Barri Bryan - Return to Paradise.html

by Return to Paradise (NCP) (lit)

  "Maybe a storm is brewing," Belle sat down beside her husband. "And poor Hank is out there, all alone, with no coffee."

  "And him about to climb up that tall tower." Cody cut his eyes in Kate's direction. "That's a dangerous job. That cold wind could blow him right off that little platform."

  Fear replaced Kate's aggravation. "Hank's going to climb that tower? He said he'd send somebody."

  "I believe the wind's changed directions." Belle took a buttered biscuit from Cody's plate.

  "It not so cold anymore, either," Cody added, with a smile.

  Kate knew when she was beaten. "All right, damn it, I'll take Hank a cup of coffee." By now her fear of Hank climbing the windmill tower had overridden her determination not to run outside the minute she knew he was there.

  Reflexively, Belle chided, "Don't swear, Kate."

  Holding a cup of coffee in one hand, Kate and opened the back door with the other. Just before she stepped outside, she gave Belle and Cody a scathing glace, then told Lady, "You should watch the company you keep." Mamma alone was impossible, Mamma and Cody together were unbearable.

  Once outside, Kate's heart jumped into her throat. Hank had climbed the tower, and removed the cover of the gear box behind the blades of the windmill. One hand held to the arms of the fan as the other poured oil into the box.

  Kate froze where she stood. She wanted to call to him to come down immediately. She didn't dare. If he turned, he might fall. She imagined him lying at the foot of the tall tower, cold and lifeless, that vital, strong heart stilled eternally, that powerful body cold and motionless forever. Her heart spasmed inside her. In that revealing moment, the truth hit her like a kick in the head. she had fallen in love with Hank Sinclair, hopelessly, and irrevocably. What ever he was, what ever he did, she loved him. That revelation sent a cold shiver through her.

  Kate held the warm coffee cup against her breast. Mamma had said to fight for him. She couldn't. What if she lost again? Another rejection would destroy her.

  She stood transfixed, as Hank placed the cover on the gear box, and screwed it in place. Then, without turning, he backed to the ladder, and began his downward climb. With each descending step, Kate breathed a little easier. But it was not until he had set both boots on the hard ground under the tower, that she felt the constriction in her chest loosen, and the knot in her stomach untie.

  She called his name, and he turned. "Where did you come from?" He seemed angry and aggravated that she was there.

  "I brought you coffee." Kate set the cup on the bench under the oak trees. "You'd better drink it before it gets cold."

  "That squeak should stop now, for awhile." He was walking toward her.

  She knew she should run for the safety of the house. Instead she stood staring at him, her mouth dry, her heart racing. "You said you'd send someone." Even in her own ears, her words sounded trite and unsure. "Why didn't you?"

  "You think I can't grease a windmill?" Hank took a sip of coffee. "This stuff is cold." He spat the coffee on the ground. "Is this the best you can do?"

  He was deliberately being disagreeable. She could think of no reason he should be so hostile. She had neither the energy nor the inclination to fight with him. "I can warm it."

  Tilting the cup, Hank poured the coffee onto the hard ground. The dry dust licked it up as it fell. "I'd like to wash up, I have grease on my hands."

  His matter-of-fact tone left her cold. "Do you want to come inside? Cody said you were busy."

  Hank fell in step with her. "I am busy. I have a ranch to run, which reminds me, Have you been making your ride?"

  Was he afraid she would forget he was her employer? "You know I have. I report to Jake every Tuesday and Friday." She quickened her step to stay up with him.

  "The rides needn't be scheduled. You can make them anytime during the week." As they neared the house, he slowed his steps. "Did you enjoy the cattlemen's meeting?"

  His swift change of pace and subject tilted her balance. "I-I prefer a schedule. I'm very organized." She stopped, then slowed her steps to his rhythm. "The meeting was enlightening."

  The sound of the screen door opening was lost in the roar of Cody's pickup as it sped toward the gate. Mamma and Cody had gone to St. Agnes. So that was why they were so determined to send her outside. They had deserted her, run out, left her alone. No, they left her with Hank, and it had been a deliberate abandonment. She would deal with those two later. "Would you like to come in?"

  Hank followed her into the kitchen, then set his cup on the table and tossed his hat on a chair. "I need to wash up."

  Kate nodded toward the sink. "Go ahead."

  Kate poured coffee into cups, then carried them to the table. She could feel the tension between them rise and crackle.

  After drying his hands on the towel that hung beside the sink, Hank sat down at the table.

  Kate edged her way to a chair across from him. "It's hot."

  He took a cautious sip. "Yeah."

  Kate drummed her fingers on the table. "It was enlightening. The meeting, I mean."

  "So you said."

  Kate ran her fingers around the top of her cup. "It's a nice day, don't you think?"

  "Not in particular." Hank sounded, for all the world, the way Jim had sounded at the onset of his affair with Lila, guilty, defensive, and wanting out.

  Kate cleared her throat. "The meeting made me see how little I know about ranching. I have a lot to learn."

  "Do you now?" Those blunt words carried a sharp, piercing edge. Hank's anger, for whatever reason, showed no sign of going away.

  Kate bridled her rising antagonism. "Maybe you could give me some other tasks to do, now that I ride only twice a week. Something that would help me learn more about the ranching business." Perhaps the assurance that she thought of him only as an employer would appease his hostility.

  Hank tilted his chair back. "I thought you might be planning to go back to Dallas."

  Was he afraid she would try to renege on her contract with him? That would explain his anger. "I'm not going back to Dallas, not now, not ever."

  He set his coffee cup down, hard. "I thought what's-his-name wanted you to come back to him."

  "His name is Jim. He did ask me to marry him again. I said no. So you can stop worrying about our agreement. I intend to keep my end of the bargain."

  "I didn't think you'd have the guts to refuse the guy. Not when Jim and both your children want you back."

  "It doesn't take guts to avoid falling into the same trap twice." Maybe Hank had given her the opening she needed to reassure him that she had no designs on him. "I want no more commitments or permanent relationships." The words splintered in her mouth, as she watched and waited, hoping against hope that Hank would argue with her about the wisdom of such a decision. For one wild moment, she thought he might. A fleeting fancy chased itself across her imagination, the picture of Hank taking her in his arms, and telling her that he loved her. The dream was short lived.

  Hank asked, "So you've decided to play the field?"

  Her answer had just enough verve to give it credibility. "Yes."

  He studied her flushed face. "Is this your perverted way of telling me you've been sleeping with York, or Jim." His pause was deadly, his voice lethal, "Or both?"

  She was appalled that he would assume such an untruth. "Who are you to sit in judgment on me?" The quiver in her reply was hidden by a little laugh. "You're the one who taught me the therapeutic benefits of sex. And you did say no promises, no commitments. Why should you be surprised that I see the wisdom of your ways?"

  He kicked the chair to one side as he stood and stared down at her. "That's not what I said, and you know it."

  "Yes, you did," she argued."That day in the line shack, you said you didn't make promises or commitments."

  "I said I didn't make promises or commitments that I couldn't keep. There's a difference Kate, and you damn well know it!" Anger glittered in the depths of his eyes.

  "Then mayb
e I should make my position perfectly clear." Kate met his wrathful stare. "I don't want to make promises or commitments ever again."

  He closed his eyes as if in pain. "So it was all an act?"

  "What was an act? I don't understand." She coughed, as the last gulp of cold coffee strangled her. What could be going through his mind to cause him to make such an accusation. "Now I think you owe me an explanation."

  "I don't owe you a damn thing." He was walking toward the door. "I'll get Jake to assign you some tasks."

  Something inside Kate screamed, "Stop him, tell him he's wrong. don't let it end like this." With all the strength she possessed, she pushed those feelings down, stilled the silent, screaming voice inside her. "I'll talk to him Tuesday."

  With the slam of the screen door, came the torrent of tears. But there was comfort, too, a distorted consolation that assured her she had done the only thing she could do.

  She didn't fight the pain, didn't avoid the agony of defeat that swept over her. Better to embrace suffering now, and then begin the healing process. She couldn't bear to drag the misery out into endless days and timeless nights, then face the final torment of living with total loss.

  "Lament, Kate," she told herself. "Weep until there are no more tears to cry."

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  There had been a river of tears, and still they came. Kate pulled her dress over her head and braced herself for another wave of anguish. Even the admonition that it took time for wounds to heal didn't seem to help.

  Belle had been strangely silent since her return from St. Agnes the day before. Kate had expected a million questions. Instead, Belle took one look at Kate's swollen eyes and haggard face, and said, "You blew it."

  Kate's, "Don't start, Mamma," had effectively silenced Belle.

  Even Cody was careful to keep conversation light and general, talking about his pigs, the weather, and lauding Belle's excellent culinary abilities.

  Kate closed her mind to remembering as she applied makeup carefully, trying to cover the ravages of too many tears and too little sleep. Narrowing her eyes at the reflection in the mirror, she studied her face carefully. "How could you have been such a fool?" she asked the reflection that stared back at her. "Wasn't once enough?"

  A tap on her door caused Kate to turn. "Mamma?"

  Belle poked her head around the corner. "Were you expecting someone else?"

  "No, Mamma. Come in." Kate fastened her pearls around her neck, and stepped back for one final inspection. "How do I look?"

  Belle's eyes traveled down her daughter's slim form. "You look beautiful. It's how you feel that has me worried." Her look sharpened. "York's here."

  "Already?" Kate glanced at the clock on her night stand. "He's early."

  Belle came to stand just inside the door. "Where are you and lover boy going?"

  Kate had no idea. She had not thought to ask. "I don't know." She knew Belle was trying to shake her out of her apathy. "To dinner somewhere."

  "I'll tell him you'll be right out." Belle tugged at the door. "Try not to get too excited."

  "Mamma, don't..." Kate was talking to the wall. Belle had disappeared behind the closing door.

  Kate dragged her feet down the hall. Why had she agreed to go out with York again? It was the last thing she wanted to do.

  As she emerged from the hall, York stood. "You look lovely." His eyes glowed with pleasure. How Kate wished that she could feel something more than a friendly affection for this man. "Thank you."

  They were in the car, and driving toward the gate before Kate asked, "Where are we going?"

  "Where would you like to go?" His indulgent tone added to her unrest.

  Kate shrugged her indifference. "It doesn't matter. You choose." Staring out the window, she thought that the feathery blooms of the mesquite trees looked like little green caterpillars.

  "We could drive to San Antonio, for dinner and dancing, if you'd like." York braked the car in front of the gate.

  "I would like that very much." She wasn't apt to see Hank in an expensive restaurant in San Antonio. His taste ran to cheap bars and First Monday sales.

  As Kate reached for the door handle. York objected. "I can open the gate. You stay where you are."

  "I don't mind," Kate protested.

  "You look far too lovely to be opening gates and walking through brush." York was already opening his door.

  Kate relaxed against the back of her seat, and smiled. She tried to visualize those thoughtful words coming from Hank's mouth. It occurred to her that Hank had never taken her anywhere that would give her cause to wear her best dress and heels.

  As York slid back into the car to drive through the gate, Kate focused her full attention on the tall man beside her, and silently promised herself she would not think of Hank for the remainder of the night.

  It was an empty promise, and a futile endeavor. Through the long evening, her own senses conspired with poignant memories to betray her. The oak trees that waved to her from the side of the road were so like the oak trees that grew, tall and stately, around the line shack. She turned her eyes away. "It's a lovely evening."

  They were nearing San Antonio when a pickup pulled out from a side road, and roared down the highway directly in front of them. It was a battered Chevrolet with wire cutters and a post hole digger in the back. York gunned his Chrysler, and sped around the truck. "Some drivers are so rude."

  The restaurant was expensive and elegant. As York conversed with the head waiter, Kate scanned the dimly lighted room. Suddenly, her searching eyes stopped on a handsome stranger who stood near the bar. He was tall and muscular, with broad shoulders, and a slim waist. A shaft of light falling across his rugged features, stirred to recollection the way the light from the line shack window played across Hank's rugged countenance as he lay beside her. She deliberately willed her mind to stop prying into scenes from the past.

  Kate was in York's arms on the dance floor when she heard it, that faint, jingling sound like spurs signaling an approaching cowboy. She turned, half expecting to see Hank bearing down on her. He was nowhere in sight. Instead, before her was a dance floor crowded with polite, elegantly dressed couples. Sighing, she asked, "Can we sit down?"

  The evening wore on. Just when Kate had decided it might never end, York drank the last swallow of the wine in his glass, then asked, "You look a little weary. Would you like to go home?"

  Kate nodded. "Yes, please."

  They were driving down a wide city street before she spoke again. "It looks like rain."

  York kept his eyes on the road. "We need rain."

  Kate searched for something to say that would pass for polite conversation. She wished she could tell York that she had enjoyed the evening. She couldn't bring herself to lie. God forbid that she should blurt out the boring truth.

  York broke the heavy silence. "You're very quiet."

  "I was thinking that I will have so much to tell Mamma tomorrow."

  York frowned. "I know you are very fond of your mother, but I hope you are selective."

  Surprise caused Kate's head to swivel in his direction. "Selective? About what?"

  York cleared his throat. "I hope you don't discuss our intimate moments with Belle."

  This evening had been about as intimate as a public forum. "I'm more than just fond of my mother." For the first time during the long evening, a genuine smile lit Kate's face. "I love her very much."

  York pulled his Buick onto the freeway. "How do you feel about Cody?"

  She wondered why he would ask such a thing. "I'm very fond of Cody. Why?"

  The lights from a passing car danced across the dashboard, illuminating York's scowling face. "How does Belle feel about me?"

  The question came as a surprise. "I -- we've never discussed that, specifically." Kate consoled herself with the thought that she as telling only a half-lie.

  The brightness vanished as the passing car raced by. In the dim glow of the dash lights, Kate could discern the grim set of
York's jaw. "She doesn't like me. Hopefully, that will change after we are married."

  His words hit Kate like a kick in the head. One eyebrow shot up in disbelief. "After we're married?"

  "Yes. I plan to renovate your old ranch house. I'm sure your mother and Cody will want to continue to live there. I thought perhaps that generous gesture, along with a new pickup for Cody might change Belle's opinion of me."

  Kate couldn't believe what she was hearing. He sounded exactly like Jim, trying to buy his way into her affections. "The ranch belongs to Mamma. Aren't you taking an awful lot for granted?"

  "I don't think so." York pushed the accelerator down, and sped around the car that had just passed them. "I will take the reins of your finances, once I am a member of your family. I'm highly qualified, you know."

  Kate could imagine Belle's reaction to that declaration. "Mamma may have other ideas."

  "Sooner or later, your mother will come around."

  "And what about me?" Turning in her seat, Kate studied York's determined profile.

  "You will soon see what a shrewd business man your husband is." The tense lines in York's face relaxed. "I will take very good care of you, Kate."

  "I think I missed something," Kate replied, on the cutting edge of exasperation. "Aren't you a little premature? I don't remember you asking me to marry you."

  "I assured you my intentions were honorable." Lines of puzzlement creased York's brow. "I assumed you knew that meant marriage."

  In the semi-darkness, Kate studied the bare third finger of her left hand. "Why do you want to marry me, York?"

  "I am attracted to you. You would fit quite comfortably into my life style. Harriet likes you. You're very pretty." He gazed briefly in her direction. "Is that enough, or do you want to hear more?"

  "No, York, that's more than enough." Kate watched the passing signs that announced they were nearing the freeway exit to Paradise.

  They rode for several miles in silence. Kate leaned against the upholstery. Its leathery scent reminded her of Hank. "York?"

  "Yes, my dear?" He was braking the car in front of the gate to Paradise.