“What if one of those men was Ira?” she whispered, completing the thought aloud. She tried to imagine what Ira might have looked like twenty-five years before, then tried to remember what the men had looked like. But it was no good. She couldn’t create a memory where none existed. Ira might have been pictured in one of the photographs, then again he might not. She had no way of knowing. Not now. The photo albums eventually had been burned in one of her mother’s drunken fits.
So her mother had felt remorse at how bad a mother she’d been, how bad a grandmother. Wasn’t that a case of too little, too late? Why had she waited all those years to tell Ira? Why hadn’t she told her even as an adult?
It hurt that her mother hadn’t told her. It hurt that Ira had kept the truth from her. It hurt that Morgan…
Christine closed her eyes and listened to her daughter’s soft rhythmic breathing. She needed to stop thinking for the moment It wasn’t helping. It was far and away better to go back to feeling nothing.
ERIN AND CHRISTINE slept well past the time for the school bus that morning. When Christine came to, somewhere around ten o’clock, Erin was just waking.
They looked at each other.
“Are you okay now, Mommy?” Erin asked, her fingers curled around the edge of the sheet.
Christine tried to smile. There was so much she had to tell her daughter, but the time wasn’t yet right. “I’m fine, sweetheart,” she said.
“You were…It was funny last night. I got scared.”
Christine knew Erin wasn’t talking about the rustlers. She was talking about being hurried out of Harriet’s house and into the car. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“Did something scare you, Mommy? Is that why we…? We’re aren’t going to go away from here, are we? I don’t want to. I like it here. I like the ranch, I like my new friends, I like the school. I like riding Junior…”
“What about Mae?” Christine asked, thinking about the last time she’d seen Mae—angry and suspicious and accusing, as usual.
“Is she the one who scared you?” Erin asked.
“We had…words,” Christine conceded.
“Gwen and Wesley say she barks louder than she bites—that’s what they said when I told ‘em she makes my tummy nervous. They said she’s told Marie to always keep a supply of their favorite cookies, and sometimes she has one with them.”
“Then she can’t be all bad,” Christine agreed. If only it was as simple as sharing a cookie. But Erin was trying her best to help.
“What if we had to leave, sweetheart?” Christine asked, adjusting the pillow under her head. “What if…we didn’t have a choice?”
Erin’s eyes widened. “You mean, because of the rule Ira broke?” She worried her bottom lip, then said, “I’d ask Mae if we could stay, anyway. I really don’t want to go away from here, Mommy.”
Christine continued to nod. She had her answer. A Parker on Parker land. Erin, unconsciously, had become one of them.
CHRISTINE HELD her head high as she went downstairs into the dining room, Erin at her side. Marie hovered around them. Shannon showed up, then Harriet, then Jodie. All of them solicitous.
Then someone else appeared in the doorway—Morgan.
Without her being quite sure how it happened, everyone else faded from the room. Even Erin.
It was just she and Morgan, both standing now and facing each other. He was dressed in his usual jeans and shirt, looking as good as he always did. With that smile that normally created havoc in her bloodstream. But not today.
“You look a little better this morning than you did yesterday,” he said.
“What do you want, Morgan?” She cut to the chase.
“To talk to you.”
“We have nothing to say to each other.”
“I disagree.”
She tossed her head. “You told me something once that I’ve never forgotten. You said, ‘It’s actions that count out here.’ Do you remember that?”
“I think I do.”
“I think I do, too. And you know what? I think I believe it.”
He took a few steps toward her. “Christine, what you overheard…Mae did ask me to see what I thought, but I didn’t do it the way you—”
Christine’s hand jerked out to stop him. Her face was turned slightly away. “No! I think it’s exactly the way I heard it. But—” she shrugged “—there’s not really all that much to get excited about, is there? I mean, we never—”
“I do love you, Christine,” he said quietly, as if he’d said it before. She had a vague memory that rang through her pain.
“I don’t love you,” she insisted.
“Christine—”
“You’re just like all the others, aren’t you? I thought you were different and then you turn out to be exactly the same.”
He closed the distance between them, taking her arm, pulling her to him. “Stop it,” he ordered. “If by the others you mean Erin’s father—”
“I thought you believed Ira was her father.”
“I never believed that.”
“‘A younger man makes a better lover’—I can tell you everything you’ve ever said to me!”
He looked at her for several long seconds. She could see that he wanted to kiss her, that he wanted to do more than kiss her, but he held back. “Why?” he questioned softly. “Why can you remember so much?”
She jerked out of his hold. “It’s all a lie. Everything’s been a lie! My mother! Ira! My coming here! You!”
“So, what are you going to do?”
Frowning, she hugged her arms over her breasts.
“Erin doesn’t want to leave here, does she?” he asked. “She’s told me that.”
“Is that the way you work it?” she snapped. “Turn my daughter against me?”
“I’m not working anything,” he said. “I’m trying to talk sensibly, calmly—”
“Even Mae’s doing it—with cookies!” Christine knew she was scraping bottom for something to use against him, but she would wield whatever she had.
“Then you won’t object if I use something from my own arsenal,” he said, moving toward her again.
She backed up until she hit the wall. When she tried to duck to the side, he put out a long arm to stop her. When she tried to duck the other way, he did the same thing, effectively trapping her.
“You listen to me for just a minute, okay?” His voice was low, firm. “Mae Parker is my employer. She asked me to do a job for her. She asked me to get to know you. I believe her exact words were ‘to see what she’s made of.’ I did that. But I didn’t do it only because she asked me to. I would’ve done it on my own, anyway. Not because I was suspicious of you,” he forestalled her protest, “but because I was attracted to you. I still am attracted to you.”
“That doesn’t make any difference,” she blurted, “because I’m…”
His eyes glittered, then he bent his head, his lips moving smoothly up her neck, from her shoulder to just behind her ear, making her tremble in spite of her intention not to.
“You were saying?” he drew back slightly to ask. He was smiling again—that slanted devil-made-medo-it smile—and his eyes twinkled.
Christine caught her breath. She wasn’t going to be persuaded this way!
“No!” She gave a mighty heave, freeing herself. “This is more important than that. My mother might have been putty in a man’s hands, but not me. I’m not her!”
His smile disappeared. “I never thought you were.”
Christine raked a hand through her hair, shaken. Not only from the kiss.
“The only man—boy, really—I ever went to bed with was Erin’s father. Plenty of others have wanted to, believe me. But I wouldn’t! Because I refuse to be guided by glands and hormones and—” She stopped herself abruptly, knowing she was divulging too much. “I haven’t wanted that kind of life for Erin,” she finished as strongly as she could.
“The kind of life you were forced to live.”
“Exactly
.”
“So does that mean you’re cutting out the possibility of ever falling in love?”
Christine pressed her lips together. She wouldn’t look at him.
He came to her again. They might have been doing a slow-moving dance. He forced her chin up between his thumb and forefinger. “Because that’s not what it’s all about, either. Being promiscuous and being in love are two very different things.”
“Being in love didn’t do me much good,” she said.
“How old were you? You had to be sixteen, right? And you say he was a boy?”
She refused to answer. He was taking too much on himself. Delving into places he had no right to be.
“Are you the same person you were when you were sixteen?” he challenged softly.
When she still wouldn’t reply, he said, “I’m not coming back here again for a month. Our roundup starts in a few days, so I’ve got plenty to keep me busy. You can have all the time you want to think. About being a Parker, about whether you’re going to stay here or go, about whether you’ll ever let yourself believe I’m telling you the truth.” He studied her face. It was as if he was burning every feature, every errant freckle, into his memory.
Then, without giving her the kiss she expected, he turned away and left the room. Without looking back.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
WEDDING PREPARATIONS switched into high gear after the start of the roundup. As the month went by it seemed there was never a day that some problem didn’t crop up. And to add to the complications was the preparation for the Parker family meeting—where the majority of the Parkers from around the state enjoyed a get-together and thrashed out any business concerns.
From everything Christine had heard, business took a distant second to fun. “Everyone comes in trailers and parks in the pasture nearest the compound,” Harriet had told her. “We have barbecues and dances and old-fashioned ice-cream socials. We just kinda catch up on everyone else’s news.”
To combine the family meeting and the wedding had been Mae’s idea. And in a way it made sense. But the actual management of it all, especially near the end, was an ordeal.
Shannon was relieved when Rafe was available again, and after a few days off, the cowboys, too, helped with the last-minute dribs and drabs.
Wedding gifts had been arriving by the ton, from everyone who felt close to the Parkers or to Shannon or to her mother and father. Gifts even came from the governor and both state senators. Not to mention numerous state representatives and affiliates of both political parties.
“My heaven,” Shannon had said almost helplessly, looking at the presents that took up most of a downstairs room.
Finally the day arrived, clear and bright and, thankfully, several degrees cooler than the days preceding. Taking into account the expected June heat, the ceremony had been set for early evening. Electrical power had been strung to a pair of huge white canvas pavilions, under which the vows would be exchanged and the catered dinner and reception held. A raised wooden dance floor was set up outside and to the right. The party was expected to last far into the night.
Guests and family members had started to arrive several days before, and travel trailers sprouted like mushrooms in the nearby pasture. Everyone in the compound, particularly those in Mae’s house, was happy and excited as they helped Shannon get ready on the big day.
Christine participated as best she could, but as evening drew near she retreated to her room. It was difficult not to be happy in the face of all the merriment. And she was happy—for Shannon and for Rafe, who she’d come to decide was more than acceptable for a newfound relative. He’d treated her fairly all along.
But Morgan’s continued absence was trying. He’d said he would leave her alone until after the roundup. But the roundup had been over for a week and she hadn’t seen him or heard anyone speak of him. It was as if they’d banded together to not mention his name, which, considering everything, they probably had.
Everyone seemed to know that she and Morgan had some unfinished business. And that Morgan was part of the reason she’d come apart the month before. That, and discovering she was a Parker.
Christine fingered the dress she was going to wear at the wedding. It was soft and pale blue and fitted her like it had been made for her. Erin’s dress, also hanging out in readiness, was bright and pretty and had just the right amount of ruffles to please but not overwhelm her.
Christine had finally come to terms with being a Parker. Really, there was nothing else she could do. She’d looked at all the legal documents Ira had sent Mae and come to the same conclusion as the others. Still, it felt very odd to her, since she was so accustomed to being on the outside.
The Parkers, her kin, had been quicker to accept her. Jodie had thought it a kick to find that Christine was a long-lost relative, Gib had quietly welcomed her to the family, LeRoy had gone along with Harriet and seen the humor in the situation, Shannon and Rafe had received her with compassion and kindness. Everyone had let her take her time. No one had rushed her in any way. Except Mae.
One morning Mae had shown up at her bedroom door requesting a signature on a piece of paper. “It’s something our lawyer’s drawn up. Makes you an official Parker heir. Gives you voting rights and your piece of the profit.”
“Mae, I…” Christine had hesitated.
“Ira would’ve been better off just coming out with it, I think, but I suppose he did his best. He might not have been thinking too clearly when he hatched the idea, being sick and all.” Mae had paused, then said levelly, “It’s a fact. You didn’t know a thing.”
Christine had looked at the old deceptively strong-looking woman, who underneath was as fragile and prey to the same fears as everyone else. “No,” she’d murmured, then signed the paper and Mae had been on her way.
Erin had taken the news matter-of-factly when Christine worked up the nerve to tell her. “Ira was my granddad?” she’d repeated. “And your—”
“Father,” Christine had supplied.
“So we’re Parkers, too?” she’d said with a dawning smile. “Oh! I have to tell the others!” And she’d run off at top speed to spread the news.
Christine let her fingers fall from the beautiful blue dress. Where was Morgan? Why hadn’t he come here as he’d said? She would see him at the wedding-he was best man. But that was no guarantee that he’d. She still didn’t know what she felt for him, but some of her anger had dissipated. Maybe there’d been no deception. Maybe it all had been perfectly innocent. Maybe he truly…did have feelings for her. Or had.
A couple of hours later she was dressed and outside, sitting in one of the many folding chairs lined up, row after row, to face a flower-bedecked altar. Festoons of blossoms curved and looped from one tent pole to the next Potted greenery abounded, softening the places where flowers were absent A band had started to play unobtrusively in a back corner. Christine was amused to learn the band could play both drawing-room music, as they were now, and some of the hottest countrywestern going, as they would do later for the dancing. Candles were lit, and soon other guests, also in their best, began to take their places.
Christine looked around for Erin. Her daughter had begged to be allowed to see Gwen and Wesley in their finery, but she should have been back by now. Christine strained to see past a cluster of people near the main aisle—and then she saw him. He returned her look unwaveringly.
Christine’s heart sped up. Morgan was dressed in a perfectly fitting black tuxedo with a string tie, looking the best she’d ever seen him. His hair was brushed carefully into place, shining golden and lightly curling to his collar. His wonderfully carved features were bronzed by the sun. His sky blue eyes, still seemed to see into her soul.
He started toward her and Christine’s heart beat even faster. He slipped into the chair she was saving for Erin.
“Christine,” he said in greeting.
She sat forward primly, hoping that by not looking at him she could contain her reaction. “I wasn’t sure you
were coming back,” she said, keeping her voice low.
“I had some business to see to.”
“I was looking for Erin,” she said evasively, glancing over her shoulder.
“She’ll be along in a minute. I saw her just now with Gwen. The ceremony’s about to start, so I don’t have much—”
“Maybe I should go get her, then.” Christine tried to stand, but her legs wouldn’t obey.
“I think it’s time we have our little talk, don’t you?” Morgan said. “It’s been put off long enough.”
Her eyes slid to his and she saw him smile. “Atta girl,” he said softly, as if her look had told him most everything he wanted to know. “After the ceremony,” he said. Then, as if unable to help himself, he kissed her. Lightly, gently, but with a promise of more to come.
Erin hurried up just as Morgan was leaving. She squeaked when she saw him and threw her arms around his neck as he bent to hug her. “Morgan!” she cried. “I missed you! You said a month, but it seemed so long!”
He grinned. “Two beautiful ladies.”
“Are you back? Are you back to stay?” Erin demanded.
“You bet I am,” he replied, then glancing at Christine, he gave Erin her chair and repeated, “You bet I am,” before moving away.
“Morgan’s back!” Erin said gleefully as she sat down. “Aren’t you glad, Mommy? I really missed him. Didn’t you?”
The soft background music changed to something more noticeable. And as the last of the chairs were taken by the guests, it changed again. Soon the first bridesmaid started down the aisle, and at the front of the tent, Rafe, Morgan, LeRoy and the two remaining groomsmen stepped into place.
Two more bridesmaids came down the aisle, followed by Harriet, not looking particularly pregnant, Wesley in his custom-made suit, then Gwen, dressed in a scaled-down frillier version of the bridesmaids’ dresses, strewing flower petals from an open basket she carried. And finally came Shannon, holding nervously on to Gib’s arm. Shannon had no close male relatives, she’d told Christine, so she’d asked Gib to do the honor. He was taking the job seriously and walked proudly at the bride’s side. Shannon’s dress was particularly beautiful. White silk under silk gauze, with thousands of tiny beads hand-sewn in a delicate pattern. Her veil was short, diaphanous. Beneath it, she seemed to glow.
West Texas Weddings Page 22
