Roxanne started, and as if coming out of a daze, muttered, “Uh, not exactly. Sort of. He stays here a lot.”
Shelly smiled kindly at her. “See, that didn't hurt. Now tell Auntie Shelly the rest of it.”
Roxanne laughed weakly. “Shit, Shelly, I don't know what the rest of it is.”
Shelly nodded. “I know what you mean. For a time there, I couldn't decide about Sloan and me either. I knew I loved him, but I didn't know if I could trust him.” She took another bite. “Then I decided that I loved him and the only way I was going to find out if I could trust him was to love him. Simple when you think about it. You just follow your heart.” “Easy for you to say,” Roxanne grumbled, picking at her food. “You and Sloan had a history together. Jeb and I … Well, I've spent most of my adult life thinking he was an arrogant jerk—and that was only when I wasn't thinking he was the biggest prick I'd ever known.”
“Obviously you've discovered you were wrong, right?”
Reluctantly Roxanne admitted, “Yes. I was wrong. He's not a complete jerk.”
Shelly laughed. “Oh, that's good— you’ ve not gone all soft and silly over him. It's bad for them when they think we adore them—even when we do.” She eyed Roxanne, her expression suddenly serious. “You do adore him, don't you?”
Appalled, Roxanne heard herself say, “Yes, yes I do. I'm so in love with him, I don't know what to do about it.”
“What's his take?” Shelly asked, her green eyes full of curiosity. “He's serious, I know that much.”
“You just found out about it, how can you possibly know that?”
“Easy. You say this has been going on since New Year's Day. It's now the end of February. Never known Jeb to hang around for more than two weeks. A month tops. And if you don't believe me, ask M.J.” Shelly grinned. “M.J. keeps track of that sort of thing. She says it keeps her from forgetting that all men are scum and that once they've gotten what they want from a woman, they're movin’ on down the road. Fast.”
“Thank you, I needed to hear that,” Roxanne said dryly.
Shelly leaned forward, her voice sincere. “Oh, Roxy, don't you see, they only do that while they're looking and waiting for the right one. You've done it yourself. You can't hold it against them. Besides, the poor dears are just men.” She grinned. “Once they find the right one, they're hooked—even if they struggle a bit before they give up and admit it. And remember M.J.'s opinion is colored by that nasty divorce of hers.”
Roxanne nodded. “Yeah, that'd do it for me.” She took a bite of salad and chewed. Swallowing, she looked across at Shelly. “And that's all I can tell you, because I haven't a clue what comes next.”
“OK, I accept that. You two need to work out your feelings. You're probably both scared. I know Jeb must be.”
Exasperated, Roxanne snapped, “And how do you know so much about him?”
“Come on, Roxy, use your head. The man's been married and divorced twice. There's probably all kinds of baggage he's carrying around. He's what, forty-five? He's been single for years. This will be a big step for him. He's bound to be gun-shy and cautious. And what about you? You've got some baggage of your own. What about that actor you almost married? And what about that photographer you lived with when you first went back to New York? Don't you think Jeb is wondering how he stacks up? You know women aren't the only ones who are uncertain when they fall in love. Think about it from his point of view. You're this glamorous world-famous model just returned from New York. Could have just about any man you want. How do you know he doesn't think you're just toying with him?”
Roxanne stared at her thunderstruck. “You think Jeb is afraid that I don't love him?” Her voice rose indignantly. “That I'm playing a game?”
Shelly shrugged. “Could be.” She looked at her. “Have you told him how you feel? Let him know that this means more to you than just playing house?”
“No … not exactly …” Roxanne swallowed, looking miserable. “I just can't come out and say ‘I love you.’ ”
“Why not? Assuming you do? This isn't the Victorian Age, you know. Women are allowed to express their feelings.”
Roxanne looked away, played with her spoon. “What if he doesn't love me?” she asked in a low voice. “What if he's just passing time? What if I'm the only one thinking what we share is forever?”
“Well, first of all, Jeb never struck me as a dunce—he's a smart man and, in my humble estimation, a smart man would reach out and grab you with both hands. You're a catch. And so is he. He's crazy if he doesn't realize how perfect the two of you are together.”
“Yeah, but …”
Shelly leaned forward. “All right, let's assume the worst. Let's assume that he is playing with you. That he doesn't love you. Wouldn't you rather know that than live in a false world?”
Roxanne nodded. “I know you're right but I'm still scared to death—guess because it never really mattered before.” Roxanne looked at her plate. “It's funny,” she said ruefully, “I've never been shy when it came to men. Never had to be—they just fell at my feet and I decided which one I wanted.”
“And Jeb doesn't appear to worship at your feet?”
Roxanne grinned. “Are you kidding? Absolutely not! And the interesting thing is that I wouldn't want him if he did.” She grimaced. “It's awfully hard being put on a pedestal and being adored.”
“OK, so what are you going to do?”
Roxanne took a deep breath. “I don't know. It all happened so fast—one minute I hated his guts and the next I'm hopelessly in love with him.” She eyed Shelly. “I don't suppose I could convince you to keep your mouth shut for a while?”
Shelly's eyes gleamed. “Oh, wow, are you going to owe me big time. Sure. If I can tell Sloan—and as you know your big brother is good at keeping secrets. He won't let the cat out of the bag.”
Roxanne didn't like it, but she figured it was the best she was going to get. “Thanks. And when I've resolved the problem, you'll be the first to know.”
They finished their lunch in perfect harmony, talking about the weather, the worries about the lack of rain, Shelly and Nick's Granger Cattle Company, Sloan's budding paint horse operation, and Roxanne's ideas for growing flowers and maybe having a place for harried celebrities to hide away. Shelly was enthusiastic about both projects.
“You know,” she said, “you might even be able to drag Ilka into it. She needs something to do besides living in your parents’ shadow and volunteering at the high school and Willits Hospital.”
“I know.” Roxanne made a face. “I suppose you've heard about my attempts to pry her loose from her veil of sorrow?”
Shelly nodded. “I thought it was great, but Sloan wasn't so sure. He says that Ilka is going to have to make the break all by herself. That we can provide the opportunities, but she's the one who has to take them.” “I said it before and I'll say it again, how did my brother get to be such a smart man?”
They both laughed.
“Don't heap too many praises on his head—he's puffed up enough with himself as it is,” Shelly said wryly. She took a deep breath. “We've gotten the fertility test results back.”
“And?”
“And you and Sloan were right. According to the tests there is no obvious reason why I shouldn't get pregnant. We're both healthy and fertile.”
Roxanne smiled happily. “What great news! Aren't-you thrilled?”
Shelly shrugged. “Yes and no. I now know there's no physical reason for me not getting pregnant, but here it's seven, eight months later after we got married and I'm still not pregnant.”
Roxanne reached across and laid her hand on Shelly's. “Maybe you need to take another approach.”
“If you say relax and enjoy it. Or take a second honeymoon. Or have some wine and Valium, I'm going to hit you.”
“Nope, nothing like that. Let's take a dark view. Let's suppose, for whatever reasons, you never get pregnant. How would you feel about that?”
“Like a failure,
” Shelly said in a low voice. “Like I cheated Sloan. Denied him something he desperately wanted.”
“Would Sloan feel that you've cheated him? Is he making you feel guilty?”
Shelly looked shocked. “Oh, good God, no! He feels like he's denying me something that I want desperately. He's as eaten up with guilt for his part in this as I am.” She laughed unhappily. “He feels that he's denying me—he wants me to have anything I want and I feel the same about him.”
“OK, let's go a step further. If there was only yourself to consider, don't think about him, just you, how would you feel if you never had a child?”
Shelly frowned. Thought for several minutes, then said slowly, “I'd be disappointed, shattered even, but it wouldn't be the end of the world … as long as Sloan loved me.”
“Maybe it wouldn't be the end of the world for Sloan either. Maybe he feels that as long as you love him, that life's pretty damn good. Maybe you two need to talk about that.”
Shelly squeezed Roxanne's hand, their eyes meeting. “You know, your brother isn't the only one in the family who's smart,” Shelly said. “You're pretty damn smart yourself.” She grinned and added, “For a Ballinger, that is.”
“Yeah, well, for a Granger, you're not so dumb yourself.”
Chapter
16
With Shelly's words about Ilka buzzing in her brain, after Shelly had driven away that afternoon, Roxanne called her sister.
Helen Ballinger answered the phone and Roxanne and her mother spent a few minutes catching up on the latest family news.
“Have you had that terrible flu virus that's going around the valley?” Helen asked eventually. “Your father had it two weeks ago and Ilka the week before that. So far I've escaped, but it's awful and seems to hang on forever. Your father still isn't up to par, but Ilka seems to have bounced back. I understand that Cleo was out almost a week with it at the end of the January and at the Lioness meeting last night, nearly everyone was complaining about it—they'd all either had it or someone in their family had.”
“Knock on wood, so far, I haven't caught it.” Roxanne laughed. “Probably because I'm isolated up here and not mingling with you sickly valley folk.”
“Probably,” Helen agreed. “But if you do come down with it, don't be foolish and try to tough it out by yourself. Let us know so someone can come and stay with you for the first couple of days—that seems to be the worst patch. And don't tell me that you're a big girl and can take care of yourself—you're always going to be my little girl—whether you like it or not.”
Roxanne chuckled, touched by her mother's words.
“OK. OK. Mom, I surrender. If I get sick, I'll call. I promise. Now let me talk to Ilka.”
To her astonishment, Ilka was not home.
Helen laughed. “I know, I know. We all expect Ilka to always be around, but Pagan Granger talked her into driving to Santa Rosa to look at computers today.”
“Computers?” Roxanne repeated blankly.
Her mother laughed *again. “Yes, computers. I understand that M.J. grabbed Ilka at the store one day when Pagan was there and they all got to fooling around on the Internet. Ilka is hooked—now she wants a computer of her own and for Pagan to tutor her. I think they may stay at Ross's place tonight before heading back tomorrow. Ilka said to expect her when I saw her. Such a refreshing change—and you can take some of the credit for that.”
Roxanne made a face at the phone. “Maybe. I think all Ilka needed was just a little push.”
“Well, how about you give your baby brother a push? Did you meet his latest Barbie doll?”
“Er, no, I haven't. Did he bring her to St. Galen's? That sounds serious.”
“No, thank God. I guess I have that to be thankful for. We met his latest little bimbo over the weekend when we drove to Santa Rosa to visit some friends. This latest one is stunning, I'll give you that, but if she has two brain cells to rub together in that gorgeous blond head of hers, I'll be surprised.” Helen sighed. “I like to tell myself that Ross is too smart to actually marry one of these women. In fact, for a long time, I just thought it was a stage he was going through, but he's not a kid anymore and he still seems fascinated by these women whose bust size is larger than their IQ. I'm terrified that he's going to show up at the door one day and say, ‘Look who I married, Susie Brain-dead.—
Roxanne choked on a laugh. “Come on, Mom, Ross has got more sense than that. He's just, uh, having fun.”
“And that reminds me … when are you going to stop having fun and start thinking about marriage and children?”
Roxanne grimaced at the phone. “Uh, urn, gee, I gotta go right now, Mom—someone's at the front door. Love ya. Bye.”
Hanging up from her mother, Roxanne stared down at the phone as if it might bite her. Oh, great! Just what she needed—her mother quizzing her about her love life. She gave herself a shake and sinking down onto the sofa in the great room, stared off into space.
Her thoughts were scrambled for a while, but eventually they cleared and she began to think about what her mother had said about Ilka. It was good that Ilka was taking an interest in something new, but Roxanne didn't know that surfmg the Internet was necessarily the best new hobby for someone who was already inclined to solitude. Then she shrugged. She'd see how it went before she started meddling—at the moment, the way she was handling her own affairs didn't instill within her a great deal of confidence that she knew the answer to everything. If she didn't know what she was going to do in her life, how the devil could she go around telling someone else what to do with their life? Her lips quirked. Well, hell, when had she ever let a little thing like that stop her?
She'd enjoyed the visit with Shelly. She genuinely liked her sister-in-law and hoped that when Ross left behind his Barbie doll toys and finally settled down that he'd choose someone who fit into the family as well as Shelly did—even if she was a “hated” Granger. Thinking of the long-standing enmity between Granger and Ballinger, she shook her head. What a crock! Probably the only ones who thought that way these days were her father's generation. Listening to tales around the campfire about the wicked Grangers and the evil things they did to the angelic Ballingers might make for an interesting evening, but Roxanne suspected that in the light of day, the stories were only half right: no one ever mentioned the equally wicked and nefarious deeds the Ballingers executed against the Grangers.
She was restless for the rest of the day, the conversations with Shelly and her mother never far from her thoughts, though she tried hard to shove them out of her mind. Since the weather was not conducive to wandering around outside, she headed for the kitchen. After putting on a pot of coffee and putting a Gipsy Kings CD on the player at full blast, she dragged out a cookbook she'd bought in New Orleans once and a few minutes later was busily trying her hand at making chocolate eclairs. It didn't seem too hard although there were several different steps. The whipped cream filling was a snap and even the dark chocolate frosting for the top wasn't difficult. The pastry part of the eclair wasn't difficult either but it was messy, she decided, as she delicately pushed the spoonfuls of goopy dough into an oblong shape. Shutting the oven door on the pastry, she crossed her fingers. The dough bore little resemblance to the plump eclairs she pictured in her mind, but she'd followed the recipe so they should turn out OK. Not a whiz in the kitchen—as she used to say with a wicked smile, her talents lay in a different direction—Roxanne had great faith in cookbooks.
Taking a sip of coffee now and then, halfway dancing to the primitive beat of the Gipsy Kings, she puttered around the kitchen, cleaning up the mess. When the bell rang signaling that the pastries were done, she took a deep breath and peeked.
A squeak of pleasure came out. “Ooh, you little darlings! Aren't you just beautiful,” she exclaimed as she opened the oven door and took out a dozen or so perfectly risen and delicately browned pastry puffs.
Pleased and proud of herself, she set them on the rack to cool.
Dawg and Boss
were at her feet and she gave them a stern look. “Touch one and you're dead.”
“Now that's a greeting I don't expect very many men want to come home to at night,” said Jeb from the doorway of the kitchen.
Roxanne jumped and spun around to face him. Her heart leaped as it always did at the unexpected sight of him. The kitchen suddenly became small, Jeb's big frame filling the doorway, making everything shrink around him as he stood there, that half smile she'd grown to love on his lips.
She laughed and rushed to him. “That wasn't for you,” she said as his arms closed around her. Her hands cupped his face and her lips brushed his. “This,” she breathed against his mouth, “is for you.”
Bodies locked together, they kissed deeply, passion humming between them. When Jeb finally lifted his head several moments later his eyes were glazed and his brain mush. With an effort he focused on Roxanne's flushed features. “Now that,” he finally managed, “is a welcome home a man would walk through fire to get.”
“I should hope so,” Roxanne said saucily as she turned away and went back to admiring her pastries, turning the racks of pastries this way and that. “It isn't every man that I turn up the wattage for.”
Jeb walked up behind her. His hand resting possessively on the back of her neck, he bent and bit her eargently. “I'd like to think that I'm the only guy you kiss like that.”
Roxanne's hands stilled, her heart skittering around in her breast like a rabbit chased by a very large, very hungry fox. Now how did she reply to that statement? she wondered, breathless. Turn around, fling her arms around him, and exclaim, “Oh, you are, you are!” or give him a smart-mouth remark? Funny thing, she seemed fresh out of smart remarks.
The silence spun out and she was increasingly aware that Jeb was waiting for a reply. She swallowed. She loved him. Loved him as she had never loved anyone before in her life and it scared her to death. She knew Jeb enjoyed screwing her blind and seemed to equally enjoy her company. Did that add up to love? This was all uncharted territory for her. Conquests had always come easy for her and it had never mattered a great deal whether the man of the moment was “in love” with her or not. If he professed to be, well, that was very nice, but as long as they had taken pleasure in each other's bodies and company, that had been enough for Roxanne … then. But this was now and it mattered more than anything ever had that Jeb loved her. Loved her as deeply, as fiercely, as she did him.
Coming Home Page 26
