He stopped the car in front of her house, and she looked outside. Sunshine was glistening on rain-drenched grass, the trees were whispering in the warm, drying breeze. Flowers were blooming, and the birds were going mad with spring fever. All she could feel was despair. She turned to Buck with agony in her eyes. “Buck, I don’t want you to take care of the car.”
He sighed with exasperation. “Loren, we’ve been through that. I refuse to discuss money with you when you’re upset.”
“You don’t see, Buck.” Tears suddenly glistened in her eyes. “You never will. It’s just not going to work.” His expression went stark and cold, as if he suddenly understood she was not talking about cars, but about the two of them. He opened his mouth to talk, and she shook her head wildly. “I feel…drowned. Before I met you, I felt reasonably good about myself, can you believe that? Then you came into my life, solving problems in short order that I’d been trying to work through for years. Angela and Gramps. A thousand things I thought were monumental. I met you, and in a few hours I was crying all over you. I actually went chasing after you in that bar. I behaved like an absolute fool at that party. And then you give and give and give, Buck. What do I have to give you back? I feel like less than what I was, as though I have less to offer. Suddenly, I’m nothing and have nothing to give. I can’t handle it! I don’t want it!”
He drew back as if she had hit him, pain echoing in his rugged features. “Loren,” he said quietly, “I can’t believe you really feel that way. Listen to me—”
But she wrenched at the car door to get out. “I do really feel that way. I wish I didn’t. I tried a long time ago to tell you. About owning people, about being bought. That love changes color when it’s all cluttered up with obligations and mismatched give-and-take.”
“Loren—”
“I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry.” She would have stumbled out if his hands hadn’t clutched at her, jerking her around to face him. For a moment, they just stared at each other, Loren with tear-filled, desperately determined eyes. Through that blur, it seemed that Buck’s face was magnified, and he was very, very still. In his eyes, she could read shock and anguish and love and anger but also a sudden cold finality, as if he finally understood that she had meant what she said.
“I’ve battled through those brick walls of yours before, Loren. If I haven’t gotten through to you by now, I never will,” he snapped curtly with a flatness that frightened her. “If that’s how you see my actions, as buying you…if, dammit, that’s really how you feel when you’re around me—”
“It is.”
He let her go. She watched him put his car in gear and drive out. She stood there, swallowed a thousand tears and turned away when he was completely out of sight, completely out of her life. She walked into the house, fielded shocked questions from Gramps and Rayburn about the accident, mounted the stairs to her room and collapsed on the bed. She felt weak, ill, drained. She was afraid of crying for fear her grandfather or Rayburn would hear her. She had to concentrate so hard to keep from sobbing that at last sleep stole on her, and she fell into an exhausted, restless, empty oblivion.
Loren opened sleep-scratchy eyes to ribbons of sunlight slanting on the bed. Sitting up, she glanced at the clock, and thought dizzily that it was impossible to sleep for better than sixteen hours and wake up still feeling totally exhausted. What have you done?
She forced herself up, took one disastrous look in the mirror and headed for the shower. A few minutes later, she was dressed in a lilac linen suit, very crisp and fresh, that cinched in her waist to Scarlett O’Hara standards. Makeup masked her pallor, and a brush restored life and vibrancy to her hair. She studied the mirror again. There was really nothing she could do to alter the agonized look in her eyes.
Downstairs, Gramps, Rayburn and Angela were all at the kitchen table. Usually, she was already at work before the group gathered for morning conversations. They greeted her smiling, and Angela impatiently motioned her to the window while the others exchanged silent glances. All she could think of was that at least her makeup had worked; no one was looking at her as if she resembled a mummy. She reached in the cupboard for a cup. She badly needed some coffee.
“Aren’t you going to look?” Angela demanded excitedly.
“Look at what?” She turned back with a puzzled frown and finally glanced out the window at Angela’s insistence.
The car was a silvery mauve, shining in the morning sunlight. The upholstery appeared to be a pearly gray. The color was feminine, and the look was plush, without being oversized. Loren stared, as still as a statue.
“Say something,” Angela said exuberantly. “God in heaven, it’s not every morning you wake up to find a fairy godmother’s been there in the middle of the night. The keys are in it. Whoever your guardian angel is, Loren, I’d like to have a little discussion with her—”
“Loren?” Gramps had been studying her; his voice was suddenly laced with concern. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She drew a ragged breath, picked up the phone and dialed work. Janey was predictably frantic; Loren had never been late for work before. The secretary was considerably taken aback to discover Loren was taking the day off. Her boss hadn’t even taken her vacation days in the past two years, had only missed four days in four years because of illness. When Loren hung up the phone, the family were all staring at her. “Would it be so terrible if I just took off for the day?” she asked brightly, with a little defensiveness.
“You don’t mean you’re actually going to play hookey?” Angela teased.
“Loren, what is wrong?” Gramps demanded, getting out of his chair.
“Nothing.” She smiled, radiating cheerfulness. “I would just like to be by myself for a few hours. Does anyone mind?”
Gramps sucked in his breath. “No, of course not. But—”
“Fine.” Her purse was on the counter. It was so easy. She just walked out the door, down the steps, got into the horrible, horrible car and started the engine. It purred. She had never had an engine that purred. Of course she didn’t now; it would have to go back to him. He was crazy. He had promised he would take care of her transportation, but of course that was before the argument. He wasn’t liable for that promise. A very long time ago, she had stopped believing in promises anyone made her; they were never kept. What was he trying to do?
Obviously, she had to get the car back to him. But not now. Soon. In an hour. Just this minute the car was her only means of privacy, and she was desperate for privacy. The first miles slipped away while she tried to convince herself that she wasn’t terrified of driving after yesterday, and also that she hated Buck for putting the damned thing in her driveway.
Quiet roads led to more quiet roads. In an hour, she found herself on the tree-lined streets of Ann Arbor. The sidewalks were full of jeaned coeds. Carting armloads of books, the boys next to them looked just as terribly young, just as serious… Loren got out of the car and walked. At some point, she stopped to find something to eat, and then she walked again; later in the afternoon she stopped at a motel. She couldn’t bring herself to go home, and for some unforgivable reason she was putting mileage on that car that wasn’t hers. The motel manager looked at her as if she were a bit crazy; she didn’t discover why until she’d locked herself in the motel room. Tears had made a mess of her mascara; her makeup was blotched; the linen suit looked like accordion pleats.
What have you done? She slipped off her shoes, folded down the blue bedspread and leaned back against the rock-hard mattress, staring at a print on the wall that looked remarkably like a Rorschach ink blot in blue and gold. She saw Buck’s face in it and looked away. She bunched her hands into fists and rubbed them hard into her eyes, like a child angrily forcing back tears.
She got up and turned on the television, and a few minutes later just as restlessly turned it off again. For an hour, she soaked in the tub, then got out and put on her wrinkled suit again. She sat back on the bed, determined to think it out. She tried not t
o think of Buck but just herself. About how important it had always been for her to succeed, to do well, to cope no matter what life threw at her. To be independent, to be self-sufficient. To not need anyone. She’d always envisioned any man in her life, any love, as added to the periphery of her life but not really denting the core. She never wanted anyone in that deep, not into her real needs as a woman. Not where she was vulnerable… Women these days were incredibly strong and proud of it, and she had led the pack.
She got up again and tried the television a second time. It was already past the news hour. Sitcoms were thriving. She turned it off again, opened and closed drawers, found the Gideon Bible chained to a desk, wondered why anyone would ever steal a Bible, wondered how many years it had been since she had been in a motel room. Thousands. With Hal, on one of their thousands of pleasure trips. Meaningless pleasure trips. She tried to summon up a picture of Hal in her mind, but all she could see was Buck.
They were not the same. She’d tried very hard to convince herself that Buck was like Hal, like her father, like Gramps, even like Frank. Buck just refused to fit the mold. He kept his promises. He had maneuvered her, but never for his own gain. To use her, to take advantage—she knew it wasn’t so. And he spent his money on comforts, but those comforts didn’t rule him.
She had loved those different men in very different ways; they had all hurt her. So she had built up mountains of protective defenses…she understood it all suddenly, very clearly. When it was too late, she thought fleetingly. She needed Buck like she needed breath, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe.
She stood up again, put on her shoes, ran a brush through her hair and walked outside. It was dark out, a warm, tangy spring night, the stars like a web of metallic fabric in the sky. There was no one in the deserted motel parking lot; the only car was her own. She got in, locked the car doors and turned on the inside lights. For the first time all day, she stared at all the little circular dials, smelled the new leather smell, felt the comfort of the driver’s seat.
Putting the car in Reverse, she drove out of the parking lot, leaving the windows down. The brisk breeze cooled her cheeks as she drove aimlessly for hours. Midnight passed. One o’clock, then two. It was close to three when she found herself on a rutted road that was spring-muddy, surrounded by trees and silence. At the end of it was a diamond-shaped lake, and just in front of that was a little cottage where every window reflected a lonely yellow light. The Town Car was there. She couldn’t have said in a thousand years why she hadn’t gone to the condominium first. That was where he should have been; it was the middle of a work week.
She parked the mauve car behind Buck’s and stepped out, trembling almost violently, her face pale. Her hands were shaking so much it seemed better just to leave her purse in the car; then for long ridiculous moments, she tried to decide exactly why it mattered, where on earth she left her purse at all. Obviously, it made no difference.
Before she had taken the first step toward the door, it opened. With the light behind him, Buck’s face was in shadow, but she had heard the way the door wrenched open, and she could see steely tension in the way he stood there, a cold statue, his eyes like dark lights boring in her direction.
Her heart sank that inch below rock-bottom.
Chapter Seventeen
Loren stood staring at his still form in the distance. She read no welcome in his silence, but then she hadn’t really expected one. She didn’t really know what she had expected. It didn’t matter; she’d had to come, and for the first time in two days her head seemed clear, no longer churning with anxiety.
Unconsciously, she took a single step forward and then stopped, her palms just slightly extended and her gray eyes huge with pleading. “Don’t turn me away, Buck. Please. I don’t expect you to forgive what I said yesterday, but you have to listen.” He didn’t move, and tears suddenly welled in her eyes. She tried to smile. “I was jealous of you, Buck. Can you believe it? You could cope so easily where I couldn’t, and I’ve been living on pride for so long that it felt as if the rug had been pulled out from under me. I was frightened, and I felt vulnerable, and just being with you brought out needs in me…needs I didn’t want to believe I had. Needs I suddenly couldn’t ignore. You touched every nerve…”
Still he didn’t move, and her legs suddenly seemed shaky.
His eyes were on hers, she could see that in the darkness. His breadth of shoulder was like a memory of comfort no longer offered. “I think I might have worked through that,” she continued. “But what I couldn’t seem to work through was feeling that I had nothing to give you, Buck, not in return for what you’d given me. I don’t mean money. I mean the real gifts you kept heaping on me, a listening ear and support and sharing and humor, the way you make love…”
The giant statue moved, a swift stalk in the darkness that closed in on her, snatching her out of that lonely silence and crushing her in strong arms. “How could you be so stupid, Loren?” he growled passionately: “Nothing to give me? How could you be so blind that you couldn’t see how much I needed you? I’ve had every policeman in this state out looking for you; I’ve got a man at the condominium; I’ve got Rayburn up all night by the phone. You ever disappear in my life again and I swear I’ll—”
His hand clutched in her hair, and his mouth crushed down on hers like a searing brand. She felt the most delicious, hurtful pressure… He broke away, staring down at her. In the moonlight, she could suddenly see his face, his eyes fired with love, his brows creased in anger, his jaw furiously set. Her heart surged with joy, with laughter and lightness and relief.
“I was wrong, Loren. To interfere. Especially in your job. You were so damned strong and so damned set in your ways and so damned sure of yourself that I didn’t know how else to infiltrate the fortress. I never meant to take anything away from you. I never meant for you to feel that you hadn’t done well managing your life. That’s exactly what I love about you. The way you do cope, that cool head of yours, that sensitivity to other people, and those smiles no matter what life’s handed you. Your laughter even on the darkest days…I need that, Loren. I need you.
“There is no other woman I ever felt would stand up to me, stand next to me, no one else I ever felt such an intense feeling of sharing with. You offered love, Loren, before you knew about the titles and trappings; do you have any idea how precious a gift that was? And we argued, Loren. That was part of it—finding a woman I could live with through good moods and bad. You fit like my other half. And you say you felt vulnerable? I felt torn in two when you said I made you feel like less. All I ever wanted was to make you feel like the beautiful, loving lady you are. The idea that I in any way made you feel cut down, diminished…I went home and cried…why the hell are you crying?”
“You are,” she whispered. There was a certain crystal in his eyes. His arms wrapped around her like a haven, and his lips found hers again in that spring night. She answered kiss with kiss, touch with touch, promise with promise. She felt cloaked in love, surrounded by the whole velvet fabric of emotions finally set free. She understood his needs as she hadn’t before; it mattered. She understood, too, that she had freely offered love but not trust, that trust was a very expensive commodity in her life, and that he had just bought it, lock, stock and barrel. She had so much to tell him, and she wanted to tell it all to him with touch. Each caress seemed to invite another until suddenly Buck reluctantly pulled back with a husky breath.
“Loren,” he growled. “I still have to call the police.”
Her fingers still lingered on his sleeve, the slightest of frowns creasing her brow. “Why on earth did you ever call them, Buck? I phoned work; I told the family I was going out. There was no need for anyone to worry—”
“I was worried at ten this morning. It is now three-ten a.m.” He pushed her ahead of him toward the cottage, patting an affectionate, half-scolding commentary on her bottom. “The police may not honor a missing-persons call in that short a time. They honored a search for the car�
�come back here!”
She’d darted ahead of him but now half turned. His hand latched on to hers. “Stay in touch,” she was ordered gruffly.
She stayed in touch while he phoned the police and then his condominium; she called the family herself. Her eyebrows lifted wryly when that was done. “Why don’t we just put it in the New York Times that I’m staying the night here?”
“Do you really want to waste time making another phone call?”
She shook her head, laughing, and then sobered. “No,” she said softly. “I don’t want to waste any more time, Buck.” Her eyes met his, and she thought…riches. The richness of need and the richness of wanting and the richness of love.
Loren climbed the stairs to the loft ahead of him. There was no light upstairs, but a bright silver moon shone through the open loft windows. From there, Loren could see the still, silent lake, could smell all the spring freshness that suddenly had meaning again. She looked for a minute and then turned back to Buck. He was standing at the loft opening, still, watching her, and her eyes suddenly turned soft, her smile grave. “Buck. It really won’t be easy.”
“No.” He moved forward until his fingers could reach the blue linen buttons of her suit coat. Slowly, he undid them, one by one, and just as slowly slipped her jacket off. “I want to protect you, Loren. To spoil you. And I’m going to. And you’re going to fight that.”
Her fingers were busy with his tie; it was half off anyway. When that was on the floor, she worked the smaller buttons of his shirt. Her fingers splayed on the warm, smooth golden muscles of his chest. “You’re used to being boss, Buck, but so am I. We’re going to argue.” She smiled fleetingly up at him. “You never did understand about the car. I can’t just take it like that…”
He turned her around. The silky pink blouse beneath the suit coat had tiny buttons in back, at least a dozen of them. She watched the lake and felt his hands trembling, and she loved him so much that moment she felt like crying. Like laughing.
Kisses From Heaven Page 18
