my suitcase. And I brought you Dallas just as I promised.' He set the child down and gave her a small shove in Dallas's direction.
Ignoring Clay's words confirming that he'd never intended to allow her to say no to his proposal, Dallas smiled down at the small girl. 'Hello, Nicky.' Even though she'd been at great pains through the years to maintain a close relationship with her cousin's daughter, and in fact had daily chatted with her on the phone since Alanna's death, Dallas wasn't surprised that Nicky was somewhat shy. Dallas gently patted the child's dirty face and held out her arms encouragingly.
Nicky accepted the embrace somewhat tentatively. 'Dallas, are you really going to live with us now?'
'Yes, I am, sweetheart. Would you like that?'
Nicky nodded. 'I think so. My mama says you're as 'pecial as I am.'
Dallas smoothed back the matted crown of dark blonde hair and hugged the warm, trembling body to her. 'Nobody is as special as you are,' she said in a teasing voice. Her nose wrinkled at the sour smell that emanated from the child's hair and body. 'Are you sick today? Is that why you're still in your pyjamas?' she asked as she followed Nicky through the door Clay was holding open.
Nicky shook her head. 'I didn't want to get dressed. Clay said I don't have to do anything I don't want to do cuz my mama and daddy died.'
Swallowing hard, Dallas said, 'And you didn't want to take a bath either.'
'I hate taking baths,' Nicky said.
'Oh, dear. That's too bad.' Dallas shrugged. 'Maybe I can find some other little girl who wants the bubble bath I bought especially for you.' From her tote bag, she pulled a large, ornate bottle mysteriously wrapped in floral paper and ribbons.
Nicky hopped up and down on her bare feet. 'No. I want it,' she cried, holding out her hands.
Dallas made a big show of doubt. 'Well, I don't know. If you don't want to take a bath…'
'I do. I do. Can I take one right now?'
Smiling, Dallas handed her the bottle. 'Need any help?'
'No.' The answer echoed down the staircase.
'You handled that like a pro,' Clay said in admiration.
Dallas turned to him in disbelief. 'Did you really say that Nicky doesn't have to do anything she doesn't want to do?'
'Well, sure. I mean, the poor kid just lost her parents.'
'Is that any reason to turn her into a spoiled brat?'
Clay sucked in his breath. 'She's not—'
'No. Not yet. But how long do you think it would take if everyone continued to let her have her own way? Nicky may be only six years old, but she's a bright child. She'd quickly learn how to manipulate you with only a few tears.'
He ran his fingers wildly through his hair. 'I never claimed to be an expert on children.'
'Expert! You barely qualify as a novice.' She paced across the room. 'Nicky is a sweet, intelligent, unspoiled child. She needs us now to be strong, not weak, not giving in to her every whim. I know her parents died. That's tragic and it's tough. But if we deny her the chance to face up to what's happened, she'll never learn how to deal with adversity. Do you want her to turn out like ?' Too late she realised where her unruly tongue was leading her and clamped her mouth shut.
Clay grabbed her arm. 'Like her father? Is that what you're too chicken to say?'
Dallas stared defiantly up into his angry face. 'All right. I'll say it. Her father. After his accident, Kyle totally disintegrated and you know it. You and your father babied him and made him into an emotional cripple. I'm not going to let you do the same thing to Nicky.'
Clay's fingers tightened painfully on her arm. 'It must be nice to be an expert on running everyone else's lives. What do you know about how my father and I and Kyle lived our lives? You were clear across the country. All you know is what Alanna chose to tell you.' His mouth curved into an unattractive sneer. 'I notice you never turned Alanna away when she ran to you for pity.' He flung her arm from his grasp. 'What do you know about real pain and suffering?'
Dallas collapsed into a nearby chair. 'I dealt with it every day at school,' she said, her voice barely
shaking. 'I know children suffer and hurt. I also know that no matter how much you love a child, no matter how much you want to protect a child, it isn't humanly possible to isolate the child from all suffering. While I can sympathise with Nicky's pain and her fears, we have to acknowledge them, not bandage over them with gifts and favours. Even a child has to be allowed to grieve. Children bounce back quicker than adults think if we simply allow them to get on with it.'
'You make it sound as if Nicky's some bug under a microscope,' he said slowly. 'How long does it take a person to grow a hard shell so that other people's suffering doesn't touch you?' He waved away the angry retort her mouth opened to give. 'You come in here and condemn me now, but where were you when Nicky got out of bed that first morning and wanted her mother and I had to tell her Alanna wasn't coming back? Where were you the evening Nicky was so upset that she threw up her dinner? Where were you when we couldn't find where Alanna had put Nicky's favourite doll? Where were you when Nicky cried all night?' Clay leaned down, his hands gripping the arms of her chair, his angry face towering over her. 'Maybe I'm not the Know-it-all Child Expert that you are, but I love Nicky, and I did the best I could. And don't you ever again accuse me otherwise.'
'I didn't mean—' Dallas began, but Clay had stomped from the room. She clutched her hands tightly in her lap, glad that Clay wasn't there to see how they trembled. She made a sound, half sob, half laugh. 'Our first day of marital bliss.'
The long days that followed were hardly any improvement. After undergoing countless interviews and hours of imagining the worst, the actual hearing giving custody of Nicky to her and Clay was relatively short and prosaic. The judge absolutely beamed at them when he discovered they were married, proving that Clay's belief that the judge was opposed to single parents had been well-founded.
So here she was. A new home. A new husband. A ready-made family. And she'd never been lonelier in her life. Nicky was the only bright spot in her days. Fortunately Clay's spoiling had been so short-term that, except for the occasional tantrum, Nicky was reverting to her normal, sweet-tempered self. But Dallas couldn't tie the child to her side. The future stretched bleakly ahead of her. Hours, days, weeks, months of time to fill and no one to share her thoughts, her dreams. If only she had one friend. If only Clay…no, Clay had no interest in being her friend. He'd needed a mother for Nicky and she was it. Efficiently he'd filled a slot much as she'd change a burnt-out light bulb. The chore done, he thought nothing more about her.
