Dances of the Heart Page 9

  “How do you want to remember Steven? Would you want to remember the arguments, his final illness, whatever bad times y’all had? Or do you want to remember the good? You don’t want someone coming along now and maybe saying nasty things about him, stuff you don’t ever want to know, don’t ever want to hear like maybe he fooled around with someone else, or whatever. I’m not saying he did, so don’t go getting that sour look on your face, Paige. But you wouldn’t want to know it now, would you?”

  He could see he had touched a raw nerve in her as her face crumpled with a shot of pain.

  She turned away and curled up, hugging her knees like a child.

  Jake leaned over and brought her to face him, then brushed her lips with a light kiss.

  “You’re not in love with me, are you? You had so better not be in love with me, Jake.”

  He jerked his hand back, stung into the realization she would never be his.

  Standing suddenly, he grabbed his jeans and shimmied into them, yanking up his fly. “Who would want to be in love with you, Paige? I can’t imagine.”

  She sat up and stared at him. “Bastard! You bastard!”

  “Sorry. Sorry,” he returned, remembering her loss. He sat back down and plucked the grass for a moment as she stood and struggled into her clothes. “I didn’t mean it…You’re just—”

  “It doesn’t matter. Never mind. This was sex. We both had a good time, that’s it. You’re not in love with me.”

  “You’re telling me what I feel?” He let a handful of grass fly off on the wind before leaning to grab hold of her leg. “Sit down. Sit down, for heaven’s sake.” He waited for her to find her spot on the blanket, watching as she crossed her legs and leaned back on hands spread like webs, anger still creasing her face. Then quietly, calmly, he said, “Tell me what Steven was like.”

  Suspicion crossed her face, as if by telling she might be giving away some dark secret of her innermost soul. Jake suspected she hadn’t talked about her fiancé for a long time, not in any evocative way, and it would be difficult, but his desire to know the ghost against whom he was competing was stronger than his fear of hurting her.

  “Please. Tell me.” He ran his hand down her arm as if he were calming a nervous pony as he let her find her moment.

  “He was bright, highly intelligent…but not showy with it. And he was funny. He just somehow managed to see humor in even the most awful, desperate situations, even when he knew he was dying. And…he would make fun of me when I got too serious about something. Nothing fazed him, even the illness. He took it as just another hurdle to be got over.” She stopped, tears beginning to bloom, which she swatted away with the back of her hand. “He liked to read, and to travel, and to play tennis and swim. He liked classical music and hip hop and just about everything in between. He could talk to just about anyone, mix with any kind of crowd and be right at home…” The sobs started then, racking her small frame as she bent over clutching herself, swaying with the pain. “And he loved me, just the way I am, knowing all my faults. Loved me unquestioningly.”

  Jake reached across and gathered her to him once more, held her against his chest and let the anger and the hurt work themselves out as he stroked her head and her back, rocking her gently in his arms. He wanted her more then, wanted to ease her pain and her grief, wanted to be the one she sought in her dark hours. Yet he would never have her, not the way Steven had.

  For a moment, he wondered if she had ever cried before, ever let herself go like this, or whether she had put on a brave face like the soldiers he’d witnessed. Had she sat quietly at the funeral? Stood stolidly at the gravesite while others roared out their grief?

  Just how long had all this been cooped up inside her? How long had she waited to let this come out?

  Chapter Five

  Carrie stared absently as the earth fell away—people, buildings, cars and roads became smaller as the plane left behind the patchwork of greens and browns that were the surrounds of Austin. She let out a long breath, thinking through that argument with Ray at the lake, a small ache niggling her, eating at her.

  Inside the aircraft, hermetically sealed into a private world, she felt the plane tip and glide and straighten again, gaining height after take-off. The chemical air poured in through vents while cabin staff made various announcements, announcements little heeded if the laughter coming from two rows behind was anything to go by.

  She studied Paige for a moment, now settled into her first class seat, her eyes closed against the mephitic air, a magazine lying unread in her lap. Had the trip done her any good? What was her relationship with Jake?

  Her daughter opened her eyes briefly to the clink of ice against glass coming from the galley, then closed them again until a flight attendant offered a dish of nuts and a drink.

  “Well, thank you for coming with me.” Carrie studied her daughter as the plane lifted through clouds and the Texas landscape disappeared.

  Paige’s head was back against her seat, eyes now wide open in contemplation. “Sure, any time.” She was watching the flight attendants at the front, gabbing and laughing. “You haven’t said anything about dinner last night, the barbecue. You and Ray had soured a bit. And then he seemed to be hitting the booze like a man trying to forget.”

  “Well.” Carrie struggled with her seatbelt to be able to bend over and reach her bag. “I hope he does forget. Forget me that is. He sort of…how shall I say?...declared himself. I had to make it clear I was going back to New York, and I don’t think he was pleased.” She drew out a book to mark the end of the conversation and opened it on her lap.

  “Well, that’s an interesting turn of events.” Her daughter gave her a hard stare before reaching across and yanking the book out of her hands. “As I said, I don’t think rural Texas is quite your style, Mother. On the other hand, I don’t really know what your style is. You know, I don’t think you really want a partner, do you?”

  “I haven’t time, Paige. I have a screenplay to work on and another book to write. Relationships need time, nurturing. They don’t just happen unless you can spend the time together.” She reflected on this for a moment. “And I certainly wasn’t going to stick around for a man I hardly know, had just met. If that was what he wanted, which I think it was.”

  “And, of course, you can’t possibly write just anywhere. I mean, Texas would be an absolute bummer, wouldn’t it? All that scenery to distract you.”

  “Now you’re being sarcastic.”

  “No, no, really,” Paige went on. “I mean, the crickets and frogs might keep you up at night and, of course, out there in the country there is always the chance of some stray bullet taking you down.”

  Carrie snorted with a guffaw. “So, does that mean you and Jake have a thing going?”

  “The only thing we have going, Mom, is nude swimming in the lake and some great sex. He’s a sweet boy, and that’s about all I can say about Jake Ryder.” She handed back the snatched book and sat watching, apparently waiting for the snack trolley to return.

  Carrie sat with the book opened in her lap, a realization growing like a seed with water—she and her daughter were both lying, lying to themselves and to each other. Paige had feelings for Jake, but was suppressing them, perhaps out of guilt for her love of Steven; she wouldn’t let herself go, fall in love again so soon after Steven’s death. As for herself, if there had been more time, if she had lived closer to the Texan, if she had had less work, she and Ray might have made a go of it, might have embarked on something meaningful. But it was too complicated, more effort was required than she could offer.

  Or was that a lie, too?

  Was she just too damn scared, scared of exposing herself both emotionally and physically, scared of eventual rejection? Perhaps her daughter had been right, after all: life was so much better, so much easier in her books.

  “I did find out something interesting about those two, however,” Paige went on suddenly. “Ray drinks because he blames himself for his son Robbie’s death.�
�

  “I know. He more or less told me so himself.”

  “Yes, but so does Jake—blame himself for Robbie’s death that is. Apparently, they both insisted Robbie join the army, but for different reasons.”

  “Well, what were Jake’s reasons? Do you know?”

  “Something about getting Robbie away from some trouble he was in. I don’t know anything more, couldn’t get it out of Jake. But it must have been serious, don’t you think, if he had to join the damned army to get away.”

  “I wonder…”

  “I know. Ty. The evil Ty. I’m wondering if he has something to do with it, too.”

  ****

  Jake slammed his Suburban’s door behind him and took the porch steps two at a time up to the office at the Lone Star.

  Doris was busy checking out a guest and gave Jake a tentative glance before going back to the bill in front of her.

  “Hey, Doris,” he called, leaning on the counter to regain her attention. “Can you just tell me which cabin the Bennett ladies are in?”

  “No cabin. Gone. Checked out late last night and took off for the airport early morning before the office opened.” She went back to her guests.

  Jake tapped the counter in frustration. “Jeez,” he said under his breath. “Dammit!” He took a few steps back toward the door before turning back to her. “I don’t suppose they left any messages, any note or nothing?”

  “Miz Bennett left me an autographed copy of Sunshine Tomorrow, and I am not parting with that.” She gave Jake a smile. “Sorry.”

  The only response was the door wheezing shut.

  Jake stood on the steps for a second, defeat causing inertia. What had he been thinking? Why did he bother? Seeing Paige one last time was not going to accomplish anything, was not going to achieve one damn thing. She had left him her cell number, but it seemed meaningless now. He was nothing more to her than some casual sex, some vacation romance—if it could even be called that.

  “Well, well,” said a familiar voice. “Look who’s here.”

  “Ty.” He scowled and made a start to his car.

  “Guess that Bennett girl didn’t heed my warning, huh?”

  Jake stopped, hands on hips, disgust at the wrangler curling his lip. “What the hell do you mean?”

  “Just what I said. I saw it as my…hmmm, civic duty…to warn her about your drug problem, Jake. Didn’t want no fine lady associating with an addict, now did we?”

  “Why, you bastard!” His fist slammed Ty backwards into the car to slide down to the dirt where Jake jumped him.

  “Hey, hey, hey,” yelled Doris, her hands gathering his collar and hauling him back. “What in tarnation is going on here, for Pete’s sake?”

  Jake struggled to his feet, ragged breaths coming as he shook himself free of Doris’ vice-like grip and squinted down at Ty. “I would have thought better of you, Doris, than to employ vermin around your guests. Maybe you ought to reconsider your wrangler.”

  “Now, Jake, don’t you go telling me who to employ and who not to. I got no complaints against Ty, whatever his past may be.”

  Sheldon finally heaved himself up by the car door handle and shook himself into a semblance of arrangement.

  “I think, Jake, you best be on your way now, son.”

  “Well, I just got a little bit of business with him, Doris, before he goes.” Ty’s voice was an offensive mix of courtesy toward his employer and threats to Jake. “If y’all don’t mind.”

  Doris gulped a deep breath and sighed heavily. “Well. All right, but don’t you boys start fighting again. I won’t have that, you hear? And you, Jake, you get going as soon as this ‘discussion’ is through.” She moved off, giving them a last glimpse before she disappeared back into her office.

  “What is it you want, Sheldon?” Jake stood, his fists ready at his side.

  “See, I need a little pick up done…”

  “You can forget it.” Jake reached for the door of his car.

  “Not so fast. Unless, of course, you want your daddy finding out about Robbie’s interests other than Arab horses.” A wide smile spread across Ty’s face as he noted Jake’s hand release the door handle.

  “Why don’t you get a mule, Ty? I thought you guys got Mexicans to do the running for you nowadays.”

  “I did. That’s what I been using these past few years. But they keep getting caught, and that costs me. Robbie never got caught. And you in that bright and shiny new army uniform of yours—well, what could be better?”

  “Forget it!” Jake clenched his fists.

  “I will...but I don’t think your daddy will be able to forget once he knows the truth about Robbie. It would just break his heart, wouldn’t it, to know his son was running drugs up from Mexico for me. His perfect son. Just like you, Jake. Just like you.”

  ****

  Jake peered at his mother through the screen door. A long stream of smoke came from between her lips before she stuck the cigarette back into a corner of her mouth, and gazed at him through the mesh of the screen as she might a monkey in a cage, with curiosity and some contempt.

  “Took you long enough, Jake,” she said, pushing the door open. “Come in.” There was a note of reluctance in her voice, a disinclination to actually admit him, but she led the way into her apartment living room and motioned to a sofa. “Have a seat.”

  “Who the hell is it, Leigh Anne?” a voice crackled from the back room.

  “Go on back to sleep, Cody,” she yelled.

  Jake settled himself into a worn armchair as the acrid smell of cigarettes and cold cooking grease hit him.

  “I wondered when you might show up. Thought it might be a bit sooner than this, Jake.”

  For a long time, he studied his mother. Her long blonde hair, once natural and well kept, hung in uncombed strands down her back, while her face showed the remains of last night’s make up. He remembered the photos of her taken when she was younger, photos of her winning barrel racing, of being Rodeo Queen, of a young girl who looked like she could take on the world. A couple of rolls in the hay in the back of a horse trailer had it all ended, forced her to settle before she was ready, take on responsibilities she didn’t care to have. And while his father, to Jake’s knowledge, had grown and matured and faced up to his side of the bargain, his mother had been forever looking backward, dreaming of escape, harking back to her glory days and wearing everyone down with complaints and unhappiness. Her life had been built on ‘coulda beens’ and resentment for what she saw as lost chances, lost dreams, while his dad had thought ahead to what could be, to building a future. The surprise, to Jake, was it had taken so long, had taken Robbie’s death, to finally drive them apart.

  “I had…a friend I was seeing while she was here,” he white-lied. “And I was settling in. It’s not easy coming home, Ma.”

  “Oh, no. And of course your ‘friend’ takes priority over your own mother.” She plunked into a seat and lit another cigarette from the end of her burning one before stubbing the remains out in an overflowing ashtray by her side. “So, how are you, anyway? Alive at least, I see.”

  Jake ran his hand over his stubble before cracking his knuckles. He studied the dirty furnishings, crumbs and garbage on a dining table, piles of old magazines, laundry draped over a chair. “You ever think about cleaning?” he asked.

  “I haven’t got Mabel, now have I? And your father refuses to give me any money for living expenses so…”

  “That’s not true, Ma, and you know it. Dad said he offered you a large lump sum so you can go your own way and do your own thing, so you won’t be tied to him forever. What the hell do you want alimony for anyway? You wanted out, so take it.”

  “Well. He didn’t offer me quite enough.”

  “Lawyers’ll get the most of it if you let it go on too long. In addition to which, if you take the damned alimony and you want to remarry, you’ll lose it, won’t you? Take the money, for heaven’s sake. Make a clean break.”

  His mother stood sudde
nly. “Is this why you’ve come? As your father’s representative, his—what’s the word?—his envoy? To appeal on his behalf?”

  “Of course not! Sit down,” Jake ordered. “I came to see you. I’m just trying to talk some sense into you.” He waited until she sat again, smoke rings bouncing into the air like soap bubbles from a child’s blower. “How have you been, anyway?”

  “Fine, just fine. I got the horses stabled over at Dawson’s in return for giving lessons out there on a Sunday, and I’m doing a bit of bar tending at the Rodeo Club here in Austin. Sure beats living out there in the middle of nowhere, never seeing anyone, never going out.”

  “What are you talking about? You went out. Dad took you out every Saturday. He spent his life trying to please you.” Disgust riddled him while an ache at feeling that way cut through his heart.

  “Trying to please me? Ha! That’s a good one. Ray Ryder never pleased anyone but himself and that’s a fact. Trying to please me…” She stubbed out the cigarette.

  Jake sat forward, his restlessness growing. The conversation with Ty had made him feel like a pressure cooker about to explode. “I saw Ty Sheldon—”

  “Oh, what’s he up to these days?”

  “Working at the Lone Star. As a wrangler. Ma, he’s…he’s not the good friend you think he is.”

  Jake weighed it up. If he could tell his mother, if he could get it out, maybe he could go on to tell his father. He would have to tell his father or she certainly would. Yet somehow, the words wouldn’t come. Whatever their relationship, he hadn’t the capacity to sit there and tell his mother her older son had not been the person she had thought, the person she had known. He sensed his mother waiting for something more, some explanation, but the words were lost. “Sorry,” he said, making a move to leave. “I have to go. I just wanted to see you and know you’re okay.”

  His mother sat staring up at him before grabbing her pack of cigarettes and tapping out another one. She took her time lighting it, inhaling deep and watching the smoke rise like a genie from a bottle. “Why is it you really came, Jake? You didn’t want to see me. Was it to get me to sign Ray’s papers? Or to tell me something else? ’Cause it sure as hell wasn’t concern for my health.”