Conquer the Memories

by Jennifer Greene

  Some would have called this a wasteland, where pockets of wind had found a home for centuries and erosion had taken its toll. Here, there was oil beneath the stubborn rock, oil Craig had tapped when he was seventeen to secure his heritage, but no one traversed the land now except the two of them. Through a narrow canyon, the trail wandered south, and suddenly they rode high up along a ridge. A stark gulch beneath them reflected myriad strata of blue and green and yellow in the sunlit rock. Wildflowers stubbornly insisted on growing, tucked in crevices here and here. The beauty was in the wildness, in the stretch of endless sky and space and loneliness.

  An eagle soared overhead, undoubtedly searching for a very foolish rabbit for its breakfast. Sonia exchanged smiles with Craig. It was always a good omen when they spotted an eagle. They watched it soar and dip and then wing off with a mournful scream of frustration.

  “We haven’t camped out here in a long time,” Craig said idly.

  “Too long,” Sonia agreed, as she stroked her mare’s sleek neck.

  “I think I could stay here forever.”

  Sonia smiled. “And instead you’ll undoubtedly work late again today,” she teased, knowing full well that as important as his land was to Craig, it alone could never keep him satisfied.

  “In another week, I hope the long hours will be over. You have plans for the day, honey?”

  She nodded absently. “Nothing hard and set, but I thought I’d head into town.” She cocked her head with a wry smile. “Do you realize I’ve barely been off the ranch since we got home? Once to go to work with you, and once for my parents’ party. Lazy is one thing, but this is ridiculous! Charlie’s even taken to doing the grocery shopping. I think,” she added conspiratorially, “that he must have a girl in town.”

  She glanced at Craig, expecting him to share the humor of Charlie’s unwonted domestic role, and instead found him staring straight ahead, an oddly tense pulse working in his throat. “Craig?”

  He turned to her, his smile so determinedly casual that she relaxed again. “What time do you plan to go into town?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. After lunch, probably. I thought I’d see Marina, window-shop…well. I have every intention of spending a little of your money…” She still couldn’t seem to raise an honest smile. Perplexed, she stared at him.

  “Sonia, are you bored?” he asked quietly.

  “No, of course not. I’ve never in my life been bored.” She sighed, and with a flick of the reins turned her mare toward home. “It’s just been so long since we’ve really been home,” she admitted softly. “You’re into the project full-time now. I knew that was coming, but I worked with you more before, especially in Washington. There isn’t a darn thing I can do to help you now…”

  “You’ve helped every damned step of the way,” he said roughly. When she glanced at him, his voice gentled. “I can more than understand that you’d want time to explore your own…thing. There is time, now, Sonia, and if you really want to work for Marina-”

  “Craig, do you want a baby?” Sonia tugged on the reins, slowing Belle to a halt.

  Craig stopped, too, studying his wife, picturing her first with a burgeoning tummy and then with a baby in her arms. Both images roused instant loving, protective instincts. Fiercely, he wanted her to bear his child, a child with her loving nature and their blend of strengths and all that future that a baby implied. He wanted her daughter.

  He’d settle for her son. And he’d waited a long time for her to ask that soft-spoken question.

  But not now.

  Sonia didn’t know how his feelings had changed since that incident in Chicago, and he didn’t want her to. The issues were between him and himself, things he had to work out on his own.

  A man protected his woman. An archaic instinct, really; machismo was out this decade. Unfortunately, it was engrained in him to the core. At gut level, he had failed her.

  Sonia was more fragile than rose petals. She was gregarious and sassy and innately trusting; love bubbled from her as from a never-ending well. He’d risked all of that, in Chicago. A man who’d failed to protect his lady…How could he protect a child?

  “Craig?” Sonia was looking at him curiously.

  “Do you want a child?” he asked quietly.

  Her eyes softened. “When you do.”

  He didn’t want either, at the moment. Not a child, and not her working where she was exposed to the public. He wanted her safe. “I want you happy,” he said simply, and stared straight ahead. “Look, see Marina if you want to. Then we’ll talk about it.”

  He could feel her confusion; his eyes narrowed deliberately on the stretch of trail ahead. “Listen, lady. I’m about to reclaim my fifty cents. You’ve got to the start of ten to get that lazy mare in motion.”

  “Lazy!” Her thighs instantly pressed tightly to Belle, both horse and rider offended at the insult.

  Craig trailed her laughter down through the hills, savoring it, cherishing it, his mood lifting with it.

  He was going to let her win again. Halfway down the trail, he slowed up long enough to dig a hand in his pocket and make sure he had the dollar she was certain to demand. Sonia was a stickler for paying one’s debts.

  So was Craig.

  Chapter 8

  Sonia’s eyebrows lifted in surprise as she neared her Passat. George was standing next to it. He was nearly as much of an institution around Craig’s ranch as Charlie was; he was the best of ranch hands and had been with Craig for years.

  He was also about the size of a fairy-tale giant, his leathery skin permanently sun-weathered and his blunt shoulders rather hunched as he stood with hat in hand. “I was wondering if I could get a ride to town, ma’am,” he said politely.

  Her eyebrows raised just a fraction farther. “Well, of course you can, George, but…” She had to raise her chin to see his eyes. The man had to be six foot fifty. And was looking oddly uncomfortable. “The trucks all break down at once on you?” she questioned teasingly. George had never asked for a lift to town before, and the kind of supplies he usually brought back would hardly fit in her Passat.

  “Sort of.” He shifted. “I need some parts from town. Just thought if you were going, you might not mind if I tagged along.”

  “Of course I don’t mind,” she assured him, and slid into the driver’s seat, motioning George to get in as well. It was like watching a bear climb into a bassinet, but he managed to cram his long body into the passenger seat, his knees just about touching his chin. He stared politely ahead as she started the engine. “If it would save you a trip, I’d be happy to buy those parts for you,” Sonia offered.

  “That’s okay, ma’am,” he said flatly.

  Which just about settled that; George never wasted words. Sonia repressed a chuckle. One did get the feeling he would be more comfortable on a horse than next to her in the Passat. Charlie had driven to town in one of the pickups, she remembered fleetingly; perhaps the other was in use as well and George had simply been stuck for a ride. She glanced absently in the rearview mirror. Her pert white sharkskin skirt, soft purple blouse and sandals didn’t blend too well with her companion’s rough jeans and spurred boots. It didn’t bother her, but poor George was radiating nervousness.

  “Tell me where you need to go,” Sonia suggested lightly. “Lawson’s or the hardware? My business won’t take long, George. If you need to get something quickly back to the ranch I could cut it out altogether. For that matter-”

  “I just want to go to Brock’s, ma’am.”

  Brock’s. Marina’s department store. Sonia adjusted the sun visor and managed to hide her surprise. George must be buying something for a girl friend; no wonder he was so untalkative. She spent the next five miles whimsically envisioning a romance in the offing.

  The thought delighted her, but…well. George wasn’t exactly handsome. He was true-blue loyal, dependable and strong-hearted, but his speech was usually rather crusty-when he got around to talking. He spent at least four nights
a week with a bottle and four poker buddies; he occasionally liked a good brawl, and…he chewed.

  Sonia was hard-pressed to imagine the kind of woman he would shop at Brock’s for. George? And on ranch time, in the middle of the working day? It had to be love. George was the type who would come to work with pneumonia; playing hooky wasn’t his thing at all.

  She cleared her throat as they neared the edge of town. “You know, George, if I could help you out by buying something for you,” she repeated.

  “No, thank you, ma’am.”

  The “ma’am” drove her nuts, but she let it be.

  George needed a shower. Not drastically, but Sonia rolled down the window just a little instead of opting for air conditioning. Wedding plans filled her mind…difficult to imagine, though, because the giant next to her didn’t exude the most romantic of auras. Still, she wanted to help him.

  “You’re looking for a special gift?” she tried tactfully.

  George shifted uneasily. “Just parts, ma’am.”

  Parts. In Marina’s store. All right. Sonia parked on the street in Cold Creek, and almost before she’d put the key in her purse found George opening her door for her. She blinked, stared at him in total bewilderment as she stepped out of the car. The last she knew, she could open a door on her own, and chivalry wasn’t exactly the first word that came to mind in free-associating George’s name.

  The town had boomed in the past few years. Stores and businesses had popped up; the library was new, and suddenly parking was at a premium. Cold Creek had barely heard of McDonald’s ten years before; now there were two…and enough traffic to justify them. Sonia had mixed feelings about some of the changes. She was afraid the town would lose its sleepy Western flavor, but overall it was hard to find fault with growth that brought in jobs and prosperity for her neighbors.

  She started walking with George at her side. His legs were miles long, and he was doing a touching job of trying to slow down to her pace. She tried to speed up accordingly; he tried to slow his gait further.

  Laurel and Hardy, she thought wryly. Relief filled her as they finally reached the display windows of Brock’s. George awkwardly rushed forward to open the glass doors. “Thank you,” she murmured. It was like being trailed by an apprentice knight in shining armor, give or take the plug of Skoal tobacco in his cheek.

  Counters laden with cosmetics and lingerie confronted them; George stopped stock-still, his expression not unlike that of a calf being led to a pen. Sonia chuckled; she couldn’t help it. “I had in mind going to see someone in the back offices,” she said lightly. “I’ll be there half an hour or so. Will that be long enough for you to get your…er…parts?”

  “You’re not leaving the store, ma’am?”

  She bit her lip to keep from chuckling. “George, if I can buy something for you so you won’t have to go through all this-”

  George looked blank.

  Sonia gave up. “I’ll see you in a few…” She’d taken a step forward; so did George-directly on her heels. How could a man so graceful on a horse be such a clumsy puppy in a mere department store? She sighed. “I’ll meet you at the front door in half an hour All right?”

  “Sure, ma’am.”

  But he certainly looked uneasy. Sonia swallowed a grin as she wended her way past the display of shoes and then summer clothing. Marina’s offices were in back, past a steel door that led to a sudden confusion of computers and phones and bustle, a total contrast to the carpeted retreat Marina had tried to make of the store itself.

  Sonia paused in the doorway to her friend’s office. Marina had a phone to her ear and her glasses perched on her cinnamon-colored hair. Her brown linen dress had clearly been through a rough morning, wisps of her hair were going every which way, and in usual style, she’d bitten off her lipstick. The desk was stacked high; somewhere in the debris were a computer. Marina inevitably looked buried. She was only five feet tall, and at forty-five had a few well-earned wrinkles on her brow, bright blue eyes that radiated shrewd intelligence and a broad, warm smile the minute she noticed Sonia in the doorway.

  “Call you back,” she barked into the phone, and waved Sonia over. “Get in here, you hermit. You haven’t been to see me in ages. I want to know what you think of these.”

  In minutes, Sonia was surrounded by fabric swatches and samples. Marina shoved a chair against the backs of Sonia’s legs and thrust a cup of jet-black, overstrong coffee into her hand.

  “I’ve got to make some decisions on next spring’s line,” Marina said distractedly. “It’s everything I’ve already talked to you about, Sonia. I made a fortune on dressy clothes in the past, but that’s just not what’s required anymore. Many of the women who shop here nowadays are holding down new jobs and buying professional-looking clothing at reasonable prices. Now, I want to make some changes, but I don’t want to lower the quality of our merchandise. I won’t carry cheap lines, of course. Workmanship and taste are still crucial, but…”

  They talked about the prime rate, Sonia’s roses, Marina’s cats and local politics, and between times scribbled out choices of style and compared notes. Marina’s life was the store. Sonia loved the chatter and always had. Clothes had once been her business; she loved the feel and smell and look of fabrics; she loved to work with color and had an intrinsic understanding of the way a style could affect a woman’s mood and confidence.

  “You’ve been thinking about the job, haven’t you?” Marina probed.

  “About working with you as a fashion consultant?” Sonia’s voice was thoughtful. “You know I’d like to, Marina, but the issue is time. We’re finally home for a long period now, but Craig’s busier than ever on the extraction project. I could do some of the ranch paperwork for him-I like being free to take off with him when he has to travel, and…” She hesitated, finally deciding not to mention that she wanted a child to be part of her future as well.

  “Perhaps you could work here part-time, then, Sonia.” Marina had that determined set to her jaw. “Look, I can’t tell you how many women ask for help. They come in knowing just how much they want to spend, but they don’t have the vaguest idea what clothes to choose. Suddenly, we’ve got jobs for women in this area. Only they haven’t gotten out of jeans in a century. Now they need comfortable, reasonable, attractive outfits to wear to work, and I want them to feel comfortable walking in here-”

  “And spending their money-”

  “Oh, hush, you.”

  “On clothes that make them feel good about themselves.”

  “Now you’re talking.”

  “You have a buyer,” Sonia reminded her.

  “And she’s terrific at selecting quality stuff in up-to-date styles, but she doesn’t know the women in this area-she doesn’t understand the kind of jobs they have, and she can’t talk to them the way you do.”

  “Lord, you must be desperate for cheap help,” Sonia said wryly, and they both laughed. They talked a few more minutes before Sonia gave Marina a quick hug and told her she’d get back to her in a few days. She stepped out of the office, humming under her breath, energy restlessly surging through her after sitting so long. Pushing open the steel door that led to the selling floor, she took a step through and nearly collided with George.

  He didn’t, she noticed with surprise, have any packages in his hands. In fact, he didn’t look as if he’d moved a fraction of an inch from where she’d left him. An odd gleam of wariness suddenly flickered in her eyes, then was gone.

  “Ready to go, ma’am?” he questioned politely.

  “Actually…” She glanced up at him. “Did you finish your…shopping?”

  He opened his mouth and then took a nervous breath. “If you have anything else to do, Mrs. Hamilton, I got no problems waiting around.”

  Which didn’t answer her question, Sonia noticed. “I have one more thing I’d like to do, George, if you’ll give me another fifteen minutes. You could catch a quick cup of coffee in Harry’s across the street, couldn’t-”

  �
��That’s okay, ma’am.”

  Actually, it wasn’t. Sonia determinedly caught those eyes shifting hurriedly away from hers. “I have just a small amount of personal shopping I need to do,” she said gently.

  “That’s okay, too, ma’am.”

  “George…” A wisp of a smile touched her soft lips. She’d planned the trip to town for one main purpose, and as much as she loved Marina, talking clothes wasn’t it. Pleasing Craig was her purpose, and though George’s unprecedented behavior was amusing, Sonia hadn’t really planned on shopping with a sidekick who stuck to her like glue. “I really think you’d be more comfortable waiting in the car,” she tried one more time.

  He evidently didn’t think so, standing silently before her with his hat in his hands. I’m sorry, George, she thought briefly, and swept into the lingerie department, hearing a booted foot abruptly stumble behind her.

  If George wanted to watch her shop for bras and panties, it was certainly fine with her. The plans she had in mind for Craig that evening, though, were rather private. Totally private, actually. Slowly she fingered a beige satin nightgown on a mannequin and turned with a deliberate smile for George. “What do you think?”

  He opened his mouth, then closed it, his cheeks turning beet-red, and his hands twisting his hat. “Pardon, ma’am?”

  The counter next to the nightgowns was piled with bras, lovely filmy little see-through things. She lifted one rose-colored confection to the light and again turned to George with a cheerful smile. “I don’t know whether I like this or the blue one…”

  He fled.

  He stationed himself near the door and turned toward an innocuous display of scarves and belts. Poor George, Sonia thought, but the dancing light in her eyes had already died. A thoughtful expression replaced it. There were days when it took a bulldozer to get through to her.