Dances of the Heart Read online

  “That’s not true, Paige, and you know it.” Her adamant voice brought her daughter back.

  “Oh, yes it is. Why did you break up with what’s his name, Charles, when he wanted to marry you? Because becoming a broker’s wife wasn’t the sort of romantic ending you envisaged for yourself. You went out with him for three years, and then decided married life in Greenwich wasn’t the happy ending you imagined.”

  “I broke up with him because he expected me to do all the compromising and move to Greenwich, and I also realized all he wanted was me hanging on his arm to show off. ‘Oh, this is Carrie, well known author.’ Goodness, he was awful. Not to mention the fact he had a roving eye for younger women.”

  “It took you three years to realize this? Please! He loved you because you were successful, not to show you off. And if he looked at younger women, he probably felt lucky to have you instead.” Paige groped with one hand in the driver’s caddy before popping a mint in her mouth. “You think one of your perfect, toned, muscular heroes is going to come and throw you over his shoulder and take you away for mad, passionate love.”

  “Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

  “Am I?”

  Carrie took in a deep breath and sighed.

  “Maybe a cowboy would do after all—he could throw you over his horse and gallop away with you—though I don’t think rural Texas is quite your speed, Mother.”

  She flicked the radio back on. There was no point in continuing the discussion; Paige was made for the law, her arguments, so solid in her own eyes, were buoyed by her arrogance. The only thing for an opponent to do in the face of such an impermeable wall was to keep her mouth shut. Their relationship extended, at times, like an elastic band stretched to snapping point, then released again into a slack coalition of friendship and filial love. Yet, as it ran through Carrie’s mind, there was some truth in her daughter’s words. She could have worked in Greenwich as easily as anywhere else; that hadn’t been the problem. The problem had been Charles. He was just too staid, too steady, too balanced—too damn unexciting. Everything had been so right, so perfect, so...as expected. No surprises, no spontaneity. Not that she had much time for the spontaneous these days.

  “Here’s the first turn.”

  Her daughter’s voice wrenched Carrie back to the matter at hand. “Are you sure? I thought it was farther down.”

  “Positive. I remember that tree.”

  A giggle escaped her as Paige made the turn.

  “What’s so funny?” her daughter demanded.

  Carrie suppressed a laugh. Farm-to-market roads, ranch roads; it certainly was a different world down here.

  Paige acquiesced. “Yeah, I suppose it is sort of funny, finding a route by a tree. New York it ain’t.”

  ****

  “Ohhh…OHHH!” men’s voices cried out in unison just as Carrie put her hand on the doorbell.

  “What in heaven’s name was that?”

  Jake appeared through the screen as Paige said, “Sport, no doubt.”

  The young man laughed. “Yeah, sorry, we’re turning it off. Come on in.”

  It occurred to Carrie she had not seen the house in daylight. Now, looking around, it had a different aura, a friendlier demeanor than her last, nighttime visit. As she took notice of all this, she was suddenly aware of Ray standing in the hall entryway.

  “Well, welcome back to the Rocking R,” he said. “I see you found us all right.”

  “Paige recognized a tree. Then, of course, you’re well signposted after that.”

  “Well done, Paige.” There was an awkward moment before he continued. “Well, come on in. I’ve got the dogs kenneled outside so you won’t get attacked. Can I get you something? Or are we going for that ride?”

  “I was hoping to meet this Diablo you told me about.” Carrie then questioned her daughter with a raised brow.

  “Don’t look at me, I’m ready.” She spread her hands, displaying her western attire.

  Next to her, the younger man nodded his approval and grabbed his hat off a hook by the door, handing another to his father. “This should be interesting,” he mumbled half under his breath.

  “Excuse me?” asked Paige.

  “Oh, I’m just…”

  “Come on down the back to the corral,” Ray put in, saving his son. “Jake and I will saddle up.”

  Carrie and Paige followed the men down a hallway that had two rooms on either side before it reached another living area, a large, screened-in sunroom with both sitting and dining spaces, looking out onto pasture with the corrals and barns off to the right. The vista was breathtaking: blue-green rolling hills patched with stands of oak and carpets of wildflowers, colors that would no doubt change with the seasons. It took Carrie’s breath away.

  “It’s so beautiful,” she gasped. “I didn’t know…” She sought Ray for an answer. “It’s so lush…”

  “We front on the Pedernales River so are pretty good for water. But we still have a drought problem most years. Gets too damn hot. It’s only late April. You want to be here July or August when we can only ride early morning or late afternoon.” There was a rancher’s concern mixed with pride in his voice.

  “Fancy waking up and seeing that every morning. You’re so lucky.”

  “As if you don’t have great views from your windows,” Paige pointed out.

  “I do have great views, but it’s not the same.” Carrie turned to Ray. “So, do deer come right up to the house?”

  “Right up. They eat everything in sight. But they’re not the ones we hunt, unfortunately. The hunting operation is way at the other end of the property so it doesn’t bother the horses.”

  Carrie continued to take in the view, memorizing the landscape.

  “Come on, then. No use just looking at it from here when we can ride through it.”

  ****

  Astride his horse, Ray soon led the way at a lope with Carrie and the two others following. He had a sense of Jake’s young blood coming to a simmer every time he looked at Paige, of an uneasiness his son had when he was near the girl. As the two had saddled up, he sensed Jake’s restlessness, like a pot of water about to come to the boil. He was fairly sure his son had bedded the gal, a random act of sexual desire consummated after drought years in the army. Maybe that’s all it was; maybe that’s what it was for him as well, as far as Carrie was concerned. After all, what did either he or his son really know about the two women? Yet, every time he looked at Carrie, a sense of her vulnerability, mixed with a feeling something was beyond the wall she had built, drew him in like raw bait.

  At a fork in the bridle path, he put his hand out and came to a stop. “Creek or pond?” he called back to Jake.

  “Paige and I would like to take a run down to the lake, actually, Dad. You and Carrie can go—”

  “We would?” Paige shifted in her saddle to look across at Jake, then grinned at her mother, mischief in her eyes. “Yeah, why don’t you two go on and we’ll meet up later. If that’s all right with you, Ray?”

  “That’s fine.” What were those two up to? “Ribs are marinating—the longer the better.” He paused and glanced at Carrie. “If it’s okay with your mom, of course.”

  Carrie shrugged. “She’s a grown woman, Ray. She makes her own decisions. I don’t mind.”

  “Great. We’ll see you back around six, if that’s okay?” Jake had a telling smile on his face, which almost made Ray laugh.

  “We have an early plane—” She stopped short and sighed. The younger couple had taken off down the other trail at a gallop. “I hope…” She exchanged a look with Ray. “I don’t want him to be hurt.”

  “Hey, you know what kids are like today. He can take care of himself.”

  Carrie rode her horse up alongside his to walk them toward the pond. “Paige knew Steven for five years before he died. They were very close. Well, they would be, getting ready to get married, as I think I told you. She hasn’t been the same since his death. This disdain, the sarcasm, the mocker
y of everything wasn’t there so much before. I mean, she was always self-satisfied and independent, self-assured, but never like this, deprecating everything, critical—derisive. It’s as if she lost a part of herself with his death. Sometimes I just don’t know how to reach her. Sometimes, I just feel as if I’ve lost her for good, that she’ll never get over this.”

  “When were they going to be married?”

  “Oh, not until after law school graduation. I’m hoping…possibly without reason of course…by then she’ll be fine, the date won’t matter. But who knows? They’d met in the second year at Yale and decided to go traveling for a year together before going on to Penn Law, and that despite the fact Steven was accepted to Harvard. He wanted to be with her. Then this happened, the leukemia. Paige went berserk. They both took off from school, he because of the illness, she to look after him. She moved into his parents’ home and helped nurse him.” Carrie drew in a breath and shook her head with the memory. “At times, they thought he would pull through, he would go back, but it was too pernicious. It was all over in eight months. Beginning to end, diagnosis to death. Eight months.”

  Ray cleared his throat. “Makes you wonder...makes you wonder just what the good Lord has in mind sometimes.”

  “Makes you wonder if there is a good Lord after all.”

  Silence stretched between them. Ray waited patiently for her to continue, wishing to get her back to the here and now.

  “I’d hate to think Jake expected more of this acquaintance,” she finally said. “Paige is really not ready, not for him, not for anyone. I’m hoping she’ll go back to school in the fall, throw herself into her studies—law school is so hard, so difficult. Maybe sometime, in the future, when she’s ready, she’ll meet someone whom she’ll be able to love—not to make her forget Steven, but just someone with whom she can find happiness again. You know, you see her now and she’s this prickly, smart-assed girl, but, as I said, she wasn’t always like that. Well, not quite like that, anyway,” she went on with a small frown. “She’s just so unhappy.”

  Something inside Ray went cold at the thought of Paige’s loss. Having lost Robbie, he knew exactly what she felt—the pain, the anger, the unwillingness to go on. He shook his head to try to remove that anguish as the horses splashed through a creek. Birdsong competed with Carrie’s voice as a rise appeared on the other side. Ray could feel his horse pulling to go faster as they climbed the ridge. Then there was a splash behind them, a fish jumping for a fly. Ahead, a meadow opened up at the top, wild flowers spreading in jewel colors like an abstract carpet.

  “Can you gallop?” he asked.

  “Of course I can gallop.”

  “Well, then…”

  He raced her through the pasture, the rhythmic hoof beats and heavy breathing of the horses pounding out a one-note drumming until another crest was reached and the descent lay ahead. It was release, his way of letting go, and almost as good as the drink at doing so.

  Down below was a small body of water, like an emerald set in tarnished green copper, unexpected, almost mystical. As they pulled up the horses, he glanced at Carrie and, suddenly, he felt that the smile that now lit her face was better than the ride and a drink combined.

  “How lovely! I thought it was the kids who were going to a lake?”

  “This is a pond, actually. It has plant life which gives it that vibrant green color.”

  “How wonderful. Is this all yours?”

  “All mine. I guess. It’s still part of the ranch, if that’s what you’re asking. Come on.”

  The horses picked their way down the next hill and followed a trail to the edge of the pond. Ray dismounted and tied his horse, then went to hold the other horse’s bridle as Carrie dismounted, but she was down before he got there.

  Turning to face him, she stopped, leaning back against the mare, breathing in the perfumed air.

  It had been a long time since he’d seen anyone so lovely, someone who looked so right in this setting and, for a moment, he felt at peace. He leaned in to kiss her, his face hovering just inches away, before he stood back again. “You know,” he said, “I sort of feel like I need permission to do this.”

  She was silent for the longest time.

  He met her steady gaze, raising a brow in query once more.

  “I’m sorry,” she said at last. “I mean, you shouldn’t feel that way.”

  “Good.”

  He leaned in again, his lips hesitating, brushing her mouth before he met her. He held back his yearning and remained gentle, tender, before he let his hands come up to hold her, before his tongue searched her mouth, and he ended by grasping her to him, holding her close before he felt her yield. He stepped back to study her, the late afternoon sun lighting her, reflecting in her eyes like flames on the pond water.

  “I’m going back tomorrow, Ray. This is…useless. Really. I must go.”

  He took a few steps away, leading her horse to a tree where he tied it. “You know when I first decided I liked you, really liked you?” he asked, turning back to her. “When you refused to let me drive the damned pickup, even when you found out it was manual. Even though you knew you were going to make a pig’s dinner of it, even though you knew it was more than you could handle and you didn’t have the faintest idea what you were doing, you just insisted on driving that dang thing. And then you laughed so much at yourself after Dexter stopped us. I thought then, what the hell kinda woman is this? What the hell kinda person just insists on making a damned fool of herself, doesn’t give a hoot, just to make a point, just for the principle of it? Somewhere inside of you, Carrie, is a heckuva lot of courage, a heckuva brave gal. I just wish you could find her.”

  “What has bravery, or courage, got to do with this, Ray? I must go back—I have a life. I have responsibilities. Just like you. It may surprise you to know that women—”

  “Oh, now. It doesn’t surprise me. That’s not what we’re talking about and you well know it. I’m talkin’ about the fact you won’t let yourself go. It’s almost as if you’re afraid of life.”

  Carrie took a breath, started to say something, then stopped and started once more. “Do you know Ty Sheldon warned me about you and Jake today? He said you had a very bad drinking problem and Jake had a drug problem.”

  Ray stopped cold. He tried to think of Ty and Robbie, all those years ago. Why would the boy tell such a lie? He shook his head as if pieces of a puzzle would fall into place. “Did he? Why ever would he say a thing like that?” A breeze blew up, releasing the scent of the flowers. Ray paced a few steps before adjusting his hat and turning back to Carrie. “Okay. I admit I like my drink. But you have to know it’s under control—I told you, I never drink hard until after work. Fine, that’s me. But Jake with a drug problem? Never. Why would he say such a thing?”

  Carrie took in the view of the pond. “I don’t know. But I thought you should know.”

  “Okay. So, now I know. And what…what does that have to do with Miz Carrie Bennett, with us?”

  “Ray, there is no ‘us.’ I have to go back,” she repeated. “I have to go back. I have a life—in New York. And you have a life here. You’ve known me for all of three days.”

  “Can I ask you then why you just let me kiss you?”

  Her hand went instinctively to her face as her gaze met his. “I have no idea. But…I would like to know, sometime, you’re well, you and Jake are doing fine, but that’s it.”

  He took this in, digested it like a rotten meal, and like a bad meal wanted to spit it back.

  “Okay,” he said at last. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for you and I’m sorry for me. I thought, what with you all going back home tomorrow and all, I should speak…I couldn’t let the moment pass, you know? I ought to lay my cards on the table so to speak. But I see there wasn’t any point in it, now was there? So, you just go on back to New York, to your city view, and your fine friends and all and—”

  “Why is it me who’s the villain here? Why, Ray? Why me?” Carrie went to grab
the reins of her horse. “You damn well come to New York then!” She got a leg in the stirrup, and after a hop, got back up in the saddle. Her teeth gritted as she gazed down at him. “I was looking forward to this barbecue. Why…why did you have to say all that? Why did you have to ruin it?”

  ****

  Jake ran a finger from between Paige’s breasts down to her stomach. “Your skin is like satin. It’s so smooth.”

  “Oh, please. Think of a better line. That’s so cheesy.” She rolled onto her side, her gaze meeting his, and reached out to jerk up some grass.

  He stretched out on the blanket he’d brought rolled behind his saddle, their clothes scattered now in the brush. He stared at the lithe figure beside him and reached out to touch her, gently cupping the curve of her breast.

  Paige grabbed his hand for a moment and held it, winding her fingers through his as she thoughtfully studied it as if it were some precious artwork. Suddenly she ventured, “You remember how you told me that first night that Robbie’s death wasn’t your father’s fault but yours?”

  Jake took his hand away and sat up. Suspicious of where this was going, he let out a tentative, “Yeah?”

  “Why do you think that?”

  He plucked some grass then stared at her, trying to permeate her mind, figure what she wanted to know exactly. “Because I told him to go, I insisted. He was getting himself into trouble, and I saw it as a way out. So, I told him to go.”

  “What sort of trouble?”

  “It was…” He took in a deep breath. “Trouble, just trouble, Paige.”

  Her brow creased. “Why don’t you tell your father then? If for no other reason than to stop him from drinking so much.”

  Jake huffed. “Because he’ll ask me for an explanation. He’ll dig until he gets one. He has this picture of Robbie as the perfect son, the gentle boy who could just about talk to horses, the hero who died defending his country and saving the lives of his buddies. But that’s not who Robbie was—or at least not all of it. He had his faults like anyone.”

  “But he’s dead. He’s gone, Jake,” she pushed. “Don’t you think it’s better for Ray to know the truth now rather than go on blaming himself forever?”