by Brenda Joyce
Once, and it seemed like so long ago, Slade had thought he would finally come home with Regina at his side as his wife. She wasn't at his side but he felt her presence as if she were close by. Heartache, never far from the surface, swept through him. He nodded at his father. "I didn't think I'd rate a personal greeting."
Rick hesitated. "You do."
Slade gaped. Then his eyes narrowed. "You get knocked on the head recently or something?"
"Not exactly," Rick said wryly. "Although a little birdie's been chirping in my ears for some time now. It's a miracle I haven't gone deaf."
Slade had no idea what his father was talking about.
They each grabbed a bag and walked into the courtyard, Kim running ahead to explore after receiving a nod from Slade. Despite the failure of his marriage, Slade couldn't help feeling a thrill to be back home. Miramar was in his blood, he could never be replete without it.
Just outside the doors to his room, Slade said, "Do you think we'll have early rains this year?"
"I don't know. The weather has been strange. The late-spring rain, the flood, that summer storm." Rick paused, and Slade knew his father, too, was thinking about James. "Don't think we can take a chance. We'll round up the herds and bring them down before the end of the month."
Slade agreed. Then he said, knowing that he was triggering the confrontation they must have, "But I won't be helping."
"Why the hell not?"
" Cause I'm going to be clearing land. In fact, tomorrow I'll be going back to town to put up help-wanted posters. I'm going to hire a dozen men. I figure I've got a month left as long as the bad weather doesn't set in early. I want to be ready to plant as much acreage as possible early in the spring."
Rick threw down Slade's bag. "You still have that crazy damn idea! Over my dead body!"
Slade said tightly, dropping his own valise, "We have no choice. What do I have to do to convince you of the facts?"
"We are not farmers, dammit! We can slaughter more beef. I've thought about it and I've been talking with packers in Chicago. They're eager to do more business."
"I'm happy to slaughter more beef, but that's not going to solve our problems."
"Maybe if you hadn't sent your wife away we could solve our problems, as we originally planned, without becoming farmers!"
"Leave Regina out of this!" Slade shot back. "And 'we' never originally planned anything. I always planned to take over this ranch and make it profitable!"
"How?" Rick challenged. "By borrowing more money from Charlie Mann? That's just what we need, more damn debt!"
"I did borrow thirty thousand dollars from Charles," Slade said coolly, "and we have enough capital to operate for a few years. Either we take Miramar into the future and make the rancho profitable, or we'll be facing bankruptcy again. If you object, then not only will I leave, I'll take the cash with me." It was a bluff, because Slade wasn't leaving, but he also knew Rick could not allow him to leave with the money. "I paid off our old debt, but I imagine the banks will lose patience with you again pretty quick once you fail to make more payments."
"You are a sonofabitch."
Slade looked at Rick. "I mean it. We're going to do things my way. I put the thirty thousand in my own account. You can't touch those funds. If I leave, the money leaves. You have no choice." He kept his voice calm, which was no easy feat. He knew Regina was right. Living at Miramar would be a nightmare if he and Rick did not reach some kind of understanding. At the very least he and his father must be able to work together. But with his mind-and his heart-he knew that was only a superficial solution that could not heal the wounds that were so very old and went so very deep.
Rick was furious. He paced around the courtyard. "You are a heartless bastard. Blackmailing your own father!"
"I'm sorry it has to be this way. You need time to think it through?"
"I guess I have no damn choice," Rick gritted. "Fine, turn us into farmers. My pappy's gonna turn right over in the grave. Why in hell did I ever ask you to come home?"
The words hurt. They shouldn't, but they did. But there would be no going back from this point, because Slade had come home to stay, and he was determined to get to the truth-no matter how painful it might be.
"You asked me to come home because you need me," Slade said bitterly. "Because you need the money I've acquired. Not because you have any feelings for your second son!"
Rick paled.
Slade was stricken with a sudden, wrenching insight. He wanted this man's affection more than he wanted almost anything, and it made the moment even more painful.
Rick recovered first, his face suffusing with color. "You're the one with no feelings for me!" he shot back. "You're the one who left me! I didn't leave you! Remember?"
Slade shook with long-repressed emotions: anger, pain, need, desperation. Regina chose that moment to come to him, so strongly it was as if she were present. She had wanted to reconcile father and son from the moment she had first set foot on Miramar soil. "You didn't try to stop me."
Rick was incredulous. "You were determined to go. Determined! When you decide to do something, boy, nobody can stop you and we both know it!"
Slade stared at his father. He was acutely aware that he had come home, finally and irrevocably. Miramar had always been his great love, now only second to his wife. He had given her up, but he was not going to give up Miramar, his last chance at happiness, even though it would be incomplete without Regina. Fleeing Miramar-fleeing Rick, his feelings-has no longer an alternative. He was afraid. The feelings had been buried so deeply for so long.
There was no turning back. "But you should have tried." Slade faced his father, feeling at once a tough man of twenty-five and a vulnerable boy of fifteen. "You didn't care enough to try."
Rick was ashen. "How in hell would you know what I feel?"
"You had James. Who was perfect. You didn't give a damn about me." Suddenly his control shattered. "I want you to admit it! I want you to be honest! Once you admit it we can go forward, as business partners and nothing else. We can forget we're father and son." Slade had never been more furious. "Admit it!" he shouted. "Admit it, damn it, admit it now!"
Rick was speechless.
Slade erupted. He reached his father in a stride and grabbed him by the fabric of his shirt. Rick was taller and bigger than he was, but he was so angry he lifted him several inches off the ground. "Coward!" He realized he was echoing Regina's words and that this situation was almost exactly the same as the one in which he and his wife had confronted each other. Only then it had been an ending, and now he prayed that this was a beginning.
Rick finally knocked his hands away. "You left me! You were the one with no feelings, no loyalty, no love! You left me, dammit, just like your damn mother left me!"
Slade was shaking. For one ac
hing heartbeat he stared at his father, the man who hadn't cared enough to stop him from leaving when he had waited so desperately for some indication, any indication, of affection. But none had been given then, and he knew none would be forthcoming now. "You let me go!"
"Was I supposed to beg you to stay?" Rick cried.
"Yes! Yes!"
Slowly, painfully, Rick said, "You're your mother's son, and so much like her. I loved your mother. She broke my heart, Slade. Then you did the same damned thing."
Slade was speechless.
"I didn't beg her to stay when she left me, an' I didn't beg you. I don't regret not begging her, but I've been regretting not begging you for the past ten years."
"God," Slade whispered. "I thought you hated me."
"How can a man hate his own son?"
"But you were always pointing out how perfect James was, while I could never do anything right."
"I was on your back because you were too much like her and I was afraid you'd fail me the way she did. But it boomeranged. I wanted to beat that rebel streak out of you. Instead, stubborn as you are, it just grew and grew. I didn't have to worry about James or Edward- but I spent sleepless nights worrying about you."
"You worried about me?"
"I've been worrying about you since you were three months old."
"That's when she left."
"That's when she left," Rick said heavily.
Slade was shocked.
"The funniest part is that you look like her, but it's taken me a long time to figure out that you're not like her at all. You're a Delanza through and through."
Slade bowed his head. "No, I'm not like her at all." His voice wavered.
"What I'm trying to say is I'm sorry," Rick said. "I'm sorry. I've been sorry for ten years!"
Slade stared at his father. "Why in hell couldn't you say so sooner?"
"Maybe I just didn't know how," Rick whispered. "Maybe I needed that little bird chattering away in my ear to make me realize my priorities. Maybe I had to lose one son in order to realize I can't take a chance on losing another."
Slade had to wipe moisture away from his eyes and take a deep breath. Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined Rick revealing so much love. He was overwhelmed. But so was Rick.
Rick coughed. "I'm gonna go get a drink. After all this jawin' I sure as hell need one. I'll see you at supper."
Slade nodded, still unable to speak, still reeling, aware that he needed a long private moment to recover his composure, too. He watched Rick walk across the courtyard and go inside the house. He took a shaky breath. But he wasn't about to recover his composure, not just yet. For he turned toward his room, picking up both bags, and looked up.
Regina stood there, tears streaking her cheeks, crying silently. And it wasn't a dream.
Chapter 28
Regina could not stop crying, but her tears were those of happiness. Despite the anguish of the past month she was thrilled that Rick and Slade had finally found the courage to delve into the past and unearth the truth of their love for one another.
She wiped her eyes, watching Slade tremulously, waiting for him to recover from the shock of finding her here at Miramar. This was the moment she had been anxiously awaiting-Slade's homecoming-and she was afraid and apprehensive. How could she not be? She expected him to be very angry with her for her defiance of him and his wishes.
But she would face his anger. She hoped she would be able to diffuse it. The night of the gala she had said things she regretted, but she had also spoken the truth. Slade had chosen to end their marriage rather than fight for it-a cowardly way out. That night she had been pushed to what she had then felt to be her limit. The tension and stress of the days prior to the gala, coupled with Slade's astounding statement, had provoked her into her spontaneous eruption and flight. It hadn't taken her very long to recoup her strength. Not even an hour later, in her mother's arms, she had known she would not divorce Slade, that she would not and could not let him destroy their marriage or their future. She intended to fight for what she wanted, no matter how hard or how long that fight might last. And she wanted him. He was worth it.
Now Slade was stunned, as if confronted with a ghost. Only seconds ticked by before he moved. He gripped her arms, pulling her close, his eyes wide and incredulous. "What in hell are you doing here?"
"Waiting for you," she said simply.
He inhaled hard. She felt him shaking, but then, so was she. "I thought you went back to England!"
"I was afraid to make myself too clear in my letter," Regina told him softly. "But you cannot chase me out of your life, Slade. Maybe you had better state your intentions now." She lifted her chin, preparing for the worst-afraid of the worst.
Slade's grip tightened. "You've been here this entire time?" he asked in amazement.
"Yes."
"This is like a dream."
"I am no dream," she whispered. "Just an imperfect woman, one who has made mistakes, a flesh-and-blood woman, one who misses her man."
He groaned, pulling her into his arms.
Regina threw her arms around him. She was filled with many conflicting emotions, not the least of which was a good deal of anxiety over what his reaction to her would be. But there was also boundless joy in being with him again, and there was acute physical awareness. She fully intended to do whatever she had to do in order to remain with him at Miramar. He was not indifferent to her. Not emotionally and not physically. She pressed more fully against him. She turned her face so she could kiss his jaw. "I missed you, Slade," she said.
Immediately he lifted her into his arms, kicking open the door to his bedroom. "I missed you too. I've been miserable." He kicked the doors closed and slid onto the bed, Regina still in his arms. An instant later she lay beneath him, staring up into his beautiful midnight-blue eyes. They were dark with passion, but Regina also thought that they reflected a painful kind of joy and a desperate kind of relief.
"How in hell did I survive this past month without you?" Slade asked roughly, stroking his hands over her hair and then down her arms.
Regina gripped his shoulders. "Probably the same way that I did. Day by day."
Their glances locked. "Yeah," he said hoarsely. "Day by day."
It was then that she had an inkling of his real feelings for her. Briefly, she glimpsed his passion, his soul. "What are you waiting for?" she whispered.
"You," he said. "I think I've been waiting for this moment and for you."
A wave of desire crashed over her. "Kiss me. Make love to me, Slade, please."
He did not need any further encouragement. He took her face in his hands and kissed her. It was thorough and endless. Regina was instantly reminded of the first kiss he had given her on their wedding night. She had never thought she would be kissed like that again-as if she were dearly loved and had been de�
�arly missed for a very long time. But she had been wrong. He was kissing her that way again.
His kiss spoke volumes. Slade had said he missed her; she could not doubt that it was true. But what she really wanted to know was if he loved her, and this kiss was making her think that maybe, after all, he did.
"Sweetheart," Slade murmured thickly a long time later, "I think I've been a fool."
Regina agreed but was not given the opportunity to speak. Slade was sliding his big body into hers. She wept. She wept because she loved him and in then-physical union she could sense the kind of completion she would not ever feel unless she gained his love in its entirety.
Regina woke up with a start, confused. Long shadows had cast the bedroom in semidarkness. Recollection swept through her. She sat up. Slade was gone.
Fear gripped her.
She took a calming breath. They had both dozed off in each other's arms after he had made love to her twice. But making love was not enough; they needed to reach an understanding. Slade had admitted that he missed her, and he had made love to her as if he loved her, but he had had such passion for her before and that had not stopped him from trying to end their relationship. Regina was not leaving. And she wanted him to know it and accept it.
She got up, washed quickly, and straightened her clothing. She went in search of her husband. She imagined that he might be in the den enjoying a before-dinner drink, but only Rick was there. He winked at her, but Regina could not smile back at him.
Rick spoke up, saving her the effort of a search. "He went outside and headed up the path going north."
"Thank you!" Regina hurried away from the house. The path ran parallel to the ocean, which was just out of sight, hidden by the sharp spine of a hill. The track soon crested a small rise. Behind her, the house was no longer in sight. Regina froze when she saw the small cemetery below her. Slade was there, standing in front of one of the headstones.
