by Lisa Kleypas
"I can't stand being t-told what to do all the time. I want to run… but th-there's nowhere…"
"I know. I know." He stroked her hair, his fingers trailing through the warmth of it.
A wild impulse came to Addie, to tell him some of the secrets that swelled so painfully in her heart. If only she could. She wanted to be close to him, but that couldn't be reconciled with what she knew about him. She should be terrified of him. Why was the wanting becoming so much stronger than the fear? How tired she was of questions that had no answers. Wearily she pushed all of it out of her mind and let herself be held a little bit longer.
"For a few minutes I hated him," she said after a minute, her voice catching.
"You and the rest of the county," Ben said quietly.
"He's not making himself too popular these days."
"He wants me to be like Caro and Mama."
"No. He doesn't want you to change, no matter what he said back there. He's so damned proud of you, Addie. You're the only one around here who won't let him bully you."
"Except you."
"That's because I don't like the alternative."
She sighed shortly. "I felt about a foot tall in that kitchen. Especially when he-"
"He's just on a rampage. You know better than to wave a red flag at him when he's in a contrary mood."
"I shouldn't have cried in front of him," Addie whispered, and her eyes smarted at the memory. "I hate myself more than him for that."
"Don't."
"I proved him right, acting like a child-"
"Addie…" He pried her face from his neck and looked into her reddened eyes. "Stop it. It didn't prove anything. No one likes to have his pride stomped on like that, especially not in front of someone else. Some men would have cried too."
He paused for a long moment, his thumb moving in a caress from her cheek to her temple. "I did the last time I saw my father."
"You?" she asked, bewildered. "Why? An argument, or-"
"Always. I never had a civil conversation with him. We always used to argue. It was our way of showing we gave a damn about each other. But the last year at the university I didn't see him even once. I was told to stay away from him. I was bad for his health. I went to visit him after I graduated, to set things right between us and tell him I was going to Texas. And I realized after I told him that he didn't care. Indifference… well, that hurts worse than hatred. That was why I cried. In front of him. And I hate myself for it. "
"Do you still?"
"No. But God knows I'll never forget. And neither will he." He smiled down at her, his teeth gleaming white in the darkness. He looked so invulnerable, it was impossible to imagine him caring about what anyone said or did to him. She couldn't imagine him crying. Why had he entrusted her with such a revelation? Merely to bolster her up? To help ease her own shame?
"Ben," she said tentatively, her heart beating a little faster, "sometimes you're very nice."
"Never without a reason, honey." All at once he changed, his tenderness melting away to reveal a mocking smile. His eyes seemed to bum right through her clothing.
"I didn't think so," she said, suddenly nervous.
They were going to pick up what they had started before Russell had interrupted them in the kitchen. The taste of anticipation was sweet on her lips. "What was your reason for being so nice tonight?"
"Maybe I want something from you."
"Too bad you won't get it."
"Oh, I will eventually."
"Not if! can help it," she parried, wondering why he wasn't trying to take advantage of her.
His smile widened as he saw that her lips had parted.
"Liar. You're dying for me to kiss you."
She tore herself away from him and gave him a shove. "If you ever try to kiss me, the only thing you'll get is a swift kick, you self-important jackass-"
"What a temper," he said, and laughed, catching her loosely in the circle of his arms. "Don't flyaway just yet, Addie. I'm still planning to finish what we started back there."
"You leave me alone!" She wedged her arms between them, preventing him from drawing her closer. "If you feel the urge to be with someone, go visit your woman in Blue Ridge."
There was ruthless amusement in Ben's smile. Addie could have bitten her tongue off as she realized she had sounded jealous.
"What makes you think I have a woman in Blue Ridge?"
"Caroline said you did."
"How would she know?"
"She listens to gossip-"
"Seems to be a family habit."
"Do you visit a woman in Blue Ridge?"
His voice was silky. "Now, why would I want to do that, when I've got you here?"
Addie twisted away from him with an infuriated sound. Ben laughed and blew her a kiss as she stomped off to the house, his eyes following her alertly until she disappeared from sight.
5
"ADELINE, YOU DON'T KNOW HOW HARD DADDY'S takin' this. You said hardly a word to him yesterday, or the day before. Why don't you talk to him? You don't know how much you're hurtin' him."
She looked at Cade mutinously while the two of them walked by the smokehouse and kicked at chips of wood. "You don't know how much he hurt me, Cade. What would you do if he ordered you not to see any of your friends? What about that little brown haired girl you like to call on, Jeannie something-orother-"
"Janie."
"Yes, her. What if he told you not to visit her anymore?"
Cade was forever a diplomat. "I guess I'd agree, 'f I believed in his reasons."
"Hal You wouldn't either. You'd want to see her, and you'd be mad at Daddy for acting so highhanded."
He grinned. "Yeah, but I couldn't stay mad as long as you. You and Daddy, you're ones for holdin' grudges. Me?… I don't see the sense in bein'mad about somethin' you can't change."
“There isn't any sense in it," Addie agreed grimly.
"But I've never pretended to be as nice as you, Cade, and I can't help being mad."
Since her falling-out with Russell, she'd kept out of his way, finding an unexpected hardness in herself every time she thought about forgiving him. Until now he'd let her do and say almost anything she wanted. But for him to turn around and curtail that freedom, treating her like an object to be put back in its place, had been too unexpected. You couldn't allow someone free rein and then pull it in too suddenly, too tightly.
Like any daughter on bad terms with one parent, she sought out the affection and support of the other. May wisely refrained from criticizing either Addie or Russell, or taking one side against the other. Instead she offered sympathy to both of them privately, knowing that each was too hardheaded to be induced to see the other's viewpoint. Addie and Russell were barely on speaking terms.
Though her problem with Russell disturbed her a great deal, Addie didn't talk much about it, especially not to Ben. She felt acutely embarrassed whenever she looked at him and remembered how she had sobbed in his arms. What did he think of her now? Ben didn't mention the episode. His tenderness of that night had disappeared, and he was his usual mocking self toward her. But sometimes he looked at her as if he were silently laughing at her newfound shyness, and all it took was that one look to set her teeth on edge. Then she would wait for a jeer that never came… ah, how detestable he was!
She sought consolation for her bruised ego in May's company. May was always calm and gentle. There was quiet grace in everything she did, a grace that was not learned but came from an inner source. Caroline was like that too. They were the kind of women who would never allow the world to change them. Addie knew herself to be a complete contrast to them. She was always struggling and changing, always wanting things and being resentful when she couldn't get them. She understood what Russell had been trying to tell her before. None of the family would be able to survive Russell's murder, she thought moodily. No wonder it went to pieces after he was gone. They'll all do well enough if everything's secure and organized and comfortable for them. But when disaster
happens, they need someone else to do the struggling for them. It's good to be gentle and nice, but there are times when you just can't be, or the world will walk right over you.
A week after Addie had been forbidden to see Jeff, the family prepared to travel nearly fifty miles to attend the wedding of Jeff's younger brother Harlan to Ruth Fanin, the daughter of a wealthy rancher. Sunrise and the Double Bar tacitly agreed to put aside their differences for a few days. They all loved a wedding. It gave them a chance to see old acquaintances, trade stories, drink freely, and dance until the soles of their feet were bruised. The cowboys from different ranches ate meals together, talked about wages and work, enjoyed the free liquor and took as much advantage as possible of the host's hospitality. And every rancher in Texas liked to show off what he considered to be his own legendary hospitality.
The women at these affairs were always outnumbered by men, which meant the favor and attention of every available female was constantly sought after. Addie was apprehensive about attending the wedding. What would she do when people she didn't know expected her to recognize them? But at the same time, she was excited. She hadn't been dancing in a long time. She wanted to listen to music and be among crowds of festive people.
The day before they were to leave, May came upstairs to help Addie pack, finding her in the middle of a heap of dresses. Addie had been trying on dresses for an hour, none of which she wanted to wear, and she had the urge to take a match to her entire wardrobe.
"I'd cry," Addie said in frustration, "if it would help anything."
May's face softened with concern. "Sugar, your face is all red. What's got you so upset?"
"These." With a sweep of her hand, Addie indicated the pile of clothes around her. "I'm trying to find something to wear for the dance after the wedding, but I don't have anything to wear that's not pink. I hate it. It's practically all I wear from morning till night, and I'm sick of it. "
"I tried to talk you into some different colors when we were having them made. But you insisted on it. Remember how stubborn you were?"
"I must have been dead from the neck up," Addie said feelingly. "Can you tell me why I decided on all pink?"
"I believe Jeff said it was his favorite color on you," May replied placidly.
"That's just wonderful. Now I can't even see him anymore, and I'm stuck with a closet full of pink dresses. "
May couldn't hold back a smile, though she tried. "Adeline, it is a pretty color on you-"
"No, don't even try," Addie said, beginning to smile reluctantly despite her exasperation. "I'm inconsolable."
May clucked her tongue sympathetically and busied herself around the room, picking up dresses and piling them on the bed. "We'll fix everything, sugar. Just give me a minute to think. "
Addie felt her temper subsiding as she and May worked to put things back in order. There was something almost magical about May's effect on her, something soothing and wonderful about the scent of vanilla, the gleam of her tidy blond hair, the graceful efficiency of her slim white hands. It was May's self appointed role to comfort and soothe, arrange and organize, to keep the house and all its occupants in perfect harmony. Addie knew she wasn't as forbearing as May, and she wasn't certain she wanted to be. But she appreciated that quality in May just the same.
"Let's see if we can find something for you in my closet."
"Are you sure?" Addie looked at her in surprise.
"Well, we're pretty much the same size. But your waist is smaller."
"I've noticed you haven't been lacing as tightly as you used to. I've been meanin' to speak to you about that, Adeline."
Addie frowned. She'd always had a figure. But that had been in a time when young women didn't use corsets. In I930, an old woman would wear whalebone coutils, a middle-aged woman wore the lighter version, called a corselette, and someone Addie's age would wear only a brassiere and a lightweight foundation garment. Now she was being measured by different standards, and in I880 a twenty-four-inch waist was decidedly large. Every woman, young and old, wore strong whalebone corsets fortified with flat lead weights and laced as tightly as they could bear.
"I can't breathe when it's tighter than this."
"Of course you can," May said. "You have in the past."
"I've changed, Mama. Really, I have."
"It might be uncomfortable at times, but it's just not elegant to let your waist get that big, sugar. And besides, it's not good for your back to go without support. "
"I’ll try to lace tighter," Addie muttered, knowing she'd faint if she did.
May beamed at her. "That's my good girl. I just want you to be the prettiest girl at the dance. And you will be. I'm going to give you that blue-green dress I've never even worn."
"Oh, I couldn't take something you've never-"
"I’ve decided it's too young for me. It'll be the perfect thing for you. Come try it on. "
Addie followed her down the hall to her bedroom. May and Russell slept in separate bedrooms in order to keep from having more children. After becoming aware of that, Addie had questioned Caroline about it, unable to imagine a man as robust as Russell going without a woman for the rest of his life. Caroline had blushed slightly. "I suppose there must be someone he visits occasionally," she had said.
Addie had been disturbed by the thought. "But how strange. It seems as if he and Mama still love each other. "
"Of course they do. Even though Daddy might go to bed with another woman, he loves Mama as much as he always has."
"But for them not to share a bed together-"
"It doesn't mean anything, really. He can love Mama with his heart even though he might love another woman in a physical way."
"No he can't," Addie said, her brows knitting together. Fidelity wasn't something to be compromised on.
"Why not?"
"Because he just can't!"
Thinking about that conversation now, Addie peered at May's pristine yellow-and-white bedroom, and then watched her sort through the dresses in the closet. "Mama," she asked carefully, "if two people are going to get married, do you think it's important for them to feel passion for each other?"
May turned around, looking surprised, and then she smiled. "My goodness, sometimes you're even more outspoken than your daddy. What brought on that question? "
"I was just thinking about marriage, and love."
"The two should go hand in hand. It's important to love the man you marry. But it's even more important to have interests that are compatible with his. As for passion, that's not as necessary as you might think. Passion fades. Love will always be there, and so will compatibility. Does that answer your question?"
"Partly," Addie said thoughtfully. "You don't think passion is a bad thing, do you?"
"In some ways, yes. It blinds people to what's really in their hearts. They're more easily swayed by passion than reason, and that's a bad thing. It's an empty emotion. "
Addie didn't agree at all, but she held her tongue rather than argue. In the silence, May turned back to the closet and located the dress she'd been looking for. "Here it is, Adeline." She laid it on the bed with a flourish,' and Addie went to look at it.
"It's the most beautiful dress I've ever seen," she said, touching a fold of it reverently. The turquoise dress shimmered and glistened in the daylight. It had a heart-shaped neckline, elbow-length sleeves trimmed with ruffles, and an elaborately draped skirt ornamented with gauze and moss roses. She could hardly wait to try it on.
"If you like it, it's yours."
"I love it," Addie exclaimed animatedly, and they both chuckled as she scooped it up and went over to the mirror to hold it against herself.
"It'll be beautiful on you, with that honey-colored hair and those pretty brown eyes," May observed, her face glowing with pleasure.
"Why do you look so happy?" Addie demanded with a laugh. "I'm the one who's getting the dress."
May came up to her and gave her a quick hug from behind. "I'm your mama. I'm always happy when
you are, sugar. Haven't I told you that before?"
A queer sensation went through Addie as she saw their two faces in the mirror. For a split second she saw a child posing in front of that same mirror in finery borrowed from May's closet, and then the image disappeared, leaving her shaken. "Yes, you have," she whispered.
"Adeline, what's wrong?"
Slowly Addie turned to look at her, and something inside clicked into place, like the missing piece of a puzzle. Suddenly May looked familiar to her, in a different way from before. Addie was stunned by the dearness of that face, the ache of love that had taken hold of her heart in just an instant. The sight of May's concerned expression brought forth another image, much clearer than the first. Addie could see herself as a little girl, tearful and guilt-ridden, seeking May's forgiveness. Mama, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…
"I just remembered something," Addie said huskily, her gaze becoming distant. "A long time ago I borrowed something of yours without asking. A gold bracelet, wasn'tit? And… I lost it, didn'tI?"
"That's all forgotten."
"But it did happen," Addie pressed.
"Yes, but it's not important now."
But it had happened.
Remembering that was enough to make Addie believe. I've just got to be her daughter. May is my mother. I know she is. Her eyes stung, and she wiped at them fiercely. Her throat ached as she tried to speak.
For so many years I've wanted you … never even hoped…no reason to hope.
May held her arms out and gathered her close, her expression clouded with confusion. "What? What's wrong?"
Addie rested her head on that soft shoulder, trembling with emotion. "Nothing. Nothing at all, Mama."