Lost and Found Groom

by McLinn, Patricia

  “The next generation didn’t fare any better–World War II, polio and an uncle killed himself after he’d murdered his cousin. I was eight then–it’s the first time I heard of the Susland Curse.”

  She left another silence. When she finally turned, her face had an intensity that was far from dreamy.

  “You see, Daniel? Our family’s had generations of sorrow and tragedies. Kendra’s mother lost her husband with Kendra still a baby, and was never the same. And my other sister died leaving an eleven-year-old son. And now Kendra . . .”

  Uneasiness prickled at the back of Daniel’s neck. “What about Kendra?”

  “She’s been alone a long time. Alone, like Leaping Star said. And now she’s raising a son alone.”

  “Not anymore. I’m going to be here to help raise Matthew. And–” He bit off the last words.

  But Marti filled in. “And Kendra. You’ll be with Kendra. If she’ll let her defenses down enough to let you.”

  “That’s between Kendra and me.”

  Her intensity eased into a glint of humor. “Of course, but an aunt can hope for her niece’s happiness.” It couldn’t have been any clearer if she’d shouted, “I’m going to meddle.”

  “You weren’t so impressed with me at the start,” he said bluntly. “Why the sudden change?”

  “I wouldn’t say it’s sudden. I was leery when you showed up–with good cause. All I knew was you’d gotten Kendra pregnant and disappeared. But I’m not one who sticks to an opinion when I see reason to change it. You might be what Kendra and Far Hills need.”

  He raised his brows. “I suspect Kendra would tell you that the last thing she needs is an out-of-work pilot.”

  She cut him a sharp look. “Out of work, huh? You intend to tell Kendra that?”

  Hell, he hadn’t intended to tell her. “Eventually. I’d like to say I had leads on jobs at the same time.”

  “What kind of job are you after?”

  He curbed his amusement enough to give her a straight answer: “Flying. Need a crop duster?”

  “No.” She didn’t pull her punches. “You don’t want to do that, anyhow. Too tame.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her, searching for the meaning behind that comment. Had Kendra been talking to her? Marti’s expression gave no clues.

  “What other kind of jobs have you held?”

  “Only way I’ve ever earned a paycheck is by flying.”

  “But you have a number of other abilities, don’t you.” He didn’t answer, but she didn’t seem to require any confirmation. She tapped a blunt fingernail against the soda can. “You know, Kendra wrote an article a while back about a grant for a new position–regional instructor and coordinator for search and rescue volunteers. A pilot,” she added as if putting whipped cream on a sundae, “would be a bonus they’d have a hard time passing up.”

  “Search and rescue.” He turned that over. “Around here?”

  “Of course around here. You think I’m trying to get you a job in the Yukon? So, what do you think?”

  He looked from her to the mountains beyond the town’s buildings. “Yeah, I might like that. And they might like my credentials. Now I’ve got a question–why would you do anything for me?”

  She’d wasted no time pulling paper and a pencil from her purse, and began writing. “I told you–I think you might be good for Kendra.”

  “You said Kendra and Far Hills before. Why would having me around be any good for your ranch?”

  “I wondered if you’d picked up on that.” She seemed pleased he had. “I think you can be the solution to the Susland curse.”

  “What do I have to do with some old curse?

  “You haven’t turned your back on your son.”

  “Why the hell would I?”

  “Why would any man? But some men do. Charles Susland did. That’s why Leaping Star said his blood would be alone. Like Kendra. ‘Only when someone loves enough to undo your wrongs will the laughter of children live beyond its echo in Far Hills.’ ”

  Marti’s voice had an eerie sound to it when she said those words, as if it weren’t only her voice speaking.

  She blinked rapidly before turning to him again. “You not only haven’t turned your back on your son, you’re staying around for him. And you certainly didn’t turn your back on those children on Santa Estella. Besides, I figure maybe you and Kendra are meant for each other.”

  A jolt hit his gut. “She’d tell you different.”

  “Oh, she has. You ever wonder why she’s so busy telling me, you, Ellyn, herself and probably anybody else she comes up against that you and she are wrong for each other?”

  “Maybe because of what you said before, about her being the fifth generation here. Her roots are sunk deep. I have no roots.”

  “Of course you do. Everyone does.”

  “I gave up whatever roots I had–gladly gave them up–when the Delligattis adopted me.”

  “So, then you took their roots.”

  “No.” He said no more. What he gave away to Marti’s scouring examination of his face, he couldn’t imagine.

  “So you’re like one of those grafted plants. They do it with all sorts of plants–roses and fruit trees and grapevines and such. Put a new plant on top of old roots.”

  He ordered his mouth to smile. “That sounds about right. What is the saying–neither fish nor fowl?”

  “That’s what they say, but there’s one thing . . . When those grafts work, they bring the good of the new and the good of the old. Those grafted plants produce the best fruit.”

  She tore off the top sheet of paper and handed it to him. “Sheriff Johnson will expect your call in the morning. And don’t be thinking I didn’t notice how you didn’t let me tell you why I think Kendra’s trying so hard to convince everyone you’re wrong for her.” Shaking her head, she stood. “Good heavens, for two brave people, you’re acting like a couple of chicken-hearted rabbits.”

  Daniel remained on the bench, the paper in his hand. He gave some thought to how he might approach this job possibility.

  But mostly he thought about Marti’s final words. Never before had he been called a coward, much less a chicken-hearted rabbit.

  What bothered him was he suspected she had a point.

  *

  Daniel’s hand shook.

  Making a telephone call and his hand shook.

  He’d felt nothing like this yesterday when he’d called Sheriff Johnson. And when he’d gone in to see the sheriff yesterday afternoon to talk over the operation, he’d been totally at ease. Partly because he’d immediately liked the no-nonsense sheriff. Mostly because the stakes weren’t as high as they were in today’s phone call.

  But he didn’t let himself hesitate as he punched in the long distance number. He’d promised himself a few weeks back–under the sting of an observation by Kendra–that when he settled his life a little he’d make this call. Thanks to Marti’s lead on this job, he’d crossed one big hurdle to settling his life. It was time to make good on that promise.

  The phone rang twice before a familiar female voice answered, “Hello?”

  “Hello. It’s–”

  “Daniel! How good to hear your voice. Wait a moment and let me get your father. Robert! It’s Daniel. Here, I’m putting you on the speaker phone.” Faint background noise came over the line. “This phone you got us for Christmas has so many gadgets, dear, I fear we’ll never use them all. But we have enjoyed the speaker phone when you and Robert call.”

  “Daniel,” said Robert Delligatti Senior. “Where are you, boy? If you can tell us, that is.”

  “I can tell you–Far Hills, Wyoming.”

  “Wyoming? How did you come to be there?”

  “More important, Daniel, tell us how you are,” inserted Annette Delligatti.

  “I’m fine. And I’ll tell you what brought me to Wyoming and what’s going to be keeping me here, but I’ve, uh, I’ve got things to tell you both. Some news. But first, there’s something. . . Something I
should have said a long time ago. I . . .” He rubbed his throat. “I love you. I love you both.”

  For an instant there was silence. No words, no sound of movement from the other end of the line. Then came a faint, wavery, “Oh.” And he couldn’t be sure who’d said it.

  “I mean, I’ve always been grateful, and I’ve respected you–”

  “Oh, Daniel, we love you, too.” That was definitely Annette. “We never wanted to push you, to make you feel obligated . . .”

  The words faded into a sob. Daniel sat down abruptly. He couldn’t ever remember seeing her more than faintly teary-eyed.

  “You’ve made your mother and me very happy, Daniel. You’ll never know.” Robert’s hoarse words were followed by the sound of a decisive nose-blowing.

  He might never know what it was like to take in a street urchin, feed him, clothe him, educate him, discipline him, worry about him and–yes, he saw it now–love him for twenty-five years without ever having love expressed, but at least now he could imagine some of the complexity of their feelings. Now that he had a son who didn’t know he was his son.

  “I hope my news will make you happy, too.” He was glad he had no witnesses to this call, because he feared he was grinning idiotically. “You might want to sit down–you’re grandparents.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, Kendra. About things you’ve said. About the Delli–about my family. About the future.”

  Her heart hammered. He was leaving. All along she’d known he would. The pain still caught her unprepared.

  When he’d called at the paper this morning gruffly asking to come over when she had time to talk, she’d figured her reprieve had ended. She’d had no need to explain away what happened that day it rained, because he’d made no effort to see her. He’d been at the co-op–Matthew talked about him non-stop. But she didn’t see him, didn’t hear from him, didn’t even hear of him from Marti, Ellyn or Fran. She missed him with a continuous ache.

  That ache deepened and widened when she opened the back door to him at two, as arranged. Matthew was already invited to spend the afternoon at Marti’s. Kendra had planned to catch up on work for the paper. When Daniel called, she’d given up that hope.

  He wasted no time, starting while they were still in the hall.

  “I’ve made changes I–”

  “Don’t you want to sit down, have some coffee or–”

  “No. There’s a lot to tell you.”

  Not yet. Don’t do this yet. Don’t leave me yet.

  That was the instant she knew she couldn’t let him leave without loving him once more. She needed to hold him against her, inside her again. She needed that or she’d never be able to let him go forever.

  “I talked to my parents, Kendra. I told them about Matthew, and you. I . . . I’m working at letting them in. They . . . They were touched.”

  Tears welled up before she had any chance of stopping them.

  “Oh, Daniel, I’m so glad.” She put her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek, below the scar.

  His arms came around her and held her in place when she would have backed away.

  “Why the tears? You’re supposed to be happy.”

  “I am happy.” She smiled up at him.

  The answering smile in his eyes heated immediately, taking on an intent that stirred her blood. When his mouth came down on hers, she parted her lips, and took him inside.

  The thick softness of his hair covered her fingers as she felt the shape of his skull under her palm. His arms wrapped around her, locking their bodies together, while their mouths feasted and explored.

  At last, he lifted his head, touched her lips again, as if to be certain they were real, then said, “I have more to tell you, Kendra. About my job–”

  “You could tell me later.”

  His narrowed eyes asked one question. She trailed her lips along his jaw, answering his need and her own.

  “Later. Tell me later, Daniel.”

  She stretched up to take his bottom lip lightly between her teeth, then slid her tongue over his lip, into his mouth. His tongue met her, enticed her deeper. Matched her rhythm. Their rhythm.

  “Kendra . . .” He turned them both, so her back was against the hall wall, his elbows locked to keep them arm’s length apart. “Are you certain?”

  That was the question. An echo of the doubt she’d heard in his demand after the rainstorm. Who am I, Kendra? Who am I?

  “I’m certain, Daniel. About this, I’m certain.”

  Dark eyes bore into hers. Then he bent his elbows and pressed against her, his lips tender against hers, his body fierce and taut.

  “I swore the next time we made love it would be in a bed.”

  She recognized the arrogance of his certainty that there would be a next time, when she’d been so adamant there would not. And she didn’t care. Not now. Not when she needed this last time to get her through the rest of forever.

  She was certain, desperate even, yet that first step away from the wall, toward her bedroom, her knees nearly gave way. Without a word, he wrapped her tightly against his side. She slipped her arm around his waist, and held on. To him. To the moment.

  Streams of sunlight from corner windows stretched wide over her bed. Atop the forest green comforter sat a pile of clean, folded laundry not yet put away–an emblem of mundane, practical life she was turning her back on for this moment. She scooped up the towels and socks, washed clothes and T-shirts and deposited them on the floor.

  The motion brought her eye-to-eye with her tote, hanging by its straps from the arm of the corner chair. And that brought her face to face with the realities of what they were going to do–what they had done before–and its consequences.

  Not allowing herself to hesitate but also not facing Daniel, she fished out the packet of condoms she had bought in Sheridan.

  “I, uh, told myself we’d never use these, but as a practical matter, to have them on hand . . .”

  He took the box from her hand, dropping it on the table beside her bed, and kissed her. Kissed her hard and gentle, hot and sweet, demanding and giving. Each kiss between them seemed not like a separate caress, but a continuation of the ones before and an introduction to the ones to follow.

  Standing beside her bed, he lifted the hem of her sweater and she pulled it up. Before she’d freed her head, she felt his lips at the bared hollow in her throat, then lower, to the swell of her breast. She threw the sweater aside as his mouth closed over her nipple through the smooth fabric of her bra. The strong, pulsing pressure of his mouth echoed to her womb.

  “I want to see you, Kendra. I want to see you.”

  She told herself the urgency of Santa Estella shouldn’t drive them this time, there should be time and patience for exploration and leisure. But she had no patience. She wanted nothing between his mouth and her skin. Nothing between her hands and his flesh.

  She pulled at her clothes, his clothes. Met his fingers at the same tasks. Hurried them, exulted in their mutual success with kisses, caresses and moans.

  “We can make it slow this time,” Daniel said. She knew it wasn’t true, she didn’t want it to be true.

  Both of them naked, he carried her down to the bed, pushing aside the comforter, skimming his hands over her as she reached for him. He was hot, smooth, hard. She tasted the salty musk of his skin, the taste she’d craved, the touch she’d dreamed of for three years.

  A groan echoed through Daniel, and into her. He maneuvered away from her touch.

  “Not yet–Slow. . .” He kissed her belly, then lower.

  “No.” Her head rocked from side to side. “No, Daniel. Inside–together. Please.”

  He held utterly still for a second, then he raised his head. “Kendra . . .” His breath was another torment of pleasure across her sensitized skin.

  She twisted to reach the box on the bedside table, tumbling out the packets. Both of them, together, sheathed him. Her hands shaking, his hands coveri
ng hers, slowing the torture, lengthening the pleasure. Finished at last, she gulped in air, while she watched him drop his head back, eyes closed, breathing through his mouth. She touched him, lightly, on the chest, and his muscles quivered.

  “I want you, Daniel. Inside.”

  His eyes opened and his head came forward. Never releasing her look, he moved over her, between her legs, as she opened to him. He touched her once, and she gasped, her hips rising up, trying to meet him. He positioned himself, and plunged inside her.

  A sob broke from her.

  “Kendra–?”

  “No–no. It’s good. Oh . . . Daniel.” She wrapped herself around him, kissing his rock-hard arm as he tried to hold himself off her. She drew him down. “So good.”

  The power and rhythm built fast and strong. She felt the strain in his muscles as he tried to slow what would not be held back.

  “It’s been–”

  “–so long.” She arched to meet his next stroke, and there was no holding back. The storm was inside. So was the peace. But the storm held sway now. Violent, awesome, powerful, unpredictable, life-changing. Climbing, howling, moaning, shuddering, crying. Conquering.

  And as the storm ebbed, she held onto the peace and to Daniel.

  He eased some of his weight off her, but they stayed joined. Just as such mundane matters as time began to assert themselves once more, he withdrew, rolling to the edge of the bed. He snagged a towel from the pile she’d placed on the floor, dealt with the practicalities, then pulled on another condom. And before she could muster the energy or desire to move, he had returned to her.

  It was not the powerful stroke of earlier, but a slow, sweet glide. “Slow this time, Kendra. Building from the start.”

  *

  He propped himself on an elbow, his head resting against his hand as he studied her. She should guard her reactions, decide what she could let him see. Instead, she reveled in the sharp angles of his face, the curve of his lips, the depth of his eyes.

  “Kendra?”

  “Hmm.”

  “This is later.”