by Alison Kelly
While you look like a million dollars, Alessandra thought before returning the woman’s smile.
‘Yeah, I am.’
‘Tiffany brought over a casserole,’ Bart said, indicating the microwave. ‘We decided to wait for you.’
‘You shouldn’t have. I’ll have to shower and change before I even think about eating. You two might as well start.’ To her own ears she thought she sounded perfectly calm, which was remarkable considering she was a seething mass of jealousy. It wouldn’t matter how long she stayed under the shower; the crux of the matter was she had nothing in her meagre wardrobe to compete with the raw silk jumpsuit Tiffany wore, and wore so well. She cast a glance at Bart, who was refilling the visitor’s wine glass. No one would ever see Tiffany Shaffer swilling beer from a can.
‘Is something wrong, Alessandra?’ She might have mistaken Bart’s tone for concern had he not added, ‘Dinner can’t wait forever.’
Alessandra wanted to tell him not to wait for her, but to dig in heartily and choke doing it! Instead she was disgusted to hear herself mutter that she’d hurry. In truth she had little enthusiasm for food and even less for spending a night in the company of a man who considered she had the morals of an alley cat and a woman whose glamour and sophistication made her feel like one!
As she expected, the meal was an ordeal. Tiffany and Bart maintained a lively conversation, but, even if her life had depended on it, Alessandra couldn’t have recalled what was discussed. She smiled when she thought it appropriate, shook her head when it seemed to be expected of her, and pretended an interest in her food even though each bit threatened to choke her. As soon as she possibly could she pleaded tiredness and excused herself.
Initially the only thing that registered with Alessandra was that she’d fallen asleep in her clothes. Instinctively her eyes sought the small traveller’s clock by her bed. Ten-fifteen; she’d been asleep nearly two hours.
‘Alessandra.’
Although Bart’s voice was soft it startled her; turning towards the door, she was surprised to find him next to her bed.
‘Bart? Is something wrong?’ she asked, levering herself into a sitting position.
‘You were so quiet at dinner and looked a little off colour; I wanted to check you were OK.’ His eyes moved slowly over every inch of her face, before he reached a tentative hand to her cheek. A warmth began to radiate from the region of her heart and flow through her.
‘I’m fine. Is Tiffany still here?’
He shook his head. ‘She left about an hour ago.’
‘It…it was nice of her to bring dinner over,’ she said, then wished the words back. The last thing she wanted was to push Tiffany’s virtues to the man she herself loved.
‘It was her mother’s idea,’ Bart told her.
‘In that case I’m glad I didn’t eat much; my portion was probably heavily laced with rat killer.’
‘Rachel has a pleasant side, but it’s reserved for the select few,’ he assured her.
‘Well, you must fall into that category if she’s sending the beautiful Tiffany complete with home-cooked meals over to you.’
‘You’re jealous!’ Bart exclaimed.
‘Get off the grass! Why should I be jealous of the fact that Bitch-face Shaffer sends you casseroles?’ Alessandra said, hoping he wouldn’t see beyond her camouflage.
‘You’re jealous because I spent the afternoon with Tiff——’
‘I am not…! You spent the afternoon with her?’ The grin on Bart’s face told her she’d been trapped. In desperation she tried to cover the blunder. ‘I thought she’d only just arrived before I did…’
Bart lurched forward and pinned her against the bedhead. Her startled gasp was ignored as he moved his lips to within an inch of hers. His eyes twinkled with arrogance.
‘Admit it; you were jealous of Tiffany.’
She shook her head. ‘You conceited bast—’
Her words were cut off with a kiss that ended almost as quickly as it began.
‘Admit it, Alessandra.’
‘When hell freezes!’ Again his mouth claimed hers, this time for longer, but again it was gone too soon and she couldn’t help the tiny groan of dismay that came in its absence.
‘Tell me the truth. You hated coming home and finding us…’
‘I didn’t…’ His kiss killed her denial, but instead of trying to stop his tongue’s entry to her mouth she opened to it and welcomed it with the warmth of her own. She felt him relax into the kiss and as he did she caught his tongue between her teeth, stilling it, and opened her eyes to watch his reaction. When his gaze met hers she loosened her jaw. ‘I was as jealous as all get out,’ she admitted.
‘There’s no need to be. I haven’t the slightest interest in Tiffany.’
Alessandra considered his admission and moved to put a little more space between them when she found a few flaws in it.
‘Why not? I’d have said she was just your type. Elegant, well educated, non-swearing, super attractive and on top of that she wouldn’t be caught dead swilling beer from a can or boozing with cowhands. A lady in every sense of the word.’ She paused, pretending an interest in her hands, then lifted her eyes to meet his gaze. ‘Just like your wife was and the sort of woman you want Lisa to be.’
She knew her words disturbed Bart. It showed in the way he ran his fingers through his hair and flopped back across the mattress to stare at the ceiling. It would have been easy simply to press herself against the hardness of his chest and the flatness of his belly, and let the awkwardness dissolve in their lovemaking. When they made love there was no past, no present and no future haunting them. It was only them. Yet Alessandra knew she had moved beyond living simply for the moment. She leaned back against the bedhead.
‘You’re right when you say that Kathleen was a lady.’ Bart’s voice was clear and exact. ‘I’d never met a woman with as much polish and class as Kathleen. She knocked me clear into midfield and it took me a while to hit the ground again.’ He paused and looked at Alessandra. ‘But I did hit the ground. I admit I loved Kathleen, but it wasn’t an adult love or even a deep love. From the now mature distance of thirty-eight I realise we never ever passed the infatuation stage.’
His words stunned her. They were a total contradiction to what she’d imagined. She tried to mentally make sense of what she was hearing, but couldn’t, because hope was rushing in and crowding her thinking. She tried to brace herself against it, knowing hope had a way of turning on you and inflicting pain.
‘Even before the wedding I had doubts.’
‘I…I don’t understand. Why did you marry if you…you weren’t sure…?’ She stopped when Bart frowned and looked as if he expected she would know. ‘Well?’
‘Kath was pregnant,’ he said. ‘I thought I told you that up at the shack.’
She shook her head.
‘Marilyn and I grew up never knowing our father, and it doesn’t matter what people tell you—nothing can compensate for the feeling that your own father never wanted you. I was determined no child of mine would be born illegitimate.’
Alessandra digested what he’d told her. She’d not known the circumstances of his marriage nor the facts surrounding his and Marilyn’s upbringing. She felt chilled, imagining the hurt he must have endured growing up.
‘It must have been hard. Especially for your mother, being left with two small kids.’
‘It was her choice, Alessandra.’
‘Pardon?’
‘My mother fell in love with a married man and the affair continued right up until my mom died, despite the fact he never acknowledged either Marilyn or myself.’
‘Oh, Bart…’ Alessandra floundered for words. Coming from a loving, united family and knowing what Bart must have missed out on made her heart weep.
‘My uncle was the closest thing Marilyn or I had to a father, and the irony was that he’d harboured an unrequited love for my mother from the moment he met her.’
There was no bitterness in
his tone, just acceptance of a sad situation he’d long ago learned to bear. Alessandra felt the sting of tears for the boy who, despite his father’s indifference, had grown up to become the finest man she’d ever met. The man she loved.
‘He died, a few weeks before Kathleen and I were married and left me his place in Texas,’ he continued. ‘Kathleen hated it there—the heat, the dust, the isolation—and gradually we came to exist on a level that began with, “Good morning, have a nice day” and ended with, “Goodnight, sleep well”.’
Alessandra remained silent, wondering how anyone could have lived as Bart’s wife and not been the happiest person on earth.
‘Lisa was just a few week’s old when Kathleen died during a severe asthma attack.’ He paused, turning overly bright eyes to Alessandra. ‘I was miles away checking fences.’
‘Oh, Bart, I’m sorry.’ The words were inadequate, but then what words wouldn’t be? His expression indicated he understood what she wanted to say and couldn’t.
‘I had to fight like hell to keep custody of Lisa.’
‘Yeah, I know. She told me.’
‘Sometimes even now I wonder if I did the right thing,’ he confessed. ‘I mean, I was only twenty, I had next to no money——’
‘But you loved her,’ Alessandra said earnestly. ‘And you were her father; of course you did the right thing.’
‘I know…but at times I can still hear Kathleen talking of all the things she wanted Lisa to have and do: a college education, trips abroad, all the things Kath’s parents could have provided without relying on the price of beef to do it. I’ll never be able to provide Lisa with a tenth of what her mother dreamed of giving her.’
‘But back then Kathleen didn’t have to take into consideration what Lisa might want. You do.’
‘Yeah,’ he sighed wearily. ‘Tell me, Alessandra, am I wrong to want to give her the best I can? I want her to go to college so she can experience life beyond what she’s grown up with and mix with people who can converse on more things than the best time to plant and the price of beef. I want her to see that this world is made up of a whole lot of smaller, different worlds. Then she can decide what one she wants to live in rather than be thrown into a totally foreign one, like Kathleen was, and be unable to cope with it. Is it wrong not to want to see your daughter end up in a marriage that results from passion, but never blossoms into love?’
‘No, Bart,’ she whispered, moving to take his hand and lie beside him. ‘It’s not wrong. It’s understandable.’
‘Then why are you so eager to support Lisa’s refusal to go to college?’ he asked, his gaze again fixed on the ceiling.
For an instant she was tempted to say that she’d changed her mind and genuinely believed he was right to force Lisa to further her education, but she couldn’t go against her own beliefs. Not even to please the man she loved.
‘Because being a parent doesn’t give you absolute infallibility. Sometimes parents are wrong.’
Bart turned his head to look at her. ‘Like Jenni’s?’
Alessandra nodded as a lump wedged momentarily in her throat. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard before again meeting his eyes.
‘You really think I should back off on her, uh?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Ultimately the only person who really has the right to decide what a person should or shouldn’t do is themselves. You can offer advice, but you can’t force your ideas on them; people have a right to make their own decisions, even the wrong ones.’
‘How come you seem so smart all of a sudden?’ he asked gently. ‘And don’t say it’s the lack of nearby competition,’ he warned.
‘Maybe it’s because I’ve learned that accepting the tragedies of the past puts them into perspective and, once that happens, you have the capacity to seek a future beyond the next twenty-four hours.’
‘Come here…’ he whispered, pulling her into his arms.
The tenderness of their kiss was on a totally different level from anything they’d shared previously. When their lips parted Alessandra saw that Bart’s eyes mirrored the same awe she felt herself. The closest she could come to describing the emotion that made it so subtly different from all the other kisses they’d shared was that its warmth seemed to be generated by need rather than want.
‘I owe you an apology.’ Bart put a finger to her mouth to stop her from speaking. ‘I never meant to imply you were a nymphomaniac last night. I was angry because you didn’t want to sleep with me.’ He shook his head. ‘What I mean is I wanted you to——‘
‘You wanted cuddles not passion,’ she said gently.
‘Yeah. I don’t give a damn how many lovers you’ve had in the past…’
‘Two. I’ve only had two.’ Alessandra held his head between her hands and spoke quickly. ‘I’ve never been one to crawl into bed with a bloke just for the heck of it. Believe me, I’m a real novice in the femme fatale stakes.’
‘You sure don’t come across as being inexperienced!’ he drawled.
‘Bart, I grew up taping the private conversations of five brothers! I could probably write a book about men’s attitudes to sex and manage to sound like an expert,’ she explained. ‘The bit with the condom was suggested in an article I read.’
‘And what about your “I feel positively orgasmic” expression you use at the drop of a hat?’
She groaned and lowered her gaze. ‘Until you came along I’d never experienced a climax either. All I knew about orgasms was what I’d read, too,’ she confessed. ‘I was a classic example of the saying, “Those who can do; those who can’t talk about it”. And I haven’t said, “I feel positively orgasmic” since the first time we made love,’ she told him earnestly.
He was smirking like a cat who’d inherited a dairy.
‘Well, I wouldn’t mind hearing it tonight,’ he told her. ‘That is,’ he added, his eyes alight with gentle teasing, ‘if you’ll consent to sharing my multi-functional bed.’
‘What do you want—cuddles or passion?’ she asked.
‘Everything,’ he said. ‘With you, Alessandra, I want everything.’
The next couple of weeks were like a fantasy for Alessandra. She was stirred from her slumber each morning by Bart’s whisper-soft touch and brought to full alertness by his erotically beautiful lovemaking. After sharing breakfast they would each leave to pursue whatever chores required their attention that day, when possible making arrangements to meet for lunch.
Alessandra was reasonably certain Jim and the other stockmen must have noticed the changed atmosphere between herself and their boss, but, apart from an occasional oblique wink in her direction, they made no reference to the situation. There were times when she wished she could shout her joy loud enough for the whole of the State to hear, but, even though she knew Bart would hold her heart for all time, he’d made no declarations of his own feelings towards her. For that reason she only allowed the depth of her feelings to reveal themselves through actions, never words.
The sound of the door opening distracted her from the payroll calculations she was working on and she looked up to find Bart entering the small office, wearing a relaxed smile and carrying two cups.
‘Coffee break,’ he announced, placing a cup near her hand, before sitting in the seat on the other side of the desk.
‘If all employers were as generous as you the labour unions would face extinction,’ she said, delighted by his unexpected appearance in the middle of the morning. The twinkle in his eyes told her he was recalling her praise of the previous night, when she’d told him he was the most generous lover any woman could wish for, and they both knew she wasn’t making reference to material gifts. His unselfishness in their lovemaking constantly thrilled her.
‘Lisa called while you were in the shower this morning. She’s flying home today…’
The look on his face was impossible to read, and his words hung heavily in the air. Alessandra sipped at her coffee, hoping he would say something to indicate the return of his daughter wa
sn’t going to spell the end of their affair. Affair? It wasn’t a word that fitted her own views of the loving and passionate relationship which had grown between them in Lisa’s absence, but, judging by the uncomfortable expression on his face, that was exactly what Bart considered it to be.
‘She sounded excited and eager to get home,’ he said. Alessandra knew he was deliberately trying to keep the conversation from touching on their sleeping arrangements from this point onwards. ‘She said she has some exciting news. Good news.’ He gave her a small smile that for a second stopped Alessandra’s heart. ‘You want to come with me to pick her up? We can——‘
‘No can do. I have to go into the bank and cash the wages cheque.’ She produced a dry smile. ‘Ecstatic as you may be by the prodigal’s return, I doubt the men will be so overjoyed that they’ll forgo being paid.’
‘Darn! I forgot about that.’ He frowned for a minute, then jumped to his feet as if stunned by his own genius. ‘Jim could cash the cheque and then you could do up the wages when we get back from the airport.’
Alessandra shook her head and began stacking the paperwork on the desk.
‘Why not?’
She had to admit he’d sounded almost genuinely puzzled by her refusal. OK, perhaps she was misjudging his intentions, but the only way she would know for sure was to ask him.
‘Bart, are you going to tell Lisa that we’re lovers?’
‘Does she have to be told?’ Bart evaded, tossing his own question at her and pinning her with his gaze.
‘No, we could always just ensure she sees us coming out of the same bedroom tomorrow morning. I’m sure Lisa could work out the implications on her own.’ She couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice, and the tensing of his jaw told her that the words had irritated him.
‘I couldn’t do that.’
‘Oh, that’s right! Poor Lisa might be totally corrupted by finding out her father has a sex life! Heavens, she might start thinking that you’re only human after all!’
‘It’s not just her opinion of me that I’m concerned about——’
