by Brenda Joyce
She approached more slowly, fearful of intruding. It flitted through her mind that there was a irony in his choosing to find solitude in a cemetery and perhaps comfort from a dead man. Or was he here to bury his emotions? That thought angered her. Slade had been fighting his emotions since they had met. She refused to allow him to bury his head in the sand any longer- and his heart along with it. She would slowly and surely coax his feelings out of him, even if it took the length of their lifetime.
Slade's hands were in his pockets, his head was bowed. She wasn't sure if he was praying, grieving, or thinking. Her skirts rustled, announcing her approach. He didn't move. She came up behind him, hesitating only a heartbeat. Then she stepped forward, obeying her heart and her instincts, looping her arm in his and pressing against him.
He was tense. He didn't say anything and neither did she. He accepted her presence; for the moment that was enough. They stood in silence for a while, the sun setting now with finality. Gulls wheeled above them before fleeing through the incoming mist. Shadows slid out from the tombstones, long and eerie. A chill crept in with the dusk.
Finally he faced her, his eyes intent and probing.
Regina managed a brave smile. "Hello, Slade."
He reached out a hand. Gasping with delight, she gave him hers. He gripped it firmly. "Did Edward have something to do with you being here at Miramar?"
"Edward? No."
"I didn't think so." He stared at her. "If I sent you away, you wouldn't go, would you?"
"No, I would not go."
"I guess you're here to stay."
"I am."
His mouth slowly turned up. A single last ray of opalescent light slid over the ridge and Regina saw that his cheeks were wet and that he had been crying. "A man can only be a fool for so long. I know when to shout uncle."
"I beg your pardon?" she whispered.
"I haven't been happy. I want to be happy, Regina." His voice was unsteady.
"Let me make you happy! I can! I will!"
He almost laughed, the sound rough, then pulled her close and threw his arm around her. "I think you already have."
She sighed in relief and leaned against him. He would no longer fight their marriage, he would no longer fight her. She wanted more, she wanted him to openly love her, but she could wait for that. She was inspired with confidence. She smiled, gazing past her husband at the green ridges surrounding them, the jewel-like crown of Miramar. "Look," she whispered. "Miramar is smiling at us."
Indeed, it seemed that way. The inky night swirled over the hills and they seemed to come alive, pulsating with mystical, magical joy. But it was only the tendrils of fog, of course, along with her imagination.
Life soon slipped into its own unquenchable rhythm. There was a lot of work to be done, and both father and son relished the challenge. Slade had hired a dozen men within the first few days of his return. Every day he took the crew to the site where they were feverishly at work clearing the acreage he would put to the plow in the spring. Time was not on their side and everyone knew it. Bonuses would be given if half of the land was cleared in thirty days. And Slade did not stand idly by and watch. Regina soon learned that her husband enjoyed physical labor as much as he enjoyed mental challenges. Every night he came home exhausted but satisfied, and routinely he would discuss his day with her over the dinner table. Regina was an avid listener. She fervently hoped he would succeed in what seemed to her an impossible task.
Rick never said a word about the changes taking place on the rancho. Regina knew that Slade had resorted to underhanded tactics to win that battle, but she did not blame him. When push came to shove, she would unfailingly support her husband, and Rick would always have to be pushed hard when he was opposed to something. Yet he worked hard alongside his son, as caught up in the race against time as everyone else.
Edward returned home a few days later. Everyone was happy to see him, Regina included; he was a ray of bright sunshine and she imagined that he would always be welcome wherever he went. Victoria was ecstatic. And Edward was the perfect son, patiently enduring her pampering, all smiles and indulgence.
Victoria had tolerated Regina with cool disdain since Regina had come to Miramar at the end of the summer. Regina could only assume that Victoria had finally accepted the finality of her marriage to Slade.
As for Regina and Slade, they slid so easily and so nearly effortlessly into a domestic routine that it might have belonged to them in another lifetime. For a few days there was some awkwardness and tension between them. But Regina was eager to please her husband, to bring comfort into his life, and Slade seemed to want to get closer to her now. He left her with reluctance every morning and returned home to her eagerly every night. He shared all of the happenings of the day with her, his triumphs and his disasters, his hopes and his fears. Regina had always sought to be close to him, and now that he no longer held himself at a distance, their passion grew and the camaraderie they had shared just after their wedding during those first days in San Francisco blossomed anew.
It quickly became obvious to Regina what had happened to them in San Francisco. For whatever reason, Slade had been intent on wrecking their marriage by pushing her away from him. She could not understand why. He was a complicated man, so she might never know the whole of it unless he volunteered the information himself. But as the month passed she began to have suspicions. Several times he mentioned her lifestyle in England, watching her closely and awaiting her response intently. Regina finally called him on it. "Are you waiting for me to tell you that I miss my home? Or that I regret returning to you?"
Slade winced. "Do you?"
It was then that she understood him. He was afraid that she would become dissatisfied with her lot, cast in as it was with his. "No, Slade. I do not."
He studied her and slowly smiled. His next words were proof that she was right. "I think I misjudged you, Regina."
"I think that you have," she responded, moving into his arms.
By the first of October the roundup was completed and all the herds moved to more sheltered terrain to wait for the first onslaught of winter. Slade had finished clearing two hundred acres and it did not look as if he would meet his goal of three hundred, half of what he eventually hoped to put to the plow, before the rains. The days were growing shorter. All the men were working in a frenzy now, trying to finish the obviously impossible project. Time was running out if they hoped to clear all the land, for once winter set in the ground would become muddy and impassable.
Toward the end of October Regina stood by the window watching the first few drops of rain begin to fall. Tension filled her. The sky was dark and gray. It was almost dusk and she prayed these few sprinkled drops wer
e not the beginning of the rainy season. Just last night Slade had said they needed another two weeks.
Victoria came to stand beside her. "They didn't make it," she said quietly. There was no animosity in her tone. If anyone coveted the richness that Miramar could one day bring the family, it was Victoria. "It's going to rain."
"Maybe not," Regina said hopefully.
Ten minutes later the drizzle became a downpour.
An hour later the men came in, exhausted, soaked to the bone, muddy and dismayed. Regina took one look at Slade's grim face and flew to his side. His eyes told her that the winter had indeed begun, before they had finished what had been impossible to begin with.
Everyone was somber at the supper table that night.
Regina spoke into the dismal silence. "Well, clearing two hundred acres is nothing short of a miracle. You will be able to plant those acres at the first sign of spring."
Slade said nothing.
Rick said, "Wasn't no miracle, honey. There's no such thing."
Slade looked up.
Edward said, sipping a glass of red wine, "Slade, I believe you have just been indirectly complimented for a job well done."
Slade was still, his fork poised over his plate.
Rick said, "Well, hell. It was an impossible job, an' it was mostly done."
Regina looked at Slade, smiling. Although Rick and Slade had apparently settled past misunderstandings, Rick's praise was rare and she knew her husband cherished it when it came. But she had no chance to judge his reaction. For suddenly Josephine screamed.
She screamed from the kitchen as if someone was committing bloody murder.
And she screamed again.
Chaos erupted. Everyone leaped to their feet and rushed toward the kitchen. Regina found herself behind the men while Slade led the charge. He burst through the kitchen door and abruptly froze. His brother and father collided against him.
Regina could not see past the taller men. Frightened, her heart thundering, she gripped Slade's arm, standing on tiptoe, peering past him.
Josephine was prostrate on the floor. A big man stood above her. Regina cried out, thinking Josephine injured or even dead. She tensed, waiting for Slade, Rick, and Edward to leap forward to attack the intruder.
"Jesus," the big man said, white-faced. "What the hell is wrong with Josephine? She fainted when I walked in the door! And what the hell is wrong with all of you? You act like you're seeing a ghost!"
Regina gasped, suddenly thinking the unthinkable and praying for the impossible. Then a miracle unfolded before her very eyes as Slade rushed forward with a cry, not to attack the man, but to embrace him. "James!"
James had come back from the dead.
Chapter 29
Pandemonium erupted in the kitchen. Slade wrapped James in a bear hug. Edward pounded his back. Rick grabbed James's face in his two hands, shouting at him. "Where the hell have you been? Jesus! Where the hell have you been? We thought you were dead!"
Everyone was tearful, except James, who was stunned and bewildered. Regina was crying, but laughing too. She whispered her own quick prayer of thanks to God for such a wonderful miracle. Then she realized that Josephine had been forgotten in the ensuing reunion. She rushed to the prone woman. Kneeling, she felt for her pulse. Josephine had only fainted; already she was stirring.
It was then that Regina felt a distinct warning tingle racing up her spine. The four men were shouting at each other incomprehensibly. James was saying something about a letter. Warily she looked up. One person was not participating in the spontaneous celebration.
Victoria stood in the doorway. Many different emotions played across her face, but not one of them was joy. Regina shuddered. Nor did Victoria appear the least bit surprised. A horrible thought dawned. Yet it was indecent. Regina told herself that Victoria could not have known that James was alive and kept such a secret to herself. Her imagination was running away with her.
Victoria realized that she was being watched, meeting Regina's penetrating stare. Her eyes were angry, yet an instant later a smile transformed her features.
Regina was frozen. Her heart pounded painfully. This woman was somehow involved in the mystery surrounding James.
Josephine moaned. "Lawdy, I've seen a ghost!"
Regina stroked her brow. "No, dear, James has returned, but not as a ghost, as a mortal man."
Josephine cried out and Regina helped her to sit up. "James!" she shouted, furious. "I'm gonna whip you so bad you won't sit fer a week! Come heah, boy!" And she started to weep. Josephine had been the only mother James had ever known and she had loved him as she did any of her own children.
James was such a big man that he lifted the sobbing woman effortlessly to her feet. "God, I'm sorry. You all thought I was dead?" He looked horrified.
"Now I'm gonna kill you," Rick said, boxing his son's ears. But then a grin split his tearstained face. "What the hell happened? Where the hell have you been?"
James opened his mouth to respond and then he saw Regina. "Who's this?"
Instantly Slade pulled Regina forward, his arm around her. "This is my wife, Regina."
James was incredulous. "You're married?"
"I'm married," Slade said, with no small amount of pride and pleasure. "What the hell happened to you?"
"I wrote one letter and sent two telegrams," James protested. "I don't understand!"
There was a moment of sober silence. Regina could not help regarding Victoria, who was the only one to offer an explanation. Cheerfully, she said, "Mail gets lost all the time. And old Ben at the post office is drunk more often than not. Welcome home, James! How wonderful to have you back!"
James eyed her, obviously not buying his stepmother's welcome for an instant. "Ben Carter quit drinking last year. Or did he start up again?"
"Not that I know," Slade said grimly.
"Let’s go inside," Victoria said. "You're dripping all over the floor. Here, let me take your poncho. You must have quite a story to tell!"
Regina was sick. Something most definitely was I wrong. She knew what was wrong. Somehow, for some reason, Victoria had intercepted the letter and the telegrams. But why?
She did not know, could not even guess. And she did not dare speak out. It was not her place to do so, and I there was a chance she could be wrong. Later, privately, I she would mention her suspicions to Slade. God, how hurt Rick would be if Victoria had known that James was really alive. Then she thought about Edward. He would be devastated to learn of such treachery.
They moved into the den. Supper was forgotten. Josephine and Lucinda brought in steaming-hot coffee for everyone and a plate of hot food for James. Neither woman returned to the kitchen; instead th
ey hovered happily around James, just as everyone else did.
While he ate, before he launched into an explanation, Regina studied him. He was a very handsome man, a Delanza trait. He was bigger than Edward and Rick by several inches, and not just taller, but more heavily built. Yet there was no fat on his hard, powerful frame. His hair was the rich brown of mink, his eyes another shade of Delanza blue. He was certainly a man to set female hearts fluttering.
But the most obvious resemblance among all the men was their charisma. When James entered a room everyone would sit up and take notice. Regina had seen the same thing happen again and again with Rick, Edward, and her own husband Slade.
Rick was sitting on the sofa on one side of James, Slade on the other. Regina sat beside Slade, holding her husband's hand, ecstatically happy for him. Edward had pulled up an ottoman, so close that his knee almost brushed James's. Lucinda and Josephine had pulled up chairs and sat beside Rick, crowding him. They were even closer to James than Rick's wife. But Victoria sat in a chair on the other side of the seating area, distinctly removing herself from the family group, which Regina found disturbing and significant.
"Enough food," Rick growled. "I want to know where the hell you've been. We found your horse downriver after the floodwaters subsided, his leg broke, dead, caught in two uprooted trees. We already knew you'd disappeared. Jesus! We looked for you, not wanting to find you, afraid to find you dead!"
