From Here to There

by Rain Trueax

  "I can see how you'd have doubts about what was right to do," she went on when he didn't respond. "And I don't have the answers for you. I've never had a brother or sister, anyone to really be responsible for."

  "I haven’t been responsible. I ran out on them," Phillip said unable to mask his feelings.

  "You didn't do that. You went out to make your own way. It’s what you had to do," Helene said, leaning her head against his shoulder. "You can't be everything to everybody."

  "I haven't been much of anything to anybody." He knew he was feeling sorry for himself, but it seemed he couldn't escape what he saw as the trap.

  "By your hard work, you have been an example for your family. If Derek hasn't chosen to follow in your example, it isn't your fault."

  "Isn't it? He blamed me for leaving them. For not coming back more often."

  "Phillip," she said, reaching up and turning his head so that he faced her, "if you'd have stayed home, not gone to college, not gone into business, what would that have done for anybody? Maybe you could have gone home more frequently, but nobody fulfills all of anybody's expectations. Your brother lashes out at you to avoid looking at his own life."

  He smiled faintly. "How did you get so smart?"

  "I wish,” she said with a little laugh. “I think it’s always easier to see someone this when it’s someone else, isn’t it? Don’t let him lay his guilt onto you. I know firsthand how destructive that can be."

  Phillip gave a short laugh. He was all too familiar with guilt and the damage it could do. He had lived, breathed and suffered with it so many different ways and times that he'd thought he was inured to it, that he'd deadened his sensibilities against it. Apparently he hadn't deadened them enough because it was rearing its ugly head again.

  "Phillip, it's too cold to stay out here. Come back inside."

  He shook his head. "It's cold everyplace," he said finally, knowing she was right. He had no choice. There was no place left to run. It was too late to run from Helene either.

  Back in the house, Helene nudged Phillip toward the woodstove where they shed their coats and stood, thawing out their frozen bodies by the radiant heat. Hobo barely lifted his head to see who they were, then plopped back down. In the living room, Helene could hear the two old men arguing back and forth, but their argument had shifted from family relationships to a game of checkers.

  There was a tired slump to Phillip's broad shoulders, a discouraged droop of his shoulders. She wanted to comfort him. She didn't know how.

  "Would you like some coffee?" she asked in the way of a certain type of woman throughout time. Food. It was what a woman could offer for comfort. Was it too easy a solution? She felt uneasy what she might offer in the way of advice. It had to be his decision.

  Their relationship had gone through so many changes she hardly knew what they were anymore. They had jumped into an engagement when they barely knew each other. They'd become husband and wife, then enemies, later lovers and maybe little by little, through all the conflict, they'd grown into friends. So, after all the confusion and change, where were they left? Were they husband and wife, lovers, friends, or was the real essence of a successful, love relationship that they be all three?

  Phillip smiled, a little tired and maybe sad but she appreciated the effort. "Coffee?" she asked again.

  He shook his head.

  "How about hot chocolate," she suggested.

  He grinned. "With marshmallows?"

  "Of course," she retorted. "Hot chocolate without marshmallows would not be hot chocolate."

  She busied herself with pouring milk and measuring dry cocoa mix and sugar. "Are you going to call your mother?" she asked as she worked.

  "Sounds good other than I don't know what I'd say. I'm still not sure getting Derek out of jail immediately is best in the long run. Naturally my mother agrees with you and thinks I'm an unnatural brother."

  Helene gave him a look. "I do not feel that way. I simply hadn’t thought it through when you first told me, but you know me, I jump into things and then think about them afterward.” She gave him a moment to decide if he wanted to agree with her and then went on. “Now, I can see why you might think it would be wrong to be too quick to bail him out. Your brother didn't have to do what he did. He has to become convinced it wasn't a wise choice."

  "He's resented me and my money for a long time. I suppose this was his way to show me he didn't need me." He groaned with his frustration. "The trouble is if I just get him out of jail, then where does that leave him? Maybe next time it'll be worse—not that he’s not on the road to a felony as it stands."

  "How much was he caught with?"

  "I am not sure, but he was trying to sell it to an undercover agent. My mother was confused but she thought it was all part of a bigger net, which just happened to snare my brother."

  "Naturally your brother would try to make his part in all this small... at least to his mother." Helene stirred the heating milk as she considered the ramifications of the situation.

  Phillip smiled crookedly. "I've thought of that. There's only one way I'll be able to figure out what's going on. Tomorrow I'll fly to California."

  She swallowed, staring down at the milk as she added the cocoa mixture. "I guess that would be the right thing to do."

  "I don't want to go--not now, but I don't see any choice. If I get out there, I'll be able to talk to Derek, his lawyer and the authorities. I can’t just send the money, not this time. It's the only way I can make a decision."

  She nodded, not trusting her voice. If he left, would he come back? She poured the cocoa and dropped three marshmallows into each cup.

  "I should be back in a couple of days," Phillip said, standing behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders.

  "Will it be safe to fly in this storm?"

  "I think it'll be okay tomorrow. The weather report said they're predicting a break, maybe even some sunshine for a few days. Hell, with any luck, I'll be back before the next storm hits." He didn't mention that luck didn't seem to be particularly prevalent in his life these days. The thought of leaving Helene and the ranch, of flying away from Montana, told him all too clearly how important it had become to him. Too important.

  She leaned back against his long, hard length, soothed by the feeling of his arms around her.

  "Helene," he began tentatively, as though feeling his way into the question, "is it possible that... you're coming to care about where I am, about whether I come back?"

  She turned in his arms, but before she could answer, Curly and Uncle Amos burst into the room. Phillip stiffened, moving away from her.

  "Well what you going to do?" Curly asked. "I bet Amos here a buck you wouldn't do a thing for the kid."

  "He'll do whatever's right. Ain't that so, Phil?" Uncle Amos said.

  "That's a matter of opinion and the answer varies greatly," Phillip said. Helene sat down at the table, sipping her hot chocolate and trying not to feel the pain his leaving brought her.

  "So what are you going to do?" Curly insisted.

  Dale pushed past the two old men. "You have to come back to Boston. That's what you have to do. Do you think your business can continue to run itself with you gone? We've already lost clients."

  Phillip's smile was cynical. "It appears I can't please anybody on this one. Well for what it's worth, I am going to help put out hay in the morning and then I'm flying to California--weather permitting."

  "You going to get your brother out of jail?" Amos asked, joining Helene at the table.

  "It'll depend on what I find when I get there."

  "What about me?" Dale asked. "What am I supposed to do while you fly off to play Superman for your worthless brother?"

  "You, Dale?" Phillip's smile turned cold, a mean cast to his lips. His eyes were glacial in their iciness, causing Helene to shiver against their frigidity. Where was the warm man with whom she'd thought she was falling in love?

  "You can come along with me to California and keep your mouth sh
ut about what you do or don't think I ought to be doing, or you can try and get a flight out of Bozeman for Boston. I don't much care which way, but you won't tell me how to run my business or my life. If working for me isn't meeting your goals, quit!" With that, Phillip stalked out of the room.

  "You think he'll ever come back to Montana?" Curly asked to no one in particular.

  "Of course," Uncle Amos said, "everything he wants is here."

  Helene didn't listen to the rest of their debate, her own thoughts in turmoil. Despite the anger in Phillip's voice, Helene wanted to follow him, but she didn't know what she'd say if she did. Did she dare admit to him that she was falling in love with him? From what he had said, love wasn't something he particularly wanted from her or anyone else.

  She dug her nails into her palm, the pain a reminder that loving Phillip could only lead to more pain. While he was gone, she would have time to get control of the fly-away emotions that threatened to send her running to his arms. She had to get control, or she knew she would face a worse hurt than any she'd ever known. Loving Phillip could only lead to disappointment.

  Chapter Nine

  Kneading dough to make cinnamon rolls, Helene stared out the window at the sun shining through a crystalline blue sky reflecting back off a foot of new snow. Phillip had left right after he had helped the two oldsters put out the hay. By mid-morning, she was already missing him, not discounting a little worried about his flying to California. There were so many things to worry about she hardly knew where to begin. Would the air be turbulent, making flying a small jet hazardous? Would he be able to handle the emotional pain he was bound to suffer when he got to his brother? Would he come back to her? She didn’t have to ask if she wanted him back except even if he returned, would it be forever?

  As she worried through various angles of their complex relationship, she worked the dough, pounding her frustrations out on it. When it was elastic and pliable, she shaped it into a round ball, put it into a greased bowl and lightly greased the top before she covered it with a towel.

  Washing her hands, she poured herself a cup of herbal tea. She was out of her mind to think she and Phillip could ever work through all that separated them. She didn't need the misery that loving such a difficult man would bring to her.

  She went up to her bedroom, got the journal and began reading again. She was now over halfway through and the date had turned to winter, winter in her aunt’s heart as well as outside the weather.

  December 11, The weather turned bitter cold today. Amos came into the diner, had breakfast but didn’t say much. He’s trying to be a friend but what can a friend do for me? Roger betrayed our love. Or did he ever love me? I don’t have anyone to talk to about this. Can I reveal what a fool I have been to anybody else? I have to protect myself, pretend it doesn’t matter. Isn’t that the only way to protect my pride?

  December 20, Robert called twice asking me to come back to Boston for Christmas. I don’t feel it’s home. Yet, is this home? The temperatures outside are frigid, a foot of snow on the ground. Amos hasn’t been in the diner for a few days. I suppose he’s busy with the ranch work. It’s hard with cattle when it’s so cold. I hope we don’t get a blizzard. I’d worry about him if... Well I won’t think that way.”

  January 1, 1973

  I spent a lonely Christmas. Whose fault was that? Don’t ask but I did the best I could with it even fixed myself a special dinner—if you can call canned spaghetti and a homemade apple tart to be special. The Georges were gone; so at least I had the whole house to myself, use of the kitchen—too bad I can’t cook. I am wondering now what I will make of the new year. Sometimes I do a list of resolutions but I wouldn’t even know what to put on one for the coming year.

  January 15

  Wow, today I met the woman who apparently is Amos’ girlfriend. I had no idea he had one but guess it would explain why he never asked me out. I mean he’s been friendly to me but not in an inappropriate way. He was so supportive when I found out about Roger and his funny business. He brought Beth into the dinner for dinner. She seems like a very nice person. When he had to talk to one of the other diners about a cattle issue, she told me that they went to school together, sounds like they have always dated, not sure why he hasn’t married her. Dare I ask him? Of course, I can’t. My funny little man has someone he probably loves... Is this just idle curiosity... or am I wondering for another reason...

  Uncle Amos had a girlfriend? That was another surprise. Nobody tells me anything, she thought. At the sound of a truck slowly making its way up the driveway, she went to the window, frowning when she recognized Wes Carlson's vehicle. She couldn't believe his nerve. She had believed after the nasty stunt he’d pulled on Phillip, then the fight, that he would never show his face back at the ranch; and yet, here he was, getting out of his truck and stomping through the snow to her porch, a broad smile on his face as he saw her in the window.

  She opened the door, standing in the opening. On such an icy day, it was both rude and uncomfortable but she didn't particularly want him in her kitchen. "What do you want, Wes?" she asked coldly.

  "Just came to see how you folks were faring in the cold spell. See if you needed a hand," he said his voice and face innocently bland.

  "I wouldn't have thought you'd dare come back here," Helene snapped.

  "Why?" He laughed then. "You mean that little fight me and Phil had. Why shucks, girl, that was nothing. I'll bet he doesn't hold hard feelings." He stopped and looked at her a trifle uneasily. "Does he?"

  "I wouldn't know." She stepped aside to allow him to enter. It was obvious he wasn't going to leave without talking to her. Wearing jeans and a light sweater didn't provide her with enough clothing to allow for an extended conversation in the open door. Already, she was shivering with the cold.

  Wes grinned more broadly and headed for the woodstove. Whipping off his gloves and stuffing them in a pocket of his coat, he rubbed his hands together over the heat. "Where are Amos and Phil?" he asked as he looked around the room, as though expecting them to materialize at any moment.

  Uncle Amos is in town, and Phillip flew to California on business."

  "So, the rumor I heard was true." He grinned. "It's finally just you and me?"

  "Not that it matters but yes." Helene opened the refrigerator and pulled out a roast. "I've got work to do," she stated brusquely, not looking at him. Then she realized he might know a little of the old gossip. Wes had lived here forever.

  Wes took off his coat, throwing it over a chair. "Got any coffee?"

  "Sure. Help yourself." She sprinkled flour into a bowl and began coating the meat. “Uh, Wes, do you know a Roger and Leah, older couple about the age of Uncle Amos probably.”

  “The Foresters?”

  “Is that their names?”

  “They used to live here, had a little place not far out of Livingston. I think it was her parents’ home, but they lived in it until they got divorced. Let’s see that’d be maybe twenty years ago now.”

  “So they moved away.”

  “He did. She stayed on and married... yeah, Jim Browning. She and he are dead now though, car crash and that’d be five or six years back. Why do you ask?”

  “Their name came up. I was thinking about the long term relationships here.”

  “Stories to write about?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Well that one wouldn’t likely have much interest anymore to anybody here anyway.” He grinned. “Hey, you can write about me.”

  “Thanks. I’ll remember that.”

  As Wes sipped his coffee, he watched her. "You know, any man'd be lucky to have you for his wife," he said finally. "I was a fool to not realize that sooner."

  "You hardly know me, Wes," she said curtly.

  "I can see the kind of woman you are. I'll be honest. When I first started coming around, it was with the idea of getting you to help me talk Amos into selling the ranch. A smart woman like you probably figured that out, but you're a lovely woman, Helene.
It didn't take long before I had a different idea."

  "It hardly matters." She turned on the back burner of the stove and set the fry pan on it. "I'm married. Or did you forget that?"

  "You said not for long. I notice you still don't wear a wedding ring."

  She looked down at her hand and thought of the plain gold band in her jewelry box upstairs. "Wedding rings don't make for marriages."

  "A marriage that wasn't going to be a marriage very soon."

  "I'm not sure what it's going to be, but I'll guarantee you this--I'm in no mood to get involved with anyone else. Surely you didn't expect me to jump from one mistake to another."

  He laughed, obviously not at all put off by her coldness. "What makes you so sure I'd be a mistake? I have a lot to offer a lady."

  "It's a pointless conversation," she said. "I wouldn't believe you now if you swore on a stack of Bibles. As far as I'm concerned, you're after one thing here and that's the Rocking H."

  He put his hands up innocently. "What'll it take to convince you otherwise?"

  "I'm not interested in being convinced. You were sneaky, Wes. I don't like sneaky people."

  "That husband of yours isn't so upfront either. What about him? Or is that why you are divorcing him?"

  "What are you talking about?"

  "I checked him out, his actual background."

  Helene threw up her hands in disgust. "You are despicable. What gave you the right to do that?"

  "My concern for you and your uncle. Are you aware of from where Phillip Drummond's came? His pedigree isn't particularly impressive."

  Helene smiled with disbelief. "Wes, get out of here."

  "Drummond's older brother was murdered because he crossed the mob. His younger brother, Derek, is flunking out of school. There are rumors of... uh other problems, ways his mother earned her money, and Derek possibly was near to crossing over into serious trouble with the law."