Different Dreams

by Tory Cates

  “Mmm,” she mumbled, barely able to focus on anything but the wonderful glow within her.

  “I’ve never done them with other women. Never been inspired to. There is something very, very special about you. Between us.”

  The glow turned to a summery radiance at Cam’s proclamation.

  “I’m really afraid of blowing it. Of going too fast. Of overwhelming you.”

  Malou snuggled closer to Cam, encouraging him to go on, to say the words that he wouldn’t have had the courage to voice if she’d been staring at him.

  “I don’t know,” he continued. “Sometimes I look at you and in my mind I see this image of a doe at a water hole and she’s just heard a noise. A twig cracking in the distance. Something. But she has her head up, listening, poised, ready to flee if she hears that noise again.”

  Malou was astonished to hear Cam speak of such vulnerability. Even more amazed that that was his image of her. She rolled around in his arms to face him.

  “I don’t want to run, Cam. I like it here with you. I like it a lot.”

  “I like it a lot too. Ummm,” he growled with contentment, rolling over and pulling Malou onto his stomach. “I wish this little idyll could go on just as long as we wanted it to.”

  “I was thinking along those same lines. I’d like to officially declare this the first day of summer vacation.”

  “I second the declaration, except that we have none of the props necessary for summer vacation. No TV for watching endless reruns and horrible horror movies. No tenement walls for playing handball against. No empty bottles to collect and turn in for two cents apiece.”

  “That was your summer vacation,” Malou chided Cam. “Today I propose that you learn what a real summer vacation is all about.”

  “ ‘Real’ meaning yours, I presume.”

  “Presumption correct,” Malou declared, hopping out of bed, eager now to start the day. She darted over to the trunk where Cam had found the cache of country clothes they had worn their first night in the stone cabin, and pulled out jeans and shirts for both of them. She tossed Cam’s outfit at him. “Come on, sleepyhead, we’ve got to pack three months into this one day.”

  The morning air was heavy with the scent of wildflowers and with the blossoming of promises. Malou breathed in both as she stepped out into the day with Cam. They wandered through a large meadow behind the cabin, which was overgrown with bluebonnets and Indian paintbrush. As if cued by the stage directions in a script, Cam picked a bouquet for Malou. Following the creek that meandered among the century-old live oaks, they ended up at a cool, grassy knoll. The creek widened into a small pool that Malou insisted they wade in. Next came berry gathering when Malou found a patch of dewberries trailing vines heavy with the dark fruit.

  With a hatful of berries for snacking resting on Cam’s stomach, they lay on their backs and picked faces, animals, and airy castles out of the clouds puffing across the endless blue sky.

  “Look, there’s Pegasus.” Cam brought a finger up to paint the outline of the winged horse of myth he saw flying across the sky.

  Malou tilted her head against the thick grass cushioning it to follow the shape he traced. “Oh yeah, I see it. Sort of. Do you see Mr. Magoo?”

  “I give you Pegasus and you give me Mr. Magoo? Don’t forget, I’m supposed to be the one who spent his summer in front of the tube.”

  “But you didn’t, did you? Somewhere in the misspent youth, you put in a lot of time with your nose buried in a book.”

  “That’s our secret. Think what it would do for my high-dollar developer image if it got out that I grew up reading Bullfinch’s Mythology instead of Conan the Barbarian comics.”

  “Oh, devastating,” Malou teased. “Your secret will go with me to the grave. But don’t you see Mr. Magoo there? The bulbous nose. The squinty eyes.”

  “You Ph.D. types are hopeless,” Cam snorted, and they settled into a companionable silence, lying next to one another and following the shifting patterns in the sky. It was Cam who, sometime later, spoke next. He plucked a berry from the hat, then put the hat aside as he rolled over and propped himself up on his elbow above Malou.

  “A berry for your thoughts,” he said, holding the fruit above the lips that curled into a smile.

  “I suppose then they should be berry important thoughts.”

  Cam groaned. “Primatologists who make ghastly puns like that should be drawn and quartered.”

  “You’re right. I don’t know what came over me.” But Malou did know what was coming over her, though she didn’t want to stop and analyze it now. To tear apart the marvelous, giddy feeling effervescing through her that made her want to laugh out loud and utter ghastly, silly puns. “It will never happen again.”

  “If that’s a solemn promise, then you may have your berry now.”

  “On my honor as a prim primatologist,” Malou swore with mock solemnity. “There will be no further puns.”

  “Good girl. Eat your berry.” Cam lowered the fruit and she parted her lips. But he didn’t let go of the stem. Wrapping her tongue around the plump berry, Malou pulled it away from his fingers. Wine-colored juice flowed over her lips. “Oh, what a wicked mess we seem to have made,” Cam said. “Let me clean that up for you.”

  His head, as he bent over her, blocked the sun from Malou’s eyes. In the shade he cast, Cam teased the burgundy juice from around the corners of her mouth. When the last drop of juice had been scoured away by the velvety roughness of his tongue, he parted her lips and made slow dipping forays into the hollow beyond.

  Malou was stunned to again feel the forces she was sure had been thoroughly dissipated. They gathered within her just as if she and Cam had never come together, and she hungered for him as desperately as she had before their long night of discovery.

  Loving Cam beneath the broad canopy of the open sky seemed so right and perfectly natural that the earth might have been created solely as a bed for them, the grass as a thick, soft coverlet. The sun kissed and tantalized the few bare inches that Cam’s lips did not adore.

  For a long time after the final spasms of fulfillment had rippled through them, Cam lay within her, his weight on his elbows, and stared into her face, unwilling, unable to break away.

  “How did you get that tiny scar?” His forearm curled around her head as he traced a finger across a silvery scratch above her right eyebrow.

  Malou touched the scar as if the memory were stored there. “Oh, that. Fell out of my crib not too long after I learned how to stand up.” Malou felt Cam’s warm chuckle in the pit of his belly.

  “So even then you were intent on running away.”

  “Running away?” Malou asked. Did he, could he, already know her that well? It didn’t matter. That person, the girl who had fled from human complications, was gone. She had no intention of running from Cameron Landell.

  “You know, you never did tell me your thoughts. You snatched that berry away, but you never told me your thoughts.”

  Malou stared up into the face above hers, searching it the way she had searched the clouds earlier for hidden patterns. She looked into his eyes, and for a second she almost spoke, so sure was she that she saw in his eyes what was in her heart. She almost answered Cam’s question truthfully. She almost told him that she was falling in love. But, with the words already forming on her lips, she remembered that the fanciful animals they’d seen in the sky were little more than the projections of their own fantasies. She dared not project the love growing within her onto Cam and assume that it could ever be his.

  “I was just thinking that it’s been a long time since dinner and wondering how long dewberries can sustain human life.”

  Something flickered across Cam’s face. Malou thought for a moment that it might have been disappointment, but then she reminded herself again sternly about projecting fantasies.

  “You’re right, of course,” he agreed briskly. “We’ve played hooky from the real world long enough. It’s time to start thinking about things l
ike food and bank notes.”

  Malou regretted having such mundane things intrude upon their interlude, but she was the one who had allowed them to bull their way in. She had only herself to blame. Cam turned to collect the clothes they had strewn about like patches of wildflowers. They dressed quickly, and Cam bounded to his feet with what struck Malou as an excess of energy, then helped her up.

  “I guess school’s back in session again,” Malou said, as Cam brushed a few wisps of dried grass from her hair.

  “I guess so. I was starting to forget there for a moment just how close we are to my deadline at the bank. Only two weeks left. It’s a date that neither of us can afford to forget.”

  Cam flashed a smile that died away too quickly. Already his thoughts were back on the tangle of details tying Landell Acres together and binding it to El Rancho de los Monos. And to her. She could see his preoccupation in his walk. Gone was the lazy lope that had carried them out into the sunny fields. He was again the tightly coiled mass of inexhaustible energy, his aggressive stride eating up the grassy acres as if they were teeming city blocks he had to negotiate his way through at the greatest speed possible.

  The idyll has ended, Malou thought as they stripped off the borrowed clothes and folded them back into the trunk like actors laying aside the costumes and personas they had worn during a play. Something tore inside Malou as the trunk lid banged shut. It couldn’t end. Not yet. She wasn’t ready for it to end.

  “My parents are celebrating their thirtieth anniversary next Saturday in Austin,” she blurted out, grabbing at the first link she could use to forge a bond between them again. “Want to come? You can see the scene of my misspent youth.”

  Cam cocked his head, puzzling for a minute over the mercurial woman before him. Before, in the field, when she had abruptly changed the subject and mood to remind him that they hadn’t eaten, he could have sworn that she wanted nothing more than a way to end gracefully what had suddenly looked like merely an episode. And now, inviting him to meet her parents?

  “You baffle me,” he mused.

  “I baffle you. Because I invited you to my parents’ anniversary party?”

  “Because of a number of confusing and contradictory things.”

  “So that means you don’t want to come? I can’t blame you. It’ll probably be pretty stuffy. A lot of university people . . .”

  “No, it means I’d like to come. I can’t resist enigmas.”

  And with that simple acceptance, Malou’s heart soared again.

  * * *

  Outside the station, Cam switched off the ignition. “I’ll have someone put a new alternator in the jeep and have them deliver it this afternoon.”

  “Oh, no,” Malou protested. “That’s too much trouble. I’ll take the bus in from Laredo and pick it up myself.”

  Cam shook his head. “And how will you get into Laredo? By thumb? Nothing doing. For once, will you stop being so capable and independent? What would be a major ordeal for you, would be a matter of a phone call for me. Let me do it, Malou.”

  “You win,” Malou surrendered happily.

  “Now, how shall we get together this Saturday?”

  “Why don’t I drive up and meet you in San Antonio,” Malou volunteered, “and we can go on into Austin together.”

  “So, you’d take your chances on the jeep again, eh? No, even with a new alternator, I don’t trust that pile of junk. I’ll come down here and pick you up.”

  “But it’s so far out of your way.”

  “That’s all relative. Perception of distance is a function of one’s desire to make the trip. In your case, it is a very short trip.”

  “Cam, I . . .” Malou started to say more than she could allow herself to say. He stopped her words with a kiss.

  “A very short trip,” Cam repeated, his lips still nearly touching hers. “But one that won’t come soon enough.”

  With a start, Malou caught herself doing it again. She caught herself searching his face for the feeling that was in her heart. She pulled away from his embrace.

  “Gads, it’s high noon,” she said in a rush. “Ernie’s probably inside peeking at me right now.”

  “Heaven forbid that Ernie should see you in my arms.”

  Malou hopped out of the car. “Saturday then.”

  Cam sighed and struggled for patience. “Saturday.” With a tight smile of forbearance, he turned the ignition key and circled back to the highway.

  Once under way, Cam switched on the radio and a pop group blared a shrieking song of prepubescent love at him. He twisted the dial into silence. He punched in the cigarette lighter and reached into his pocket for a smoke. His hand was patting the flat pocket before he remembered he’d given up the habit over ten years ago.

  Cam shook his head in exasperated amusement. Ten years. It had been far, far longer since any woman had so thoroughly bewildered him. Quite possibly never, for Malou was unlike any other woman he had ever known. That was the double-edged sword that sliced at him. It both attracted him with a compelling force he was nearly powerless before, and it also absolutely perplexed him. Perplexed and irritated him mightily. He jerked the unneeded cigarette lighter free and stamped his foot against the accelerator. He had an appointment with his landscape architect that, if he speeded, he would only be half an hour late for.

  * * *

  Malou walked into the station already haunted by memories of the last twenty-four hours and by that unreadable smile that had tightened Cam’s features just before he’d driven off.

  “Ernie!” she called. “I’m back!” She tried to make her tone light and casual, wondering why that should require such an effort. Things hadn’t been light and casual with Ernie for some time now. Not since the morning that Cameron Landell had driven up. In the same instant the realization hit Malou: Ernie was jealous. It was all so clear now, that she wondered how she could have missed seeing it for so long. Ernie’s sullenness for the past two weeks. His immediate antipathy toward Cam, which had grown even stronger as they spent more time together. Ernie’s continuing attacks and accusations. They all fit together now. They were all the hallmarks of a jealous man.

  “Ernie?” Her call was a bit softer this time. There was still no answer. She walked back toward the lab. The door was locked. Malou rapped gently. “Ernie?” There was a scuffling sound within. “Ernie, you in there?” A bit louder.

  The door opened a crack and Ernie pressed his bearded face into it. “So, you’re home. Long trip to San Antonio.”

  “Yeah, well, the jeep broke down and . . .” And what? Malou asked herself. What could she tell Ernie that wouldn’t exacerbate his jealousy?

  “And that’s why you stayed out all night again?”

  Why had she tried? Malou knew she was the world’s worst liar. “Oh, that. Cam and I had some things we needed to discuss about the disposition of the troop.” Well, at least she was edging back into the vicinity of the truth.

  Ernie’s mouth bunched up skeptically at one corner. “Well, I hope you two had a productive ‘discussion.’ Now, if you will excuse me, I’ve got work to do.”

  “You’re hitting it awfully hard, Ern. I thought you might want to come out of hibernation and I could fix us something for lunch. It’s been a while since we sat down together.”

  “Thanks. No. I’m really involved here. I’m surprised you’ve got so much free time, what with neither of us certain that Tulip is going to adopt Bambi as hers.”

  As the door shut again in her face, the lock clicking back into place, Malou joined in the berating Ernie had just given her. He was right. How could she have so completely forgotten about the orphaned baby?

  Malou threw a quick sandwich together and took it with her out to the compound, munching as she walked. She gobbled down the last bite of her sandwich and opened the latch at the compound gate. Pulling out her field notebook, she put the binoculars to her eyes and began checking off the long list of monkeys on her census sheet, trying to work as quickly as she
could down to Tulip. Far off, Sumo was standing upright in a rare bipedal stance to check her out. He looked like a wizened little old man in a shaggy overcoat as he stood there, his hands resting on his bent knees.

  “It’s only me!” she called across the distance. At the sound of her familiar voice, Sumo slumped back down into his normal four-legged crouch and continued picking tender shoots out of the grass to eat.

  Malou noted the females honored to be allowed into his immediate presence. Tulip was not among them. She should have been. She was one of the highest-ranking females. Malou measured out the implications of her absence. Had Tulip accepted Bambi and been rejected by the inner circle for clinging to an outcast’s child? Or had Tulip rejected her and was she even now off searching for her own lost baby? Malou chided herself for not being there, not being near to Bambi. She pictured the big-eyed baby abandoned in some remote corner of the compound, hungry, alone, and confused.

  And it was her fault.

  She followed the path of two juveniles in a never-ending game of tag, chasing each other across the prairie. The pursued escaped his pursuer by scrambling up an old deer-hunting tower and diving off of it into the pool below. He landed with a splash. A crotchety adult bending over to drink at the pool’s edge cuffed the splasher, sending him yelping away. Then the drinker crept forward, sliding into the cool water.

  Odd, Malou thought, wondering why the adult had been so testy about being splashed. She zoomed the focus of her binoculars in on the swimmer and found her answer as a tiny, big-eyed head sprouted on top of the one gliding through the water. It was Bambi clinging to Tulip as she took the baby for her first swim. Malou rejoiced. The cuffing had been the natural overprotectiveness of the macaque mother. Tulip had accepted Bambi.

  The cloud that had settled so suddenly and so darkly over Malou lifted. She watched the baby hang on to Tulip’s ears and ride her head like a tiny jockey. Gradually the terror left Bambi’s oversized eyes as the cool water lapped up around her. She even turned loose of one ear long enough to splash a paw into the water and bring a glistening drop up to her nose to sniff. Identifying it as nothing more than water, the baby licked the drop away and beat her hand against the pond. Though she splashed directly into Tulip’s face, the older monkey didn’t react. She just continued on her way, gliding through the pond with her baby perched up high and safe.