Lone Tree

by O'Keefe, Bobbie

  Slipping the shoes on, she noticed the form in the bed was beginning to stir. She waited, but he settled back down. She slipped out of the room and had reached the front door before he hailed her. She turned as he switched on the light.

  “Why so early?” he asked.

  “This is a small community you’ve got here, and I don’t want to become today’s front page news.” She gave him a long look and a slow smile. “Don’t look now, but you forgot your boots.”

  He grinned and crossed the room.

  “Come back for supper tonight,” he whispered, and kissed her chastely on the cheek. “I can put something together just for the two of us.”

  Again she debated the advisability of a romantic liaison, then wryly reminded herself the die had been cast. If she needed proof, that chaste kiss on her cheek had almost turned her knees to water. She decided to let the relationship go where it may. She was through fighting it.

  “Okay, dinner sounds—”

  “Supper. We eat dinner at noon and that wasn’t the time frame I had in mind. But if you insist—”

  “Supper, then, but my place. I’ll cook.” She had nothing on hand, but it’d be fun shopping for dinner for the two of them—er, supper.

  “Deal,” he said. “Will you tell Rosalie and Miles not to expect us?”

  “Sure,” she said absently. She remained still, looking into those gorgeous eyes and wondering if his reaction would be anything like hers if she kissed his cheek.

  “If you’re going, you better go,” he said softly.

  “Okay,” she said, just as softly, but still she lingered, then gave in and stretched to kiss him on the cheek.

  One thing led to another, and the sun had been up for a while when she reached the door for the second time that morning to let herself out. She hoped she could still get home undetected.

  When she opened the door, she startled Randy, whose knuckled fist was poised to knock on the screen. He stared blankly at her, as if wondering how he’d made such a stupid mistake and arrived at the wrong house.

  “Good morning, Randy,” she said. What else could she do?

  She hollered over her shoulder, “Reed, you’ve got company.”

  She opened the screen, waited for the stupefied Randy to move out of her way, then passed him. As she rounded the corner of the main house, she saw Miles pulling the door closed behind him. He descended the porch stairs. Her step faltered, and she swore softly to herself. This was like living in a fish bowl. He was seldom up this early—but this morning, of course, there he was. She resumed walking.

  He glanced her way, nodded politely, then took a double take as he probably realized she was leaving Reed’s house instead of hers. His face creased into a smile as he waited for her to reach him.

  “Good morning, Lainie.”

  “Good morning, Miles.”

  “Looks like the start of a beautiful...day.”

  “Uh-huh.” She passed him without pausing.

  Finally reaching her own door, she sneaked a look behind her. Reed’s house wasn’t visible from this point, and Miles had gone on his way, but Lainie caught movement at the entrance to the stables. Nelly stood there, watching her. He raised his arm and waved. She waved back, went inside, closed the door and leaned against it with a resigned smile. Yep. Right small community.

  *

  Reed’s knock on her door was feather-light. For an instant,Lainie froze. Then she covered the bowl of vegetable chunks and went to let him in. When he closed the door behind him, she wondered if she looked as spellbound as she felt.

  “What’s for supper?” he asked.

  “Stew.”

  “Good choice. Takes a while to cook.”

  “And I made a salad.”

  He stepped forward, put his arms around her, and clasped his hands behind her waist. His breath stirred her fringe of bangs. “I like salad.”

  She blinked. No one had ever affected her like Reed Smith. No one. Every nerve and muscle was tingling. She realized he’d said something else. “Uh, what?”

  “How long do we have?”

  “Oh. About an hour.” She leaned her forehead against his chin. “You’re asking me questions, and I can’t even think straight.”

  His quiet laugh joined hers. “Then I’m not the only one.” One hand came around and lifted her head up. “You take my breath away, Lainie Sue.”

  He lowered his head and his mouth met hers.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Lainie parked in front of Jackie’s Style and stared at the glass door. Jackie Lyn had a heart as big as Texas, yet at times she bordered on ribald, and Lainie wasn’t looking forward to the inevitable ribbing regarding her new relationship with Reed.

  The door opened, its bell jingling, and a client left. Lainie steeled herself, got out of the car and entered the shop.

  “Howdy.” The greeting and grin was vintage Jackie. Lainie stood in the doorway, as stoic as possible, and waited to get it over with.

  Jackie shoved the cash register closed, crossed to her station and whipped open the plastic drape. When Lainie didn’t move, Jackie glanced back. “You waiting for something?”

  Lainie approached and sat in the chair. As the proprietor ran fingers through her customer’s hair, her eyes met Lainie’s in the mirror. “Yep, color will hold just fine. Never saw hair grow as fast as yours, though. You must feed it well.”

  Well. Was the news perhaps too delicate for Randy to have related to Bobbie? Was Lainie actually going to be allowed to keep her private life private? That was just short of miraculous.

  As they exchanged small talk, Lainie’s mood lightened, and she grew just a little smug. When she met Jackie for Friday night supper, Lainie figured she’d casually mention that she’d conceded the game to Reed, and that they’d both won. For now, however, it was personal and private, exactly as it should be.

  Lainie paid for today, made an appointment in five weeks for color and a cut, and then was out the door and halfway to her car when Jackie’s lazy drawl caught up to her. “Glad to hear you finally got that itch scratched.”

  Lainie paused in midstep, then continued without turning around. No way did she want to meet that earthy, I-told-you-so look that she knew was on Jackie’s face.

  Personal and private? Yeah. Right. Sure.

  *

  The rodeo opened with colorful signs and floating streamers attached to every available surface throughout the town. But Lainie wasn’t impressed. The cowboys’ practice session had left her with a smelly memory, and she would’ve passed on the monumental event if not for Jackie’s insistence.

  “Nobody misses it, girl.” She actually looked insulted. “Nobody.”

  Ah. Peer pressure.

  Reed hadn’t pushed. He’d just grinned as Lainie related Jackie’s invitations that were just short of being commands. Then, once Lainie decided to go, he said he’d find her in the stands and join her. Though he didn’t compete, he liked to spend some time with his men who were in competition.

  Randy Jones, as expected, won the calf roping, saddle bronc riding, and bareback riding competitions. He was a born cowboy, but born roughly a hundred years too late. There were more skilled wranglers than there were positions open for them.

  At the end of Randy’s stint at calf roping, Reed joined Lainie. She stood and spread the blanket she sat on to allow room for him. He exchanged pleasantries with Jackie and Bobbie as another calf and another cowboy entered the arena.

  Casually Reed hooked his arm around Lainie’s neck and pulled her close. “Never be able to watch something like this again without thinking of you stomping off to the truck,” he whispered into her ear. “In that skimpy black bra and those tight-fitting jeans.”

  When he removed his arm she drew away, guessing her expression was halfway between a smile and a grimace. That scene was already considered a legend, and she’d given up on trying to live it down.

  Another minute or two passed, then he again hooked his arm around her neck. “Le
t’s get out of here.”

  She pulled back. “But you just got here.” Then she recognized the glint in his eye, grinned back, and nodded. As she got to her feet, she casually managed not to meet Jackie’s eyes as she said her goodbyes, thereby not knowing—nor wanting to know—if her friend’s expression was knowing or puzzled.

  *

  Fall finally arrived, and its respite was welcomed. Late summer heat had lain over the land like a suffocating blanket. And along with the pleasant weather, a new couple moved in across the street from Jackie.

  “Man of the house mows his lawn every Saturday morning,” Jackie told Lainie. “Like clockwork. Why don’t you come on over around nine or so and we can watch the show together?”

  Lainie raised her eyebrows. “That good, huh.”

  Jackie grinned back. “Yep. It’s a sight no warm-blooded woman should miss.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks.”

  “He wears red swimming trunks, tennis shoes and socks. And that’s it.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Right in time for brunch. Isn’t that what you call it out there in California?”

  “Call what?” Lainie couldn’t hold the laugh in. “Brunch is a meal served between breakfast and lunch. Voyeurism is gaining sexual gratification by looking. And, anyway, why the interest? You said he’s taken.”

  “Yep, that he is. He’s got to be about six-two, and she’s almost as tall as he is in her high heels. They’re both what you call beautiful people.”

  Lainie wondered if the fact that he was taken explained Jackie’s interest. “Look but don’t touch?” she asked casually.

  “Yep.” Jackie’s grin was wide. “Like window shopping.”

  Safe. No contact, no commitment, no risk. Willis Bender again crossed Lainie’s mind; she’d hoped Jackie would mention him at some point, but Jackie had remained mum.

  But neither was there long-term commitment between herself and Reed, Lainie reminded herself. Neither of them had approached the subject, and she was grateful he hadn’t. Commitment was a thought she suppressed every time it occurred.

  Despite her better instincts, Lainie became intrigued with Jackie’s version of window shopping. So, feeling like a conspiring teenager, she was seated next to Jackie on her porch the next Saturday morning, mug of coffee in hand, when the main event got started. The man followed the lawn mower around the yard, and two lively gazes from across the street followed him.

  “Must lift weights regularly to keep in that kind of shape.” Jackie sighed. “Look at those muscles. Shoulders, arms, back...”

  “Uh-huh. That is one well-built man.”

  “This surely beats watching television.”

  Lainie giggled. “You’re incorrigible.” She sipped coffee then added, attention not leaving the lawn mower or its operator, “And so am I.”

  “You know that golden oldie, something about the boys standing on the corner, watching the girls go by? You think any of those boys know us girls like to watch them, too?”

  “Doubt it. Most likely they think admiring the opposite sex is strictly a male’s pastime.”

  Jackie crossed her legs and rotated her foot. “You think this one suspects we’re watching and admiring?”

  “Hope not. Would take the fun out of it. I like them better when they’re cute and don’t know it.”

  Jackie laughed. “You got that right, girl.”

  Thoughtfully, Lainie pursed her lips. “Perhaps a better question would be, do you think his wife knows what we’re doing?”

  “Hmm.” Jackie’s foot stilled. “You think maybe we oughta get back inside and start on that brunch?”

  “That would be prudent. You’re salivating.”

  For supper that evening, Reed cooked steaks on the propane grill, along with corn on the cob still in their husks. They continued to share dinner, the main meal of the day, with the Lone Tree group—at least Reed did—but they’d grown into the habit of quiet suppers on their own. The salad was ready and the table was set, leaving Lainie free to sit in the shade and watch Reed watch the steaks. Today’s shirt was a vivid red and dark-blue print that darkened his eyes, and he very nicely filled out those jeans.

  He glanced idly at her a few times, then gave her a direct look. “What?”

  “Too bad there’s not a lawn around here you could go mow.”

  His brows drew together. “Huh?”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  At the same time that Lainie was enjoying the cool fall air, she was also very much aware that time was passing. Sitting alone in the office one afternoon, she tipped her desk chair back and stared at the wall with impatience that bordered on annoyance. She disliked brooding even more than indecision, and too often of late she’d been guilty of both.

  The pleasant fall weather would soon be gone, winter would take its place, and if she wanted to stick around she needed to outfit herself for the cold. She should be heading for home, not even thinking about shopping, yet she delayed, knowing how difficult it would be to sever ties with Reed. She could’ve kicked herself for allowing the relationship to form in the first place. She’d known better, done it anyway, and now they’d both pay the price.

  Once she got to California, Lainie planned to write and explain herself to Miles. Neither she nor he would be obligated to the other and she could wait and see what happened. That was a coward’s way out, but far safer than a confrontation; she’d thought it through every which way and couldn’t see a way around what most likely would become a major clash. Miles didn’t forgive mistakes nor did he accept a change of heart in others, as evidenced by the scene she’d witnessed with Willis. Since family transgressions were more personal, they’d be dealt with even more severely.

  He’d need time to come to grips with the death of his daughter, to sort through the last twenty-five years as well as these past months, and to accept the fact that he had a grandchild. If he exploded, Lainie didn’t trust herself to meekly accept whatever he wanted to throw at her. They’d each need distance.

  Second-guessing herself at this stage was a waste of time, yet she couldn’t help doing it. But even if she could go back to when her mother had died and she’d first found the letter, she doubted she’d do anything differently. The fact remained she’d wanted to know who Miles Auburn was before inviting him into her life.

  The phone rang, breaking into her reverie.

  “Lone Tree Ranch. Lainie speaking.”

  “Hi,” Jackie said. “I’m thinkin’ I need a break and was also thinking you need a decent coat to get through winter.”

  “Well, yeah. Funny, I was just thinking—”

  “Next week I’m taking Monday and Tuesday off. How about we head for one of the big towns with all kinds of department stores, check out the hotels until one strikes our fancy, then rent ourselves a room and stash a bottle of wine in it? We can hit the stores, get you outfitted for winter, and then stay up half the night and gab.”

  Stay till spring? As long as she was in this far, go for a full year?

  Lainie leaned back, crossed her legs and cradled the phone at her ear. “I’d love to.”

  The next week, she and Jackie hit every mall in Farber, and shopped for more than a winter wardrobe. If she was going to stay through Christmas, Lainie wanted to be prepared.

  She got fancy cowboy scarves for the men and found a señorita-style blouse in vivid orange for Rosalie. It’d be beautiful on her with her dark hair and eyes. For Jackie, Lainie already knew what she wanted. In the Western Emporium she’d seen an embroidered vest that was perfect. She also knew what she wanted for Nelly, and could put that together at any time. Miles was a problem, however. She had no idea what to get for him, and found nothing in the bigger town with all its stores that interested her either.

  Buying for Reed was like buying for herself. His pillows were lumpy and shapeless, and she for one didn’t want to put up with them any longer. She found two fluffy feather pillows, had them boxed and wrapped, and then she was through.r />
  When she grinned at Jackie over the top of the big box, Jackie grinned back, laden by her own bags and boxes.

  “You’re a good influence on me, girl. I won’t be running myself ragged on Christmas Eve again this year like I usually do.” Then Jackie’s smile turned into a frown as her gaze swept the store’s counters and displays. “There an exit anywhere around here?”

  Lainie pointed at the escalator.

  “Yeah, that oughta do it.”

  They ate prime rib in the hotel’s dining room, along with baked potatoes slathered in butter, and they shared their first bottle of Zinfandel. Another one was stashed in their room, and once upstairs they made a real slumber party out of it: painting fingernails and toenails, sipping wine, and sharing secrets and giggling fits. As the wine loosened their tongues, Lainie considered revealing her relationship to Miles. She came close, very close, to confiding in Jackie as they sat on the edges of the twin beds, facing each other.

  Then she noticed her friend’s mood had sobered.

  Jackie appeared to be staring at the window, but she seemed so preoccupied that Lainie doubted she actually saw it. Then, probably becoming aware of Lainie’s attention, Jackie met her gaze. “I told you about Carl Henry?”

  So that was it. Lainie nodded.

  Jackie lowered her gaze, appearing uncharacteristically tentative. She smoothed wrinkles in her pajamas. “My first time,” she said softly, “was supposed to be special. I decided when I was just a little girl that it was going to be on my wedding night, and not until then.”

  Lainie felt her eyes widen. “You’re married?”

  “Not many people know it. But, yes, I married him.” She looked up, her expression going pained. “I never used his name. After he went to prison I legally changed my name back to Cooper. But divorce was...is different.” Her voice dropped an octave, and again she lowered her gaze to her knees. “He’d be served papers and I’m afraid to do that. My folks say...well, you heard my daddy. They want me to be free of him, but...”

  It appeared to Lainie that Jackie had aged ten years in the last two minutes.