Here To Stay (Welcome to Lucky Break, Arizona!)

by Forsythe, Patricia

  She’d brought two chairs from the kitchen and set them facing each other on opposite sides of a smaller table which he seemed to recall had been in the cabin’s tiny bedroom. There was a candle burning in the middle of the table. She stood while a kid he thought might be Jose Romero pulled out a chair for her and nearly sent her tumbling when he scooted it in too fast and clipped her on the back of her knees. She laughed and had him do it again and again until he could perform the suave little maneuver with confidence. Obviously, she was simulating a restaurant scene and she was teaching two new kids the things she’d taught Brian.

  He watched and listened as she said, “Be sure to talk about what she’s interested in.”

  “You mean like chick movies?” one of them asked on a groan.

  “Does she ever play the video games you like to play or go see action movies with you where there’s an explosion and a car wreck every few seconds?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “Then you get the pleasure of watching chick movies.”

  “Listen to her,” Brian insisted. “Girls love this stuff.”

  The lesson went on for a few more minutes until Billie said, “That’s enough for tonight. Tomorrow night we’ll talk about ordering at a restaurant.”

  Tomorrow night? Cam straightened. The boys left, talking excitedly about what they’d learned. Billie remained seated, smiling as she watched them leave.

  He walked over to her, taking it slow so that he would enjoy the way the candlelight played across her face and cast shadows over her eyes.

  “Are you running a finishing school for teenage boys?”

  She looked up and grinned. “I’m beginning to think Lucky Break needs one. Don’t people teach this kind of thing to their kids anymore? My mom did.”

  Cam stepped up and took the chair opposite her. “My mom did, too, but I think some people don’t have time. You’ve probably noticed that this town doesn’t have any high-paying industries. Every family has to work two or three jobs to make ends meet. If it comes to deciding whether to put food on the table or teach your son how to pull out a lady’s chair, food comes first.”

  She nodded and they fell into silence. He hadn’t been this close to her since last night in the barn. He thought about kissing her again since he’d enjoyed it so much the first time, but she sat up suddenly when her phone rang. She stood and pulled it from her pocket. “Excuse me. I’m expecting my aunt to call and see how things are going.”

  Cam watched her walk to the other end of the porch and considered leaving so she could have privacy for her call. If she’d wanted privacy, though, she would have gone inside the house. And he couldn’t think of a single good reason to leave.

  “Aunt Portia, how are you feeling? That’s wonderful. Yes, everything’s fine here. My new assistant started today and she’s a huge help.” She looked up and gave Cam a happy smile, which he returned, not at all bothered that he must look like a fool, sitting there with a sappy grin on his face.

  “Another job?” Billie asked, apprehension in her voice. “Will you be well enough?”

  “I don’t know, Aunt Portia. All my plans are made for . . . . What? Yes, yes I can do that. That should work out perfectly.”

  She turned and gave Cam a joyous grin which he couldn’t return. A sick feeling rose in his throat and then plummeted to his stomach. She was leaving. He’d known it, but he’d foolishly tried to forget that fact. He got to his feet just as she was ending the call.

  “Did you hear that?” She fairly danced across the wooden floorboards. “Aunt Portia got a call from a publisher who’s interested in hiring us to take the shots he needs for a textbook about . . . .”

  “You’ve got to finish the calendars first.”

  She stopped, taken aback by his snappish tone. “Well, of course. I would never leave you in the lurch, and besides, these photos are ones that . . . .”

  “You don’t have to tell me. It’s your job. At least your current job and it doesn’t concern me.” Dark, unreasonable anger filled him, high-jacking his common sense.

  “Yes, it does! If you’ll just listen.”

  “I’ve got things to do.” He turned away so he wouldn’t see the joy fade from her face and stalked back to the house.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Billie woke the next morning feeling groggy and disgruntled. She’d had a hard time sleeping because she was so annoyed with Cam. What was his problem, anyway? He wouldn’t listen to her exciting news because he was stubborn and already had his mind made up. How could he have thought she’d abandon the calendar project, leave the town in the lurch? Did he think she was fickle? Unreliable? And how could she be in love with someone who thought that of her?

  She swung her feet off the bed and planted them firmly on the floor, then sat for a few more seconds considering what needed to be done. She had worried and stewed all night. There was nothing she could do to change Cam’s mind. His thoughts, feelings, beliefs about her were beyond her control. All she could do was continue to do her job. Still, it hurt to know that Cam didn’t love her the way she loved him and that he thought she was a quitter.

  Remembering it made her angry. She didn’t know what she would say to him when she saw him again. He would probably avoid her, so it wouldn’t matter whether she thought up something clever to say or not.

  It seemed that every time they took a couple of steps forward in understanding each other, they slid back five. She was hurt and confused and she feared she would lash out at him when and if she saw him again.

  She wished she could go back to the time last night before she’d received that phone call from her Aunt Portia, welcome as the news had been, to when she had been happily anticipating the plan she’d come up with to force him into having some fun, to seeing that not everything in life had to be so serious. His mother approved of her plan. That was good enough to be going on with.

  And, besides, she was going to share Aunt Portia’s news with him whether he wanted to hear it or not. It involved him, too.

  She leapt to her feet and hurried about, getting ready for the day.

  * * *

  Cam drove into town that afternoon for the simple reason that if he stayed around the Muleshoe much longer, growling and snapping at people, his staff would resign en masse, and his mother would hit him with a frying pan.

  He had known all along that Billie would leave so he had no one to blame but himself for getting his hopes up. He shouldn’t have cut her off when she had tried to tell him about her new job. He, of all people, knew how important it was to take any opportunity that was offered when trying to build a career or a business. He’d had any number of setbacks and disappointments when he’d been learning to run the ranch after his dad had died. If it hadn’t been for his neighbors and other cattle breeders all over the southwest, he would have lost his shirt – and the Muleshoe.

  True, it bothered him that she’d tried out so many jobs before deciding on photography, but did that matter? Was it any of his business how many different jobs she’d had? She was fulfilling her contract and there was no indication that she would leave the town with the project unfinished, or less than perfect, for that matter.

  He knew his reactions didn’t make any sense. There was a big tangle of emotions that tied up his brain and his common sense whenever he thought about her – or about her leaving. The only thing that seemed to remain untangled was his tongue.

  He was going to have to apologize to her. He had to smooth things over and make it right. When the city council had asked him to look after Billie, to be the liaison, they hadn’t expected him to insult her, snap at her, or offend her – all of which he’d done last night.

  He recalled thinking the day she came that he had to be careful about the promises he made to a woman. Obviously, he also needed to be careful of the promises he made about a woman, too.

  Some professor from the university had called and left a message with Doreen, but Cam hadn’t called him back. He couldn’t imagine what
the man wanted, but he couldn’t deal with one more thing right now.

  His foul mood had resulted in carelessness when he’d been repairing a door in the barn. He’d broken two drill bits so he went into Franklin’s Emporium to buy replacements.

  There was a little of everything in this place, a modern version of a general store. He’d loved it as a kid when he and his friends had come after school or on Saturdays to buy candy and chewing gum.

  He reached for the door and then stepped aside and held it open for Zoe Franklin. Cam looked at her in amazement. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her dressed normally. Today’s outfit was hardly appropriate for a hot June afternoon in southern Arizona. It was a dark blue velvet gown like a woman of the Renaissance would have worn. The serene expressions on the faces of women that he’d seen in paintings of that period weren’t at all like the fury that twisted Zoe’s face today.

  Because Doreen had drilled manners into him, he said, “Good morning, Zoe,” but she didn’t respond as she stomped past him and headed up the street. He could only guess she was going to see Billie for approval on yet another costume.

  He didn’t have to ask what had made her so angry. Red stood behind the counter with a look on his face that matched his wife’s.

  “She’s going to bankrupt me, Cam,” he moaned. “She’s determined to do this calendar and she doesn’t seem to care how much it costs. She has no real idea how much it will cost. She’s always been one to go off on wild hares, but they’re not usually too expensive. Even all these costumes she’s got are ones she’s made, and the decorations are things she’s recycled.” He couldn’t keep a hint of pride from his voice, but then he raised his hands helplessly and let them drop to his sides. “I’ve never seen her like this before.”

  “She won’t listen to reason?” Cam asked. He didn’t know what to say. His parents had seemed to have a happy marriage and they’d both had the same goals when it came to raising their family, running the ranch, spending or saving money. His mom had gone off the rails a little after his dad died, but she’d soon regained her common sense. Since he’d never been married, he couldn’t offer any advice.

  Red gave him a tired look. “Apparently, not this time.”

  Cam made some sympathetic noises that he hoped sounded as sincere as he meant them to be. Red seemed sunk in depression and didn’t want to say anymore. Cam bought his drill bits and decided there was no time like the present to go apologize to Billie if he could catch her alone. He knew Zoe would probably be there, but her appearances to show off a new costume were mostly drive-by fashion shows. She wouldn’t stay around for long.

  He strode into city hall and down the passageway to the small room Billie was using as a studio. The door was open a crack and when he heard voices, he paused.

  “Completely unreasonable,” Zoe Franklin said around loud sniffles and nose-blowing.

  “What is his main objection?” Billie asked.

  Cam knew exactly who they were talking about and wondered how Billie felt about getting pulled into this marital spat. He knew he should move away, quit eavesdropping, but he wanted to see how Billie would handle this.

  “The money, of course. I planned to take it out of savings, but it would be paid right back when my calendar sells. I even told him that we could make sure a portion of each sale goes into our savings account.”

  “But he’s a businessman. He’s probably expecting a return on his investment. Right now, it looks like money will be going out but not coming in.”

  More loud sobbing and sniffles went on for a minute before Zoe said, “He doesn’t have any faith in me.”

  “Zoe, your expertise is obviously in costume creation. Do you have any experience in creating and selling something like this?”

  Billie’s voice was calm and reasonable. Cam felt a surge of pride in her.

  “Well, no, but neither does the town of Lucky Break and these calendars were Red’s idea in the first place.”

  “But it’s not coming out of his own pocket. And the town has contracted with a printer to make the calendars once I’ve got the photographs finished. Have you made all of those arrangements for yours?”

  “No.” Zoe’s voice sounded less sure.

  “And do you think there will be much interest in a calendar of your costumes? Even as beautiful as they are?”

  Cam had to smile a little at her efforts to soften her words. Maybe she should have been some kind of counselor. She had a real talent for understanding other people and making them understand themselves.

  “Maybe not,” Zoe answered in a small voice. She cleared her throat. “Do you, um, think I got a little carried away with this?”

  “Could be.”

  Zoe sighed. “I’ve got to go talk to my husband. Thanks, Billie. You’ve been a big help.”

  The rustle of Zoe’s costume warned Cam that she was moving toward the door. He backed down the passageway to give her room – and to make it appear as if he’d just arrived.

  Zoe came out, closing the door behind her. Though red-eyed, she gave Cam a shaky smile and said, “Billie is a good and wise girl. You’re a lucky man.”

  She scooted past him and hurried away, leaving Cam to stare after her. Lucky man? What was she talking about?

  Before he could recover, the door opened again and Billie came out, jingling change in her hand as if she was heading to the soda machine. She paused when she saw him and her smile faded into a guarded look.

  “Hello, Cam. Did you stop by to make sure I’m working hard enough?”

  “Billie, I . . . .”

  “Don’t worry. I’m taking a short break before my next session which begins in . . .” she checked her watch. “Fifteen minutes.”

  “That’s not why I’m here.

  “Afraid I’m wasting the town’s money? Want to check my receipts? My financial records?”

  “Of course not.” He frowned in annoyance. What had he been thinking about how understanding she was? Maybe that extended to everybody except him.

  She crossed her arms in front of her and lifted her chin. “Last night, you seemed to be pretty afraid that I was going to skip out and leave this job undone.”

  “No, I wasn’t. I . . . .”

  “You think I have no work ethic.”

  “No, I don’t,” he answered, his voice sharp with equal measures of annoyance and anger.

  She threw her hands in the air. “See! I knew it.”

  “Billie, you’re twisting my words. That’s not what I meant at all.”

  She started to push past him, but he blocked her path. “I came to apologize,” he said. “I acted like a jerk. I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

  She stopped and blinked those amazing blue eyes at him. Her hair was once again slipping out of its pony tail. His fingers itched to reach out and tuck the loose strands behind her ears. He slid his hands his into his back pockets instead. “I apologize,” he said again.

  She looked away, and then back at him. “You jump to conclusions and make a snap judgment before you know all the facts.” Tears shimmered in her eyes. He felt lower than pond scum.

  “Yes, I do.”

  She gave him a suspicious look as if testing to see if he was sincere. He looked straight into her eyes and that seemed to convince her.

  “It’s a very bad habit of yours.” She sniffed and cleared her throat, then lifted her chin again.

  She looked so ready to argue, to take him on even though he had a good five inches and fifty pounds on her, that he had to fight not to grin. “Yes, it is.”

  “Do you know what causes that?”

  He wondered how long he could keep this going simply so he could watch the play of emotions across her face. So far, she had gone from annoyance to hurt, to I-don’t-care, and now she was eager to point out his faults.

  He answered very seriously. “I’m dying for you to tell me.”

  “You don’t have enough fun in your life.”

  He straightened.
“Whaaat?” It was the last thing he’d expected her to say.

  “You’re too serious.”

  He tilted his head. “Well maybe. Exactly where are you going with this?”

  “You don’t know how to dance because you never took the time to learn.”

  “I never had the time to learn.”

  She didn’t pause. She had a head of steam up and the Billie-Telling-Him-What-Was-What train was barreling down the tracks. She even shook her finger at him. This was getting better and better.

  “You don’t have to take care of everyone and everything. You don’t have to always be the one in charge, taking on all responsibilities.”

  “Um, Billie . . . .”

  “You need to have some fun.”

  “Fun?”

  She put her hands on her hips. “Now that’s exactly what I’m talking about. You said that in the same tone of voice you’d use to say the word ‘mud’.”

  He laughed. He was having fun now. “And how is this fun supposed to come into my life?”

  “I’m going to bring it,” she answered with a confident nod.

  “You are?”

  “Obviously, you’re not willing to go out and find it, so I have to bring it to you.”

  “Special delivery . . . fun?” It sounded intriguing, but he wanted to seem reluctant to see what she’d do.

  He didn’t have to wait long.

  She drew herself up and gave him the same kind of steady look Mrs. Nelson used to give him when he forgot his homework in the fifth grade. “Believe it or not, you’re actually going to enjoy this. Be ready and waiting on the front porch at 5:00. And don’t even think about not being there. Promise me.”

  “All right,” he said, trying to sound reluctant. “I promise.”

  “And wear your boots.”

  “I’m a cattleman. I always wear my boots.” What did she have planned? He almost asked, but her expression told him not to.

  “We’re going somewhere special,” she said. “But . . . but not fancy,” she added. He suspected that was in case he was getting any ideas about this being some kind of a date.