Christmas Paradise

by Gale Storm

  “Not true,” he leaned slightly toward her, meeting her eyes levelly. “But, then, if I tried to justify myself to you, you'd only see it as ego.” He straightened. “You're a beautiful, intelligent woman, Tarralee, yet you hide away on this mountaintop with ten unappreciative canines, or five brothers. You've never taken the opportunity to have fun, have you? You're so caught up in being serious—surviving—that you miss the adventure in just being alive. If you really have the courage of your convictions, you would join me."

  Her eyes flashed her annoyance as she chewed her bottom lip. He was daring her to take the chance. To risk the security of her past on a future that could never be more than a few moments in his glowing spotlight. Her heart raced as she looked away at the cloud-shrouded peaks. Could she trust him? Should she trust him with her knowledge of the dogs, with her future? This whole situation was absurd and she knew it, but there was something about his silence that made her ask.

  “And that is all you hope to gain from this effort? A safe place for wolves to live? To educate the public on the true character of their animal nature?” She walked to the sled and placed the basket of fish down, brushing off the light dusting of snow from the box she used to carry things on the back of the sled.

  “What else could there be?” His gaze was direct.

  “Recognition from the film community, for one thing. Awards, honors, money.” She kept her voice bland as she met his eyes again. She was proud that her tone hadn't given away how important his answer was to her.

  “Completely secondary. I'm going out on my own on this one. No one will back a naturalist film these days, Tarry. Generation X isn't into it. Hollywood is directed strictly by its pocketbook—mass appeal. That's why I have to do this. I must prove that an out-of-date idea can wield power and also a message—that it is important to believe in your dreams and follow through."

  They stood several feet apart. They studied each other in silence. Rounder had settled down again and the others followed his lead. She swallowed a lump in her throat. Tyrone sounded so sincere, so confident.

  “If the script doesn't meet my expectations, you won't continue with it, will you?” She hated the pleading in her voice, but she was compromising everything by agreeing to take part in the film.

  He considered her question seriously. And she was relieved that he did. If he had rushed an immediate answer, she would have known he was bluffing.

  “You'll not only be my technical consultant, you'll be in total charge of the animals and training the actors. Anything you don't approve of you have complete veto power over, without having to worry about my override. Any suggestions on creative themes, setting or actors will be subject to our joint approval."

  “I see what you will get out of this, Tyrone. What can I expect for my dogs?"

  “I've already told you I will sign over half the profits; and, of course, I will pay you a technical consultant's salary."

  She shrugged his words aside. Money didn't mean anything to her. “I didn't ask anything for myself. I asked about the dogs?"

  He fingered the leather strap on his pole as he studied her serious face. “Possibly, if I can do anything about it, their role in nature will become less harsh. The fear that is invoked by the word wolf will be lessened, because at last it is understood. They will remain as they should remain, wild creatures of the land; but the pressures of manmade interference will at last explain away the myths and legends that have surrounded and prevented humans and wolves from coexisting. I'm not saying this film will prevent further clashes between us, but I am going to try to keep those clashes to a minimum."

  “The mystery will be gone forever, then.” She felt a hollow spot inside her as she spoke. The mystery of nature and animals was what kept mankind from destroying everything. Or at least that was how she felt. She wasn't sure she wanted to give away the secrets.

  “No, the mystery will be more alive than ever. Only this time it will be supported by truths rather than lies. There is a big difference, Tarry.” He slid forward to stand in front of her. “Can we shake on it?” He held out his bare hand. Carefully, she removed her wool mitten then looked into his eyes.

  “Where were you planning on filming this epic?"

  A slow smile touched his lips, and she wondered at the twinkle in his light eyes.

  “Most of the initial work must be done in LA But rather than taking the animals into a soundstage, I would rather photograph them in their home environment—here, if you agree. You'll have to review the script, go over and approve each step, Tarry, and your pets will be the up-close actors, while wild ones will be the distant shots. It will mean traveling for you. But most of the time I don't see why you can't remain right here in your home. When you come to LA I'll put you up wherever you feel comfortable. If I've learned one thing in this business, it is how to keep my technical people happy."

  Gradually, she brought her hand forward. He took it, his grip strong and sure as she dropped her eyes. If she was making a mistake, it was too late now. She prayed the dogs would understand. When he let go her hand, she looked back into his face, but he was studying the sled team as they lay curled in the snow.

  “Those fish,” he nodded toward the basket, “are for the crew, I take it?” He smiled at her. “Too bad, I've always liked fish for breakfast, and it looked like you caught some huge ones. I'm going to have to come fishing here sometime soon before you deplete the entire reserve.” His voice was light and teasing.

  She took her clue from his voice. “You can have the pole, Mr. Shields. I'm sure there are a few more choice ones under the water still.” He laughed huskily.

  “No, Ms. Roessel, I'm starving; and I'd say it is going to take every ounce of energy I have to make it back to your cabin."

  “Well, I wouldn't want to be accused of leaving a dying man alone in the wilderness. Have you ever ridden on a sled?"

  “Have you ever taken on a passenger?” He looked at the sled with an air of doubt.

  “Not with this team, I haven't. But that's always the test. Climb aboard."

  He grinned, looking like a small boy who had just been offered Santa Claus's lap.

  The ride back to the house was accomplished with only one mishap. As they came around a bend, a snowshoe hare dashed across their path into a blackberry bush. Rounder charged under the brush, tipping the sled onto its side. He was instantly contrite that he had allowed such an inconsequential thing as a rabbit to distract him from his role of leadership, but when the humans, who had tumbled into the snow laughing, pulled themselves upright, he sat and panted. Within moments Tyrone helped to straighten out the lines and perched back in his position as passenger, and they were off.

  David met them at the barn. “Well, looks like you two have put your differences aside.” He clapped his friend on the back.

  “At least until we've eaten. Have you fixed breakfast?” Tarry eyed her brother, and smiled when she saw the guilty sidelong glance he gave her as she unhooked the team.

  “Tarry, you know kitchens and me. I had cereal.” She couldn't help giggling at his embarrassment.

  “If it was hot, I'll let you get away with it.” She dusted the snow powder from her coveralls. They had made it to the porch when a yelp came from the helicopter. Charley was running for dear life, his long legs plowing through the snow.

  “What's bitten him?” Tyrone's voice was sharp. Then they all saw it. Torpon was climbing inside the helicopter looking totally at home.

  “Dear Lord.” Tarry's breath was sucked out of her chest as she passed Charley, coming toward the house, and David, heading to the chopper from the barn. She reached the helicopter first, swung the door open and confronted her bear.

  “Torpon, this is the last straw. Get out of here.” She meant to grab the extended paw, but instead two iron hands locked around her waist as she was yanked up and away. The dogs were there next, their teeth bared in fury as they chased Torpon out the other side of the copter and into the forest.

 
The hands relaxed as she sat up and looked behind her into Tyrone's face. “Why did you...?"

  “Are you two all right?” David demanded. “Tarry, did I hear you call that bear ‘Torpon?’ Surely, he hasn't been around again. I thought Danny and I moved him to the other side of the mountain."

  Tyrone stood beside Charley looking into his machine.

  “No damage done, I guess,” Charley's voice was awed. “Or at least nothing that can't be fixed easily enough."

  “I'm sorry, Tyrone. I'll pay whatever it takes to repair the damages.” He didn't even glance at her.

  “Don't worry about it. Did you get the bags packed, David?"

  His question startled Tarry.

  “What bags?"

  But the men were no longer listening to her.

  “Everything is in the chopper, Ty."

  “Since it's still functional, I think we should take off now. I'll explain things to Tarry on the way.” Tyrone reached behind and caught her sleeve.

  “Explain what?” She looked back and forth between him and David, her body stiff.

  “Get in, Tarry. Don't worry—David will take care of things here."

  She blinked.

  “What? I don't understand. I'm not planning..."

  “Of course, you don't. Not yet, anyway."

  The puzzlement she felt was reflected in her eyes as she continued to stand and stare at Tyrone.

  Tyrone's voice was gentle as he asked. “Do you want some help?” Charley had already taken his place in the front, turning on the blades; and before she could respond Tyrone was lifting her inside the machine.

  “Wait one minute. I don't plan to go anywhere until—” David had already slid the door shut, and Tyrone was pushing her into the empty seat. She watched his hands efficiently click her seatbelt and lifted her face to glare into his eyes.

  “This is kidnapping, Mr. Shields. Should I add that to my other charges?"

  A dark flicker swept through his eyes. “It will all make sense within the hour, Tarry. I promise. I didn't plan to do it this way, but if the bear is likely to return, well...” He shrugged.

  Of course, he would explain, she thought bitterly as she felt the craft lift off. They were all part of the conspiracy. She felt betrayed. Her brothers had deserted her. As far as Tyrone was concerned, she had a surprise for him. Verbal contracts had little power in a courtroom, especially against the charges she was going to bring against him.

  The flight took an hour and a half. Tyrone sat beside Charley, talking occasionally into the headphones. The ride was bumpy as they cleared the mountains and came into the foothills north of LA She watched from her window as they circled and at last set down beside a huge ranch house in the Malibu valley. When the sound of the motor died she was on her feet, her fists clenched to her sides, her eyes throwing sparks.

  Tyrone read her look. She would have sworn she saw a flush beneath the beard.

  “Will you give me a chance, Tarralee, to explain? I know you're angry again and you have every right to want my head on a stick, but there are people out that door who I'm going to have to talk to. We'll be inside in a bit, then I promise—"

  The door slid open, and he turned and smiled as a flash went off in his face.

  “What happened, Mr. Shields? Did you actually crash in the mountains? We've heard rumors for three days now. Can you give us any of the particulars?"

  Tyrone stepped down, a smile lifting his bearded face.

  “All I'm willing to say at this point, Roger, is that there was an accident; and if it hadn't been for this sweet lady, it could have been much worse.” He reached up and caught Tarry's hands as he set her down on the pavement, careful of her injured side.

  She noted the press tag on “Roger's” pocket as a camera flash blinded her. “What's your name, Miss? When did you meet Tyrone? Can we say you're ... friends?"

  Tarry was shocked. His tone insinuated lovers, and she flushed in embarrassment as Tyrone wrapped a solid arm around her waist.

  “You could say that we're partners. Now, that's all. We would like to get inside and eat.” With that pointed dismissal, the men disappeared, and Tarry was pulled alongside him as they entered a side door in the big house. Instantly, a middle-aged woman was beside them, her blue eyes concerned as she took in Tyrone's stained parka and Tarry's white face.

  “What happened, Ty? We've been worried sick? First when you called from the hospital, then when the storm blew in. Your father and I, we knew you ran into big trouble."

  Tyrone released Tarry as he bent and planted a warm kiss on his mother's cheek. “Sorry, Mom, but Tarralee doesn't have a phone at her house. Because of the mountains, Charley couldn't call in and let anyone know that we didn't take off. Tarralee Roessel is my technical advisor in the wolf film, Mom."

  Mrs. Shields lifted her eyebrows, obviously surprised by the petite woman before her.

  “But you said...” She stopped as she read the tension on Tarry's face. “Miss Roessel, I'm honored to meet you.” She reached out to shake Tarry's hand. “I can tell you've managed to gain my son's respect.” Mrs. Shields glanced at her son, then back at Tarry. “You look exhausted, though. Did he let you eat this morning? I'm sure the ride over the mountains must have been very trying. Please, come into the dining room—I'll have Cindy bring a tray. Or would you rather freshen up first?"

  Tarry felt as stiff as a board, but she allowed herself to be guided into the dining room. A hundred questions tormented her. She glanced at Tyrone then back at his mother, who was doing her best to cover his awkward introduction.

  “If I could freshen up.” Her voice was humble, but Mrs. Shields nodded and led the way down a long hall to a monstrous bedroom, where she opened the door of an elegant bathroom.

  Tarry managed not to gasp in shock as Mrs. Shields told her she could shower and change into the bathrobe hanging behind the door if she wanted.

  “I'll make sure Charley brings your bags straight here, Ms. Roessel, if you like. Whatever. Please make yourself at home."

  Once alone Tarry stared at the huge mirror facing her. The room was as large as her kitchen, and everything was beautiful and fragile. At first, she couldn't bring herself to touch a thing, not even the golden faucet that controlled the flow of water into the sink. At last, she quickly washed the fish smell from her hands, then looked around and found a beautiful bath towel hanging beside the tub. She pushed her hands against her snowsuit and slowly sank down on the rim of the bathtub. Her hands barely touched the cool marble. Was she dreaming? It wouldn't surprise her if she were. Her dreams had been odd lately, as had reality. Somehow, she must get her bearings back.

  Tyrone must know how overwhelmed she would be by this house, his mother. He didn't expect to have to fight her now that she had given her agreement. With a stubborn lift of her chin, she faced the pale face in the mirror.

  He must enjoy playing games, she decided, and he lacked any comprehension of honesty, or trust. For she had trusted him at the lake this morning, and now...

  A knock brought her back to her surroundings.

  “Miss Roessel, your bags are here.” A child's voice brought her to her feet. She had to make sure she was hearing correctly.

  Tarry opened the door and faced a small boy. “Well, hello,” she said as she realized the child was alone. “Who are you? I'm Tarry."

  Shy eyes brightened at the light tone of her voice and she dropped to one knee.

  “I'm Gary.” The boy said, shaking her hand.

  She saw two bags resting on the bed. “Gary, you didn't carry those big bags all by yourself, surely?"

  The boy shook his head timidly.

  “Charley carried the big ones, I brought the small one."

  “Well, I must thank you and Charley. It was very kind of you both. I could have fetched them after a bit."

  “Uncle Ty wouldn't have liked that. He says you're our guest, but you don't look like his other guests. You look like a boy."

  Tarry laughed as she sat in a
Queen Anne chair beside the window.

  “My brothers always teased me about that, Gary. I guess you could say I am a tomboy. Have you read Huckleberry Finn or Tom Sawyer?"

  Gary shook his head.

  “Then I must get you copies. You'll like them."

  He cocked his head to the side as he considered her words.

  “Do you live in this big house, too?” she asked next.

  “Yes.” There was a note of pride in his voice. “My father's in the Army, in Turkey.” The boy was obviously proud of the father who was gone. “Have you ever been to Turkey, Tarry?"

  Tarry laughed in delight. “No, I've never been to Turkey. Actually, the farthest I've been from my home is Seattle."

  Round eyes stared at her disbelievingly.

  “I was farther than that. We went to New York last winter when Clay Maker premiered."

  “Well, I can see you and Gary hit it off.” Tyrone walked into the room, placing a third bag on the floor before swinging the boy onto his shoulders. “Would you like to eat, Tarry? Mom has fixed us a feast."

  Tarry's eyes narrowed at his casual entrance. “That does sound good,” she said sweetly as she stood, and she had the pleasure of seeing Tyrone's eyes widen. So, he hadn't expected her to be agreeable. Until they were alone, she would play the sweet, docile pigeon. But once alone, she would let him know exactly what she thought of his attitude and actions.

  His hand touched her elbow. She tensed, and it dropped to his side.

  He had taken advantage of their short interlude to shower and change, and she smelled his clean scent with weak knees. There was no fairness in the world, she thought as she caught sight of her chipped fingernails and saw the stains on her overalls.

  Brunch was the feast Tyrone had claimed, and Mrs. Shields hovered over them like a mother hen. Tarry puzzled over the woman's attentiveness. What had Tyrone told his mother about their meeting, her life? She watched with a gnawing feeling she recognized her—or, rather, her mannerisms. In many ways, her kind solicitousness brought home to Tarry everything about her own life. She always cared in the same fashion for those around her. Their wants and desires came before hers. Her life was as dominated by others as that of Mrs. Shields. Yet, Tarry doubted that Mrs. Shields, in her full-shouldered silk blouse and smart black pants, had ever served anyone who looked as ratty as she did. She felt a deep reserve inhibit her normal curious nature as she met the older woman's concerned gaze