“Of course you have. And, sadly, so have I.”
Time collapses as a tingle skitters through me just as it did when we first met.
The UT Women’s Golf Team was finishing its most successful season in years. We would be participating in the prestigious Collegiate Invitational in Hawaii that summer if I could win the last match against SMU.
I traded leads with my opponent until the eighteenth hole, where I faced a twenty-foot downhill for a birdie and a win. I stared hard at the dimpled white orb, took a deep breath, then shut my eyes.
The roar of the crowd told me I was home free. I looked up to see a tall, well-built, redhead with a craggy face staring back. That was my first glimpse of Paul Carpenter.
Later that evening the Phi Gams hosted a party in the team’s honor, and there he was again. This time he came straight for me, hand extended. “That was some putt. Congratulations.” He searched my face and grinned. “Hey, we’re almost twins. You have gray eyes, too.”
When he grasped my hand, hot ice cascaded down my spine. I put my free hand over his. I didn’t want to let him go.
We didn’t say much that evening. I remember sharing a beer with him as we walked into the shadows of the large backyard to the limestone wall at the end of the property.
It was May. The lemon-scent of magnolia filled the air. In the distance there was laughter and someone was playing “Streets of Laredo” on a guitar.
Paul leaned against the wall and drew me to him as his lips covered mine. I don’t remember how long we stood there, but from that moment on, we were inseparable.
I jerk back to reality as Adelena splashes more coffee in my mug. The memory of that night is still etched in my mind. I can’t help but wonder what might have happened if Reena hadn’t come between us. Would we have married? If we had, our child would be in the second grade.
Paul puts his hand on mine. “Penny for your thoughts.”
I pull myself out of my sad reverie and give him a sparkling smile. “Sorry, they’re much too expensive for a mere penny.”
We chat through breakfast, the conversation centering on the mundane, but the silent messages traded are anything but.
Once the dishes are cleared, Paul whispers, “Come riding with me this morning.”
When I don’t answer he says, “Reena takes pills so she can sleep.
I guess her days are too long if she doesn’t. We won’t be missed.” Being alone with Paul after all this time has been a long-time dream of mine, but a niggle in the corner of my mind gives me pause. “Shouldn’t we wait for Reena?”
“Reena doesn’t ride. Besides, she won’t be up until she can start the day with a Bloody Mary and we’ll be back long before then.” He rises and stands so close I can feel the heat from his body. His voice is soft. “How about it?”
Paul chooses a sturdy Morgan mare for me, saying, “Her name is Sugar and she lives up to it.”
He waits until I’m settled in the saddle, then mounts his horse, a roan called Chief. After telling Miguel to expect us back around eleven, we set out toward the mountains.
The Anacachos would be termed foothills by Coloradans, but in this part of Texas they give substance to the undulating scrub. The weather is temperate, almost warm for January. Not unusual since the South Texas climate is controlled by the Gulf of Mexico. Cold fronts sweep across the open plains from the north or west, but quickly soften under the Gulf ’s southerly push.
We ride for more than an hour, then come to a fork in the trail and Paul says, “Everybody gets confused here. Just remember, right is wrong and left is right.”
At first glance the way to the right is well defined, while the one to the left is a narrow, deep cut in the sandstone that seems to disappear. Paul’s right. Once my horse edges through the cut, the trail opens to a path that hugs the side of the mesa.
The vista is breathtaking. In the distance I see the ranch house, the airstrip, and the cluster of oil pumps bobbing slowly up and down: a perfect view of Paul’s realm.
At the highest point is a lean-to shaded by a stand of scrub oaks. The structure is open on three sides, with canvas drops for bad weather. Against the back wall, a wide mattress-covered platform dotted with large pillows, faces south.
I realize Paul’s intentions and decide a quick exit is the best ploy, but when I try to turn Sugar toward the stables, she strains against the reins and gives a soft whinny.
Paul urges Chief to my side. “Sugar knows there’s water up here and after such a long ride, I bet she’s thirsty.”
It’s too late to escape. I’m trapped. Paul helps me dismount, then clasps my waist, as he whispers, “I’ve dreamed about this moment for years.”
“Don’t...” My small attempt to stop what I’ve longed to hear fails.
“I have to. You need to know what happened.”
I try to move out of his arms, but Paul tightens his grip. “Seven years ago I was a coward and I’ve paid for it ever since. I knew Reena was attracted to me long before you were called home.”
He was right about that. Every time Paul would come to pick me up, Reena would race out of her room, throw her arms around Paul’s waist, wink at me, and say in that husky voice of hers, “He’s too tall, I’m too small, and that’s two toos, too bad.”
“After you left, I managed to steer clear of Austin, but when Miguel gave me the message that Del set up a pigeon shoot for the frat alums, I was on the road in minutes.
“When Del wasn’t at the Phi Gam house, I called your place. Reena answered and said Del’s dad called him back to the ranch. We chewed the fat for a few minutes, then she asked if I’d like to grab a bite of dinner before I headed back. I didn’t see any harm in that. I was lonely. She was friendly. It turned out to be the worst goof of my life.
“The next morning, I apologized and told her it was all a big mistake. She agreed, and I thought it was over, but after a couple of weeks, she called to tell me she was pregnant.
“When I told her I didn’t love her, she went ballistic, jumped in her car, and raced off. I followed her all the way to Smiley and when I got there Reena announced if I didn’t marry her she would get an abortion.”
Reena pregnant? Is that how she got him?
I think back to the time Paul and I first discussed marriage and the fact that I wasn’t a Roman Catholic. Religious affiliation seemed so insignificant then. Besides, I was in love. Now, realizing how important this issue must be to Paul, I’m relieved I never told him about my own sad dilemma and the choice I was forced to make.
“When Reena miscarried on our honeymoon, I was too stupid to realize it was her period. After trying to have kids for several years, we consulted a fertility specialist. You can imagine my shock when he told me Reena’s uterus had never fully developed and it was impossible for her to conceive.”
Paul turns me toward him. “All she wanted was my money, but I couldn’t see that until it was too late. I was a fool, Allie. You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved. Say there’s a chance for us. Tell me we can begin again.”
The pre-nup Reena mentioned. Was she telling the truth? Or is Paul lying?
To my surprise, I say, “You’ll never know how much I longed to hear those words, but we can’t erase the years. Besides, as much as I’d like to, I won’t betray Reena.”
He grabs me by the shoulders. “Then tell me why you came.”
“I honestly don’t know. At first I thought it was because Reena really seemed to need me. She told me the marriage was in trouble—that there was another woman. You must know that in her own strange way, she loves you.”
He shrugs that away. “I never thought you’d be her champion.” “I’m not. Believe me. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to see you.”
“I knew it.” He clasps me to him. “There is no other woman—no one but you.” He pushes me away, and stares down at me with those clear gray eyes. “Remember this, Allie. I intend to have you. One way or the other.”
One way or the other? What’s the
other? Instead of melting against him, I shiver and tense. Paul’s voice. There’s a hardness to it that makes his declaration of love sound more like a life sentence.
I have little time to analyze my reaction. Paul slides his hand behind my neck and brings me forward until my mouth meets his. I’m trembling, but then, so is he. My lips respond to his and I drown in the intensity of his passion.
When we finally part, Paul’s voice is rough with desire. “I want you and I know you want me. Why are you fighting it?”
Somewhere at the edge of my mind I see this red flag waving as Allie-the-attorney pushes Allie-the-confused to the rear and says, Objection, Your Honor. This woman is unable to act on her own behalf.
I step out of Paul’s embrace. “If you really want to begin again, get your life straightened out. Then give me a call.”
His features freeze in a frustrated jaw-clench for only an instant, then rearrange into an I’m-definitely-in-control expression. “I understand where you’re coming from, Allie. I respect you for it.” He grabs my hand. “Let’s get out of here before I do something really high school.”
Chapter 4
REENA IS STANDING just inside the door of the stables talking to a tall, slouchy man in denims and boots. When he turns to look my way, I cringe. He has the battered face of a prizefighter with a forehead so thick it seems like a shelf above the rest of his face. His lips, splintered with lines, flesh out beneath a tortured nose.
In sharp contrast, Reena looks like a Dresden doll. Dressed in white slacks with a long-sleeved white shirt, she sports her usual wide-brimmed hat. Of course, there are the sunglasses. Reena always was most un-Texan in her loathing for the sun. Even in college while we were spread out on the banks of Hippy Hollow in various degrees of nudity, Reena would slather herself with sunblock and huddle beneath the nearest shrub.
As we near, the man tips his hat to Reena, then disappears into the dark of the barn. I stiffen, readying myself for the expected onslaught, but to my amazement when we dismount, Reena gives us her FF smile and says, “Back at last. How was the ride?”
I load my voice with enthusiasm. “Wonderful. Paul is an expert guide. The Anacachos are much higher than I thought.”
“I wouldn’t know about that. I never learned to ride. Horses scare me to pieces.”
When I start for the house for a shower and fresh change, Reena calls after me. “Don’t be long. I have some great Bloody Marys waiting and the Dardens are on their way. They can’t do dinner. Some child thing.”
I send up a small thanks that the Dardens will be there to diffuse any tension that might exist among the three of us. In fact, I can’t wait to see them.
In the year and a half since Susie visited Houston, the triple-whammy of an imminent delivery, a kid still in diapers, and a cheating husband hasn’t done much for her psyche or her looks.
Her Valentine face, once haloed by coal-black curly hair, is drawn and puffy; those ringlets now drab straight strands shot with gray. Susie is a far cry from the vibrant girl Reena was with the first night we met in front of the Tri Delt house.
I remember stepping back to let the gorgeous platinum blonde dragging her pixie-like captive pass. Instead, the blonde stopped, tapped me on the shoulder, and said in a croaky voice, “You’re the perfect one. I choose you.”
My mouth must have dropped, because she laughed that husky laugh I would never forget and grabbed me with her free hand. “You’re coming with us.”
The rest of the evening was a blur. Hoards of guys attracted by this blonde magnet swarmed around us begging her for a date.
The pixie was Susie Baxter from Uvalde and she and Reena Harper lived at a boarding house just up the street from mine. Reena wandered into Susie’s room that very afternoon, asked her to join her for a Coke in the basement, and when she found they were slated to attend the same rush party, she pronounced they would go together.
Susie and I were bewildered and flattered by Reena’s “blessing” and quickly warmed to our assignment as her lackeys. From that evening on, we held each other’s hands through the following perilous weeks, and all screamed with joy when we pledged the sorority Reena chose.
The pledge captain made it clear to Susie and me that Reena made a deal and we better “hump” it. It took almost a year for us to earn our stripes. She made All-Star Volleyball and I was the leading golfer on the women’s team.
By May, we three were widely known as the Tri-Delt-Trio, with Reena the star.
“Allie.” Susie’s joyful greeting brings me into the moment. She grabs me to her and whispers, “I’ve missed you so much.”
Del steps into view. “Hey, don’t I get a hug?”
To my surprise, he looks great. An older version of the once-leading quarterback for the Texas Longhorns, his coppery hair bleached from the sun and there are deep channels in his cheeks, but he still gazes at me with a fondness forged by our mutual losses.
“You can count on that.” I step into his arms and warm to his hug. In spite of what Susie thinks is going on now between Del and Reena, I can’t help but still care for him.
The five of us climb the stairs to the tower, conversation flush with enthusiasm and joviality, making it seem just like old times. After Miguel passes Bloody Marys and salsa dip with chips, Paul and Del drift off to one corner of the tower while Reena occupies herself with checking the table arrangement.
Susie hunches close. “Did Reena say anything about the missing paintings?”
My eyes widen with surprise. “Practically pitched a fit. Said Paul had them removed while she was lunching with me in Houston.”
Susie gasps. “That’s a bunch of hogwash. Del told me the pictures were taken down the beginning of December.”
I wonder what Reena’s up to. Why would I care about her paintings? Paintings I’ve never seen.
In the corner voices rise, then Del breaks away from Paul to join us. “How’s crime in the big city?”
I pat the seat beside me. “Better than ever. How’s ranching?”
“Worse than ever. It’s bad enough Susie and I can barely keep our heads above water, but Paul doesn’t get it.”
Paul stands above us, fists clenched, jaw set. “Just what don’t I get?”
Reena hurries over. It’s plain she’s sized up the situation and wants to break the tension. “How’s that baby, Susie? Did you show Allie his picture?”
Susie rummages through her purse as Paul repeats the question and adds, “I’m waiting for an answer, Del.”
I feel Del tense and see his hands grip the edge of the cushion. “In case you haven’t noticed, the cattle business is shot this year. But, I guess you don’t care. You have the oil.”
“Two beers and you always go back to that. How many times do I have to tell you? Everything was legal.”
“Is having a judge in your hip pocket legal?” Del is smiling but his eyes are hard. “Seems to me there’s an easy way out for you, my friend. Give me the income from one well and I’ll tell my lawyer to drop the suit.”
Paul’s face darkens with his voice. “You keep that lawyer talk up and you’ll see what trouble is.” He slams his glass on the table and heads for the stairs with Reena at his heels.
“You can’t leave now. We have luncheon guests. Please, Paul.” She turns, smile frozen in place. “Sorry, but you know what a short fuse Paul has when things don’t go his way.”
I start at that. The Paul I remember used to have a slow burn. Maybe life with Reena has changed that part of him, too.
The tension is broken when Miguel and Adelena arrive bearing large wicker trays of sandwich makings.
Del tries to carry the day by describing the antics of his four boys, but Reena and Susie don’t open their mouths. We eat in silence until Paul’s jet roars overhead to become a small speck in the east.
Del’s voice is thick with bitterness. “Paul’s got it all, doesn’t he? A pretty wife, derricks galore with fat cattle in between. And top that with a jet to run away from
his frustrations. Must be great to be a member of the lucky sperm club.”
Reena has finished the pitcher of Bloody Marys and several glasses of wine, so her response is slurred. “Now, Del, don’t be like that. He’ll be back. And he won’t remember why he left.” She struggles to her feet as a stoic Miguel rushes from nowhere to take her arm. “I think I’ll go sleep this off. Stay and enjoy. Adelena will bring dessert and coffee.”
Del waits until Reena vanishes, then collapses in his chair. “Paul treats her like dirt.” He checks the stairwell, then says, “He’s been seeing some gal from Laredo for over a year. I hear he’s just bought her a place in town.”
Susie shoots him a murderous glance and hisses, “Yeah, I can imagine how it hurts to know Paul’s cheating on her.”
At that Del jumps up. “That’s it. I’m sick and tired of your suspicions.”
He must see the shock on my face, because he smoothes the anger out of his voice. “Sorry about that, but I’m sure Susie’ll be more than happy to fill you in on what she thinks is going on. I’m going home and work on Darrell’s pitching game.”
Susie holds up her hand for help, then lets it fall to her lap. “I really wanted to talk for a while, but...”
Del looks at the two of us. “Okay, okay. I realize it’s been a long time since you two have gotten together. So, gab away. I’ll come back in a couple of hours. Will that be long enough?”
“No,” I say. “But, thank you for letting me have Susie to myself for a while.”
He bends to give me a small hug, glares at his wife, and vanishes.
Adelena serves coffee. When she leaves, the silence between Susie and me lies heavy. She loses herself to an intense study of her coffee until I finally break into the quiet. “Do you really think Del is sleeping with Reena?”
Susie looks up from her cup, as tears come. “It’s been going on a couple of years, maybe longer. Dammit. Don’t you think he’d remember how badly she treated him?”
She shakes her head. “Del’s never gotten over her. I get laid three or four times a year and always seem to end up pregnant. Reena gets him three or four times a week and all his damn sympathy.”
Anacacho, An Allie Armington Mystery Page 3
