Phantom Waltz

by Catherine Anderson

  Ryan leaned against the fender of his Dodge, shoulders hunched, head hanging, mind racing with so many horrible possibilities. Rafe walked up and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, bro. All’s well that ends well.”

  “He could be dead,” Ryan bit out. “And it would have been my fault. I had no business going in the pen. I should have known better than to put other men at risk that way. If you can’t cut the mustard, you keep the hell out of the way.”

  Rafe sighed and patted Ryan’s back. “Life is full of risks. Sly’s never lost his grip on a rope in all the years I’ve known him. It was just one of those things. Probably never happen again. We’re lucky it didn’t go worse than it did.”

  “Christ,” Ryan whispered. “I can’t stop shaking, and I think I’m gonna puke.”

  “It’s a bad feeling, I know,” Rafe said softly. “Nothing worse than feeling responsible when someone you love gets hurt. Is there?”

  “You’ve got that right,” Ryan agreed in a quivery voice that sounded nothing like his own.

  Rafe rested his folded arms on the fender beside Ryan’s. “Strange how a front-row seat can give you a different perspective on something. Now you have an inkling of how Bethany must have felt.”

  That brought Ryan’s head up. He glared at his brother. “How the hell do you figure?”

  Rafe gazed off across the fields. “Nah. You’re right. There’s no comparison, is there? Five minutes later, and Dad’s up walking around, fit as a fiddle. She undoubtedly felt a million times worse.” Rafe cut Ryan a hard look. “Probably still does. You damned near died. She kept you hanging on for hours. Imagine it, Ryan. Sitting there all that time, praying you’d live. Naked from the waist up, except for all your blood. Got so cooked from the sun, they had to knock her out with a shot for the pain. While she was holding you, getting baked, I wonder how many times she thought she’d puke? And you know the real kicker? You can look forward to getting better. The hip will heal. You’ll get your strength back. You may never be good as new, but you’ll come close, and the day will come when you can resume all your former activities without putting anyone at risk. Bethany can’t look forward to that. She’ll be paralyzed for the rest of her life.”

  Rafe pushed away from the truck. He didn’t say another word. He didn’t need to.

  Two nights later at precisely half past six, Bethany’s doorbell rang. In her pre-Ryan days, she might have felt excited, thinking it was one of her friends coming to invite her to join in an activity. Now she only sighed dejectedly, unable to work up any enthusiasm for company. She didn’t want to do something fun. She didn’t even want to see a friendly face. She just wanted to be left alone to wallow in her misery.

  She hurried through the apartment, which was no easy task because she still wasn’t finished unpacking, and she had moving boxes everywhere. She wrestled with the dead bolt, finally got it disengaged, and opened the door until the sturdy safety chain Jake had installed earlier in the week caught hold. Through the crack, she glimpsed a tall, dark-haired man in neatly pressed chinos and a brown sport coat.

  “Yes? May I help you?” Though she hadn’t yet seen his face, he looked respectable enough, definitely not a punk-with-purple-hair type who might rob her at gunpoint. Even so, she was reluctant to unfasten the security guard. “I’m really not interested in buying anything. Sorry. I just moved in here and—”

  The man shifted so she could see his face. She broke off and stared incredulously into twinkling, gunmetal blue eyes.

  “Hi, darlin’.”

  “Ryan?” With shaking hands, she unhooked the chain and backed away to open the door.

  Hands in his trouser pockets, his body deceptively relaxed, he rested a slip-on Italian loafer on the threshold and leaned his shoulder against the door frame. Whether he meant to or not, he’d very effectively prevented her from shutting the door again. “You really do need a peephole. It’d save you from opening up to fellows you’d rather avoid.”

  “Ryan,” she said again, her voice shaky.

  He looked so different she almost didn’t recognize him. Gone were the faded jeans and dusty boots. Every dark hair on his hatless head was perfectly styled. The sexy cowboy had vanished, and a successful-looking city slicker had taken his place.

  “If you’re here to try and convince me to go back to the ranch, you’ve wasted the trip.”

  “Nope. That’s not my aim. I never want you to touch a wheel back on the Rocking K.”

  Her heart sank with disappointment. Stupid of her. Even though she had no intention of relenting, a part of her wished he might at least attempt to get her back. She tried to moisten her lips with a tongue that felt as dry as cotton.

  “I’m moving in,” he said.

  “Oh.” Bethany gazed blankly at him for a moment. “What?”

  “You heard me. Do I really need to repeat myself?”

  Bethany stared hard into his eyes. “I told you, Ryan. It’s over. I’m not—”

  “Forever,” he interrupted. “That’s what you told me.” He pushed his way on in. “You’re mine. No reneging on the bargain. If you don’t have a double bed, we’ll make do for tonight and I’ll buy one tomorrow.”

  He limped slightly, she noticed. He didn’t move as fluidly as he once had, either. He turned to shut the door, then he engaged the dead bolt and the chain. When he faced her again, he flashed that wonderful crooked grin that had always made her heart do flips. The jagged scar on his cheek was still an angry pink, but it in no way detracted from his rugged good looks. Instead it only lent that drop-dead gorgeous face more character.

  “I’m not going back with you to the ranch, Ryan. Not ever. If you think by coming here you can convince me, you’re wrong.”

  “I’m not asking you to go back. I understand why you feel we can’t live there. Not a problem. We’ll live here.”

  She laughed tremulously. “Right. You’re leaving the ranch. Uh-huh. And where’s the bridge from Brooklyn you’d like to sell me?”

  “No bridge.” He rested his hands on his hips. “Where you go, I go.”

  “No way. You’d shrivel up and die, living in the city. You’re a rancher to the marrow of your bones. It’d never work.”

  “I’ll make it work.” He moved into her living room and glanced around at the boxes. “It’s just as well you aren’t unpacked completely. I want to get a house with a couple of acres. Someplace where we can at least keep Wink and Bucky and have a yard for Tripper.”

  Bethany hugged her waist. “A house? You want to buy a house here?”

  He turned to regard her with a no-nonsense glint in his eyes. “Bethany Ann, we can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way. I’m here, I’m staying. Nothing you say or do will change my mind. Why don’t you just accept what you can’t change, and feed me. I’m hungry.”

  She’d known he loved her. No question. But the realization that he would leave the Rocking K, simply to be with her, nearly broke her heart. “I can’t let you do this, Ryan. You’ll never be happy in the city. You know that. I know that. You’d die an inch at a time.”

  He shrugged. “If I stay on the ranch without you, I’ll die an inch at a time, too. I’d rather die up here with you.” He wandered into the kitchen and opened her refrigerator. “Where’s the food?”

  “I haven’t gotten all that many groceries yet.”

  He sighed and shut the door. Then he eyed her with a speculative gleam. “I’m not really all that hungry for food, anyway. I’d much rather have you.”

  She held up a hand. “We’re not going to hop into bed until we settle this.”

  “It’s already settled.” He grasped the lapels of his sport coat to show her his dress shirt. “I even bought new clothes. Decision made. I’m here. I’m staying.” He released his hold on the jacket and moved slowly toward her, managing to do the cowboy saunter even in chinos and loafers. When he settled his hands on the arms of her chair, he dipped his head to look deeply into her eyes. “I love you so much, Bethany. W
herever you are—that’s where I belong, and that’s where I’ll be happy. I’ll make this work. Just give me a chance to show you.”

  She could barely see him now through her tears. “Oh, Ryan. You can’t do this. You were born and raised on that land. It’s where your heart is, where your heart will always be. I can’t take you away from there.”

  “You already have,” he whispered, and lifted her into his arms.

  He swore when he straightened, cursing his bad hip. “I’m still not a hundred percent recovered. But I’m getting there.”

  “Don’t hurt yourself, you big, stubborn blockhead.” She hugged his neck, scarcely able to believe how very wonderful it felt to have his arms around her again. She’d lain awake countless nights, longing to feel his embrace, aching with sadness because she hadn’t believed she ever would again. “Oh, Ryan. I love you. I love you.”

  “I know you do,” he informed her huskily.

  And then he carried her to the bedroom to show her how much he had missed her.

  Afterward Bethany lay in his arms, gazing thoughtfully at the ceiling while he toyed with her hair. He honestly meant to stay, she realized. This wasn’t a ploy to manipulate her. He simply loved her so much, he had to be with her, and if that meant living in Portland, he was willing to do that. He had absolutely no intention of trying to convince her that she should return to the ranch.

  Yet that was exactly what he’d managed to do.

  She recalled the promise she’d made to him, about always trying to love him more than she loved herself. How ironic that in the end, it was Ryan who was showing her the true meaning of that vow by loving her so selflessly. Oh, God. He made her feel so miserably misguided and small.

  “I’ll go home with you,” she whispered tremulously. “If you can make it work here, then I can surely figure out a way to make it work there.”

  “Nope,” he said stubbornly.

  They spent several minutes arguing. Then they both started laughing. When his mirth subsided, Ryan told her about the incident with the steer. “I understood then, honey. How you felt during the bear attack and why you left me afterward. I’m not in a wheelchair, but in a way, I am physically handicapped right now. I got a very slight taste of how it feels. You aren’t afraid for yourself. You’re afraid for me, because you know I’ll jump in and possibly get hurt again if anything threatens your safety. We can’t live like that.”

  “We can’t live like this, either. You aren’t cut out for city living, Ryan.”

  “Sure I am. I’ve got two bachelor degrees, for God’s sake. I can find some sort of work that challenges me. It doesn’t even have to pay all that well. We’ve got all the money we’ll ever need.”

  They argued a bit more. Then he got up to order some pizza. After the food was delivered, they ate until they were replete, and then he made love to her again. Bethany fell asleep in his arms with a troubled frown pleating her brow, for in her heart she knew that no matter how hard he tried, he’d never be happy living in the city.

  The following morning, Ryan woke up to find the bed empty beside him. He stared hard at the sling Bethany had used to sneak out on him and made a mental note to get rid of the damned thing.

  Yawning and rubbing his eyes, he bumped his toes on boxes all the way to the kitchen. Next to the coffeepot, he found a note from his runaway bride.

  Dear Ryan:

  I can’t think how to tell you this, so I’ll cut right to the chase. I’ve left you again. This is never going to work. I lay awake half the night, agonizing over our dilemma. I’ve decided I’d much rather lose you suddenly while you’re doing some damned fool thing to protect me than to watch you slowly lose all your enthusiasm for life, which is exactly what will happen if you stay up here.

  Anyway, dear heart, I’ve gone home. Sorry for doing it this way, but you are being so obstinate, I know talking to you will get us nowhere. Please try not to be too angry with me.

  Love, Bethany

  Ryan swore when he finished reading the note. Then he went back to the bedroom to throw on his clothes.

  It was shortly after noon when Ryan reached the ranch, and sure enough, there was Bethany’s van in front of the stable. His temper didn’t improve when he discovered she wasn’t in the house or any of the outbuildings, which forced him to walk all the wheelchair paths to find her. As chance would have it7 he finally found her on the very last path he chose to take, the one that led to his thinking spot on the knoll.

  He saw her sitting in her wheelchair under the pine tree long before he reached her. Just sitting there, gazing off across the lake at the mountain peaks with a wistful look on her upturned face. He wanted to be irritated with her. He’d just chased her halfway across the state and back, after all. And this latest shenanigan of hers resolved nothing. He couldn’t make her stay someplace where she’d feel afraid all the time, either for herself or for him.

  Only how could he stay angry with someone who looked so damned sweet?

  “Bethany Ann!” he barked. A guy had his pride, after all. “What the hell do you think you’re doing down here? I specifically told you last night that I wasn’t coming back here, that we could never make this work.”

  She didn’t even have the good grace to jump. She only smiled slightly and waited for him to reach her. With a bad hip, it was a little difficult to stomp with every step, but he gave it his best shot.

  “I’ve a good mind to turn you over my knee. You run off to Portland, and I follow you. Then you run off and come home when you know very well it’s against my wishes. Who in the hell’s wearing the pants in this family?”

  She glanced at his prissy city-slicker chinos. “Neither of us at the moment.”

  He swatted his trouser leg. “Don’t let the cut of these britches fool you. It’s not the damned clothes that make the man. I told you last night that I’d thought it over and decided we’d live outside Portland.”

  “I’ve just changed your mind for you.”

  “You can’t make up your own mind, lady. Don’t go screwing with mine.”

  She just smiled serenely. “You know what Sly says. Stand around waiting for a woman to make up her mind, and you’ll put down taproots. Your roots are here, Ryan, and they run deep, so this is where we’re staying. I was wrong. I realize that now. We’re staying here on Kendrick land, and that’s final.”

  Ryan wanted to give her a good, hard shake. Instead he planted his hands on his hips. “You’ll be miserable if I make you stay here.” He swung a hand to encompass the ranch. “Everywhere you look, there are dangers of one kind or another.”

  “There are just as many dangers in the city, only different kinds. Remember what you said to me, Ryan? About our having two choices in how we live life—in a safe little bubble where we’ll eventually die anyway—or grabbing hold with both hands, enjoying every single second?”

  “I remember.”

  “This is your everything,” she said softly. Then she turned shimmering blue eyes to his and tremulously added, “And it’s my everything as well. I was wrong to leave. It was a stupid mistake. I thought I was doing the right thing, and I continued to think that until last night when you showed up on my doorstep. It took that for me to realize that there are many different ways to die. Some death isn’t of the flesh, but of the heart and soul.”

  “Oh, honey.”

  She held up a hand so he’d let her finish. “I was dying inside before I met you. I was slowly suffocating with every breath I took. How can you think that I could be happy in Portland, watching you feel the same way?”

  All Ryan’s anger dissipated. “I guess maybe you couldn’t,” he said thickly.

  Tears spilled over her lower lashes onto her cheeks. “None of us know how long we’ve got. That being the case, we shouldn’t waste a single day. I want to live every moment we have together as fully as we can. And the only place on earth either of us can do that is right here.”

  He closed the distance between them. When he leaned down to meet h
er gaze, she looked up at him with big Johnny-jump-up blue eyes all filled with tears and said, “I want my scalawag cowboy back.”

  “Your what?”

  She smoothed her hands over the shoulder seams of his sport coat. “Don’t get me wrong. You make a very handsome city fellow, but I think you’re a lot sexier in faded jeans and dusty boots with a Stetson cocked over your eyes. I want my scalawag cowboy back.”

  Ryan swept her from the chair into his arms. “You got him, darlin’.”

  He kissed her until both of them felt a little dizzy. Then he turned to carry her up the slope.

  “What are you doing? You can’t carry me to the house.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s silly. Your hip! Just put me in my chair and—”

  “What kind of a beginning would that be? I want to carry you over the threshold when we get home.”

  She laughed in spite of herself. “Has anyone ever told you you’re just a little bit crazy?”

  “A few people have made noises to that effect. I just ignored them.”

  With every labored step he took, Bethany gazed back at the lake and the trees and the majestic mountain peaks. She was so glad to be back. So very glad.

  Home, he’d said. And he was so very right. Kendrick land, under Kendrick skies. Her man had roots here that ran far deeper than he knew. She’d made the right decision, not just for him, but for herself.

  Home. What a beautiful word that was.

  Epilogue

  In the Kendrick family Bible, it is now recorded that Ryan Kendrick, son of Ann and Keefe Kendrick, took to wife Bethany Ann Coulter on August 31, in the year of our Lord 2000. What the entry fails to note is that the wedding took place on the shore of Bear Creek Lake that beautiful summer day and was in fact a double ceremony. Also joined in holy wedlock that afternoon were Sylvester Bob Glass and Helen Marie Boyle. The entry in the Bible also fails to note that the younger bride had just discovered she was pregnant and was beaming with happiness.

  Present to witness the weddings was a dusty, denim-clad assortment of guests, all of whom rode three hours from Ryan’s ranch house to reach the lake by horseback. The Coulter family was well represented, with Bethany’s father and all five of her strapping brothers glowering at her groom until he said, “I do.”