Opal Fires

by Lynda Trent

  Clare smiled sadly and said with her newly discovered truth, “It’s necessary for me. I’m sorry, Cliff, but I think you’d better go.”

  He gazed down at her and finally shrugged, releasing her. “Okay. If that’s the way you feel.”

  “Thanks, Cliff. I’m really very flattered.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

  When he drove away, she felt no more lonely than she had while he held her. She went inside and turned out the yard lights.

  Regina drove down the dirt road, following Ryan not so much by seeing his car, as by watching the cloud of red dust that enveloped it. This was not the first time she’d done this, nor did she intend for it to be the last.

  During the weeks of their engagement, Regina had become suspicious of Ryan’s long work hours. Before their “agreement,” he had worked fairly normal hours. She knew this because she’d used the information to foster the doubts and jealousy in Clare. Now he worked twelve hours a day, sometimes even longer. A few times, she’d actually driven out to the rig at midnight to see if he was really working. He had been, and the arguments that had followed made her cautious of being so overtly suspicious of him.

  Through trial and error, she had learned that she could accuse him of almost anything and not get him to pay her the slightest attention. Or she could make the smallest reference about Clare and he’d leap to defend his former love. When enraged, Ryan was fearsome, and Regina seldom resorted to that method of goading him. It was, however, the reason she followed him. If he was seeing Clare, she wanted to know.

  That night she went to his apartment, unannounced as usual, to see if he was really alone. As always, he was.

  “What’s taking you so long on that well?” she demanded as she made herself a drink. “Any other driller could have hit oil twice over by now.”

  He frowned. “It’s rather hard to drill without pipe. And Joe’s the driller, not me.”

  “So what? I’m getting bored with Kilgore. Leave the well to Joe and let’s go somewhere. I want to see California.”

  “That’s out of the question. I have a job to finish here. Besides, we aren’t married yet. Don’t you think a honeymoon would be rather premature at this stage?” He pointedly put one TV dinner in the oven.

  “You weren’t so squeamish about that with Clare,” she said acidly. “You can drill a well out there just as easily as you can here, and I can see Hollywood.”

  “It’s not quite that simple,” he said, as if he were talking to an obnoxious but simpleminded child. “It doesn’t do any good to drill wells unless you plan to hit oil, and Hollywood isn’t in an oil field.”

  “How do you know unless you try?” Regina demanded unreasonably.

  “I know. Just take my word for it.” He flopped down on the couch and propped his feet on the coffee table.

  “Get your feet off the furniture,” she ordered automatically.

  He didn’t move. “I wouldn’t leave town before I brought in this well.”

  “You mean you won’t leave Clare!” Regina sneered, her face contorted with hate.

  “Haven’t you ever heard of a contract? I have a job to do. Besides, one field looks pretty much like another. Don’t be too eager to trade your fine house for a trailer.”

  Regina looked aghast. “Me! In a trailer? That’s preposterous! Out of the question!”

  Ryan smiled. “Not all fields are in towns like this one. I spend most of my time living in the trailer you’ve seen at the rig. The one with the green trim,” he added.

  She tossed her head and lit a cigarette. “Well, I certainly won’t. I think I’ll go to California without you.”

  “No, you won’t,” Ryan said quietly.

  “Why not?” she demanded.

  “Because you’re the one that’s so intent on getting married, and once you’re my wife, you’ll go wherever I go.”

  “So that’s it! I ruined your chances with that mealymouthed Clare, and now you think you’re going to lord it over me!”

  Ryan smiled. “Now you’ve got it.”

  Regina glared at him. “You’re despicable! Nobody tells me what to do! If I didn’t let Elliot run over me” she stopped short.

  “Elliot? Your husband was named “oward.” Memory tugged at him. “Who’s Elliot?”

  “None of your business,” she snapped.

  Silence grew long between them as Ryan tried to recall where he had heard the name. Regina slid nearer and kissed his cheek.

  “Let’s not fight.”

  Ryan endured her caresses for as long as he could, then he stood up and went to check his supper unnecessarily.

  Regina frowned. “Why are you so frigid toward me? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re a sexless eunuch.”

  “I’m tired, Regina. Go home.”

  “Damn you! Why won’t you go to bed with me!”

  “I agreed to marry you. I don’t believe I ever agreed to consummate the marriage.”

  Shock made Regina’s jaw drop. “You… you mean…!”

  “Want to back out? There’s still time.”

  “No!” she snarled. “You’ll come around. You need my money too badly!” She got to her feet and stalked toward the door. “You’d better reconsider! You can’t afford to be that independent!” The door slammed behind her.

  Ryan let rage flood over him. The bitch was right! He wondered for the hundredth time how he could raise enough money to rid himself of her.

  Clare replaced the receiver on the hook and glared at her newest watercolors of the French Quarter. Then she stomped out of the house and drove to the drilling site without even a thought about the speed limit.

  “Ryan, I’ve got to talk to you!” she fumed as she stormed into the geologist’s trailer.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, looking up from a chart. “You look mad.”

  “I am mad! I just got a call from the state police!”

  “And?”

  “They said they found the body of the truck driver that was bringing our pipe from Houston. He’d been killed and his truck was stolen. They don’t know yet who did it, but the patrolman said they had some leads.”

  “Damn!” Ryan muttered.

  “You never told me the pipe was stolen!”

  “I saw no reason to worry you. I was sure I could get another shipment here before we run out. I still think I can.”

  “You should have told me! All my life, people have tried to treat me like a child. I’m a grown woman! I have a right to make decisions!” The long weeks of tension had frazzled her nerves until she trembled with anger.

  “I was trying to protect you from more worries. There’s nothing you can do about the pipe!”

  “Protect me!” she shouted. “I don’t need protecting! I need honesty for a change! I’m no china doll that has to be carried on a pillow so I won’t break! It’s my well!”

  “As long as I’m in charge here, it’s my well, and I’ll see to the supplies!” Ryan was now as furious as she was.

  Almost nose to nose, they glared at each other. Suddenly, she became aware for the first time that they were alone in the trailer. They hadn’t been alone since Marla’s party. Clare’s eyes faltered and she felt the urge to put distance between them. Fast.

  “You see that you do, Ryan. I want this well to come in,” she said between clenched teeth.

  “I’ll get that damned pipe if I have to steal it, piece by piece!” he growled. Then he, too, became aware of her closeness and a tremor ran through him. “Don’t worry, Clare,” he said far more gently than he had intended.

  The air between them felt charged with a more dangerous emotion than anger. With a cry that resembled a sob, Clare turned and ran.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Ryan parked at the rig and sat looking at, but not seeing the derrick. How would he ever be able to live with Regina? Since childhood he had detested quarrels and he found nothing about his fiancé that he could even like, much less love. Certainly not as he loved Clare. He tried to
put the dark-haired woman from his mind. He’d made a bargain with Regina and he felt honor-bound to at least try to make a go of it. Workable marriages were not necessarily only the ones based on love. He was willing to give up a great deal for Clare’s sake.

  Ryan let his eyes focus on the towering lines of the derrick. Drilling was a dirty business and it took a real oil man to see the beauty in a rig as Ryan did. To him, there was a kind of savage loveliness in seeing men working as one, drawing the bounty from the depths of the earth. The clang of the heavy machinery and drone of engines mingled with his crew’s shouts to form a crude melody that stirred him. The cocoa-brown earth below his feet was his adversary; a miser hoarding gold from those who needed it. Even though Ryan cursed the time this well was taking, he had to admire his opponent.

  Ryan got out of his car and walked through the field. Most of the earliest spring flowers were gone and he was glad. They had reminded him far too much of the last day he had spent loving Clare. Above him, threatening clouds were gathering and a fitful wind tousled his hair. There was a heavy smell of rain in the air. Ryan thrust his fists into his pockets and turned back toward the oil well.

  Across the pasture, Clare watched him from behind a thicket of wild plum trees. The sprays of pink-white flowers foretold a good fruit crop that she could jelly for the coming year. She had driven outtelling herself that she was interested only in seeing the potential fruit, and parked behind the barn so her car would be less obvious to Ryan… if he should be there. Now that she saw him, she was glad for the blossoms’ concealment.

  She knew from his posture and the movements he made that Ryan was unhappy, and this made her sad. Although it tore at her to think of him with Regina, laughing with her, talking to her, doing all the small things he had once done with herself she never let her mind go up the ivory-beige staircase to Regina’s bedroom she wanted him to be happy.

  The damp wind tossed the blossoms, and a shower of petals fell around her. She knew a storm was building, and at this time of year, one could gather fast. Yet she couldn’t cross the pasture while Ryan was there. Her temptation toward him was far too strong and she didn’t trust herself.

  As she watched, he began to move away, his shoulders hunched against the building wind. She waited until he crossed the dry gully where a creek had once run before she stepped out into the open. The chances of his turning and seeing her were less likely after he passed the ditch.

  Clare’s loose blouse whipped about her and molded itself against her full breasts. As she left the shelter of the plum thicket, the wind jerked loose a tendril of brown hair. Uneasily, she looked up at the sky.

  It was taking on an alien, yellowish tinge, rather like an old an old bruise, and a coppery smell hung in the air. In the woods behind her, the birds had grown eerily silent and huddled nervously toward the thick trunks of the trees. Clare began to walk toward the barn and the shelter of her car.

  In the distance, she could hear thunder rolling, and at times lemony-pink lightning flashed. Gigantic thunderheads were towering above and behind her and she saw a jagged scar of lightning spear the earth between the trees that bordered her land and the town. The accompanying clap of thunder seemed to shake her, and she quickened her pace.

  Suddenly, the air, sky and clouds turned a sickly green, and a darkness heavier than twilight covered her. Clare knew all too well what that meant, and she began to race for her car.

  All at once, Ryan was beside her, his strong arms around her waist. “To the ditch!” he yelled over the wind. “Run to the ditch!”

  Clare did as he said, knowing they could not reach shelter in time. From the corner of her eye, she saw a movement and turned her head to gape at the twister that was snaking out of the black lid of boiling clouds.

  “Run!” Ryan shouted, half-dragging her with him.

  Her heart was pounding and she was more frightened than she had ever been in her life. The tornado didn’t seem to be moving at all. But she saw it growing larger.

  “It’s headed straight for us!” he yelled.

  Clare threw herself into the dry creek bed and felt Ryan’s body cover her protectively. Now she could hear ita noise that sounded exactly like a freight train. She closed her eyes and tried to burrow deeper in the dirt.

  Then, as quickly as it had begun, the sound moved away and huge, fat drops of rain splattered the earth.

  “Ryan!” she cried. “Are you all right?”

  He rolled her over and held her close, both of them trembling. “Yes, honey, yes. I’m all right. Did I hurt you?” His arms tightened possessively, as if he could never bear to let her go.

  “Yes, yes, I’m okay.” She wrapped her arms tighter about him and tried to blot out her terror of moments before.

  The rain fell in heavy sheets, plastering her clothing to her body and his hair to his head like a cap of gold. Neither of them noticed.

  “Clare, Clare,” he murmured hoarsely. “When I saw that twister form up right behind you, I was scared to death that I wouldn’t get to you in time!” He buried his face in the curve of her neck to reassure himself of her safety. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Yes.”

  He pulled back to look at her and their eyes met and held.

  “Ryan,” moaned Clare. “No. Let me go.” But she couldn’t force herself to take her arms from around him.

  “Clare,” he whispered as if her name meant love.

  “It can’t be,” she murmured. “You’re engaged to Regina. There can’t be anything between us.”

  Reluctantly, his entire being warring with his reason, he rolled off her. “I know,” he said dully.

  Slowly, Clare moved from him. The rain washed her tears from her face as quickly as they fell, and she wondered from the expression on his face if he, too, had tears mixed with the rain. She had never seen such agonized longing on a person’s face, yet she knew it matched her own. Numbly, she started to struggle to her feet.

  “Clare,” he said catching her arm and stopping her flight. “I never lied to you. I want you to know that.”

  She gazed deep into his eyes. There was no answer she could make. Finally, she nodded. “I was such a fool not to have… trusted you,” she said so softly that he could hardly hear her words over the sound of the rain.

  She climbed up the bank of the ditch and ran toward her car. Ryan followed her out of the gulley and slowly returned to the rig which the capricious tornado had spared.

  Beneath the partial shelter of the drilling platform, Joe watched them and shook his head. “Damn fools, both of ‘em,” he said dismally to the boiler.

  Regina reclined on her rattan chaise longue beside her pool and filed vigorously at her daggerlike nails; she knew the sound irritated Ryan like chalk on a blackboard. “I don’t see why you don’t give up on that silly well,” she complained. “You can’t get any more pipe before Clare’s note is due. The company told you so. Why bother?” She wore a scant bikini of a day-glo green hue and her leathery skin was oiled to a high gleam. She smelled like a pina colada.

  Ryan pretended to be engrossed in the newspaper. “We still have some pipe in the rack. Joe’s going to Shreveport today to see if he can find us a load.”

  Regina tossed her file onto the small glassed-top table beside her. “Why couldn’t we do that? We never go anywhere.”

  “I don’t think you’d go in for visiting pipe companies. They don’t sell it in downtown boutiques, you know.”

  With a loud sigh, Regina closed her eyes. The silence stretched out heavily between them. Ryan turned the and the paper crackled noisily.

  ”Don’t you ever look at me?” she asked peevishly.

  “Sure.”

  “Well? How do you like my new bikini?” She arched her back and her ribs protruded even more.

  He glanced at her. “Fine.”

  ” I think it’s adorable. This color makes me look more tan, don’t you think?”

  Ryan turned back to his paper. There was no point in
arguing with her, and he doubted that his opinion would be very important to her, anyway. “I saw your car at Conjunction Junction last night. Did you see anybody I know?”

  “No. And it’s no concern of yours where I go. After all, we aren’t married. Even then I expect to have my freedom. You’ll never own me, Ryan.” She frowned. He wouldn’t be nearly as easy to control as Howard had been.

  He shrugged. “I don’t want to ‘own’ you.”

  He wondered if he’d be able to keep her convinced of his intentions to marry her until the well could be brought in. It was as if they were playing a grotesque game: She was the predatory hunter out to trap him; he was the prey, willing to send out all the false signals necessary to win his freedom. After seeing Clare, holding her, even for a short time, he knew he could never go through with a marriage to Regina. Regina was no fool, he mused, how long could he keep her at bay?

  As if she read his thoughts, Regina said, “I think we should set the date for our wedding. Early June would be nice. Perhaps the first weekend.”

  “No. That’s too soon. I can’t marry you in two weeks.”

  She frowned. “All right. The second week in June.”

  He tossed the paper onto the Astroturf-covered cement. “I’ll marry you in late July.”

  “I’m afraid not,” she countered. “By then the note will have fallen due on Clare’s land. You’ll have no reason to marry me.”

  Getting up, he walked over to the pool and looked in. The water was clear and looked brilliantly blue. At the far end, the drain hole wavered in the depths and looked like a black navel. He turned back to her.

  “Why are you doing this?” he said, almost conversationally. “I know you don’t love me. You know I don’t love you. We don’t even like each other. So why do you want to marry me?”

  “Because I want you. I’ve had a taste of what it would be like with you. And because I don’t want Clare to have you.”

  “Why not?” he demanded. “What do you have against her?”

  “Everything! She managed to wile her way in with Elliot and made him marry her. God knows how! He was my boyfriend! I won’t let her have you, too!”