The Art of Love (The Windswept Saga)

by Tommie Conrad

  “Nearly time to eat,” he declared a moment after their mouths had separated. “The ranch hands eat first, but I doubt anyone would mind if we hopped in line behind them.”

  The meal was, as always, a lighthearted, friendly gathering. Family and friends reminisced, talked about the future, and watched the children play. The faces changed, and new ones came along, but it’d been the same affair for so many years that Chase and Bryn had honestly lost track. Chandler figured it was upwards of thirty—longer than he’d been alive. He watched Taylor with unnecessary concern—she slotted into his family perfectly, with the children fully enamored of her from day one and everyone else following along quickly. Anyone, he figured, would be hard-pressed not to admire her beauty and grace. It felt more and more, with each passing day, as though they were headed toward a certain destination, and that they’d arrive there together. Provided his nerves didn’t get the better of him first.

  Everyone dispersed to their own corners and seats of the open area, some finding shade on porches, in the barn, or alongside the outbuildings. Taylor went into Sam and Susan’s house with Christa, and helped her put the kids down to sleep before the fireworks began.

  “I’ll come back for the biggest ones later,” she said, “but it’s doubtful any of them will see the fireworks. They’re still at the napping age, even Little Chase.”

  “And Matt will sleep through it all?” Taylor queried.

  “Like a log.”

  Her predictions came to pass accurately. She kept the monitor at her side, but any attempt to rouse the sleeping children was unsuccessful. Taylor took her place between Christa and Chandler on the front porch of the house. He linked his arm through hers, a languid pose of escort in deference to their seated position.

  Fireworks filled the air intermittently, shattering the sky into golden-blue shards. Taylor felt a chill from Chandler’s arm brushing against her. It was still hot enough to spark a match.

  “You cold?” he whispered in her ear.

  “Not at all,” she said, settling against his chest. “I’m gonna take Mom home soon, but we can meet at your apartment if you’d like.”

  “Sure,” he agreed, his smile barely visible in the darkness.

  Hugs were exchanged, goodbyes were spoken, and everyone worked their way toward their beds, putting the holiday behind them for another year. Taylor dropped Alice at home, and refrained from rolling her eyes when her mother told her to “Have a good time.” Chandler was waiting inside his office when she arrived, and walked her upstairs, both of them a little awkward on their feet after such a long day.

  “I’m exhausted, cowboy,” she said when they’d reached the kitchen. He hung his hat on the wall and turned toward her. His fingers went for the buttons on her shirt and she smiled.

  “I have just the thing to help you get to sleep,” he quipped.

  Their eyes met and he laughed at the smirk on her lips. “You read my mind,” she replied.

  Chapter 24

  They spent the rest of the week apart from one another; he commanded that she devote more time to her mother and she complied, although he knew she had a mind of her own and wouldn’t kowtow with anything he suggested without first approving it herself. He kissed her goodbye and drove out to the ranch, keeping the gallery and store closed and fielding phone calls and inquiries as he worked on his house. He texted her nightly, and some of the short messages relayed between them would’ve made anyone blush. On Friday he helped Mark fill the barn to the rafters with hay, and on Saturday, he went for a mind-clearing ride, planning to spend some quiet time with his horse. But fate, and his big brother, had other plans.

  CJ was already in the barn and inspecting his horse’s hooves—something he did on a regular basis. “What brings you out bright and early this morning?” he asked curiously.

  “Thought I might go for a ride.” He scrutinized his older brother somewhat dubiously. “Why do you ask?”

  “Would it be okay if I joined you?” CJ smiled winningly. “I’ll even saddle your horse.”

  Chandler relented after a split second. “How can I refuse that offer? I’ll be waiting on you, bro.”

  A few minutes later CJ led the two horses into the sunlight. Chandler mounted first, figuring that might push his brother’s buttons. If he was going to join in the ride this morning, well, they might as well toss on the old competitive spirit. CJ usually wore it like a mantle; Chandler, less so, although he’d keep it in his back pocket for emergencies.

  Chandler led his brother up a path of his choosing, well-worn and familiar. He kept silent for a few minutes, letting the sounds of nature and hooves provide the soundtrack. After all, he’d meant for this to be a peaceful trip.

  “I couldn’t find you Thursday, kid,” CJ drawled from one corner of his mouth. “The gallery was closed and you weren’t on the ranch. Where the hell did ya go?”

  Scratch that peace and quiet, Chandler thought with a smile. “I was in town.”

  CJ adjusted Cheyenne’s reins and pulled alongside. “Where in town?”

  “Main Street,” Chandler replied like it was some great revelation.

  CJ chuckled under his breath. “That’s a pretty long street.”

  “Yeah.”

  “‘Yeah?’” he echoed. “Did you use up your word allowance for the month?”

  Chandler restrained himself for bursting out in laughter. “I went to pick up a ring.”

  “Oh,” CJ said like a kid who’d just discovered water froze at thirty-two degrees.

  “Oh,” Chandler answered. “No offense, bro, but I’ve only told Mark so far because he knows how to lock his mouth up tighter than Fort Knox.”

  “I’m a little hurt,” CJ pouted. Chandler noted a grin affixed to his mouth from his peripheral vision. “I thought you and I were closer than that.”

  “We are,” he answered firmly. “But this is also the most important decision in my life and you have loose damned lips.”

  “Hmm. I’d take that as an insult if it weren’t true.” He fell silent then and devoted his concentration onto the horse, Chandler doing the same thing barely two feet away. “So when are you going to tell Mom and Dad?”

  “Later today. Also, I want you and Alison to come over tonight. I’m going to tell the two of you, along with Mark and Christa, at their house. Which is a moot point, because only the women are clueless at this juncture.”

  “We’ll be there.” Chandler overheard him draw in a sharp breath. “Did you give this a lot of thought?”

  “Didn’t you?” came the quick retort. He allowed CJ a few minutes to marinate the question in his head; he kept his lips closed tight aside from a subtle command to the horse. He could feel the heat from the summer sun on the back of his neck, or maybe that was his brother’s gaze burning a hole through him.

  “That ain’t a fair question, Chandler. You know better than almost anybody how much I agonized over that decision.”

  “I know,” he replied in a sympathetic voice. “But wasn’t it one of the easiest decisions you ever made? Those things can be both simple and complex.”

  “Yeah,” CJ agreed with a nod. “I’ve never regretted a day with her—good times and bad, through it all, she’s the one that makes life worth living.”

  They pulled their horses to a stop, stared down across the valley below, the sun turning the tree trunks into a long series of skeletal shadows, standing in direct contrast to the otherwise verdant hues of summer. A closer glance revealed trees that were very much alive, their needles twisting in the wind.

  “You have to get married here on the ranch,” CJ reminded him.

  “I know,” he answered quietly.

  CJ cleared his throat. “I used to think that you’d wind up marrying some girl that I didn’t like and settle down in a loft somewhere, overlooking a store where they served food I can’t even pronounce much less eat, and that I’d never forgive you. That would’ve been selfish, right?”

  Chandler simply smiled. “No mor
e selfish than it would’ve been for me to do it.”

  ***

  Alison dragged the last of the boxes from the back of the building and easily rested them atop the counter. If their weight or bulk had bothered her, she didn’t let it show in any way. With her hair pulled up under her hat, she was all business today.

  “You didn’t have to come in today to help, but I’m glad you did.”

  Taylor unpacked each piece of pottery individually as she placed them on the shelves. The store was beginning to look like, well, a store again. “You’re not technically my boss, and thus I could have said no.” She turned to Alison and smiled. “But I thought this would be a nice change of pace from my usual Saturday routine, especially with Chandler out at the ranch.”

  She pulled out a box cutter and ripped into each box with lightning speed. “Did you enjoy the 4 of July festivities?”

  “I did. So did my mother.”

  “It’s always a fun time. You probably felt a little inundated by so many relatives gathered in one place, children underfoot and the like.”

  “Not at all,” Taylor countered. She and Alison removed shirts from their plastic wrappers and refolded them atop a table. “The more the merrier.” They worked in silence for a few minutes, Taylor noticing her friend’s uncomfortable posture. “Are you okay?” she finally asked.

  “I’m fine,” she said, quickly brushing off the question.

  “Okay.” Taylor frowned to herself for a moment. “Do you ever think of having another child?” she queried, and regretted it the instant she saw Alison stiffen, her back rail-straight and her mouth set into a hard line.

  “Two or three doctors recommended that I don’t,” she explained, her eyes cast downward.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Alison shook her head. “It’s not your fault.” She cleared her throat, a sound Taylor recognized as the purging of raw emotion. Their eyes met, and Taylor understood the sadness behind them. “After Little Chase was born, I experienced severe postpartum depression. The same thing with Bree. Both times, I sought medical treatment. I was strangely self-aware of it—I knew what was happening when the feeling came on, the maligned way of thinking that allowed me to believe I’d be a horrible mother. The medication helped, and CJ stayed on my ass like a mountain lion on a piece of raw meat.” She looked at Taylor with concern. “I’m not telling you all of this to try and draw sympathy—Lord knows you’ve been through something worse than any of us, and you’re still standing. Christa nearly lost her son and her husband, but now their marriage is stronger than ever. Our lives may look one way from the outside, but nothing’s ever perfect. You just make the best of it and love as hard as you can every day you’re alive.” She wiped a tear away from her left eye. “God, I hate crying.”

  Taylor smiled warmly. “You’re an amazing mother, you know. One kid was pretty demanding—two must be a real balancing act.”

  “I didn’t have any doubts when I married him,” Alison began, a happier expression returning to her visage, “but CJ is an amazing father. I guess it helps that he’s a natural leader. We all help each other, for that matter. If you and Chandler were to get married someday,” she suggested hopefully, “you’d no longer be an only child. Someone would always have your back.”

  “I would love to be married again,” Taylor replied, “and I suppose he’d be my ideal partner.” Alison laughed. “But…”

  “But what?”

  “What if I’m no good at it?” she asked, her voice filled with trepidation.

  “Having seen the two of you together, for a sickening amount of time,” she teased, “I’d say you’d be good at it for at least fifty years—maybe longer.” Alison tossed the boxes behind the counter and gave her store a cursory glance. Seemingly satisfied, she turned to Taylor and smiled. “Ready for Monday morning,” she declared.

  Taylor nodded. “I’ll be here.” And so will Chandler.

  ***

  Christa left the door ajar and resumed her place in the living room. “The kids are asleep,” she announced quickly. Chandler’s eyes scanned each of them, his best friends in the world. What they must be thinking, he wondered. Even Mark and CJ, in on the purpose for the meeting, wore curious grins on their mouths. They’d eaten dinner, and now Chandler commanded the room’s attention. He felt oddly nervous, generally an emotion reserved for segments of time with the woman he loved. Maybe it was the gravity of what he had to say, and its direct relationship to her, that caused his apprehension this evening.

  “Thanks for coming,” he said as an introduction.

  “Well, I was already here,” Mark joked, “it being my house and all.” He rolled his eyes and everyone groaned affably. “Let the man talk,” he said, pointing his extended hand toward Chandler.

  “Thank you, Mr. Jasper,” he said with a smile. Mark hooked his arm around Christa and grinned. “Anyway, as I told Mom and Dad earlier today, I’m planning to ask for Taylor’s hand in marriage.” He was greeted with light clapping, in deference to the sleeping children.

  “It’s about damned time,” Alison chided him.

  “Come on,” he countered with a shrug. “We’ve only been together about six months.” His neck burned and he figured everyone else could see it, too. “This is a major decision, and I don’t want to rush it.”

  “How did Mom and Dad react?” was Christa’s first question.

  “Dad slapped me on the back hard enough to dislodge my diaphragm.”

  “That sounds like Chase,” Mark chimed in.

  “Mom was a little more subdued,” Chandler said while angling one hand to scratch the back of his neck. “But she kissed me on the cheek, said she loved me and that I was making the right decision.”

  CJ tapped an index finger against his lips, then parted them in a wide smile. “So, when will the blessed event take place?”

  “Um…” Chandler stammered against their expectant gazes. At a time like this, words failed him. “I wanted to ask her mother’s permission first, but I was thinking about taking the ring with me on the camping trip, and asking her as soon as we got back.”

  He heard crickets chirp, or maybe that was just the silent clacking of his mind as it turned over the idea and it landed with a thud.

  Alison was the first to speak. “No,” she stated simply.

  Chandler frowned as he noted the four impassive faces. “What?”

  “It’s too impersonal, little brother,” Christa reinforced. “We’ll all be there, sure, but we already know. You’ve gotta put more thought into the setting, and the words you’re going to say. It doesn’t have to be perfect, but it does need to be special, memorable, and unique.”

  “Tall order,” CJ surmised in his typical, understated fashion. “There’s always the Labor Day Rodeo, but that’s been done.” Alison slapped him playfully on the knee.

  Chandler muttered a curse under his breath, but loud enough to be heard. “So what should I do, then? Hang onto this ring until the metal tarnishes?”

  “You’re the artist, Picasso,” CJ joked good-naturedly. “It can’t be that hard to figure out.”

  Mark snapped his fingers. “I have an idea…but…it’ll be our secret. No offense to my wife, my sister, and whatever the hell CJ is…”

  “Ouch,” he said with a fake grimace, crossing both hands over his heart.

  “…But,” Mark continued, “I neither want nor expect any credit for my plan. When I pass it along to Chandler, it becomes his property, lock, stock, and barrel. I’ll help, though. I’ll do that much.”

  Chandler felt a debt of gratitude for Mark, smiling as he remembered how much they’d assisted one another over the years. Their lives had inevitably altered as they grew toward adulthood, but here they were, still confederates on yet another of life’s journeys. Mark had a head start on him when it came to starting his own family, and he’d be playing catch-up for a while. Their bond of friendship somehow both transcended and bolstered their respective families. When Mark ambled across the roo
m and whispered in his ear, he damn sure listened. And, unsurprisingly, it was just about the best idea he’d ever heard.

  “We’ll get to work on it immediately,” Mark said aloud for everyone’s benefit, though they remained in the dark in regard to “it”. “I’ll make the phone calls Monday.”

  “Thanks, man.” Chandler gripped his right shoulder. “I’ll owe you.”

  Mark shook his head. “Never. I just want you to be as happy as I am.” His eyes scanned the room. “As happy as we all are.”

  Chapter 25

  “Chandler.”

  Alice looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and gratitude. He wondered how she viewed him in that instant; he felt sheepish and vulnerable, like the slightest breeze would knock him down. He blinked his eyes a few times and silently gathered up his courage.

  “Won’t you come in?” she asked. He stepped inside and removed his hat, holding it in both hands. He followed her toward the living room, where she took her usual seat.

  “I hope I’m not bothering you,” he apologized in a small voice.

  “Not at all,” she said with her familiar smile, waving a hand toward him. “Won’t you have a seat?”

  The chair felt like it was too small for him, too delicate, though he knew it was screwed together better than his head was at that moment. He clutched his hat in his lap like a life preserver. “This may seem selfish of me, because I know you just got Taylor back. I want to take her away from you again. I’d like to marry her.”

  If there was a hint of trepidation in her blue eyes, she didn’t let it show. “What took you so long, young man? Better late than never, I guess.”

  He stared at the knitting needles in her aged fingers, marveled at how the wheels in her mind turned as his ground to a halt. “I still think she needs time, Miss Alice. She’s been through a lot and I don’t want to complicate her life.”

  “Haven’t you noticed lately that you are her life?” She gave him a sympathetic smile. “I can’t say no to you, Chandler, and I doubt she could, either.”