Christmas Paradise

by Gale Storm

  “Being a woman means being manipulated by the world around you without having control over the forces that exist, and I will not allow that to happen to me again. I've done what I had to do to survive, to allow my family to survive. I will not apologize for it, to you or anyone else.

  “I love what I do, Tyrone, just as you love your work. I'm good with animals, we communicate; you're good with people and films. I have never been hurt by the wildest animal or the most crazed. You've never failed when it comes to creating a visual work of art. Your success is because you're not afraid to venture into the creative unknown alone. I'm not afraid of animals and they know it. It doesn't matter that I'm not a big strapping man or a wrestler. They respect me, and they love me because I love them. I do not threaten them, and they would never hurt me."

  Tyrone's eyes narrowed the abrasion, forgotten as he dropped his hands to his thighs.

  “Not knowingly they won't hurt you. I'll agree with that. But you're so damn tiny, I could break you in two with one hand. What a wolf could do to you...” He closed his eyes against the picture he had created. When he spoke again, his voice was very soft. “I respect you, Tarry. So does everyone you know, or who knows you from what others tell them. The dogs and bears respect you, but you aren't capable of respecting yourself. You no longer need to prove you're the bravest, most courageous woman on the mountain. You proved that when you were sixteen and won the right to keep your family together."

  His words took the wind from her sails, and suddenly she felt shy. Which one of her brothers had told him about the court battle she had waged to maintain control of her family? Tyrone no longer seemed angry, just disappointed as he shook his head.

  “Okay,” she conceded, looking him in the eye as she backed down. “You're right. I do take risks when I shouldn't. I even go out of my way to be in the middle of every fracas, just as you said. But there is another reason I do it. I've known for a long time I can best people with my intelligence and cunning."

  His eyes softened as he listened to her.

  “Why, Tarry? Then why do you insist on ignoring everyone's concern for you?"

  “I suppose it's because it's the only way I know to make people notice me."

  “Has it really been that way for you?” he asked as he studied her lifted face.

  Disgusted with herself for admitting such a weakness, she stood and paced to the window. “Of course, it hasn't.” She heard him stand and was suddenly afraid he might touch her. She turned and faced him, her arms tight around her slim body. “I need a shower.” She abruptly ended the discussion. “I assume you plan to go back into town tonight?"

  “I had hoped to take you to dinner in Malibu."

  “That sounds lovely, but I'm tired after the drive today; and, well, I believe I would rather be alone."

  “I expected you might feel that way."

  Startled, she stared at him anew. “What do you mean by that?"

  “Isn't it obvious?” His eyes twinkled.

  Tarry chewed her bottom lip, suddenly feeling completely outmatched as she met his shadowed eyes. He was very subtle, she had to admit; and she almost changed her mind and agreed to go to dinner with him. But she really was tired, and she needed time to think. She licked her lips as she said, “If that is meant as a ploy to sucker me out of a pout, I'm afraid it's been recognized."

  She couldn't help the gentle lift of her lips as he studied her. He was so damn attractive, and it had been an age since she had seen him smile. He looked so sexy in the swim trunks and his firmly muscled chest was so familiar and far away. Her eyes dropped taking in the flatness of his stomach, the curling black hairs disappearing into his trunks. He stood with his legs apart, aggressively male; and she felt her heart flutter as she met his eyes again.

  “I've got sand inside my bathing suit, and it's starting to itch.” She scratched her hip, wiggling as she ran her hand down her side. She watched his reaction to her movements and words. She ran her tongue over her lips, tasting the salt. “If you'll stay while I clean up, I'll fix us something to eat afterward."

  She didn't expect the flare that entered his eyes as they ran over her skimpy suit down her bare legs to her toes. His glance made her feel incredibly desirable, and suddenly she smiled.

  “I like it when you visually tease me, Tarry. In fact, I hate to admit how much I've missed it."

  Tarry didn't remember ever teasing him. They had argued, and he had teased her; but she had never relaxed enough to tease him, had she? Maybe it was time she did.

  “You'll stay?"

  “Only if you will let me wash your back."

  “I'm afraid I couldn't do that, Mr. Shields. It wouldn't be proper."

  “When has that ever stopped us?” His eyes were glowing now.

  “Let me rephrase that."

  “Don't back down now, Tarralee. We've waited four long months to make up. Give me the opportunity to show you how much fun it can be.” He still stood across the room from her, but she could feel the chemical magnetism fill the space between them. She knew she could put a stop to it with a word, but she had hungered for his attention too long. She never knew what she might have said because just as she opened her mouth someone pounded on the door.

  They both blinked as someone screamed, “Let me in."

  Tarry reached the door first yanking it open to find Tyrone's mother falling into her arms. Mildred Shields was in hysterics.

  Tyrone immediately caught his mom and looked into her white face. “What happened?” he demanded, leading her toward the couch.

  “It's your brother,” she gasped. “He was in that terrorist attack in Turkey. I couldn't stop them from leaving. Linda took Gary and your father with her to Germany an hour ago. I wasn't sure where you were.” She sobbed as she gripped his arms. “They don't know anything. They couldn't tell us anything."

  Her knees buckled, and Tyrone swung her up in his arms and carried her the rest of the way. His face paled as he glanced at Tarry.

  “Can you stay with her and take care of her?” he asked softly. “I've got to make some calls. I'll have to follow them. Can you call the studio? Tell Marion I'll be back when I can. Mom will need a doctor, and constant companionship. She's highly strung. She's had a nervous breakdown before."

  Tarry had already fallen to her knees beside Mildred, nodding as Tyrone stepped away. She took the woman's hands and began softly brushing the hair from her eyes. He watched them for a brief moment, then his hand gripped Tarry's shoulder before he turned and disappeared upstairs.

  For the next week Tarry did her best to comfort Mildred Shields. Mildred went from restrained concentration to tears as she struggled with the lack of news from her family. Tarry knew that Tyrone had followed his father and Linda to Germany the very afternoon he had learned they were gone, but he hadn't called to tell her anything or even tried to contact his mother. The silence of the family surprised her, but she knew they all must have their nerves stretched to where even the merest contact with home would be too much. She prayed for the best news and expected only the worst.

  The State Department called daily to let her know that the news blackout from the area was total and when they knew anything they would be the first to know. Tarry learned as the week dragged on that John Shields had been a diplomat in Morocco for twenty of his thirty years of government service. Mildred rambled constantly about the members of her family. Tarry didn't try to stop her, knowing that talking took her mind off the reality of the present situation. She confided in Tarry about her marriages, and the reasons behind the breakups.

  Mildred had become an alcoholic, which led to her first collapse and divorce from John. Her children had been taken from her by the courts, and it was three long years before she had gotten her life straightened out enough to see her two sons again. She knew she had hurt them badly, but not as badly as her second and third divorces from men who were abusers. It had taken years for her to forgive John for an affair she had caught him in, and the boys had never t
ruly forgiven her, Mildred was sure, for breaking their family apart.

  “You'll like Paul, Tarry.” Mildred spoke of her second son with pride. “He isn't at all like Tyrone."

  Tarry encouraged her, handing her a cup of tea.

  “He's a strategist with the military, you know. He always loved toy soldiers as a boy. Ty, on the other hand, is a perfectionist, a dreamer and a worrier. He has always wanted things to be exactly as he wants them to be. He wants everything perfect and was hurt deeply by the breakups. He was the one instrumental in getting us back together two years ago. John and I both told him the world is imperfect, that people are only human and they make mistakes, even serious ones. I told him when he went off to college that it was okay to be a dreamer, but sometimes you had to put your faith in imperfect people.

  “Being the oldest, he was always quieter and stayed out of the spotlight as a child. I never expected him to become world-famous, you know. He never sought fame, it just happened. He has never wanted the limelight, just to do his work and not be bothered. He sets goals and sticks with them until he has a finished project. Now Paul, he's another matter, a true statesman since he was twelve."

  She talked on as Tarry placed a tray of food on her lap and settled comfortably beside the bed where the doctor had confined her over a week before. Tarry nodded and made encouraging sounds as Mildred chattered, her mind spinning as she puzzled over what Tyrone's mother said about him.

  Tyrone a dreamer—that described him. But he also was a realist, a man completely objective about his work and his talent. She spent a good deal of time lost in her daydreams, and it was often a shock for her to come out of them to find reality making changes all around her. Was that why Tyrone refused to commit himself to anyone? Could it be that he had never accepted the parallel world outside his perfect world of fantasy? Was his parents’ volatile relationship the reason he was afraid?

  The phone rang and broke into her thoughts. She saw the instant fear come into Mildred's eyes as she lifted the receiver. It was Tyrone. His voice sounded incredibly far away and exhausted.

  “How are you holding up?” he asked solemnly.

  “Tyrone.” She sat on the bed, trying to visualize the teasing smile that had been whipped from his face the afternoon his mother arrived. “I'm fine, how are you? Have you any news?” She caught Mildred's hand as the older woman closed her eyes, a tiny whimper escaping her throat.

  “Okay. How's Mom?"

  “She's right beside me. Do you want to talk with her?"

  “No."

  He hesitated for a full minute, and she wondered if he was still on the other end. Finally, as the line popped, she asked quietly,

  “Linda, your dad?"

  “They're coming home. I'm sending them home."

  “And...?” she prompted.

  “And ... the news isn't good, Tarry. We don't know if Paul is alive or dead. The State Department only knows that most of the compounds were destroyed and there were casualties. I've got permission to go in with a first aid group tomorrow. Hopefully, I'll know something soon."

  Tarry sat silently digesting this news. Her heart felt like lead in her chest. She knew better than to beg him not to go, though everything inside told her to plead with him to leave it to the government.

  “I see,” she said quietly. “What can we do from here?"

  He seemed relieved that she took his words so calmly and didn't argue.

  “Meet Dad and Linda at the airport. Take care of them for me, Tarry."

  She closed her eyes as the words echoed in her mind. They were the exact words her father had used before he died. The words that had enslaved her for fifteen years. She opened her eyes, finally saying.

  “Ty, you sound tired.” She didn't know how she kept her voice so calm.

  “It's been hectic here. I've done everything I could to keep Dad and Linda out of the thick of it—the reporters, the TV, the State Department. I finally convinced them twenty minutes ago to go home and let me stay. They don't know I'm going in with the medics. I don't want them to know."

  “They won't find out from me. When do you think you'll call again?"

  He paused, seeming to think about that.

  “When I can. Tarry...” He paused, his voice husky. “When I get back ... you and I, we need to talk."

  “I'll be here. Everything will be okay, Ty. Don't worry. Everything here will be okay."

  “Oh, God, Tarralee, you're a saint. Thank you."

  She smiled gently to herself.

  “I'm no saint, Tyrone. I'm in love with you, you know.” She felt Mildred's hand squeeze hers as she said the words. She looked into his mother's faded eyes and saw the approval reflected in the woman's face. “Your mother loves you, too,” she added.

  “I've got to go, Tarry."

  But he didn't hang up; the silence grated on her nerves and she knew what he wanted to say, but couldn't.

  “Be careful, and know we're praying for Paul.” She spoke quietly.

  “Good bye, Tarralee. Be careful yourself. I want you intact when I get home.” The line went dead, but Tarry didn't hang up. She gripped the phone like a lifeline. He had to come back. He must. She couldn't face life if he didn't.

  John Shields, Linda and Gary arrived the next evening. They looked and acted exhausted, and Tarry took them all home to the ranch. She made them comfortable, fixed them a meal and didn't ply them with any of the million questions she had. Linda was grateful, she knew, and John was so worried about his sons and wife that he only nodded when she asked him if he needed anything else.

  “Sleep,” he mumbled before he disappeared behind the bedroom door, and Tarry went back down to the den wondering what she was to do now.

  The days wore on with no word from Tyrone or the State Department on any change in the situation. Her nerves seemed stretched to the breaking point. A restless energy kept her busy over the next three weeks so she didn't have a moment to reflect on her situation. She made herself invaluable to the family by taking on the role of servant. She never intruded in their private affairs, just made sure they were comfortable.

  It was now late spring beside the ocean, and her eyes often wandered to the greening mountains. She knew the snow had melted by now, and it gave her a good feeling. Soon it would be summer. When Tyrone came back they could finish the film, and she would be free to pursue her own life. The thought of living without him made tears dampen her eyes, but she immediately immersed herself in work to avoid thinking about the reality that he might not come back.

  The call arrived at four o'clock on a Thursday while she was out exercising the dogs, but she never knew about it. She was brushing Cedar when she heard the vehicle. She did not even look up. The Shields were often visited by callers that she either didn't know or had nothing in common with. They had accepted her in her role as servant, and because their problems were so great she wasn't offended. She had worked out an arrangement with the family to take off at five to leave for her mountain home.

  She spoke to the dogs as she loaded them in the Land Rover, deciding that it was time she made her move. She knew no one would miss her, tomorrow being the start of a holiday weekend. She decided to leave a note after picking up her stuff at the guesthouse.

  “Cedar,” she said softly, her voice husky and deep as she allowed the dog to sit in the front with her. “I've got to get away, you know. I gave Ty my word, but his family seems to be coping very well for the moment. I don't believe he would expect me to stay on when things were going smoothly. We're going back to the mountain for the weekend. I must make some decisions."

  Cedar licked her cheek, and she chuckled. She placed a note in the mailbox. They would get it first thing in the morning.

  “Such a baby.” She rubbed Cedar's ears. “Let's go."

  She got into the vehicle and exited through the gate. With one last glance around the beautiful property, she drove off into the sunset.

  It was a long drive back to her mountain cabin, but she arrive
d at midnight. It was exactly as she had left it, and the dogs were so excited to be home they charged out to greet their surroundings. Tarry laughed, the first laugh she had truly made since Tyrone had gone to Turkey. Oh, she had laughed to make the family relax, she had cracked jokes and managed to hide her emotions by talking a blue streak and staying busy. But her emotions felt as if they were strung on a wire that was about to snap.

  She went inside, knowing the house would be deserted. Her brothers had arranged with each other to come up twice a week to check on the house. They had sold the chickens, and Donny had taken the mare and the other five breeds. It had been a good plan and everything looked fine. She made her way to her bedroom and collapsed on the bed, not bothering to change her clothes. She hadn't realized how exhausted she was until then. Her eyes closed instantly.

  It was the feel of firm, warm lips brushing hers that made her groan. She had dreamed almost every night of the taste of Tyrone's lips, the sensual possessive passion of his kiss awakening her body to all the emotion she normally kept carefully tucked away. The dream continued as his hands caressed her, lifting her in his arms. She sighed. She might never have Tyrone's devotion, but she knew that she would always have the dream of his love. Her eyes were so heavy she could hardly force them open.

  Tyrone was looking at her with cool faded eyes. She gasped.

  His blue gaze was alert, his beautifully shaped mouth lost in the growth of a black beard; but the sexual promise was not disguised. There was an aggressive, predatory look in the tension around his mouth. He was real, and this was no dream. Instantly she tensed, trying to sit up, but his arms were locked around her, holding her still.

  She flicked a nervous look at him and saw his face soften with humor. Trembling, she whispered, “You're home?"

  He nodded, not speaking, his eyes seeming to move across her face as if he was memorizing her features.