Michael's Father

by Dallas Schulze

  But all morning he'd had the feeling that something was wrong. In fact, he hadn't been able to get the idea out of his head since Megan walked out of his room just after dawn. Telling himself it was only natural that she should be on his mind hadn't helped. And he'd finally given in to the compulsion to leave his men to repair the fence and ride to the ranch.

  The first thing he looked for was her car, which he'd towed behind the truck all the way from Cheyenne. He sagged with relief when he saw it, only then realizing just how much he'd feared that it would be gone and Megan and Michael with it.

  From the corral, he could see that Gracie was in the garden, and Michael's small figure darted around her like a minnow circling a rock. He smiled as he headed

  up to the house. As long as Grade was around, they wouldn't have to worry about Michael's lack of grandparents.

  Once they were married, everything would settle into place. Megan had to see how right it would be. How right they would be. He tried to ignore the uneasiness in the pit of his stomach.

  Kel pushed open the front door and stepped into the cool dimness of the house. A quick glance in the living room and kitchen told him that Megan wasn't downstairs. Maybe she was taking a nap. She still tiied more easily than she liked to admit.

  He walked quietly up the stairs and down the hall to the room she shared with Michael. Once they were married, she would move across the hall into his room and this room could become Michael's alone. They'd be close by in case he needed them but they'd still have their privacy. He had every intention of needing a great deal of privacy.

  The door was open a crack and Kel pushed it open, not wanting to wake Megan if she was asleep. He needn't have worried. She wasn't asleep. She was bent over the bed, carefully folding garments and placing them into her open suitcase.

  Kel was momentarily frozen. Vaguely, he was aware of a sharp ache in his chest, a feeling of impending loss so great it was like a crater opening up inside him. She was leaving.

  Again.

  "What the hell are you doing?" At his question, Megan jumped and spun around, one hand pressed against her chest as if to still the sudden pounding of her heart, and stared at him in utter dismay.

  When she seemed at a loss for words, Kel walked into the room and pushed the door shut behind him. Giving himself a few seconds to think, he pulled off his hat and turned to hang it carefully on one comer of Michael's crib. Staring at the cartoon figures that decorated the sheet, he ran his fingers through his flattened hair. There was a crack opening up in his chest, a familiar emptiness in the pit of his stomach.

  "Where are you going?" he asked quietly, careful to keep the desolation from his voice. He'd almost believed, ahnost thought it possible...

  "Cheyenne," she said in a voice so low he had to strain to hear it. He turned to look at her. She looked nearly as pale as she had when he first saw her a few weeks ago, and her eyes were smoky blue with distress.

  "Back to Hall?"

  "No." She combed her fingers through her hair and then let her hand drop limply to her side. She looked as miserable as he felt. Too bad it wasn't for the same reason. "Only in the sense that he happens to be my landlord and my employer. I've told you before that there's nothing more than friendship between Reed and me."

  Kel nodded. He almost wished he didn't believe her. It might have made it easier if he'd thought she was going to another man.

  "Why are you going?" He was a fool to ask, he told himself. Better not to hear her spell it out.

  "I have to. I appreciate what you've offered me, Kel." The words seemed to be difficult to get out. "Marriage and everything." She gestured vaguely to

  encompass the house and the ranch. ''But I don't think we'd suit," she finished weakly.

  "Seems to me we suit pretty well."

  "In bed. But that's not all there is to marriage."

  "We haven't done all that poorly outside of bed, either." But she was already shaking her head.

  "Sooner or later, you'd realize what a mistake you'd made."

  "Why don't you let me worry about that?"

  "I can't," she whispered. "I can't let you worry about it. I have to think about Michael, too,"

  "You think our getting married would be bad for Michael?" Why didn't she just spit out the truth, that she didn't love him, would never love him.

  "In the long run." Megan turned away and began putting things into the suitcase again. "When he realizes that you married me because you thought it was your duty, your responsibility, "

  "Most women would appreciate the fact that I want to live up to my responsibilities," he said, aware that his voice had risen.

  "Your responsibilities?" She seized on the two words, making them less than a compliment. "You mean Hke it was Kurt Anderson's responsibility to marry Melissa?"

  "Who?" Kel stared at her blankly, trying to figure out how Kurt and Melissa Anderson figured into the conversation. "What are you talking about?"

  "Kurt and Melissa," she said impatiently. "She got pregnant and it was his responsibility to marry her. Remember?"

  "I remember. What does that have to do with us?"

  "They got a divorce, right?"

  "Yeah. So what?"

  **So Fm not puttmg myself or Nfichael through that/' she said adamantly.

  Kel stated at her, trying to piece together what she meant, which he suspected had Uttle to do with what she was saying. Her eyes met his for a moment, then she turned and began throwing things into the suitcase again. She was really going to go.

  Panic shot through him. He was across the room before he knew what he intended, picking up the suitcase and upending it on the bed, dumping everything out of it and then tossing the empty case on the other side of the bed, out of her reach.

  "Stop the damned packing and talk to me."

  "Why?" She offered not a word of protest but simply started to walk around him to get the suitcase. Kel grabbed her arms, holding her in front him.

  "Just because Melissa and Kurt Anderson couldn't make their marriage work, it doesn't mean that the same thing will happen to us."

  "Why wouldn't it?"

  "Why would it? Damn it, Megan, you're acting like it's a foregone conclusion. Why won't you give it a chance?"

  She was silent for so long that he thought she^as going to ignore the question, but she finally lifted her head and looked at him. Her eyes were bright with tears but they were steady, seeming to look into his soul.

  "I won't be a responsibiUty for anyone ever again. And I won't let Michael be one, either."

  Kel stared at her, feeling as if he'd missed another piece of the conversation. "K we were married, you'd

  both be my responsibilities," he said slowly, trying to feel his way. "You're already my responsibility. Why is that such a bad thing?" He tried a half smile, trying to coax a lightening of her expression. But she continued to look at him with those lost eyes.

  "When I was six, I heard my parents arguing about which one of them had to take me when they got a divorce. I can remember hearing them argue about whose responsibility I was. My mother lost the argument and I lived with her for a couple of years but then she met a man who wanted to show her the world." She was speaking rapidly but without inflection, as if she was reciting a familiar, not too interesting story. * *Only he didn't want to show it to a kid. So she dumped me on my grandparents and they took care of me because it was the right thing to do, because it wouldn't be fair to turn the responsibility for me over to the state."

  She stopped speaking, her eyes seeing past him to memories he couldn't share. Kel had no trouble imagining how devastating it must have been to spend your childhood knowing that you were being cared for out of duty rather than love. At least he'd had his father, and no one who knew Patrick Bryan had ever doubted his love for his children.

  **I won't ever be anybody's responsibility again," Megan said flatly, shaking herself out of her memories.

  **It wouldn't be just that," Kel said, searching for the words t
o tell her that responsibility wasn't all he felt. **I care for you.''

  He immediately cursed himself for the stupidity of that statement. Of all the yuppified, pantywaist phrases, that had to be the worst.

  Megan seemed to agree, because other than a lift of her ^ebrows, she didn't lespond. She pulled loose from his slackened hold and walked around him. Picking up the suitcase, she put it on the bed and began heaping things into it.

  He was going to lose her. If he couldn't get past his own demons and say the words she needed to hear, she was going to leave and take Michael with her. Oh, she wouldn't try to keep him away from his son. She'd be generous with visitation rights. But he didn't want visitation rights with Michael. He wanted him here, on the ranch, where he belonged. And he wanted Megan here, too.

  "Don't go."

  "I won't try to keep Michael from you," she said, stuffing a pair of shoes into the suitcase on top of a blouse. He saw something fall on the bright silk fabric and realized that she'd started to cry. The sad splotch of dampness gave him hope. "You're his father and you should be part of his—''

  "Hove you."

  * *—life. We'll work out something—''

  "I said, I love you."

  "—out." Her hands were shaking so much that she gave up trying to fold a pair of jeans and simply jammed them into one comer of the suitcase.

  "Damn it, M^an. I'm telling you I love you." Kel's voice stopped just short of a roar.

  "I heard you," she whispered. She leaned her hands on the edge of the suitcase, her head bowed and her shoulders hunched. "Thank you, Kel."

  **Thank you?" He stared at her downbent head in disbelief. ''I tell you I love you and you say thank you?"

  **I know what you're trying to do. You're trying to make it easier for me. I—"

  "I'm trying to make it easier for me." He came around the foot of the bed and caught hold of her shoulders, dragging her around to face him. The tears streaming down her face were nearly his undoing.

  "Don't, Kel. Please. I know you're trying to do what's right, trying to live up to your responsibilities but-"

  "To hell with my responsibilities," he snapped, but his hands moved gently on her shoulders. "This isn't about responsibility, Megan. I do feel responsible for you and for Michael. I'd be a pretty poor excuse for a man if I didn't. But I want you to marry me because I love you. I love you." Funny how the words got easier to say with each repetition. He smiled at her. "I love you."

  She stared at him and he thought he saw a glimmer of hope in her eyes.' * You can't.''

  "Why not?"

  "Because... because it would be too perfect," she finished in a whisper.

  "What's wrong with perfection?" He was suddenly feeling almost lighthearted.

  "Are you sure?"

  "I've never been more sure of anything in my life. I love you."

  **Oh." That one little exclamation seemed to say it all. He could see bdief sliding into her eyes. She set her hands on his chest and leaned forward until she could lest her cheek over his heart.

  Kel slid his arms around her, drawing her close, savoring the feel of her against him, savoring the thought that she was his—this time forever. He bent to lest his cheek against the top of her head.

  **Don't you have something to say to me?" he murmured, wanting to hear the words, even though he'd already seen the answer in her eyes, felt it in the soft curve of her body.

  "I love you,'* she said softly, completing his world with that single phrase and all the promise it held.

  This book made available by the Internet Archive.

  Table of Contents

  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Pages

  Back Cover