A Lasting Love

by Mary Tate Engels

  "Don't worry about it, Reid. I understand." She smiled in the dark.

  His hand reached for her arm. "Hey, hey, lady lawyer, when you get rolling, you really churn. You know just what to say when everyone else is hysterical. I'll admit you handled us all very well. Especially Lupe."

  "Thank you, Reid. I've seen these cases before, unfortunately."

  "Have you seen this before?" He pulled her against him, kissing her thoroughly.

  "Yes," she whispered. "But I'm not sure how to handle it."

  "I have some suggestions. You're invited into my guest room, unless, of course, I'm invited back into my own bedroom."

  She gazed into his darkly passionate eyes and shook her head. "Not tonight, Reid. Lupe may need me."

  "Lupe? What about me?"

  "Lupe's been through a disturbing experience, today. Surely you understand."

  "So have I. I've seen my lady lawyer in action, and I'm still reeling. Whatever happened to the young girl I carried up to that antique brass bed on Prince Street?"

  Loren rose to tiptoe and kissed his lips quickly. "She grew up. Did I thank you for taking me to Bisbee? It was a lovely day, Reid."

  "When are you going to thank me properly?"

  With a mysterious smile she disappeared behind Lupe's door, hugging the blanket and thinking of Reid's warm body that she was refusing.

  The last few days in Arizona were a whirlwind of activity. Loren assumed direction of the varied activities while Reid assisted and watched her in amazement. What else could he do? She was damned right and damned efficient. She was remarkable.

  By the time they packed to leave, Lupe said a tearful goodbuy, and Raul puffed up like a frog. His smile was tight. Even the aging Senator Mecina, who had only been with her for a few days, was sad to see the whirlwind of energy, this Loren of Reid's past, take off over the saguaro shadows. Everyone feared the same thing . . . that they would never see her again. So did Reid.

  Chapter Twelve

  "You're right, Loren," Reid admitted as he reached for his gin and tonic. "There is nothing quite like this in Tucson. There is a feeling here, an electricity in the air, that's hard to explain."

  The waitress, elegantly gowned in black, flowed away from them. Her dress swayed to the jazz beat from the grand piano. The Jockey Club. Cosmopolitan. Plush. Elite. Polished wood and oriental style. Sophisticated.

  "Of course, Tucson has its own special beauty, Reid. The Westward Look was lovely, overlooking the city. And the view from your veranda when the sun sets behind the Tucson Mountains is absolutely unsurpassed." Loren's face lit up with pleasure. She was in her element, and Reid knew it. She looked so much a natural part of the sophistication of the place—oriental rugs, overstuffed chairs, jazz tinkling from the ivory keys of a distant piano . . . and Loren. Beautiful Loren, with her bluebonnet-colored eyes, her tawny hair falling softly to her shoulders, her slender figure embellished by the folds of a silky, cream-colored gown with a daring slit that revealed a portion of gorgeous leg. God, how he loved her. How he wanted her with him.

  "All that can be yours, Loren," he offered seriously.

  She sipped her drink with style.. "I feel very lucky to have had a chance to visit Arizona. I received a call today from Silvie Tanner in Window Rock. The check came last week along with a letter of apology from the State Department and a merit of commendation for Benjamin Walker from the Marines." Loren smiled warmly. "She says that Emmaline values the letters more than the Silver Star."

  "She would." Reid nodded with a smile.

  "Apparently everyone is settled and happy in their new home. She and Emmaline are weaving and making pots like crazy in preparation for the spring and summer tourist seasons next year. And Tracy and the baby are happily reunited with Paul." There was a glow of satisfaction and pride on her face.

  "So everyone is living happily ever after," Reid muttered, sounding more bitter than he had intended. He didn't begrudge these most deserving of people some bit of happiness in their lives. All he wanted in the world was her.

  Loren flashed instantly. "They are living in harmony with themselves and what they want to do with their lives. That's most important to me."

  His hand covered hers affectionately. "You're right, Loren. I know that you made a large contribution to that happiness they are now experiencing. I'm proud of you. In the same way, the people in my household owe you a debt of gratitude. For such a damned mess, you left things running pretty smoothly at the hacienda. Dad is extremely happy to have Lupe so close. And now that she's had time to think, she has decided to file for divorce. I'm relieved just to know that she and her family are living at Casa del Oro. They're safe. The kids are having a ball. Roberto is working with Raul on the ranch after school and making a little money. Lupe's girls get to swim daily in the pool, and are very happy with their new living quarters."

  "Wonderful. You did say you wanted children running all over the ranch, didn't you, Reid?" Loren reminded him with a grin.

  His dark eyes reflected something deeper. "I meant my own children, not Lupe's."

  Loren chose not to pursue his statement. "How is Lupe?"

  "Her face has almost healed, and she is doing fine. You were right to leave her be—another brilliant solution by my lady lawyer. I'll admit it; I was ready to tear the bastard limb from limb when I found that he had hit her. I don't remember when I've ever been so angry."

  Loren nodded, recalling the chaos of that night. "I know. But it wouldn't have solved anything to have you in jail for assault."

  "Perhaps it wouldn't have helped Lupe," he acknowledged. "But, it would have made me feel a hell of a lot better."

  "There are other, better ways, to deal with your aggression, Reid." Loren smiled seductively.

  His finger made slow circles along her wrist. "Would you help me deal with my aggression, lady lawyer?"

  "Later." She chuckled low. "Right now I would like to have dinner. I'm starved. I was so busy today, I skipped lunch altogether."

  "You work too hard," he assessed seriously.

  "There's so much to do."

  "You can't do it all, Loren. Can't solve everyone's problems."

  "I know." She smiled wistfully, thinking that she couldn't even solve her own. "Tonight is just beautiful, Reid. I enjoy this relaxing atmosphere so much, I could sit here all night and listen to that gorgeous man in the corner make love to that piano! Have you ever heard such fantastic jazz renditions?" Loren's eyes were dreamy as she swayed to a few bars of the song.

  Reid pulled her to her feet. "I would rather make love to you."

  "Dinner first," she teased.

  "Promise? Or do I have to worry about running into Mark? I have horrible visions of someday hiding in your closet, boots in hand, dressed in very embarrassing attire."

  Loren laughed at the mental picture he painted. "Don't worry. There's not a chance. My relationship with Mark is definitely over. He was none too happy with my trip to Arizona. And spending time with you."

  They were escorted to a cozy corner, where they resumed the conversation privately. Loren requested oysters Rockefeller. Reid ordered steak, rare.

  "So Mark was displeased with the fact that you spent a week with me in Arizona?" Reid quipped. "I can't imagine why that would upset him."

  "I returned the engagement ring." The visible symbol of another man in her life was gone. Now, again, it was just the two of them.

  Reid's hand covered hers in a reflexive gesture. His dark eyes explored her face. "How do you feel about it?"

  "Relieved." She smiled faintly.

  "Me too." His fingertips caressed the place where the ring had been. It was as if that was one place on her body that he had never touched, and he had to make sure it was free. "What was Mark's reaction?"

  "Actually I think he expected it. Ours wasn't an intimate association. He raised hell because I failed to take care of business."

  "What business?"

  "He gave me a couple of names of people connected with his
copper mine. I was to look them up while I was in Tucson. He wanted me to visit the mine and personally see how things were going. Honestly, Reid, I forgot all about it. I tried to tell him about how busy I was with Lupe and your father and the Navajo women, but he wouldn't listen. He didn't feel that they were important. The mine, and whatever money he's making or losing on the damn thing, are foremost to him."

  Reid shook his head. "I must say, Loren, Mark has been a wealth of information for me. His connections have been invaluable. He has pushed this water bill. In fact, he's partly responsible for my opportunity tomorrow to testify before the Interior Committee. Plus, it was his idea to change our tactics."

  "How's that?" Loren couldn't believe that Mark had been so helpful to Reid. Actually, though, she shouldn't be surprised. He had his reasons.

  "Well, we've divided up the various aspects that were included in the original bill. We're going after each problem separately, instead of tacking on additional requests that the committee may feel will cost too much in federal funds. The other way gives them any number of reasons to vote it down. Now they can consider each bill, with its specific legislation, separately."

  "And that was Mark's idea?"

  "Yes, and it only makes sense. You see, when the bill was first drafted we added a few extra items that we knew would be good for the state. I mean, we figured to take advantage when we had the chance. Mark pointed out the fallacy in that thinking, at least in these tight economic times."

  "So you're making a presentation to the Interior Committee tomorrow?"

  "I'll be presenting my case in the morning and fielding questions along with the governor in the afternoon. After that..." He shrugged, and they both knew what was after that. He would be leaving Washington.

  Loren didn't want to think of it. She smiled a false smile as the elegantly attired waiter brought their dinner. They were together on borrowed time, and they both knew it. They would be forced apart again. And soon.

  The next day Loren came home from work early, after meeting with a client near Alexandria. She had been extremely nervous and edgy in the few weeks since returning from Arizona. Even Althea, her partner, commented that she hadn't returned from the trip rested at all. But Loren knew what was gnawing at her insides, waking her up at dawn, plaguing her every time she looked at Reid. Just as she walked in the door, the phone rang.

  "Hello?" Her tone was tired.

  Loren was instantly alert as an anxious voice with a Mexican accent related events at Casa del Oro. The most feared, the worst, the dreaded inevitable—they had all known it would happen. But now? So soon? Why, oh, why? The age-old questions that accompany sorrow surged forth.

  "Oh, Lupe, noooo." She sank into her chair. She listened and advised Lupe to be strong, that Reid needed her to be. Yes, she would get in touch with Reid as soon as possible. When she cradled the phone, Loren buried her face in her hands. There were no tears, but she was grieving just the same. They were losing the senator . . . and she was losing Reid. Loren was doubly grieved.

  Hours later, his knock was hard and sharp. Almost before he let himself in the door, Loren had wrapped herself around him, her arms encircling his waist, her heart pressed fervently to his.

  "Hey, is this all I get for congratulations? The hearing was very positive. Have you seen the news yet? The bill is a shoe-in with all the backers we need. Come on, Loren. You need to change. We're meeting the governor in an hour for dinner."

  "Oh, Reid." She buried the words against him, not caring about anything at the moment but him.

  "Loren?" His large hands grasped her shoulders and tried to pry her from the tight clasp. "Hey, baby, what's wrong?" One hand slid around taut shoulders and under her hair.

  "Reid, Reid, it's your father. . . ."

  He froze.

  She knew she had to tell him. With effort she forced herself to look at him. His chin was squared, as if waiting for her to hit him. In effect, he was. His lips, usually so soft and willing, were tight and framed austerely across the top by his dark mustache. His dark eyes, deep and unflinching, examined her as he waited for what she had to say. Oh, God, how could she let him go?

  "I—I got a call from Lupe. She was nearly hysterical. Your father suffered another stroke four hours ago and was taken by ambulance to the hospital. Raul and the nurse are there with him. They think he is dying. Oh, Reid, I'm so sorry." She cupped his drawn face with her hands and kissed him. Then they embraced for long, agonizing moments.

  With a heavy sigh he shifted, moving stiffly away from her. "I, uh, I'll call the hospital and talk to the nurse first. Then I'll decide what to do." He shrugged out of his dark suit coat as he reached for his phone. Fifteen minutes later he turned to Loren. "Dad has suffered severe damage and probably won't make it through the night. I have to go soon."

  "I know. Would you like a cup of coffee?"

  "Yes." He ran his hand over his face, as if to clear his thinking. It had been a busy, high-level day. He had looked forward to relaxing tonight with Loren. But it wasn't to be. Not tonight. . . .

  They sat together at the small table that overlooked the tiny, formal garden outside her window.

  "Loren, will you go back with me?"

  Her voice was strained. "Certainly, Reid. If you want me to."

  He rose and paced the floor impatiently. "I don't want you to go along just to wait at the hospital until my father dies. I want you to go with me to Arizona—to marry me."

  How . . . why. . . could he think of marriage at a time like this?

  "Reid, please don't press for that decision at this time." She sounded remarkably calm. Inside she was screaming.

  "This is not a sudden decision. The question was asked six years ago. That should have given you enough time to weigh your decision."

  "Reid, you can't go back that far."

  "Why not?" There was a hardness, a firmness, about his tone, his face, his entire body. "I loved you then. And I love you now, more deeply than ever. I want you, Loren. I want you to be my wife. Now."

  The tension in the air was so strong, Loren could almost reach out and touch it. All that they had been through and all that they meant to each other was suddenly on trial. Their future was at stake. For months now, years actually, they had skirted the issue, avoided mentioning the ultimate. Now they were on the brink of another abyss in their lives. Would they plunge into the darkness again?

  "Reid, I love you too. You know that." Her voice was strained and Loren stopped to swallow. "But I just don't see how—"

  "Wait." He was pacing, gesturing his frustration. "Am I going crazy? We've got two people here who love each other and yet you're saying you don't see how we can work this out?"

  "No, that wasn't what I was about to say," she answered quietly. "I don't see how you can ask me to give up everything I've worked for all these years. My career, my personal goals, my home. It isn't fair to me."

  "Fair?" he barked. "Love isn't fair? Marriage isn't the answer? Most women want it. What's wrong with you, Loren?"

  Loren wanted to say yes, unconditionally. However, something beyond her control restrained her, reminded her that she must be true to herself as well. That there had to be another way. Yet a niggling thought in the back of her mind questioned it still. She sighed and cleared her throat. "I—I've given this a lot of thought, Reid. There is another solution."

  He stopped pacing and narrowed his dark eyes at her. "Well, I'm glad to know you've considered the fact that I love you. And the likelihood that I would ask you to marry me . . . again. So what is my brilliant lady lawyer's decision this time?"

  Was it sarcasm or sheer male frustration that permeated his tones?

  "I—I will always love you, Reid, and be here for you." She couldn't meet his black gaze when she said it.

  "Here? In D.C.? Then you're refusing me again?"

  There was an uncomfortable pause. "No. I'm not denying our love at all, Reid. I'm admitting it. I cherish it . . . and you. And I will always be yours. I will be yo
ur ... mistress, here for you." She couldn't believe she was actually saying it, that she was considering such a life for herself. For them. It went against everything she stood for, and yet it seemed to her the only way.

  His staccato words jerked her eyes up to him. "My mistress? Loren? Are you serious? Is this what you really want for us?"

  "No," she whispered hoarsely. "But it's the only solution I could figure. I just can't pick up and leave my life. Neither can you."

  "Only solution? My God, woman, I'm offering you my love, marriage, my ranch, everything I own and value in the world. Why do you insist on throwing our love away again?"

  "I'm not throwing it away. I will save it for you, and only you, Reid. Don't you understand? I will be yours alone."

  "Here. In Washington." His tone was flat and empty.

  "Yes."

  He strode away from her, pacing the small kitchen like a caged lion, his rage on the brink. Suddenly his fury exploded in a blaze of energy. "I don't want a mistress, Loren. I want you as my wife. In Arizona. With kids running all over the ranch. Our kids! Is that so impossible to ask?"

  "How can you ask me to give up all I've worked for these past six years?" She stood and met his fury steadily. It was something she believed in and she had to defend it. She had given up six agonizing years of his love for this. It had to be a strong conviction. And she had to convince him of its importance to her. She couldn't make him understand before. Now her position was even stronger. She had more at stake.

  "I'm not asking you to give up a thing, Loren. I'm asking you to be my wife. There are no strings attached to that."

  "I—I can't." Her voice was weak. Would he ever understand?

  "Why? Why the hell not?" His dark eyes settled on her sadly and his voice was a hoarse whisper. He was losing again, and he wasn't sure why.

  Loren took a deep breath. "I was only thirteen when my mother died. It's a very impressionable age, and I remember that she was an unhappy woman here in Washington with my father and me."