by Webb, Peggy
“Anytime, Gray Wolf.”
She winked, then loaded her Lab into the Jeep and waved good-bye. After she had disappeared down the driveway, Bolton picked up the telephone. There was no need for him to look in his notes. He knew the number by heart.
Chapter Eleven
Virginia didn’t answer the phone. Her characters were finally talking to her, and she was right in the middle of a crucial scene. She tapped away at her keyboard while the phone on her credenza rang and rang.
Suddenly something caught her high in the breastbone, some sixth sense that told her she was missing an important call. She left Wayne and Gloria Denny in midsentence as well as mid-embrace, and picked up her receiver.
“Virginia Haven speaking.”
“Hello, Virginia.”
She had to sit down. But there was nowhere to sit because she’d dragged the chair over to her bookshelves in order to reach a reference book on her top shelf, and so she sat down on the floor.
“Bolton... it’s been a long time.”
“Too long.”
She knew she was breathing because she hadn’t passed out yet. But she wasn’t sure her brain was functioning right, and she knew her heart wasn’t. It was pounding so hard, she could almost hear it.
“A week isn’t that long,” she said, lying.
It had been the longest few days of her life. In a week she’d created a thousand scenes between them, all with a different ending. In a week she’d died a thousand small deaths. In a week she’d torn her life apart and put it back together. Sort of. She still felt as if she were clinging to sanity by a thread.
Suddenly she ran out of things to say. How could she tell him that his was the voice she wanted to hear above all others... and that she never wanted to talk to him again? How could she explain to him the torture of not waking up with him in her bed? How could she explain the brutal loneliness? The sense of loss? The dreadful mood swings between hope and despair?
Silence overtook them, and she couldn’t even hear him breathing. Was he still there? What was he thinking? Why didn’t he say something?
“I’ve wanted to make this call a thousand times,” he finally said.
I wanted you to, she started to say. But that was wrong. They were wrong. She put a palm to her hot face and kept silent.
“I wanted to give you some time, Virginia, some time to listen to your heart.”
At the moment her heart was clamoring so that she couldn’t have understood its message even if she had tried.
“Virginia... are you there?”
“I’m here, Bolton.”
“I’ve developed most of the photographs.”
“Then that’s why you called, to talk to me about the magazine layout.”
“No, that’s not why I called.”
She didn’t want to hear talk about love. She didn’t want to remember the wonder of being in his arms, and the emptiness of being alone.
“Look, Bolton, I’m very busy right now.”
“Are you saying that you don’t want to talk to me, Virginia?”
“I’m saying I can’t talk to you. Deadlines don’t wait.”
“I see.”
Bolton had always been impossible to decipher. His voice told her even less than his face had when he’d decided to be inscrutable.
She almost panicked. What if he never called back? What if she never saw him again? She couldn’t keep him, and yet she still couldn’t bear to let him go.
“Bolton...”
What could she say that would make him call back without giving him false hope? Sweat broke out on her face, and she wondered if she were having hot flashes on top of everything else.
“I’m here, Virginia.”
She remembered how he looked when he used to say that to her—his eyes so blue, they looked as if they were bits of the sky, his mouth curved in one of those mysterious smiles that drove her mad, his hands resting lightly on her bare stomach.
She held her breath waiting for the rest of it.
“I’ll always be here for you.”
She exhaled slowly. Then she leaned against the credenza and closed her eyes.
“Virginia... are you there?”
“Yes... and no.”
His voice stole through her like a thief in the night, robbing her of all ability to think, let alone speak. She shook her head to clear it. Now was not the time to go soft.
“I’m here physically,” she added, “but not mentally. You know how it is when you’re working on a project. Nothing else matters.”
“Yes,” he said, and she silently thanked him for not challenging her lie.
“I have to go now, Bolton.” Once again the long silence overtook them. Was he hanging on to the receiver the way she was, reluctant to break the fragile connection?
“Call me,” she whispered.
“You can count on it.”
Impossible hope sprang to life, and she knew she was setting herself up for heartbreak. More than that, she was setting him up for another fall.
“To talk about the magazine layout,” she added. “That’s all I meant, Bolton. I know how it is when you start to write something and discover you don’t have all the information you need. So if you come to that point, please feel free to call me, and if I don’t answer, you can leave a message on my machine. I’ll return your call if you’ll just be sure to tell me what you need.”
She sounded like a babbling idiot. Virginia bit her bottom lip to keep from rattling on.
“I need you, Virginia.”
Another hot flash almost felled her, but this time it was not something she could blame on menopause. The culprit was desire, pure and simple.
There was another long silence, and then a soft click as Virginia hung up. She closed her eyes and hugged the receiver.
“I need you, too, Bolton,” she whispered. “Oh, God, I need you.”
o0o
In honor of Callie’s homecoming, Jo Beth had prepared her favorite meat loaf as well as some ancient Apache foods—pit-baked mescal, boiled locust tree blossoms, and cactus fruits. Tradition was important to Colter Gray Wolf, and he and Jo Beth had worked hard to see that neither of their children forgot their Apache heritage.
Their grandmother, Little Deer, had a place of honor at the table. Though shrunken by age and almost crippled by arthritis, she still had a mind that was razor sharp.
Callie was her first target.
“Tell me what you did in that foreign country.”
“I helped find a way to stop a dreadful virus.”
“Your father once went to a foreign country to do that.”
“San Francisco is not a foreign country, Grandmother, and he’s a general practitioner.”
“It’s not Apache tribal lands. It’s foreign, and he’s a powerful shaman.”
Callie was going to argue but Colter shook his head.
“You should stay home where you’re needed,” Little Deer said.
Bolton came to Callie’s rescue, just as he always had when their grandmother brought up the subject of her leaving tribal lands. He pressed a bowl into Little Deer’s hands.
“Here, Grandmother, have some more of this pit-baked mescal. It’s delicious.”
Little Deer turned her scrutiny on him.
“Then why don’t you eat it?” She squinted up at him, her dark eyes full of life and intelligence. “It’s a woman,” she decided.
Bolton shot Callie a look.
“I didn’t say a thing,” she said.
“She didn’t have to,” Little Deer announced loudly. “You look just like your father did when he fell in love with Yellow Bird.”
It was Colter’s pet name for Jo Beth, so called because of her hair. Bolton thought of the way Virginia’s hair looked in the sunshine. Such longing overtook him that he shoved his plate aside.
“Is she a yellow hair?” Little Deer asked.
Bolton had nothing to hide from the people he loved.
“Yes,” he said. “She
’s fair-skinned and golden-haired and very beautiful, inside and out.”
Little Deer nodded sagely.
“She’ll make pretty babies,” she said.
There was a fine line between truth and betrayal. How could he explain the truth to his family without betraying Virginia?
Callie kicked him on the shin, then shoved back her chair.
“Hells bells, Grammy, this is a new generation. Not everybody in this family is going to raise snot-nosed brats. I for one prefer a house where I know I won’t be interrupted by babies squawking about wet diapers.”
“Where did you learn such language?” Little Deer glared at her son. “Colter, where did she learn such language?”
“In foreign countries,” Callie said, laughing. Then she pulled out Little Deer’s chair and waltzed her grandmother around the room. “Smile, Grammy, and Bolton will take our picture.”
Little Deer loved nothing better than having her picture taken. She fluffed at her hair with one gnarled hand.
“Does my hair look all right?”
“It looks fabulous, Grammy. You’re not a bad dancer, either.” Callie winked at Bolton.
o0o
“Thanks,” he told her later. They were in the kitchen helping Jo Beth with the dishes while Colter took Little Deer home.
“It’ll cost you,” she said.
“What?”
“I don’t know yet, but I’ll think of something.”
“I’m sure it will be something wicked,” Jo Beth said, wrapping an arm around Callie’s waist. Side by side they looked more like sisters than mother and daughter. Jo Beth was still as trim as she had been at twenty, her face was virtually unlined, and the light streaks looked more like blond highlights than a graying process. “Darling, must you be so outrageous? Especially in front of your grandmother.”
“I’m just like you,” Callie said.
“Not quite.” Her mother lifted a strand of Callie’s raven-colored hair. “Not only do you have your father’s hair, you have his stubborn streak. Both of you.” She smiled at her son. “So, when will we meet your chosen woman?”
“Not for a while, I’m afraid. I’ve chosen her, but she hasn’t chosen me. Not yet, anyhow.”
“Ahhh.” Jo Beth smiled, remembering. “She will. When a Gray Wolf sets out to court, no woman in the world can resist him.”
Chapter Twelve
Virginia couldn’t get Bolton’s phone call out of her mind. She propped herself on pillows, turned on the lamp, and reached for one of the books she kept stacked on the bedside table.
She tried to lose herself in the story, but she kept thinking about Bolton quoting Apache poetry. She remembered every small detail of him, the way he looked bending over her, the way his blue eyes lit up, the way his untamed black hair swooped across his forehead.
The book slid out of her hands, and she sat on her bed fighting the most horrible case of the blues she’d ever had. Everything in her bedroom reminded her of Bolton. There was not a single nook or cranny that didn’t have his imprint. Even when she closed her eyes she couldn’t shut out the image of him. Bolton Gray Wolf had marked her house, and it would never be the same.
The phone rang, jarring her rudely back to the present. Virginia glanced at the clock. Only two people called her this late, Candace or Jane—her daughter usually with a problem she considered an emergency and her friend generally with gossip she considered too juicy to keep.
“So... what is it this time?” Virginia said when she picked up the phone.
“It’s the same thing this time that it will be every time, Virginia: I love you.”
“Bolton...” Virginia slid down and rolled to her side, cuddling the receiver against her cheek. Reaching out, she touched the side of the bed where he had slept, long legs taking up most of the space, one arm flung over his head and the other resting on her stomach.
“Were you expecting someone else?”
“No. Candace and Jane are the only ones who call this time of night.”
“I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“No.” Not in ways she could tell him about.
“I couldn’t wait till morning.”
The sound of his voice flowed through her like warm honey. She bent her legs and pressed her knees together.
“You’re working, then,” she said.
“This is not a business call, Virginia. It’s personal.”
“We don’t have anything to discuss. We’ve said everything that needs saying.”
“On the contrary. We’ve only just begun. I want you to get to know my family and my friends. I want to introduce you to the mountains and the forest and the rivers that I love. I want to show you the kind of life we can have together. Tomorrow I’m flying out to get you and bring you home with me.”
“I can’t possibly do that. I have too much to do, the notice is too short, I have a full calendar... the flights are probably all full.” She ran out of breath and excuses at the same time.
“Two days, then. Cancel everything and pack a bag. Jeans, sweaters, rugged mountain gear. And you don’t need a plane ticket. I’ll be in my private plane.”
“I haven’t said yes.”
“I’ll be there at five, and I’m not coming back without you.”
“You would kidnap me?”
“No. But I would take you captive. After all, I am Apache.”
This time Bolton was the one who hung up. Virginia thought of a dozen things she should have said.
“I can’t believe this.” She hung up the receiver and began to pace. “Why didn’t I tell him no? Why didn’t I just hang up on him? Why didn’t I...”
Suddenly she ran out of steam. Sinking onto the side of the bed, she put her head between her hands.
“Good grief. I can’t believe I’m thinking what I’m thinking.”
She picked up the phone and dialed.
“Jane, you’re not going to believe this..
“Virginia?... Shoot, do you know what time it is?... Virginia?... Why are you laughing?”
“You’re not going to believe this, Jane.”
“You’ve already said that. What? What am I not going to believe?”
“I’m going to Arizona with Bolton.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“See. I knew you wouldn’t. I know it’s crazy, I know I’m insane. Talk me out of it, Jane.”
“What the heck? You need a break. You might as well take it with some great-looking guy who will throw you over his shoulder and ride off into the sunset to his tepee or wickiup or whatever they call it.”
“Good grief.”
“Well, you called for my blessing, didn’t you? You got it... As long as you don’t get carried away and decide to stay. You’re not going to do that, are you, Virginia?”
What was she going to do? She was foolish even to be considering seeing Bolton again. Wasn’t one tragic parting enough for them?
“No. I’m not going to get carried away, Jane. My life is here.”
“Good, as long as you know that. ‘Bye now, I’m going back to sleep.”
“Jane... wait. About lunch tomorrow. I’m not sure I’ll have time... I have an annual checkup, and then all that packing... and I’ll have to call Candace and tell her.”
“If you think I’m letting you off the hook, you’re mistaken. I’ll see you at the Lunch Bunch at twelve sharp, and I expect to hear every salacious detail of the formidable Apache warrior’s phone call. What did he say to you, Virginia? I’ve never heard you like this.”
Virginia laughed. “Good night, Jane.”
He’d said he loved her. Did she dare believe that love was enough?
o0o
For the next two days Virginia alternated between elation and doubt. She packed and unpacked her bags three times. She called Jane so much that even she got a little edgy.
“For Pete’s sake, Virginia. If he can turn you upside down long distance, what will you be like when he arrives? Maybe you ought to go tr
ekking in the tundra or fishing in Finland instead of mating in the mountains.”
“Good grief.”
“Precisely.”
At fifteen till five Virginia was sitting on the front porch swing dressed in black jeans and a black cotton turtleneck, straining her eyes for the sight of his car on the driveway. Her bags were waiting just inside the door.
At ten till she decided she looked like a foolish, eager older woman lying in wait for a young handsome lover, so she grabbed her bags and raced up the stairs to stow them in the closet. Then she caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror.
“I look like an old crow,” she said, and began to yank off her black garb. She grabbed a pair of blue jeans, a white blouse, and a bright red cotton pullover.
What if he came and found her upstairs in her underwear. He’d think she had planned it that way. She dressed in such a hurry, she buttoned her blouse wrong and had to start over three times. By the time she had finished, she was a nervous wreck.
The grandfather clock in the downstairs hallway chimed the hours. Five o’clock.
She raced back down the stairs and sat at the piano. “Clair de Lune” always soothed her. Bolton would probably be ringing her bell before she got through the first measure.
She played the entire piece twice, and he was nowhere in sight. It wasn’t like him to be late. Virginia looked out all the windows, then went onto the front porch and shaded her eyes to see down the driveway. There was nothing in sight, no car, no Apache warrior, not even a speck of dust.
She called down to the security station at her front gates.
“I’m expecting Bolton Gray Wolf. Has he checked in yet?”
“No, ma’am. He hasn’t.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“Miss Virginia, there hasn’t been a soul come by here all afternoon.”
She started to tell Jim to buzz her the minute he arrived, then she changed her mind. If Bolton Gray Wolf had stood her up, she didn’t want anybody thinking she was sitting up in her fancy house waiting to be buzzed—not even Jim, who had been known to fight with people who dared to breathe a harmful word about the woman who had given him a job after he was forced to retire from the police force in disgrace. Falsely accused of taking kickbacks from drug dealers, he’d not only been in disgrace but in near poverty when Virginia gave him a job.
