by Lynda Trent
Consequently, Clare didn’t allow herself to admit her love for Ryan, nor did she let him know that Regina so often spoke of him.
As she pondered these things, Clare packed a picnic lunch. The day was unseasonably warm and spring would soon give way to summer. She put in some of the crisp Granny apples that she knew Ryan preferred.
“Regina must be making it all up,” Clare assured herself. “She’s never liked me and would do anything to make me uncomfortable. Ryan is here as often as he can get away from the rig. When would he have time to see anyone else?” But she frowned as she put the tuna sandwiches in the sack with the apples.
Ryan knocked on the kitchen door and Clare called out for him to come in. The sight of his well-loved frame and his tawny hair put Regina from her mind.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“Yes. Let’s go down to the creek. It’s warm enough to wade.”
They drove to the farm and, like playful children, they crossed the pasture, laughing and bumping into each other, holding hands, and then running off in odd directions.
The willows closed over their heads in an arch like a green cathedral, and the blue sky could only be seen in patches behind the lace of the emerald leaves. As always, the glade’s hush was broken only by the murmur of the flowing water and an occasional bird song.
Clare led Ryan upstream a few yards to the large tree that jutted out over the water. It was as broad as a bench and the angle of one of the limbs formed a perfect backrest.
Impulsively, she loosened her hair and let it blow about her. In her bower of leaves, seated on the tree with its thick carpet of green moss and tiny ferns, she looked like a dryad.
Ryan climbed out over the water to join her. Beneath them, the water gurgled toward a small waterfall they had passed. Tiny leaves and shiny black water bugs floated on its amber surface.
“Look,” Clare whispered, and pointed to the water nearest the bank.
In a small pool formed by a tangle of the tree’s roots, a large catfish swam lazily. “He’s a magical fish,” she said in a mysterious voice. “He’ll grant us one wish for having discovered him.”
Ryan smiled at her. “I wish this could go on forever.”
“That was my wish!” she exclaimed. “But you shouldn’t have told. Now it may not come true.”
“Some wishes don’t come true unless you do tell them,” he said. “For instance, my next wish is that I had a sandwich, right here!” He closed his eyes and held out his hand.
Clare gave him one and laughed. “I hope you wished for tuna.”
“Right. Now I wish for a Coke.”
She passed one to him. “I said the magic fish would grant you one wish, not an even dozen.”
“What? No potato chips?” Ryan pretended to be dismayed. “I’ll tell you what, you wish for potato chips and I’ll eat them for you.”
She dug into the sack again and handed him a bag of chips. “You sure are a lot of trouble,” she teased. “Anything else, or can I eat, too?”
“Sure, go ahead. If I think of anything else, I’ll let you know.” He grinned and leaned back on the mossy limb. “This is the life. No rush, no hassle, no people around but you… and you look like a wood nymph. Let’s run away from it all and become hermits. Right here.”
Clare laughed. “You might change your mind when the food is gone.”
“That’s the best part about this place. Your house is only ten minutes from here. When we run low on food, we can go make some more.”
“You have a point there,” she said, joining in his game. “This is a perfect parlor, the kitchen is just down the road, but knowing us, we’ll need a bedroom.”
Ryan thought for a minute. “There it is, over there.” He pointed upstream.
“Where?”
“There. On that sandbar by the swimming hole. Come on, I’ll show you.”
They stuffed the leftover food, paper and Coke cans back into the sack and climbed down from the tree.
Clare followed Ryan along the narrow cow path that paralleled the creek. A tall dogwood tree spread above them and the blossoms were like thousands of snowy butterflies frozen in mid-flight. Sprays of blackberry flowers made pale drifts below. The entire woods smelled fresh and fragrant. Lifting above the water’s surface was a cocoa-brown knoll of fine sand. Beneath the clear water, Clare could see the reddish-black pebbles like garnets in the golden depths, but the knoll itself was made only of soft sand.
Ryan pulled off his shoes and socks and rolled up his jeans. “Come on,” he said, picking his way with tenderfooted caution to the water.
Clare needed no urging. She kicked off her shoes and followed.
The ground sloped gently down to the water and up again on the other side. Further upstream, the banks reared sharply out of the water in cliffs above her head. This made the swimming hole seem sheltered and private, and was one reason Clare had chosen it as her special place when she was a child.
Stubble and small vines pricked Clare’s bare feet and she hurriedly stepped into the water.
“This isn’t nearly as cold as I thought it would be,” she exclaimed. “In fact, it’s pretty warm.” She wriggled her toes on the pebbly bottom and splashed at a school of minnows that were swimming by. A fog of red-brown sand clouded the water, then was swept away by the current.
“Come over here,” Ryan said. “The bottom’s not nearly so rough here.”
Clare felt the stream bed become less gravelly as she went toward him, and soon she stood on the sandbar, her feet on the soft sand. “It’s so clear,” she marveled. “The swimming hole must be four or five feet deep, and yet I can see all the way to the bottom.”
“Let’s go skinny dipping!” Ryan suggested.
“Now? Here?” she gasped. Clare hadn’t gone swimming without a suit since she was a little girl.
“Sure. Who’s going to see us? Hermits can do anything!” Ryan shucked off his clothes and tossed them onto the bank with his shoes.
Clare hesitated, then followed his example. In all the years she’d been coming to this place, she had never seen anyone else. Her pullover and jeans landed near Ryan’s clothes.
The breeze blew across her skin in a way she’d almost forgotten about, and the water splashed in silver ripples against her skin as she waded deeper.
She gasped at the unexpected coolness as the water covered first her hips, then her waist, and she buried her feet in the. combination of silky ooze and pebbles of the creek bed.
Ryan jumped up and grabbed the thick rope of muscadine grapevine that grew wild along the bank and looped over the water. Pulling himself up, he swung several feet over the water, then fell back into the stream.
Laughing, Clare plunged after him. The water was too shallow and the swimming hole too small to swim properly, but they splashed happily, each trying to outdo the other.
Clare ducked under and pushed against the back of Ryan’s knees. With a yell, he went under. Her victory was short-lived, however, for he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her under, too.
Coming up gasping, Clare splashed him and ran for shallower water, with Ryan in hot pursuit.
At the sandbar, he caught up with her and they collapsed, laughing, onto the sand, their bodies still in the shallow stream.
Ryan pushed a wet strand of hair from Clare’s face and kissed her. “You taste like creek water,” he teased.
“So do you. Your lips are cold on the outside and warm on the inside.” She kissed him again, locking her arms behind his neck.
She ran her hands over his wet back, feeling the skin cool and slick beneath her fingers. Again her lips found his and her tongue enticed his mouth to open.
His hands traced her body beneath the water and she rolled her head on the pillow of dry sand. The lapping of the water aroused them even more and he rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him.
He gazed up at her, silhouetted against the sun-spangled leaves that shimmered in a green veil. Beads of water on
her creamy skin made miniature prisms in the sunlight and dripped onto him in a small shower. He pulled her down to him. Clare lay on the warmth of his body, the cool stream surging around them, a butterfly flitting nearby.
With a soft moan, she positioned herself so that his erect manhood entered her. The sensation was one of both cold and warmth and she giggled. “That feels funny.”
” ‘Funny,’ is it? I’ll make you think ‘funny,’ ” he grinned back, and began rotating his muscular hips to thrust against her.
Clare put her hands on his shoulders and pushed herself to a sitting position across him. Teasingly, she moved her own hips in rhythm with his, urging him to even greater pleasure.
The golden glow of passion began rising in her at once, and she moaned as she felt him move faster inside her. Ryan reached up and fondled her breasts, squeezing, soothing, pinching her nipples gently. Clare felt the familiar but ever new sensation course through her and she cried out.
Ryan raised his head and licked the drops of water from her breasts, then sucked gently on her throbbing nipples. As he did, she felt another wave of pure pleasure rise in her and burst into a firework display throughout her body.
She rolled over, locking her legs around Ryan, and pulled him on top of her. As she licked the cool hollow of his neck, her fingernails gently, ever so gently, scraped along his hard ribcage. Her hair, seemingly black in the water, swirled around them like a fan of seaweed or mermaid’s hair.
With a groan of pleasure, Ryan brought her to ecstasy again as he gave himself over to his own passion.
Little by little, they again became aware of the leafy dome above them, the wind’s rustle in the muscadine vine and the sensuous movement of the water they lay in. Ryan kissed her and stood up, pulling her up beside him.
“Are you cold?” he asked tenderly as he held her close.
“No,” she breathed contentedly. “Are you?”
He laughed. “I can’t tell. I don’t have my nerve endings back yet.” Again he kissed her, then led her up the bank. Gently, he helped her dress.
“Not like that,” she protested as he tried to put her sweater on her backward. “It goes the other way.”
“Who can tell with women’s clothes?” he pointed out. “Half the time the front and the back look just alike. Besides, it’s a lot easier to take them off than to put them on.”
Unbidden, the thought rose in her mind: How many women had he undressed? She tried to put the jealousy away from her. After all, Ryan had certainly had other women before her. Was Regina one of them?
“I’m getting cold,” she said quickly, and tried to smile naturally. “Let’s go home.”
Ryan knew something had disturbed her, though he didn’t know what, so he tried to put her at ease again with plans for the evening. He’d heard of a new place in Tyler to go dancing and they decided to go. As they crossed the pasture, he bent down and picked a spray of Queen Anne’s lace and handed it to Clare.
She placed it behind her ear and picked a wild violet to put in his buttonhole.
“How is it coming along?” Clare asked, her eyes following the distant movements of the drilling crew and the machinery through the pines that edged the drilling site.
“Pretty well. I haven’t received that new shipment of pipe yet, but sometimes it takes a while for the plant to fill an order. It’ll be here soon.”
Clare put her hand into his. “Sometimes it seems like forever since the well was started. There have been so many delays.” She walked in deep thought for several steps, then burst out, “Ryan, when the well is finished, are you going to leave?”
“I have to someday, honey. You know that. If you want me to stay and drill more wells, I will, but I can’t stay here forever.”
“Of course not,” she mumbled. “It’s just that I’ll miss you.”
He pulled her to a stop. “You don’t have to, Clare. You can go with me,” he said quietly.
The warm breeze ruffled his hair and the sun made his skin golden and set strange flecks of amber in his hazel eyes. Clare felt her heart begin to pound.
“Go with you?” she repeated. “But I can’t go with you.” Never once had she thought in terms of leaving the only place she had ever considered home. Even those of her friends who traveled extensively never really moved away.
Ryan’s face grew hard and pain filled his eyes. “How long are you going to play games with me, Clare? What do you want from me? I say I love you and you tell me to hush. I ask you to be with me and you say no.” He glared at her. “I don’t think I even know who you are at times. How can you make love with me the way you do and not care for me?”
“I do care for you, Ryan. It’s not fair to say I don’t!” she exclaimed. How could he be so unreasonable? she wondered. Surely he must know she couldn’t give up her home and the social position she had sacrificed so much to retain and just follow after him like a… a camp follower!
“Then say it! Say, ‘Ryan, I love you!’ ” he demanded.
“Ryan, stop it! You’re being unreasonable!” Clare said with growing anger.
” I’m being unreasonable!” he thundered. “Your heart is made of ice and I’m unreasonable? Listen, Clare, when you decide to trust me and let yourself feel, then let me know! Until then, I quit!”
“What do you mean, you quit?” she demanded.
“I mean I don’t like dangling on a string. Not even for you! When you feel you’re ready to make some commitment, let me know!” He turned and strode off angrily.
“But where are you going?” Clare hurried to catch up with him. “Where will you be?”
“If you want me, you can find me,” he snapped back over his shoulder. “It’s about time you felt some uncertainty!”
The ride back to town was heavy with stony silence, and Clare never noticed when Ryan’s flower slipped from her hair.
Ryan sat in the smoky bar and tried to ignore the crowd as he drank. This was his third whiskey and he was slowly beginning to pacify his temper.
How had she been able so easily to reject his marriage proposal if she cared for him at all? He fumed. At least she could have been more tactful. Ryan had never proposed to a woman in his life, but he felt he had not done badlynot the way he had staged it in his mind but not badly.
And she had flatly refused!
The pain knotted his middle and he tossed the amber liquid down in one gulp. He’d never thought she would say no. He had been in the bar for an hour or more, he reflected. Obviously, if Clare were interested in finding him, she was in no hurry. He ordered another drink.
As the alcohol numbed his senses, Ryan relaxed. Maybe he could learn to live without her… someday. The only trouble was that he didn’t even want to try.
“Ryan?” an all too familiar voice said. “I didn’t expect to see you here today. Mind if I join you?” It was Regina.
He groaned and tried to think of some reason to send her on her way, but his mind was dulled by the alcohol.
Regina saw the pain in his eyes and sat down. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”
“No. Clare and I had a fight.”
“Oh, poor baby,” Regina said with sticky compassion to cover her rush of elation. This was the chance she had been waiting for. “Tell me all about it,” she murmured as she covered his hand with hers and leaned forward eagerly.
At that moment, Clare walked through the door.
Her eyes met Ryan’s over Regina’s head and she had to
force herself not to turn and run. ”Am I interrupting something?.” she asked coldly.
Regina jumped and turned quickly to face her.
Ryan belatedly jerked his hand away from Regina. “Clare! Let me explain”
“I’ve looked for you for over an hour!” Clare stormed as rage burned away her shock. “I see it took me too long!”
“It’s not what you think!” Ryan protested desperately as he stood up to detain her.
“Ryan,” Regina spoke at last, “don’t. She had to
see us together sooner or later.” Her voice was oozing contriteness and she rose to stand beside him, facing Clare.
“What?” Ryan asked. What was Regina talking about? Surely she wouldn’t tell Clare now about the night they had spent together!
Before Regina could continue, Clare gave a strangled cry and ran from the room.
“Clare! Wait!” Ryan called out.
“Let her go,” Regina said. “It’s best to give her time to cool off. She’s always been rather hot-headed.”
“Let go of me!” he growled, shaking her hand from his sleeve.
Clare had already driven away when he reached the parking lot. Ryan drove to her house, but her car wasn’t there. He waited for thirty minutes, then an hour. Frustrated and angry, he finally gave up and went home.
Clare had gone to Marla’s, two doors down. There she spent the rest of the afternoon and a good part of the night crying out her pain over losing Ryan to Regina. Marla was sympathetic and let her cry, knowing this was more healing than logic at the moment. At length, Clare’s misery dulled into numbness and she stemmed her flow of tears.
“You can’t trust them, Marla” she said despondently. “Elliot, Ryan. They’re all alike.”
By the next day, Clare had managed to wall up her bruised emotions enough to face Ryan, and she sought him out at the rig. When he came to her car, she stayed inside with the window rolled down.
“I don’t want to hear your explanations, if there are any. What I saw was clear enough, and I’m not here to discuss you and Regina Wharton. I want you to continue work on my
wellat this point I can’t afford to let you go. But, in the future, I want our relationship to be as it should have beenbusiness only. Do you have any questions?”
Ryan glared through the red haze of a staggering hangover at the woman who had shunned his love. “None! I agreed to drill you a well and I don’t break contracts. And, incidentally, since I’m a major investor in the well, you can’t fire me, anyway!” He turned before she could see the moistness in his eyes and walked away. “I have to get back to work.”
