by Deb Stover
"And you named Gordon." Mother had tried to talk to Taylor about this long after they'd all moved away, but she'd refused to listen. "Then what happened?"
"Dad went berserk and confronted Gordon and his folks." Sue shook her head. "It was ugly."
"I'll bet Gordon offered to marry you anyway." She gave Sue a sad smile. "Didn't he?"
"Yes, even after he told us he couldn't be the father." Sue reached for another tissue and blew her nose. "After you left, he offered to marry me. My parents wanted me to do it, but I couldn't." She met Taylor's gaze again. "I thought...you'd come home. I really did. I wrote dozens of letters, but you never answered."
"I...I never opened them."
"Oh, Taylor." Sue's eyes mirrored Taylor's anguish. "And I've lived with the guilt of knowing what I did to you and Gordon all this time."
"But you didn't know he wasn't the father when you told me." Taylor rolled her eyes. "And I didn't trust Gordon." She closed her eyes and smacked the table. "God, why didn't I trust him?"
"That's the part I feel worst about." Sue reached for Taylor's hand. "You didn't trust Gordon, because you did trust m-me. Your b-best friend."
Sue buried her face in her hands and sobbed. Anger, confusion and betrayal battled within Taylor, but Sue's tears overruled everything for supremacy. After a few moments, Taylor found herself holding Sue while they both cried. All the tears she'd been holding back poured out, leaving her spent and shaken.
If only she'd talked to Gordon, or opened Sue's letters, or listened to her mother... She'd worn her self-righteous anger like a suit of armor, and for what? Nothing. None of that mattered now.
Finally, she patted her best friend's–yes, her best friend's–shoulder and grabbed two tissues, handing one to Sue. "No more tears," Taylor said, returning to her chair and her wine. "You've blamed yourself all these years, but it really wasn't your fault."
"Yes, it–"
"No." Taylor drew a shaky breath. "It's all my fault for running away. What a coward. I was the wronged one, so I thought. God, when I think how much I must've hurt Gordon..."
"His heart was broken." Sue tilted her head to one side. "It still is."
Taylor drank her wine, remembering the look on Gordon's face when he'd practically made love to her at the clinic. He'd wanted to talk to her, but they'd ended up tearing at each other's clothes instead.
"I have to talk to him," she finally said.
"Then you can be together again." Sue brightened.
"I wish it were that simple." Taylor's heart pressed against her throat. "He'll never be able to trust me again."
"Trust is important to Gordon." Sue reached across the table and squeezed Taylor's hand. "But he loves you, and I believe he'll forgive you. After all, I think you just forgave me."
Taylor nodded. "You made a mistake. What's not to forgive?" And why'd it take me so damn long to listen?
"I've never had another friend like you, Taylor." Sue gave her a weak smile. "I've missed you."
"I've missed you, too." Taylor exhaled very slowly. "I've hurt everybody, including myself."
"I should've found a way to make you listen years ago."
"Too stubborn." Taylor chuckled. "Well, whether or not it changes the way Gordon feels about me, I have to talk to him." She cleared her throat and rubbed her eyes. "When and how, though?"
"The how is easy," Sue said, lifting her glass. "Just do it."
"Great." Taylor rolled her eyes. "You're a big help. So when should I 'just do it?'"
Sue's expression grew intense and she leaned closer. "During the full moon, of course."
Chapter 11
Ryan didn't like this. Not one bit. Not only had Dr. Cole spent the weekend at their house, but the dweeb had made his mother laugh and smile more than she had in years. Then, to top it all off, Ryan had walked into the kitchen and caught them kissing.
Yuck.
And Dr. Cole planned to come back again this weekend. Somehow, Ryan had to prevent that.
His band teacher had just dropped him off after the field trip, and Mom had gone back to bed after letting him in the house. He didn't have school today, so now Ryan stood at his bedroom window staring out at the morning sky.
Gordon was supposed to marry his mom and be his new dad. Not Jeremy Cole. Gordon should be the one to make her laugh and smile. And, yes, even kiss her.
Yuck.
Patches whimpered near his feet and Ryan bent down to scratch the mutt behind the ears. "It's all her fault." His gaze swept the room and fell on the handle of his track-maker sticking out from beneath his bed. If he could make Dr. Bowen leave Digby, that rich dweeb wouldn't have any reason to come back for another visit.
Mrs. Lane had told Ryan how frightened Dr. Bowen was of bears. This week, there would be a lot more bear tracks at her house.
A whole lot more.
* * *
The doorbell rang shortly after dawn, and Taylor opened one eye. Her tongue felt like it was coated with fur, and the pulse in her head was doing the rhumba.
My God, I have a hangover.
Wincing, she struggled to a sitting position and remembered that she and Sue had finished one bottle of wine and made a healthy dent in a second. Sue had called a neighbor to drive her home, refusing to stay the night so she'd be home when Ryan returned from his field trip this morning.
The bell sounded again, and didn't it seem louder this time? Groaning, she dragged herself out of bed and pulled on her robe. She reached the front door just as the bell rang a third time.
"I'm coming. Oh." She grabbed her head with both hands. The sound of her voice made her skull feel as if it would explode. "'Physician, heal thyself,'" she whispered.
She pushed aside the curtain on the window beside the door and blinked. Why was Rick Miller standing on her front porch at this ungodly–
"Oh, no." She'd arranged for him to pick up her car this morning for a tune-up. "Just a second." She grabbed her purse and took her car key off the ring, then opened the door. "I'm sorry, Rick. I forgot."
His shock at her appearance was evident. "Wild night?" He flashed her a grin. "Last time I had a hangover was after your high school graduation. It's hell when your only vice turns on you. Mike, Sue and me were polluted. I don't even remember getting home that night." He pointed a finger at her. "Tomato juice with tabasco sauce. It'll either cure you or kill you."
Was the cause of her condition that obvious? "Gee, thanks, Rick." She handed him the key. "Call me when the car's done?"
"Sure thing, Doc." He headed down the walk with her key, then called back over his shoulder, "Remember, tomato juice and tabasco."
Wincing again, she closed the door. The mere thought of tomato juice made her stomach lurch, and she refused to even consider tabasco sauce. She glanced at the clock, then headed toward the kitchen and coffee. Definitely not tomato juice.
Forty-five minutes, half a pot of coffee, and one shower later, she stood in the living room again feeling almost human. A green knit top tucked into her jeans would be dressy enough for Digby once she put her lab coat over it. She grabbed her medical bag, strapped on a fanny pack in lieu of her purse, and tied a sweater around her waist. The clinic was a short walk, and the morning air should help clear her head more. The aspirin she'd taken wouldn't hurt either.
The fog had cleared from her brain and she remembered what Rick had said about being out with Sue on graduation night. The night Ryan was conceived.
"Oh." She shook her head. Rick had been here all along, and he would've come forward if he was Ryan's father. That didn't make sense. Of course, he said he didn't even remember getting home that night.
And he'd mentioned Mike, too. She made a mental note to call her brother later and ask him what he remembered about that night. Ryan deserved to know who his father was, and Sue would have closure. Maybe Mike knew who Sue'd been with.
Taylor opened the door and saw someone moving around the yard. Quickly, she closed it again and peered through the window instead
. Ryan Wheeler had a long stick with something attached to the end of it. He hurried around her yard, pressing the object into the ground at regular intervals.
"What the devil are you up to?" She waited until he climbed onto his bike and rode away with the long stick balanced across his handlebars. "Only one way to find out."
Taylor headed outside and locked the door behind her, then approached the area where Ryan had been. Bear prints. Dozens and dozens of bear prints.
No, fake bear prints. "You little snot." She walked around, noting that the tracks started and stopped in her yard. She'd been too terrified before to explore, or she might've realized that only a flying bear could've performed such a feat. "You little snot," she repeated, wondering why Ryan Wheeler was trying to terrorize her.
Of course, since her car was gone, he must've thought she'd already left for the clinic. Laughing quietly, Taylor wondered what Sue would think of her son's activities. Had he also drained Taylor's gas tank? But why?
Remembering how good it had felt to call Sue friend again, Taylor decided to discuss this with Gordon first. After all, he'd been a little boy once upon a time. Maybe he would understand Ryan. Besides, she needed an excuse to talk to him. Alone.
She headed back to the house to call Rick Miller. Her tune-up would have to wait for another day. Sue had told her last night that her first appointment wasn't until eleven, and Gordon's was after lunch. Taylor should be able to catch him at home this morning and still get to the clinic before eleven.
Clouds rolled in again as she drove her Bug up the twisting mountain road toward Gordon's cabin. Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed. June was often cool and rainy in the high country. This year was no exception. The erosion along the roadside was much worse than usual.
A huge boulder suddenly appeared in the road and she swerved to miss it. Glancing up the mountainside, she saw more boulders coming toward her little car. And mud, too–a mountain of mud.
Adrenalin spurred her to action. She slammed her car into first gear and hit the gas. Several seconds later, she was at the crest of the hill. She stopped and looked up the mountainside to make sure she was clear of the slide. Everything was still. Deathly still.
She rested her forehead against the steering wheel, commanding her pulse to slow. Then she looked behind her. The road was completely gone, buried in mud and rock.
If she hadn't reacted so quickly, her car would've been buried, too. With her in it.
Her hands trembled as she drove the rest of the way up the dead-end road, praying Gordon was home. She should've called first. What if he'd gone down to the clinic early this morning?
"Really stupid, Taylor." As she rounded the last curve, she breathed a sigh of relief. Two Jeeps were parked in front of Gordon's cabin. A shiny new blue one...and Henrietta.
She smiled, parking her car between the two Jeeps. Blue was much more suitable for Gordon than red. And he hadn't traded Henrietta. Did that mean he couldn't put the past behind him after all?
"Get a grip." She left her medical bag in the car and went to the door. Just as she lifted her hand to knock, the door swung open and Gordon stared at her with surprise and open suspicion in his eyes.
"Taylor?" He looked beyond her as if expecting to find someone else with her. "You drove up here alone?"
She nodded, remembering that wall of mud and rock. "There was a mud slide," she said quietly. "Road's gone."
A frown creased his brow. "You could've been killed." He opened the door wider and gestured for her to come in. "I'll make some fresh coffee. You must've had a good reason to come all the way up here."
"Yes." A long overdue apology. She drew a deep breath and followed him inside. The furniture was spare and tasteful. A few antiques, plus a giant denim-covered recliner occupied the main room. Max was curled up on a rug before the cold hearth. All in all, the place was very Gordon. She loved it.
Love...?
"Oh, God," she murmured, and he turned to stare at her from the kitchen doorway. "Oh, God." She felt cold all over and her head spun. Was it the hangover or her close call with the mud slide? No, it was the truth doing this to her.
She lifted her gaze and met Gordon's, then she simply sat down in the middle of the floor with a rather undignified plop. He hurried over to her and stooped beside her.
"You okay?" He reached for her wrist and checked her pulse. "You're playing the 'Minute Waltz.' Let's get you to the kitchen and some warm coffee. I need to call Sue and tell her we're stranded, and the county about the road or we'll never get out of here."
Taylor nodded numbly as he helped her up and guided her to the kitchen. She felt lousy, shaky and weak. The warmth of his strong arm around her waist made her feel better and worse all at once.
She knew the cause of her malady, and it wasn't from too much wine, or a near-death experience on the mountain road. No, it was something much more dangerous. Uncontrollable.
She was still in love with Gordon Lane.
Gordon held his breath until he had Taylor settled in a chair at his kitchen table. Even that brief physical contact with her made him too warm, too eager, too horny for his own good.
Why had she driven up here? She could've been killed by that mud slide. Thank God she was here and safe. He couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to her.
Reminded of that, he went to the phone and called the county to report the road blockage. Last time, it had taken them a week to clear the mess. In good weather, he could hike down the mountain without a road.
But now he had Taylor to worry about. Taylor to look at. Taylor to talk to. Taylor to want...
After being assured the road would be cleared as soon as possible–whatever that meant–he called the clinic. A very groggy-sounding Sue answered. "Hey, Sue, I'm stranded again."
She sighed. "When are you going to move off that mountain so this won't happen anymore?"
"Never."
"Well, in the winter it's snow, and now it's...what?"
"Mud slide." Gordon glanced at Taylor, who sat staring out the window that spanned the entire back of his cabin. He lowered his voice and said, "It almost got Taylor on her way up here."
"Taylor?" Sue's tone brightened considerably. "She's there? With you? Stranded?"
"Well, yeah, I guess you could say that." He cleared his throat, deciding Sue was far too pleased with this turn of events. "Anyway, I called the county, and they're supposed to get the road cleared as–"
"Soon as possible."
Gordon chuckled. "Right."
"I'll cancel your appointments and call Dr. Swensen in Buena Vista to take call for Taylor, and Mt. Harvard Animal Hospital to cover for you."
"Thanks."
"Don't mention it."
Definitely too pleased. Thunder rumbled overhead and rain fell in sheets. He sighed. "If it ever stops raining, we'll hike down to town and I'll stay with Mom until the road's clear."
"No hurry," Sue said. "Everything here will keep until the slide is cleaned up."
"Hmm, I'll keep you posted."
"You do that, and make sure you don't try to come down the mountain until after the full moon."
"What?" Frowning, he shot a sidelong glance at Taylor, who was still staring out the window at the deluge. "What's so important about the moon?"
"Trust me on this, Gordon," Sue said emphatically. "It's very important that you and Taylor not leave there until after the full moon."
He chuckled and shook his head. "You're nuts, Sue. When is the full moon?" Taylor turned to look at him with a quizzical expression and he shrugged.
"It's...either tonight or tomorrow night. Your calendar here doesn't say." He heard papers shuffling. "Just don't try to come down the mountain until Friday. Promise?"
"I'm sure it'll take the county longer than that to get the road clear anyway," he said. "Besides, the way it's raining, they won't even be able to start clearing today."
"Good."
"Absolutely nuts."
"We aim to please. Ta
ke care of Taylor. 'Bye."
Gordon hung up the phone and scratched his chin, wondering what sort of insanity had its grip on Sue now. PMS was last week. He felt Taylor's gaze on him and gave her a sheepish grin. "Sue's nuts," he said.
"A nice nut, though." Her smile and her eyes looked wistful.
Something's different. "Coffee's done. How do you take yours?" He opened the cabinet door and took down two white mugs, trying not to think about why and how Taylor was different.
"A little milk, if you have it. No sugar." Taylor rose and came to stand beside him.
He felt her warmth at his side, and something terrifying unfolded in his chest. Not only was he alone here with the only woman he'd ever really loved, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this was somehow right. Taylor looked good standing in his kitchen.
Get over it, Lane. Angry at himself, he whirled around and opened the refrigerator, then grabbed the milk carton. He turned around and found her watching him–staring, really. Her eyes were large and moist, her expression lost.
"What is it, Taylor?" he asked, suddenly worried that something was terribly wrong. "Why'd you drive up here this morning?"
She cleared her throat and took the milk carton from him, pouring a little into her cup. When she turned to face him again, she said, "I came to apologize."
He shook his head, trying to remember what she should be apologizing for. "I don't–"
"This may take a while." She sighed and a sad smile curved her lips. "Shall we sit here or in the living room?"
"It's getting chilly," he said, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I'll light a fire." He poured coffee into both their cups, then led the way back to the living room. "I guess this is sort of a forced vacation."
"Hmm. Yes, it is." She sat on the braided rug before the hearth, the coffee mug clutched in both hands. She raised it to her lips and took a long, slow drink. "You make good coffee, Gordon."
She looked even better in this room than she had in his kitchen. Paralyzed, he stood staring at her for several seconds, then remembered the fire. He set his cup on an end table, then laid the fire and made sure the damper was open. A few moments later, he had a cheery blaze going.
