Do-si-do

by Dorothy A. Bell

  She shook her head. “Nothing, I’m being silly. I must be tired, I guess. My only child is going to be married tomorrow. I’m going to lose her, give her into the care of a young man I hardly know.”

  Buck drew her over to the bed and made her sit down beside him. “This is serious. Women don’t say ‘nothing’ couched and accompanied by a pretense of being silly. I did learn a few things while married to Petra. I know serious when I hear it. Talk to me, Adella. Lay your cards out on the table. I love you. I want you to stay, be my wife. You have a problem, then we both have a problem.”

  Adella popped up and began to pace in front of him. She wrung her hands, her lips moving but not making any sense. When she stopped in front of him, Buck braced himself for the worst.

  “I love you, Buck—Mathias Van-Deveer Hoyt Buxton. But…” She stomped her foot and put her hands on her hips.

  He grinned at her. “Well, that doesn’t sound like a problem to me.”

  She shook her finger in his nose. “I’ve had a crush on you for years and years. Coming here, I’ve learned you’re every bit the man I fantasized you would be. But—but I won’t be your mistress.”

  He sputtered. “Mistress? I’m asking you to be my wife.”

  “I can’t be your wife,” she said, her eyes filling with unshed tears. “I can’t be your wife because you have a wife.

  “Petra. Petra is still here.” Her arm flew out, her finger pointing to Petra’s wardrobe overflowing with all of her clothes. “You talk to her every time you walk by her rocking chair. You go to sleep at night with her picture right here by your head. She made the quilt under which you sleep. She embroidered the pillowcases where you lay your head. She hooked the rugs you walk on. She’s everywhere you look, Buck. I would love to stay here, be your wife, work at your side, help you run this wonderful place, but I can’t. I won’t take second place. I deserve first place. I’m alive, you’ve made me feel alive. I won’t be reduced to a shadow. I’ll bunk in with the girls.”

  He sat stunned. His heart expanded into his neck. His blood boiled and his pulse gushed like the whoosh, whoosh of steam from a locomotive. His face grew hot, and his hands were sweaty. He felt sick, dizzy and sick.

  She was right.

  He didn’t try to stop her from leaving. He couldn’t.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The smokehouse door flew open. Doreen cornered him against a rack of fatback, eyes blazing, shaking her finger in his nose. “What have you done?”

  He blinked, taking a moment to think. The dual weddings had gone off as planned at eleven a.m. The feast of roasted calf, prepared by Carlitta and Juana and her relatives, was spectacular. Having Carlitta and her family here eased Jo’s mind. She even went so far as to declare she felt better about deserting him.

  He took a deep breath ready to give Doreen his list. “Well, let me see, I performed my obligatory dances with the spinsters Doran, made conversation with three aldermen and their wives. Partnered Edditha in a schottische and Birdie in a polka and Jo twice, one waltz and another schottische. I also partnered you in two reels. By the way, you trampled on my toes, but I didn’t complain. Considering the sun has yet to set behind the mountains, I’d say I’ve done quite a lot. My feet have the blisters to prove it.”

  She waved his response aside and poked her finger in his chest. “I’m talking about Adella.”

  “Adella? I asked her to dance four times. She turned me down flat. I didn’t do anything to her. But I can tell you she put a dent in my ego this day, a big dent. I’ve never felt so rejected.”

  Buck removed a big ham from its meat hook and motioned Doreen out the smokehouse door. She balked, he nudged, and they made it to the shady side of the barn before she turned. “Well, you did something—said something to her. I’ve never seen such a Friday face. She’s up in Jo’s room crying her eyes out. I thought she was crying because she was losing a daughter, but she denied it. She said I wouldn’t understand because I’m your friend and I’m Petra’s friend. Now, I want to know what she meant.”

  He huffed, shrugged his shoulders, and kept walking. Doreen skipped, caught up with him, and grabbed his elbow to turn him around. “You know she’s leaving in the morning. She isn’t going to stay in Baker City. No, she plans on catching the first train out of town. Now, I want to know why? You two hit it off right away. She’s crazy about you. And I haven’t seen you this smitten by a woman since Petra. You must’ve done something or said something to send her flying off in such a rush and crying like someone died.”

  Buck heaved a sigh, cast his gaze heavenward, lowered his head and said a silent prayer. When he brought his head up, he said, “Carlitta needs this ham for breakfast in the morning.”

  The sun had sunk down behind the mountains, and the sky glowed pink and blue. He’d talked the situation over with Petra during the wee hours of the morning. She hadn’t offered him any answers.

  At the front corner of the barn he stopped, tired of avoiding the inevitable he said, “All right, all right, I asked Adella to marry me. She liked the notion. I figured we had a deal. I was wrong. Petra got in the way.”

  Doreen opened her mouth to say something but then clamped her lips shut and narrowed her eyes. She smacked him. “Petra? What are you talking about, she got in the way?”

  He shook his head at her. “I think you know what I mean. You’ve hinted at it enough times, you know damn good and well what this is about.”

  She nodded. “Yes, I think I do, but I want to hear it from you.”

  Head tipping side to side, nose in the air, he gave her the sassy answer. “Adella said she wouldn’t be my mistress. She said I have a wife. She’s here—she’s everywhere you look. Her clothes are still in the wardrobe.” His shoulders slumped. “Her favorite chair is in the parlor—I talk to it. But I don’t have to tell you all of this, you know. I don’t know what to do, Doreen. I stayed awake all night thinking about it. I don’t know what to do.”

  Doreen punched him in the chest again. Buck held back the urge to punch her right back.

  “You know darn well what to do, Buck. But the question you have to ask yourself is—how bad do you want this woman? How much do you want her? Do you want her bad enough to let Petra’s memory lie in peace, put Petra in the past and move on? That’s the question.”

  He shook the fist holding the ham in her upturned, taunting, banty-hen face. “I want Adella, damn it. She’s breathed new life in me. She makes me laugh. She’s a brave woman, smart and beautiful, passionate. I’ll always love Petra, but damn it to hell, I’m in love with Adella. It kills me to think of her leaving. I don’t know how to stop her. I can’t tie her down to my bed. I won’t beg.”

  Listen to yourself, Man. Did you hear what you just said? Did any of that sink into that thick head of yours? You want Adella. You love Adella. You are in love with Adella. If you let her get away without begging her to stay, fixing this, showing her how much you want her…need her to stay, you are a fool. It’s time. Time to stop living in the past.

  He spun around, ready to run in all directions. “Help me, Doreen? There’s a lot to do and not a lot of time. Round up Gabe and Birdie-Alice and Jo, and tell ‘em to come to my room. Van is hiding in the barn. I might have to drag him out. You’re invited too,” he said, drawing her to his side for a bear hug.

  »»•««

  Van lay sprawled out on the cot in the corner of the tack room, his nose in a farm catalog. He lowered it when Buck appeared in the doorway. “Dad? Yeah, I know, you came in here to drag me back out there. Well, forget it. I’m done. Danced with all of ‘em.”

  Buck snorted. The kid hated crowds, loved his solitude. Buck could relate. “I need you to come up to the house. Come up to my room. Shake a leg, son.”

  Van nodded and slapped the catalog down on the barn floor. “Right. I’ll get my boots on and be right there.”

  »»•««

  Upstairs, Buck stood in front of Jo’s bedroom door, head bowed, uncertain how to proceed.
He raised a hand to knock but dropped it to his side. On the other side of the door, the soft sounds of a woman weeping reaffirmed his resolve. He tapped lightly on the door. “Adella? Adella, would you please come to my room. The kids…I’ve asked the kids to come to my room. I’d like you to be there too.” He turned to walk away, uncertain if she even heard him. Behind him, Jo’s door squeaked open. “I’m busy packing,” Adella said through the crack in the door.

  He turned to face her. “I know. This is important, Adella.”

  She huffed and sniffed and closed the door on him.

  The kids, whispering, protesting jostled each other on the way up the stairs. Doreen shooed them on from the rear. They all filed into his and Petra’s bedroom. He shouldered his way in and stood for a moment, looking around, seeing it through Adella’s eyes.

  He began at the wardrobe, tossing onto the bed Petra’s cape, muff, and hat. Jo had long admired them. Jo brought the muff up to her flushed cheek. He put his arm around her when she buried her nose in the fur. “Yours now, you’ll need these for winter. You’re taller than your mother, but I think you wear the same size shoe. There’s some boots here, some blouses and underthings. You should have them. Doreen, you pick through what Jo and Birdie don’t take. I’ll send the rest to the Catholic Church and the priest will take them to the mission.”

  When he turned away from the bed, he found Adella standing in the doorway, her cheeks wet with tears, her arms folded over her bosom. He nodded and offered her an apologetic smile.

  From the top corner of the wardrobe, he retrieved a small blue velvet box and handed it to Gabe. Nestled within the white satin lining there sat a platinum ring with a large black pearl set in the middle of a circle of diamonds. “I was told this ring belonged to Petra’s mother. Petra didn’t wear it, but she treasured it. I think Birdie should have it, don’t you, Gabe?”

  Gabe, his brows drawn together, his attention drawn to the ring, simply nodded.

  Buck removed a small black box from the bureau drawer and handed it to Van. Van opened the lid to find an opal ring set in a gold setting. “I don’t know if you remember, but your mother wore this ring on special occasions. Someday, I hope you find someone special to wear it.”

  Van, like Gabe, stood mute, staring at the small treasure.

  “Jo, Van, with your permission, I think Gabe and Birdie should have Petra’s rocking chair and the cradle. The cradle you all can share as the offspring come along. I want you kids to know, I expect to be a grandfather many times over,” he said on a laugh, hoping to lighten the mood of the room. “Gabe, you and Birdie can have any of the quilts, rugs, whatever, when and wherever, you set up housekeeping.”

  “Wait, wait,” Gabe said, his voice sharp, startling Buck. “What the hell is this? Why are you doing this? Why now?”

  Buck looked down to the bed, where all of Petra’s things were laid out—his heart ached to see them, touch them, smell them. He missed Petra. In the middle of the night, he’d cried and held her nightgown, her slippers, and her hair brush. But he’d said goodbye. He had to let these things go—he had to.

  “It’s past time, Son. I’ve hung on to these things far too long. They’re things, Gabe. I can’t hang on to your mother. I have to let her go. By keeping her things, I’ve clung to her longer than I should have. She’s gone. By passing them to you, and Van and Jo, part of her is still with us. Petra will always be with us—we don’t need her things. We have our memories of her.”

  Adella moved into the room. He held out his hand to her. “Help me climb out of the sad past. I’ve made a start. Whatever it takes, I’ll do it to keep you here with me.”

  Ignoring his hand, she moved to his bedside table and picked up Petra’s likeness. She smiled at him and set the picture up on the highboy by the door. “There,” she said with a nod. “Some new wallpaper and I think I can live with it.”

  Holding out his arms to her, Buck closed his eyes when she wrapped her arms around his middle. “It’s a start, Adella. I’ll work on it. Will you marry me?” he asked.

  “I’ll marry you,” she said.

  Chapter Thirty

  Seated, his back to Petra’s boulder, Gabe folded his arms across Birdie’s breasts, his chin pressed against the side of her curly head. Off in the distance, the twinkle of the flickering torches at the pool could be seen; laughter and music drifted on the cool night air. He shifted his legs and raised up one haunch to shift the sharp edge of a pebble from his butt.

  Birdie laid a hand over his arm and sighed contentedly. “This is perfect, Gabe. I know you come here often by yourself. This is the first time we’ve been here together.”

  “You’ve come up here?”

  She wiggled a little in his embrace. “When you were away at school, I’d come up here. I’d talk to you sometimes, and sometimes I’d talk to Petra. I followed you a few times. I followed you when you got accused of cheating at school, and it turned out Morris Tabor had copied your math paper, not the other way around. And I stayed down there on the road the night you had to put down your hound, Clyde.” She turned her head and kissed his chin. “You did everything you could for him. The coyote tore him up too bad.”

  “You should’ve come up and sat with me.”

  She nestled in a little closer. “You would’ve sent me back to the house.”

  He nodded. “Probably, I can be a selfish bastard, you sure you know what you’re doing?”

  Giggling, she lay back in his arms, one hand on his chest. “Oh, I know exactly what I’m letting myself in for, Gabriel Buxton. There’s no going back.”

  After a bit of heavy petting, Gabe brought up a serious topic for discussion. “I know I said we should wait to make our decision about where we’re going to live, but I think right here, right now is the perfect time. I’ve made a lot of decisions up here, and I have yet to regret any of them. I can put things in perspective up here, think more clearly, always have.”

  “Agreed,” she said, her fingers tracing his lips, driving him wild with desire.

  “I need to know how you feel about living in Portland, Birdie. Don’t try to give me some pat answer, like, I’ll live wherever you say. I know you have a definite preference. And I think I can guess what you would really like.”

  She giggled and said, “Well then, if you think you know me so well what are we going to do about it? Your veterinary practice is in Portland, but I want to stay in Baker City.”

  He groaned. “That’s what I thought you’d say.” The logistics of the problem created a train wreck in his head. He silently lined out several scenarios, discarded them, and finally made a confession. “The truth is, I never wanted to leave. I left because I couldn’t stay after Mother passed away, it hurt too much. It still hurts. I miss seeing her, listening to her and Dad talking in their room at night. I miss finding her in the kitchen in her robe and slippers in the morning. I haven’t been able to accept she’s gone. But it’s time I did, I suppose.”

  Birdie put the palm of her hand against his jaw. “Are you upset, Gabe? Does it upset you to think of Buck remarrying?”

  He sat quiet for a long time, gazing up at the stars. “He’s been happier lately with Adella here. I like her. I have a problem with the fact of her being Edditha’s mother., but in time, I suppose I’ll get over it.”

  He pressed his lips to her forehead. “I’d like to come home, Birdie.”

  He heard her take in her breath. “You mean Baker City? Or do you mean the hot spring?”

  She had her fingers on his lips. He pressed his lips to her thumb. “Both, I guess. Buck is right, Petra’s house in town is the perfect location for my practice. But the hot spring will always be home to me. Would you mind living in town? The house is solid, but it needs some work.”

  Birdie bobbed up, her head bumping his chin, and turned her torso to press against his chest. “I’d love to take the house on. I’ve always loved it. We’ll make it our home with some paint, new wallpaper, some flower boxes on the veranda, maybe upda
te the kitchen and install an indoor bath, that house would be heaven.”

  Rubbing his chin, he said, “So, that’s it, we set down roots in Baker City?”

  Her hand behind his head, she forced him to bring his face down closer to hers. “Roots, oh, yes, Gabe, long, hardy roots.”

  His lips a hair's breadth from hers, he said, “I’ll let Dad, Van, and Jo know in the morning.”

  His lips rested on her opened mouth, but she kept on talking, “What about Portland?”

  “We’ll honeymoon there.”

  “Hmmm,” was all he allowed her to say.

  Gabe relented and gave her a second to come up for air and say, “I love you, Gabe.”

  “We should go back,” he said, his lips pressing kisses down between her breasts.

  “Hmmm, I could stay like this forever,” she said, her hand on the back of his head.

  “Well, I can’t,” he said, shifting his weight. “I’ve got rocks in my hiney.”

  She slapped him lightly on the chest before sitting up. She scrambled to her feet and turned, holding out her hand to him. “Are you sure you want to move back to Baker City, Gabe? I could be happy in Portland.”

  Brushing the rocks off his backside, he said, “I’m sure. I want to be close to Dad and Van. And you’ll want to stay close to your mother. We’ll need her help with the kids.”

  Holding Birdie’s hand, Gabe started down the side of the canyon, slipping and sliding in the scree.

  She jerked and skidded. “Kids?”

  He took her by the elbow to steady her. “Yeah, lots of kids.”

  They started their descent. “How many is a lot?” she asked before she lost her footing and fell down on her bottom, taking Gabe down with her. He lay on top of her, huffing and puffing.

  His hand found her bosom. He could feel her nipple become hard beneath the soft cotton fabric of her dress. “Hmmm, I dunno, four, maybe six. We’ll start planting seeds directly. It’s the right phase of the moon.”

  She put her hand over his to stop his taunting fingers. “I can hardly wait,” she said before his lips found her mouth. One of his hands started to bunch up the skirt of her dress, his fingers on a quest to find her moist, sweet bud. Birdie lay back, her breathing quickening, and she held up her underdress for him.