She reveled in her own exploration of him, too—hard, honed muscles and deeply cut vales; massive, sinewy legs; that tight derriere; and the long, steely shaft of his masculinity and desire—need—for her.
And when he slipped that glorious shaft inside her and drove them both to a new and higher peak, she knew not only a blind ecstasy but a completeness, a sense that what they’d found together was meant to be. And for a brief, explosive moment, she couldn’t imagine being anywhere else or ever leaving him behind.
But then they crossed over the crest and came back to earth.
And even though lying in Jackson’s arms was still bliss, fear crept back into her consciousness. And though he stroked her hair where her head rested on his chest, though he held her close and their legs were entwined the way they’d been when she’d awakened this morning, the fear didn’t lessen.
Then, in a passion-raspy voice he said, “Do you ever think about getting married again?”
Fear turned to the same kind of terror she’d felt at the top of the windmill, but she fought to hide it. “Sure, I think about it,” she answered quietly. “Do you?”
“Not until lately.” He paused a moment and then, almost hesitantly, said, “Would you think about marryin’ me?”
Ally didn’t answer that immediately. She couldn’t. How could such a simple question strike such disparate feelings in her? But it did, as fear warred with happiness.
Then she realized that agreeing to think about marrying him was not the same as saying yes. So, as if she were venturing out onto thin ice, she said, “I’ll think about it.” She wouldn’t be able not to think about his quiet, solemn proposal.
Then, out of the blue and completely taking Ally by surprise, came a flashback of her daughter under that horse. And that much more reasonable and rational fear pushed aside the unreasonable and irrational one she’d just been feeling as she was washed in an intense memory of her own helplessness in doing anything to save Meggie from that danger.
And Ally knew that she’d be thinking a lot about that, too.
Chapter Nine
The storm of the day and night before had stopped and given way to a clear sky for the naming ceremony that was to take place as the sun first rose above the horizon. The hundred or so guests began arriving just before dawn.
Everyone brought a dish for a potluck breakfast, leaving it on the picnic tables, and birth gifts stacked up in a considerable pyramid in one corner of the patio.
Ash’s grandfather, Robert Yazzie, had arrived late the previous night and in the predawn haze, Ash introduced him around.
The two tall Native American men were dressed in dark slacks and white shirts, but beyond that, their attire spoke of their own culture.
Each wore soft white deerskin moccasins that wrapped around their calves nearly to their knees, and beaded necklaces and wristbands that lent festivity and dignity to the event. And both men, whose hair reached well down their backs, wore it loose today—something Kansas confided to Ally that both Ash and his grandfather did only for sacred rites, otherwise keeping it tied back.
As the sun’s first rays lighted the sky cotton-candy pink and butternut yellow, family, friends and neighbors gathered near a small stand, on which rested a wooden cradle that looked like a section of hollowed-out, halved tree trunk.
“This has been handed down from generation to generation in my family,” Ash explained as Robert carved a triangular notch in the edge of the cradle, where seven other, similar gashes had already been made in the age-old wood that was as smooth as sueded silk.
“We cut into the frame,” Robert continued as he worked, “to leave a mark for each child who uses the cradle. As you can see, it belonged to Ash and to his father before him and to me and my two brothers, as well as to our father and his before him.”
“And yes,” Ash added with a laugh, “this baby is the first girl born to our family in quite some time.”
Robert finished the job by sanding the edges smooth. When that was done Ash went to his house, where Beth stood in the doorway, holding the baby and watching from there.
He took his daughter from her, offered his wife his arm and carried the child out into the dawning light.
When they reached the stand he laid his daughter in the cradle and with tender care placed a soft leather cummerbund across the infant’s swaddled middle, wrapping thin leather strips around that and the wood at once to hold her secure.
Then he picked up the cradle.
That was the cue for Ally and Kansas to step forward.
“We’ve chosen Ally and Kansas to be our Corn Mothers—the Blue Corn Woman...” Beth gave Kansas a flawless ear of blue corn. “And the White Corn Maiden...” An equally perfect ear of white corn came to Ally. “The Corn Mothers symbolize the original mothers of our people and they will offer the earth’s bounty to the sun and also in six other directions—north—” he paused for them to comply “—west...south...east...nadir...and zenith.”
Ally and Kansas held the ears of corn on either end and, with each turn, extended them as was befitting the giving of a gift.
“And now they will present our baby the same way.”
Ally and Kansas each took an end of the cradle and did as they had with the corn—holding the child out to the sun, the other four compass points, down to the earth, and finally straight up in the air, before handing the cradle back to Ash.
There were tears in the big man’s eyes as he kissed the baby’s brow and announced, “Beth and I have decided to call her Marissa Morningdove.” Then, to everyone watching, he said, “Thank you all for coming out so early to be a part of her beginning.”
Beth hugged her husband’s arm, stood on tiptoe and kissed him. Then she said jokingly, “He’s only slightly proud of her,” making everyone laugh and break into applause.
Ally felt Meggie step to her side just then and take her hand. She glanced down at her daughter, finding the little girl staring teary eyed at the scene in front of them.
Or more specifically, at Ash and the obvious love he exhibited toward his daughter as he took her out of the wooden cradle and began to show her off to his guests.
Meggie had awakened in good spirits this morning and insisted she felt fine in spite of the huge lump and angry purple bruise on her forehead, the matching set on her elbow, and the bluish tint to her shoulder. She’d been anxious for the Indian ceremony and the breakfast party.
But the child Ally looked down on now was a world away from that. Instead she was every bit as morose as she’d been before they’d come to the ranch.
“Did my daddy used to hold me that way?” she asked in a quiet voice that broke Ally’s heart.
“Sure,” she answered as glibly as she could manage, hoping to defuse the depression that seemed to have made a resurgence.
“I’m too big for him to hold like a baby now, though,” Meggie said bravely.
“That’s true.”
“But maybe if he came back pretty soon I wouldn’t be too big to sit in his lap, do you think?”
“Meggie...”
“I know. You don’t want me to get up my hopes that he’s gonna come back. But if he did?”
“You can sit on my lap anytime you want.”
It’s not the same.
Meggie didn’t say it, but Ally read it in her expression as her daughter glanced longingly back at Ash where he cuddled the baby in his arms and rubbed her nose with his while he made silly noises to her.
Doug, you bastard, Ally thought, fighting tears of her own.
And then all of a sudden Jackson came up from behind them and clasped both of Meggie’s shoulders. “Here’s my girl!” He claimed her heartily.
Ally didn’t know if he had any idea what was going on with her daughter, but she could have fallen at his feet in gratitude just then as he went on to use his special charm on the little girl, saying he had breakfast steaks to cook and needed his Miss Meggie to help him to do it.
Meggie’s smile wasn’t a
s bright or carefree as it had been the past few days, but she mustered one for him and that was something. And when he offered her his hand to hold, she blushed with pleasure and took it.
There was no substitute, Ally realized, for what Meggie was really starved for—the love and affection of her own father—but at least Jackson’s attention seemed to stave off some of it.
The trouble was, Ally thought as she watched the two of them head for the barbecue, until now she’d hoped that coming here would be more than a mere distraction. That it would be the cure that would let Meggie accept that she might never see her father again and go on from there.
But now, seeing that the despondency was just lurking beneath the surface, ready to spring back to life at the drop of a hat, she felt as if these hopes had been dashed.
And she couldn’t help asking herself if the weaker-than-she’d-believed merits of being here outweighed the much-greater-than-she’d-known dangers.
It was something she most definitely had to factor into her thinking about marrying Jackson.
* * *
Once Jackson had finished his cooking duties, he stayed close to Ally the rest of the morning. It wasn’t only that he wanted to be near her—which he did—but he was also answering a feeling that if he left her side for too long, she’d disappear.
He tried to believe the feeling was irrational. After all, he’d thought the same thing the night before, that Meggie’s accident had done what all his tactics had failed to accomplish—it had scared Ally so badly she’d hightail it out of here at the first opportunity.
Instead, she’d come to his room, made love with him. And he’d convinced himself he was imagining things.
But this morning the feeling had returned and he couldn’t stop the overwhelming sense that she was shying away from this place. From him. That he’d seen the same look in her eyes that had been in Sherry’s just before she’d left.
It didn’t help matters that Meggie’s bumps and bruises brought questions from nearly everyone at the celebration and that Ally had to relive the incident in answering them. Or that too many times once her answer was given the response was a horror story about accidents or injuries or mishaps that someone had had themselves or witnessed or known about.
Jackson watched Ally every time it happened and although no one had said anything to purposely frighten her, nevertheless each tale drained a little more color from her face. He couldn’t blame her for feeling frightened for her little girl. Frightened enough to leave here, maybe?
No. She’d been determined enough about staying here to put up with all he’d dished out, he reminded himself. To turn down his every offer to buy her out. She’d been convinced this was where they belonged. So why would she leave now?
And yet, as much as he tried to convince himself otherwise, he just couldn’t shake the sense that she would.
* * *
By early that afternoon all the guests were gone, leaving behind the kind of mess a gathering of that size engendered. Ally, Jackson, Marta, Hans and Ash comprised the cleanup crew, but they’d barely gotten started when Jackson received a call that several head of cattle were down on one of the outlying pastures. It was something he had to see to and, when he hung up the phone, he went to announce it to everyone in general.
Then he took Ally aside.
“I’ll have to take the helicopter out—this herd is at the farthest edge of our property. Want to come along?”
Her smile was wan and still it had the power to heat up his insides. “The helicopter?”
“I’m a good pilot, if you’re worried about it. The view is incredible and you’ll get to see the whole ranch at once. We can even take Meggie, give her a ride.”
Mistake. He could see it the moment he said it. It was apparent Ally wasn’t enamored of his favorite toy, but add Meggie to the equation and Ally’s face turned the color of the rail fence her daughter had whitewashed.
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” she said, those terrific Irish eyes of hers growing wide.
“She’d love it.”
“She’d love to eat her way through a candy store, too. That doesn’t mean she knows what’s good for her.”
“Okay, then we’ll leave her here with Hans and Marta, and just you and I will go.”
Her head shook with enough vigor to set her long curly hair shimmying. “If you’re giving me a choice, the answer is no. I’m basically the only parent Meggie has and—”
And she really was spooked. Suddenly he saw just how deeply.
“And I forgot you don’t like heights,” he said, more to himself than to her when he remembered it. He could have kicked himself for no doubt reminding her of yet another unnerving incident—the windmill.
Trying for some damage control, he made light of it all. “I don’t suppose surveying your kingdom from a helicopter would be a lot of fun for you, would it? It doesn’t matter. You don’t ever have to fly in the ‘copter if you don’t want to.”
She looked relieved but only marginally.
He couldn’t resist reaching out to her, rubbing her arm. “It’s okay, really. No big deal.”
But he could see that she wasn’t comforted and that it was a big deal to her. As everything suddenly seemed to be.
“I’ll be back in a few hours. Why don’t you and Meggie go for a swim, relax the rest of the afternoon?” Lounge around the pool the way I accused you of wanting to do. But now, if only you’d stay, I wouldn’t care if that really was all you ever did....
“You’ll be careful?” she answered, clearly as concerned for his safety as for her daughter’s, for her own.
“Sure. Nothing to worry about,” he said confidently, squeezing her arms and even venturing a small kiss in spite of the fact that they were in plain sight. “I’ll be back by suppertime,” he assured.
Then he headed for the helicopter.
But she really was worried. It was the last thing he saw as he lifted off from the helipad. It was etched into her beautiful face, lining it, pulling her full pink lips down at the corners, creasing a spot between her eyes as she watched him go.
That was when he knew he was just kidding himself to think history wasn’t repeating itself. And in that instant Jackson Heller hardened his heart.
Ally was a city girl through and through. She didn’t belong living a rancher’s life. She wouldn’t be happy in the long run. His feeble hopes that they could have a future together, a good marriage, a family, were unrealistic.
As unrealistic as thinking his love for Sherry would have been enough to keep her here all those years ago.
This wasn’t the place for Ally any more than it had been the place for his former wife.
The best thing would be for Ally to sell out and go back to Denver.
Best for her. Best for Meggie.
Best for him, too.
Because as he returned home at dusk, just the way he had so long ago at the end of the cattle drive that had taken him away from Sherry, he remembered much too vividly how anxious he’d been to see her, and how hard it had been to find, instead, an empty house.
So damn empty it had echoed.
Empty closets.
Empty drawers.
And just a note hooked onto the divorce papers saying she couldn’t take living here anymore....
He didn’t ever want to walk into that kind of emptiness again. To feel that fist of pain jammed into his stomach. That shock. The agony that went on and on....
Better that he lost Ally and Meggie face-to-face. Better that he watched them go.
So before he’d even reached the sliding door to the kitchen where he could see her setting the table for supper, he’d made up his mind.
One more night.
He could have one more night with Ally.
And then he’d send her away.
* * *
“You’re sure you don’t want all your dolls and stuffed animals around you like last night?” Ally asked Meggie as she tucked her in.
> “No, not tonight. I only wanted them then because I had those dumb ol’ butterflies in my tummy like before, but they’re gone now.”
“And how about the sad feeling? That was back this morning, too, wasn’t it?”
Meggie frowned. “I wish I was the new baby and my daddy was here with me.”
“I know, sweetheart.” Ally smoothed her daughter’s forehead and waited for the tears that this conversation was likely to bring on.
But they never came.
Instead Meggie yawned and snuggled into her pillow.
“Hans said the momma pig was havin’ her babies tonight so we’ll get to see ‘em tomorrow. They’ll be so cute....”
Meggie’s eyes had closed as she talked and Ally watched her drift off to sleep, amazed that the subject of her father had been so easily passed over. But that single comment seemed to have been the sum and substance of it.
Grateful for that, at least, Ally kissed her daughter’s tiny, bruised brow and silently made her way out of the room, carrying with her the knowledge that no matter how substantial the improvements in Meggie were, they could be reversed in the blink of an eye.
She eased the door shut after herself and found Jackson waiting for her in the hall the way he’d been the night before.
Tall and muscular, he was dressed in a black T-shirt that fit him like a second skin, tight blue jeans whose pockets sported his thumbs, and his ever-present boots—one crossed over the other at the ankle, the pointed toe spiked against the floor. He looked heart-stoppingly handsome. And Ally wished she weren’t so drawn to him that she felt complete only when she was with him.
“You’re not lookin’ happy tonight, darlin’,” he observed in a lazy drawl.
“I’m just a little tired,” she answered. He didn’t need to know that the weariness was more emotional than physical.
“Too tired for some wine and stargazin’?”
Never too tired to be with you, she thought. And even though she knew she should decline the invitation, she said, “I could probably stay awake for that.”
She turned in the direction of the stairs, but he caught her arm and pulled her the other way. “Best place for it is on the deck off my room. Less light.”
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