by Reggi Allder
He set up his laptop and plugged in the jump drive in the USB port.
A woman cleared her throat.
He looked up to see a tall, slim, long haired brunette with intense blue eyes, starting at him as she entered the room and stood before him.
“Mr. Cameron?” she said her voice like cream slithering over sliced peaches, a southern drawl just strong enough to heat a man’s blood. Her eyes raked his body head to foot. But her expression gave no indication of her appraisal. “I’m Olivia Good. I’ve wanted to meet you. I’ve seen your photo in Ben’s office for years. Though I can’t say I’m a fan of rodeo cowboys.”
“Thanks,” he said, shaking her hand when she extended it.
A welcome and an insult at the same time, she knew how to keep a man off kilter. “Nice to meet you too. I understand you do the accounting at Page, Miller and Miller.”
“I do.”
“Ben should be here in a minute.” He offered her a seat at the table. “Coffee? The hotel just made a fresh pot for us.”
“I don’t drink stimulants.” She wrinkled her nose and sat, her straight skirt hiking up to her thigh as she did.
Damn, he’d bet Olivia was good. His old buddy, knew what he liked in a woman. He’d chosen this woman from the accountants available for her looks. Oh, Wyatt was sure she was a crack auditor, but he and Ben had done their share of partying back in the day. The guy had gone for the blondes, but he’d always picked the willowy brunettes.
A year ago, he would’ve wined and dined this woman and if she were willing, taken her to his bed. But that was before Amy. She was different from the other woman he’d dated. He’d never loved the others and he did Amy. She was special.
“Okay guys, I’m here.” Ben Wong walked in and gave him a pat him on the back and a hardy hand shake. Still grinning, he said, “Olivia.”
“Ben.”
“There’s a fresh pot of coffee.” Wyatt poured a cup and gave it to him, knowing the man would never turn it down. Washingtonians thrived on the stuff and Wyatt had to admit the local brew was some of the best he’d ever had.
Wyatt closed the conference room door and they went to work.
After going over the stats, lunch was ordered from room service. They worked through the day and at five o’clock Ben stretched his five foot eight-inch frame, stifled a yawn, and ran his hands through his straight black hair.
Wyatt shut down his computer and unplugged the jump drive. “A good day’s work. Dinner anyone?”
“I have a date.” Olivia stood and pushed her wool skirt down her long legs back to her knees where it belonged.
Of coursed she had an engagement. “Be here nine in the morning, sharp,” Wyatt demanded.
“I’m always sharp.”
He wasn’t going to touch that remark.
After she closed the door, he let out a low whistle. “Where did you find that woman? She’s just like her name, good, damned good.”
“If you can get her to take the job, she’d be an excellent part of the new team.”
“Does that mean you’re in, Ben?”
“If you want me.”
“You know I do.” He extended his hand.
His friend took it. “Ok, buddy, let’s go get some chow.”
***
Two days had gone by and he was still in Seattle. He’d called the farmhouse and Amy’s cell phone, but hadn’t been able to reached her. He was starting to worry. Even so, he realized she was most likely refusing to pick up the phone when she realized it was him.
He paced at the airport in front of the ticket counter waiting to see if a standby seat had become available. Things had gone smoothly and he’d made an offer to Olivia, to fill the accounting position for the mill. After due consideration, she’d let him know. Still, he had the sense the woman wanted to agree.
Ben needed a few months to clean up his affairs. Afterward, he’d move to Sierra Creek. It was all approaching a done deal. A dream was coming to fruition. In Wyatt’s imaging’s, he’d planned to celebrate the new business with Amy, but he couldn’t even get her on the damned phone.
He grunted in frustration. Why hurry home when she didn’t want to see him—because he wanted, no required, no loved her.
***
After Wyatt landed in Sacramento, he dialed Amy’s number again. No answer. She must be home with Bobby. Still, she wasn’t taking his calls. This whole ordeal had gone on longer than necessary, but what could he do? As he always did when aggravation threatened to make him lose control, he went riding.
Later, he reined in his stallion. He’d ridden Spirit too hard, too fast. No need to take out his frustrations on the animal. It wasn’t like him to react that way. Amy had pushed his buttons.
Both he and Spirit were sweating when they finished the workout. He cooled the horse down and took him to his stable outside of Sacramento. Wyatt found he had calmed as well. Without anger, he could talk to Amy now, if he could get her to answer the phone.
She was a woman to be reckoned with. He smiled with satisfaction. Her business was going well and she was becoming a celeb in her own right, with the newspaper column and blog. The local Sacramento TV station wanted to interview her. Yet, she’d told him family came first. It was time to put Amy and Bobby at the top of his agenda.
All she’d asked was that he wear the wedding ring she’d had designed for him. If it was that important, he’d do it, his father’s remarks against the idea forgotten.
Spunky and opinionated, still her kindness and loving ways had snagged him, holding him until he didn’t want to let her go. He began to realize she fulfilled a requirement he hadn’t known existed until she came into his life, the liberation from his unhappy past.
The thought surprised him. Instead of feeling trapped by the coming marriage, a sense of peace filled him. It was at that point he understood in his entire life he’d been tense, a spring too tightly wound. When he wed Amy, a sense of freedom would be his. If only his father understood. He stopped the thought knowing it’d be a futile effort to explain to his dad.
Since his engagement, a burning desire to have children haunted him. It might be every man’s innate desire to plant his seed and see it grow. It shouldn’t be important to him, because he’d never wanted offspring. His father sure as hell hadn’t set a good example of the loving family man who wanted kids. But there it was, Wyatt wished for more children.
Maybe Bobby, the tough little kid with sweet ways, sparked his desire to have more. With a shrug he’d fantasized about having an off spring or two or three to increase the love in the household. Maybe a girl with Amy’s red hair.
***
That one won’t work. Amy tossed another skirt onto the bed in the master bedroom of the old farmhouse. Standing in her stocking feet and underwear, she looked at the mess she’d made of the room. Almost every item of clothing she owned was spread over the furniture. What did a person wear in front of a TV camera? She should have asked. The interviewer had assumed she understood and it was too late to get the information.
In order to concentrate, she pushed down any thought of Wyatt. Yet, she couldn’t stop the emotional pain lashing her. His caller ID had sent her hovering over the phone, but she’d been afraid to answer. If he was going to end the relationship, she’d make sure it was in person. With a groan, she closed her eyes and wished she could take back the angry words she’d screamed at him. Their love was more important than any jewelry. Stop thinking about it.
The interview was looming. A crew from Sacramento’s most popular TV station would be on the farm early in the morning. She wished she hadn’t agreed, because it was the last thing she felt like doing now.
The farm was in great shape. But she was becoming a basket case. She laughed. Well, anxious at the thought of being seen by thousands of viewers. With no experience, her cheeks burned with embarrassment. What if she made a fool of herself?
She shook her head. This was an opportunity to let people know about the farm and the best or
ganic fruit locally available. The exposure might bring more people to the farm during the, pumpkin patch and the Christmas Fair, not to mention buying the apples she sold in health food stores. All she had to was let people know what the farm offered.
She felt pleased knowing Bobby could grow up without chemicals in his fruit. Other mothers might feel the same way. Right? That was worth shouting about. Nonetheless, it went against her shy nature to be on television. All she could do was her best.
Too bad Vanna had to work. She could’ve used her friend’s help to get ready. But Vanna had given her a heads-up about the camera and where to look and what kind of makeup to use. She should have asked her what to wear.
The only thing left in the closet was a suit she’d bought when she worked at a bank in San Francisco. She’d only used it once since coming back to Sierra Creek. She sighed, then stepped into her blue jeans and zipped up a gray sweatshirt.
A favorite chambray shirt hung on the back of a chair and dark blue jeans lay next to it, she might as well be comfortable tomorrow and she was a country girl after all. With the outfit hanging on the back door of the closet, she relaxed. A tooled leather belt and beige work boots would finish the outfit. Granny’s crystal necklace would be worn for luck.
The phone in the kitchen buzzed and she almost tumbled down the stairs to get it before it stopped ringing. Maybe she should talk to Wyatt.
“Hello.” Her heart pounded as she waited to hear his voice.
“I need to talk to my son.”
“Mr. Cameron?” She sat at the oak table as disappointment spread through her. “He isn’t here. Have you tried his cell phone?”
“I can’t get him.”
“Oh. He’s in Seattle. Won’t be back for a few days.”
He moaned.
“Are you all right?”
Silence.
“Mr. Cameron.”
“No. I’m not or I wouldn’t have called.” His harsh voice had the sound of a man in pain.
She bit back a caustic reply and said, “What can I do to help. Should I call 911?”
“Hell no. I don’t need an ambulance.”
Amy resisted the desire to hang up on the man. His pain was making him even more disagreeable than usual. He was a grumpy old man, but he was in need. If it had been her grandpa, when he was alive, she’d have wanted someone to help him. With Wyatt out of town... She didn’t bother asking if Wes could help. No point. “I’ll be at your house in about twenty five minutes.”
He grunted and hung up.
Of all days. I don’t have time for this.
With the old Volvo loaded with anything she thought he might need, she pulled out of the driveway. Still early in the morning, there was time before she needed to be back to pick up Bobby from the school bus.
She thought about calling 911, even though he didn’t want it. She discarded the idea. No need to piss him off unnecessarily.
The smell of stale food and cigarette butts hit her as she entered his messy home. “Hi. Hello. Mr. Cameron, are you here?”
Sprawled in the kitchen, the telephone in his lap, He looked up at her. Unshaven and still in his pajama pants, his chest bare, he tried to get up. He grimaced and sat back on the floor with a thud.
With packages she’d brought deposited on the kitchen table, she helped him stand. His arm over her shoulder, she steadied him. When he was stable, it was apparent he was even taller than Wyatt. She hoped she’d be strong enough to get him to the bedroom and into bed. He must have had a similar thought.
“You’re a little bit of girl.”
“I’m stronger than I look. Let’s get you to your room.”
She forced him forward and he held on tightly as they slowly made their way down the hall. At the bedroom, she had him lean on the door frame while she cleared a path to the master bathroom and then helped him enter it.
While he did what he needed, she straightened his room and emptied the wastebasket. A fan of TV, she made sure the remote control would be within his grasp while he was in bed. Once she had him settled she’d find out what else he needed.
He used the wall to help navigate to the bed and with her aid he sat and she lifted his injured leg onto the bed. He sighed and rested against the two big pillows.
“I put your cane and knee brace close to the bed so you can reach them.”
“Hell, I’ve never needed any help to stand on my own two feet…”
Until now, was left unsaid, but his expression told her he was coming to grips with the realization his life had changed.
“I brought food, milk, and coffee for you.” She ignored his statement. “Before I go I’ll make dinners and freeze them. You can warm them up when you’re hungry. Do you need anything else?”
“I’m out of aspirin and my high blood pressure pills.”
“I brought pain killers. Do you need to call the doctor for the prescription to refill the meds?
“I’ve got one, but I couldn’t drive the damned truck.”
“Okay. I’ll take care of it.”
“What’s Wyatt doing in Seattle? He’s not moving there, is he?” he said concern showing in his voice.
“It’s for his new business, looking for workers. He must have told you.” The blank expression on the man’s face told her he was clueless. She shouldn’t be surprised Wyatt hadn’t told his father anything about the company he hoped to start. They weren’t close, but still…
After she brought him aspirin, milk, apple sauce, and a roast beef sandwich, she explained as much as she comprehended about Wyatt’s plans. Mr. Cameron listened with interest and made an occasional comment. She was struck by the notion that he should be having this conversation with his son, not her. Had she told the man information his son didn’t want him to have? Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything.
Later, she drove to the pharmacy and picked up his blood pressure medication and pain killers, then returned. A while ago she’d considered making dinners for him at home. In his poorly equipped kitchen, she managed to make a few meals, leaving one out for tonight and freezing the others. She brought him decaf coffee and sat in the room with him. He’d napped while she was gone and his skin was less sallow and his eyes were more alert.
“When he was growing up, I wanted to see my son. Except I’d given up that right when I left him like I did.” He hesitated. “I watched his career on television on the sports channel.”
The sadness in his voice stunned her. Was he feeling vulnerable or did he care about Wyatt?
“I’ll let him know.”
Before she left, she made arrangements to take him to a doctor’s appointment in a week. If he wasn’t able to manage on his own in a few days, she’d make sure someone came to help, at least for a while.
How would Wyatt feel about her sharing his dream of reopening the mill?
Dear God, she missed Wyatt and hoped she hadn’t made another huge mistake.
***
Amy had wanted to talk to Wyatt when he returned from Seattle. He had just enough time to rush to the cottage and then to the Sierra Creek council meeting to discuss his plans to open the mill. She was left standing at the backdoor watching him.
“We’ll talk later,” he’d shouted from the driver’s side window as the truck backed out.
Amy dropped Bobby was at a friend’s house, then drove to town. The door to the medium sized conference room, with its beige walls and green carpeting, was open when she arrived. The rarely attended town council meeting was at overflow capacity tonight. The town hall buzzed with interest to hear the discussion about opening the mill and possibly new jobs for the local population.
People wandered the room as Mayor Dan Breen took his seat at the head of an oak table. Three middle aged council members joined him, one woman and two men. Amy didn’t know them though their faces were familiar.
Rows of chairs were setup facing the table. Amy saw the welcoming smiles of Vanna and Sophie. They moved over so she could sit next to them. She was grateful
they had chosen places at the back of the room. At this moment, the last thing she wanted was a connection to Wyatt.
He turned to face her and her heart fluttered when she saw him. Dressed in the navy-blue suit she’d only seen him wear once before, he sat upright in the chair at the front of the room. She could see tension in his body language. Still, he was the most handsome guy in the room and he exuded confidence.
People continued to pour into the room until the municipal fire marshal closed the doors for safety reasons. The long serving mayor called the meeting to order. Old business was taken care of with the precision of a man who’d done it for many years.
She breathed the stuffy air in the jam-packed room and wished someone would turn on the ceiling fan. Sophie waved a folded page from the agenda. Amy leaned closer to get the benefit of the moving air.
The mayor talked in a monotone. Still, he might be saying something important if she were listening. Her was focus on Wyatt. The thought of concentrating on the town’s business was impossible.
The restless crowd began to mumble under their breath and the mayor pounded on the table to bring them back to order. “All right people, I know why you’re here.” He sniffed and rubbed his nose. “Let’s get through this old business and we can get to the mill.”
At the mention of the lumber mill, Wyatt turned toward Amy and ran his hand through his combed hair loosening a strand and allowing it to fall out of place. How many times had she seen it fall casually over his forehead as he bent to kiss her. She had opened her lips to him and let her hands play in his thick mane before welcoming his stronger advances. With a moan, she pushed back the desire to rush to him.
He stood alone facing the town council and presented the plan for the mill. He also gave a quick overview of the completed environmental report he and Manny had commissioned.
Where was Manny? Why wasn’t he here tonight?
“How many jobs do you plan to fill by the end of the year?” the council woman asked.
