The Art of Love (The Windswept Saga)

by Tommie Conrad

  He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead as he surveyed the fireworks display. He unfastened the snap below the collar of his shirt, granting his chest precious air. Sweat was already trailing down the center of his stomach, and he smiled at himself dolefully. Only his brother would undo another button and think it stylish. “I get the feeling this fuse would explode in my palm if I held it a second too long,” he worried aloud.

  Chase brushed him aside gently, without making it seem like the protective pose of a parent. “Let me take care of that,” he recommended in his weathered voice. “Your hands are far more valuable than mine.”

  Chandler stood up and removed the sheen of sweat from his neck. CJ and Mark were over the next hill with Sam, checking to make sure no stray cow had wandered into the area. He suddenly wondered if, on a day like today, fireworks were even safe. The last thing they needed was a brush fire. He frowned at himself and cleared his throat. “Dad, could I talk to you about something?”

  Chase smiled fondly at his youngest child. “That’s something you don’t even have to ask, son. Fire at will.”

  Chandler stifled a laugh at his father’s remark and smiled. “You didn’t really know Mom that long before you decided to marry her, right?”

  Chase responded with a perceptive smile. “No, it was only a matter of months. It was very easy and very quick to fall in love with her, but I don’t want you to think we didn’t stumble along the way. We spent a lot of time together in those early days. We worked the ranch and took all three meals together. Then we started becoming friends and I shared things with her I’d never shared with another living soul. I told her about how crushing it was to be alone in the world, and talked about my dreams and fears. Thanks to your mom, my dreams came true, and then some.” He smiled reflectively, and Chandler felt like he’d intruded upon a tender, private moment. He was startled by his father’s next inquiry, coming so fast and unapologetically it nearly gave him whiplash. “You’re planning to get down on one knee and ask Taylor to marry you?”

  “Yeah,” Chandler replied once he’d regained his emotional footing.

  Chase nodded in understanding. “I figured as much. That kind of relaxed anxiety is hard for a man to hide—especially you.”

  “Relaxed anxiety?” Chandler repeated with both brows arched. His father laughed in reply.

  “I’ll say one thing for the men in this family,” Chase noted. “When we fall in love, we do it right under our own noses. Your mom was my ranch hand, CJ and Alison tightened up after a summer of shoeing horses, and now you’ve hired and reignited things with your high school sweetheart.” He gave his son the slightest wink. “Well played, kid.”

  “I guess it was stupid of me to pretend that I could turn off my feelings when I offered her the job.”

  “A man’s powerless against love,” Chase said, slapping him playfully on the shoulder. “You might as well try to lasso a comet and ride its tail across the sky.”

  “You know what?” Chandler asked. “My dad taught me how to lasso.”

  Chase glanced toward the fireworks one last time. When their gazes met again, Chandler saw that his father’s blue eyes were suddenly wet. “Did he? Sounds like a fine man.”

  Chandler nodded in agreement. “The finest.”

  ***

  Taylor could feel the house, and by extension the air conditioning unit, groaning against the heat. She hadn’t even been outside and she still knew it—it was hot enough out there to fry an egg on the pavement. She yawned and pulled her hair into a ponytail before she headed into the kitchen.

  “Mom?”

  Alice was searching the pantry for something unseen. “In here,” she called out helpfully.

  “I was just wondering if maybe you shouldn’t stay home today.”

  She emerged with a bag of sugar which she promptly set atop the counter. “I’ve survived worse heat than this. Besides, I was going to make some candy.”

  Taylor eyed the bag of sugar worriedly. “You don’t have to go through any trouble. Bryn will have more than enough food for everyone.”

  “I hope so.” Alice met her daughter’s eyes. “Speaking of which, how is your relationship with your boyfriend’s mother?”

  “Tense,” she answered honestly. “And part of that is my fault. How would you feel if someone had broken your child’s heart without a compelling reason?”

  “Point taken. How much time have you spent with her?”

  Taylor paused before answering, performing some mental calculations. “To be honest, not a lot.” She shook her head. “I don’t think it’s been on purpose. We’ve obviously spent a lot of time one-on-one…um, together,” she censored quickly. “Chase and Bryn stay pretty busy. There seems to be no shortage of things to do on the ranch. And I’m sure we’ll have plenty of opportunities to spend time with them.”

  “Just don’t replace me with her,” Alice begged with a wink.

  “I don’t think you have to worry about that, Mom,” Taylor replied, gripping her hand. “Whatever our differences have been over the years, no one can replace you.”

  They drove through the town, the patriotic streamers hanging limply from streetlights. A few children stood in the courthouse square with sparklers, their parents watching at a safe distance. Taylor remembered being a child, sitting on her father’s shoulders and watching the parade floats go by. Maybe he hadn’t been as tall as her child’s mind envisioned, but he always gave her the best vantage point. It was the same in life—he hadn’t been there as long as she’d wanted, but long enough to imbue her with strength, tenacity, and courage. Like anyone else, she needed to be reminded of that every now and again.

  “The ranch looks beautiful,” Alice noted upon their arrival. “Where is Chandler’s house?”

  Taylor navigated the unpaved road carefully. “Way back on the other side,” she said, drawing out the first word. “They just bought that last year. It used to be the Coronado Ranch.”

  “That’s right,” she recalled. “I’m sure you’re eager to see him.”

  She shot her mother an annoyed smirk. “It’ll be a while before we cross paths today. We’re going to hang out with the women and children.”

  “Not a bad place to be.”

  She parked the car and attempted to help Alice up the stairs, only to find herself brushed off. Bryn greeted them at the front door, looking beautiful and vibrant behind her familiar apron.

  “Welcome to our home,” she said brightly. “It’s so nice to see you again, Alice.”

  “Thank you,” she replied quickly as they exchanged cheek kisses. “Need any help in the kitchen?”

  Bryn laughed. “Of course. You’re our guest and under no obligation to help, but I’d be glad for it. You can join in too, Taylor.”

  “Thank you,” she replied with a nod. She overheard the sound of children’s laughter. “I think I’ll check on the kids first, though.”

  “Sounds good.” She hooked an arm around Alice’s shoulders and the women chattered their way toward the kitchen. Taylor steeled herself and headed into the living room. The three older children wrestled playfully in the floor; Christa had the baby in her arms and Alison was supervising with an eagle eye.

  “Hi,” she said, greeting Taylor with a hug. “Welcome to the calm side of the house.”

  She took a seat on the sofa beside the two women. “I was going to help in the kitchen. What about the two of you?”

  Alison shook her head. “Not to sound lazy, but Christa and I don’t contribute much in that area. If the need arises, then one or both of us will pitch in. Otherwise, I defer to my mother and my mother-in-law.”

  Christa dipped her head and kissed the baby’s nose; he gurgled happily in response. “Would you believe that Matthew is already trying to walk?” she asked, clearly enraptured of her squirming bundle.

  “It’s normal,” Alison responded with a friendly shrug. “Sooner they walk, the sooner they can learn to ride.”

  “Doe
sn’t that scare you?” Taylor asked warily.

  “I’d be lying if I said no,” Alison replied. “But I’ve got two kids with a stubborn streak as wide as this whole ranch.”

  “I wonder where they got that from,” Christa mused in a stage whisper.

  The three of them laughed. “Anyway,” Alison continued, “it’s like anything else—start off slow, work up to being an expert. Little Chase has been practicing and CJ doesn’t let him out of his sight.” Her eyes drifted toward the center of the room. “Bree, try not to pull your brother’s hair.”

  “He pulled mine first,” she countered.

  “Want me to separate all three of you? I’ll do it.”

  “No!” they chorused.

  “That’s what I thought.” She smiled at Taylor. “They’d rather play nice than be split up…thank God.”

  “Do you discipline each other’s children?” she inquired.

  “Sparingly,” Christa answered for the both of them. “They’re good kids.” She gave a terse smile and lowered her voice. “I am worried about Max, though. He’s not nearly as outgoing as other kids his age. And he’s heading to school soon. I don’t want him to struggle when it comes to making friends.”

  “He’s a little more shy and withdrawn, like Mark was around that age. He’ll be fine,” Alison concluded. “And he has one thing going for him that Mark didn’t.”

  “What’s that?” Christa asked.

  “He’s an older sibling. A natural leader. Head chief.”

  “That’s redundant,” Christa joked.

  “So it is.”

  Taylor found herself missing Chandler. Nothing against present company, but she could stand a nice, tight embrace, or even a kiss at this point. Something about this day, a feeling she couldn’t put a finger on, made her nervous. Bryn intimidated her, but she didn’t think it was deliberate. She excused herself and walked purposefully into the kitchen. She found her mother behind the island with Bryn and Susan, the three of them marinating enough chicken to feed a small army. Each container was carefully stored in the refrigerator for the time being, and the women moved onto their next project.

  “What can I do to help?” she asked in a confident voice.

  “Let me get you an apron,” Bryn offered. She smiled brightly as she helped tie it around her waist. “Can’t have you seeing my son with any food spatter on your clothes.”

  “Thank you,” she replied in a soft voice. Immediately Bryn acquainted her with a knife and cutting board, where she sliced a seemingly-endless supply of hard-boiled eggs in half in preparation for them being deviled.

  “You seem pretty adept in the kitchen,” Bryn noted. “Alice must’ve taught you everything she knows.”

  Taylor gave a self-deprecating smile. “I was an unwilling student.”

  “You sound like our girls,” Susan teased.

  “Tomboys, all three of them,” Alice chimed in, “but they’re also beautiful.”

  Taylor flushed at her words and resumed her kitchen duties.

  “I passed my cooking skills onto CJ and Chandler, oddly enough,” Bryn observed. “Not that either of them is eager to put those skills on display.”

  Chase entered the back door, greeting each woman in turn. “Miss Alice,” he said, “I haven’t seen you in a month of Sundays.” He left a cordial kiss on her cheek. “You know I’ve always had a soft spot for blondes.”

  “You kidder,” she said, shaking her head in mock reproach. “I haven’t been a blonde since Taylor was in diapers.”

  He hooked an arm around Bryn’s shoulders. “I have an excellent memory.”

  She shoved a freshly-prepared deviled egg into his mouth. “Down, boy. Is everything ready to go?”

  He swallowed before answering. “Uh-huh. Sam’s waiting outside with the cooler full of ice.”

  “Why didn’t you bring the boys to help?”

  “I left them watching the ribs, which don’t really need watching at all.” He shot her the quickest of winks. “And we old men can still pull our weight around here, pretty lady.”

  “So you can.” She gave him a peck on the lips. “Get a move on, then. We’ll be up there soon enough with the rest of the food.”

  “Solid plan, ma’am.” The women assisted as Chase and Sam made quick work of the meat, then resumed their work in the kitchen. Taylor followed the others’ lead—they were far more qualified than she at this sort of thing. She worked to get better acquainted with Bryn, who retained the warmth and geniality Taylor remembered from her younger years—it was simply that they’d once disagreed, albeit never face-to-face, about Chandler’s happiness. She acknowledged that it may still take a while for her to be completely back in Bryn’s good graces.

  Later she returned to the living room and watched the kids for a while so Alison and Christa could perform their expected duties. As she held Matt against her chest—he definitely felt too heavy to be called “baby” even if that was still the official definition—she watched the other children play and felt that familiar stirring once again, the tangle of emotions that came from having been a mother and lost the chance, and wanting to try all over again. Men were lucky in a lot of ways, she thought—their vocabulary lacked the term “biological clock”. But they’d also never know the heart-filling awe of carrying life inside you, and the instantaneous sense of responsibility that accompanied it.

  ***

  Chandler tugged at the chambray fabric of his shirt—it was completely wet with moisture, and it left him wishing he’d chosen more wisely from his closet that morning.

  “Maybe I should’ve put on a lighter shirt,” he grumbled.

  “You could always yank it off, give that girlfriend of yours an eyeful,” CJ ribbed mercilessly.

  Mark sighed in familiar resignation. “Am I gonna have to separate the two of you? Again?”

  CJ laughed and tugged on the brim of his hat until both eyes were well hidden. “I was just trying to get our minds off the heat, but I picked the wrong way to do it. I apologize profusely.”

  Now it was Chandler’s turn to laugh. “Show-off.”

  “You know it.”

  They were seated inside the barn, atop bales of hay, finding a cool respite in the shade. Each and every horse had been watered, and the cattle were, at last check, resting in the shade of a grove of trees. Chase and Sam were manning the grill at a safe distance, and the ranch hands awaited the food-and-fireworks extravaganza from the safety of the bunkhouses. Chandler clasped, then unclasped his hands, and leaned back against the stall door.

  “What’s on your mind, bud?” Mark asked subtly. “Maybe we can help.” CJ nodded in agreement, his eyes fixed upon his brother as his face turned compassionate.

  Chandler was startled by his intuitive question, though he needn’t have been. “Give me a few days,” he requested. “I’m still working it out inside my head.” He pointed an index finger alongside his temple for emphasis.

  CJ responded with a light shrug. “Busy place, inside your head.” He smiled amiably. “Are you ever able to turn it off?”

  Chandler lifted his head, looked from his brother to his best friend and back again. “When I’m with her,” he answered calmly. “I kind of lose myself. I’m not this hyperactive kid or this rowdy cowboy—I’m just a man.” He allowed his statement time to sink in, not sure what to expect in reply.

  Mark lifted an eyebrow at him. “Been there,” he answered succinctly.

  “Same here,” CJ agreed. His response was so concise, so unlike his brother that Chandler had to do a double take.

  “That’s normal?” he asked in a rough voice.

  “As normal as the sunrise,” Mark said. “Without making either of you squirm too much, I’ll just say there’s a lot of clarity to be found there.”

  CJ nodded quickly. “No arguments here, man. I knew it from that very first time.”

  Chandler opened his mouth to speak but nothing emerged. He lost himself in his thoughts, and was still navigating the ponderous dep
ths of his mind when he heard the sound of trucks pulling to a stop outside. CJ and Mark got to their feet first, and he followed a few steps behind, knowing their arms would soon enough be full of children. He spotted Taylor carrying what appeared to be a tray of deviled eggs; her hair was pulled up and she was wearing a Western shirt, blue and white stripes threaded across a red background, but she’d never looked more beautiful. Their eyes met for a moment and they shared a smile. He moved quickly to assist his mother, as everyone worked to drag the cool dishes in Sam and Susan’s house.

  “One of these days,” Bryn speculated, “we’ll figure out how much smarter it is to do the cooking over here.”

  “Maybe in another ten or twenty years?” he asked hopefully.

  She patted him on the shoulder. “Sounds about right.”

  The tables were ready, people were milling about while talking, and the meat was going through the last stages in the large, metal cooker, looking more like a steaming barrel than a vessel for food. It was a few minutes before Chandler caught up to her again, and another few minutes after that before they could speak privately.

  “You look great.”

  She was amused by the brevity of his words. “Thank you.” She followed his measured footsteps through the open barn, stood alongside as he scooped handful of oats from a bag and fed it to his horse. “It was fun, helping your mom.”

  Chandler smiled but didn’t meet her gaze. “She likes you, T. She just doesn’t always know how to show it.” His blue eyes seemed more muted as she watched them scan her face. She saw his chest flatten, relieving itself of a deep breath he’d been holding. “As long as we have a moment to ourselves…”

  She hooked her arms around him, nestled against his tall frame, and leaned into his kiss. It was already hot enough outside without this, the warmth radiating from their parted lips. She closed her eyes, followed his lead, and felt the haze surround them.