"But you've never forgiven him." She'd listened to Dev talk about the guilt he felt almost every time she'd seen him. She knew he would rather have died himself than consider himself responsible for another man's death. She knew – as he did – that he hadn't caused it. But it didn't help. Not when Lily risked her life weekend after weekend. Not when she turned her back on him. Not when she could scarcely bring herself to speak to him.
Lily stopped. She stared at Madeleine, her eyes wide and haunted. The color seemed to drain from her face. "I told you," she said desperately. "It wasn't his fault. He wasn't to blame. No one was. It just … happened."
"He needs you to tell him that, Lily. He needs you to talk to him."
Lily just shook her head. "No. No, I – I can't." She turned away, her head bent over the sink, her fingers locking around the edge of the countertop so tightly that her knuckles went white.
Madeleine got up and came to stand behind her. "He cares about you, Lily."
"Well, he doesn't need to bother! I'm fine."
"Are you?" Madeleine asked softly and was totally unprepared when Lily whirled around to face her.
"All right, you want to hear me say it? No, damn it, I'm not! I'm never going to be fine, ever again, because John is gone, and he's never coming back!" Tears welled in her eyes, spilled down her cheeks. And Madeleine put her arms around her and held her shaking body and cursed her stupidity for having meddled.
"Shh, Lil. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Lily sobbed and hiccuped and shuddered, her shoulders heaving as she fought for control. Minutes passed before she achieved it. Finally, though, she raised her head and swiped at her eyes. Madeleine passed her a tissue. She rubbed them again, then shuddered and sniffed and wiped her nose.
"I'm sorry," Madeleine said again. "I had no right. I'm a fool. Forgive me, please."
Lily shook her head. "No." She blinked rapidly and rubbed at her eyes again, then met Madeleine's stricken gaze. "No, you are right."
"I'm an idiot. A meddler. I think I can solve the problems of the world. I can't even solve my own!"
But Lily was still shaking her head. "You're right. You're right," she said. She was breathing shallowly, and now she slowed and took a deeper breath, holding it, then letting it out gradually. "It hurts," she whispered. "It still hurts so much."
"I'm sorry."
"But … I know it hurts Dev, too. I know that! I can see it every time I look at him. And I want to go to him. I want to tell him … talk to him … and I … I don't know how I'm afraid I'll…" She shook her head and buried her face in her hands once again.
Madeleine rubbed her shoulder, stroked her arm, tried in the only way she knew to say that she was there, that she cared, that she'd do whatever she could possibly do. "I'm sorry, Lil," she murmured again and again. "What can I do?"
Lily sniffed. She swallowed. She rubbed her fist against her eyes making them even blotchier. She gave Madeleine a pained smile. "You already did it," she said. Her voice was hoarse.
"Swell," Madeleine muttered.
Lily smiled faintly. "It isn't swell," Lily said. "But you are right. I need … I need to talk to Dev … to tell him…"
Madeleine worried her lower lip. "I might be wrong," she said. "I could be." Maybe she was backpedaling, but all she could envision was more hurt, more pain for both of them. And her being the cause of it.
"Do you really think so?" Lily asked her. Her lips trembled slightly. Madeleine saw her make tight fists of her hands and wrap her arms across her breasts.
Do you really think so?
Did she really think she was wrong? Did she really think that Dev wasn't hurting, didn't care, didn't need a word, a touch – something – from Lily.
Slowly, because even if she was wrong, she had to be honest, Madeleine shook her head. "No."
* * *
There was something the matter with Decker.
At first Chan thought it was just that she was tired. God knew that wouldn't be surprising.
They'd driven from Wichita Falls to Oregon in less than thirty-six hours, then had kept right on going to Livermore. Then they'd turned around and headed the other way, up to Manitoba, and she'd driven first.
But she'd slept, and then he'd slept, and then finally when they were up at the same time, still driving, he spoke to her, but it seemed like she wasn't there.
Hours and miles passed. They took more turns driving and sleeping. Chan talked about the bull he'd ridden in Livermore, about the one he was going to ride in Brandon, then in Innisfall after that. He tried to get her to talk about her dissertation and her moron of an adviser. Maybe that was the problem. But she didn't reply. Eventually he talked about the sun and the moon and the stars and everything else he could think of.
He didn't think she heard a word.
He rode well at Brandon. He told her he got an A. She blinked as if she didn't know what he was talking about.
He got thrown at Innisfall. Maybe it was because he didn't have the rope secure enough or maybe it was because the bull went down when Chan was expecting him to go up. Or maybe it was because he was worrying about her.
She sat in front of her computer and stared at the screen hour after hour. If she typed anything, he never heard. Or she gazed out the window, but when he pointed out antelope at dawn one morning and a scraggly herd of buffalo on a South Dakota ranch as they headed south again to North Platte, she murmured but she didn't even turn her head.
He told himself she wasn't his problem, that she wasn't his business, that what Madeleine Decker did or didn't do, said or didn't say, had nothing to do with him.
He'd given himself that speech before, over other women. And generally he had no trouble believing himself. Generally he could put right out of his mind whatever woman was on the verge of causing him grief.
Not Madeleine Decker.
She was under his skin.
"Thanks, Ma," he muttered now. He said it audibly. Madeleine was sitting right behind him at the table, staring at the computer while he drove.
She didn't even look up.
He was afraid it was the kiss.
Her distraction had begun not long after it. She'd kissed him after he'd won at Sisters. Then it had been a mad scramble to get to Roseburg that night so he could ride there. And then from there they'd driven right on through the night to Livermore.
Worse, she'd driven. Which had probably given her hours and hours to regret it.
Was that it? Did she regret it?
He faced the possibility. Probably she did, knowing her. Perverse woman that she was.
She sure as hell hadn't kissed him as though she was regretting it. He'd never had a kiss quite like that. Chan had kissed a fair number of women in his life. Lots of them had been enthusiastic as hell.
He knew about enthusiasm. He knew about lust and hunger and all those basic biological drives. He knew those good genes had a will of their own, didn't he? He was, after all, his mother's son.
He'd felt those things in Decker's kiss. But he'd felt something more. Some need. Some connection. He shook his head, not quite able to put a name to it. Only able to wish they could do it again.
And she was walking around like a zombie. Hardly an encouraging response. He ought to be glad, he told himself. It meant she wasn't going to throw herself at him. It was a matter of his own perverse nature, he decided, that he wasn't.
"Are you coming to watch tonight, Decker?" he asked. He raised his voice louder than it needed to be because she always acted like she was hearing him – when she heard him at all – from a long way off.
"What?" she said vaguely. Then, "Oh, I suppose."
"Newness wearing off, is it? Well," he muttered almost to himself, "maybe seeing Dev will cheer you up."
"Dev's going to be there?" She straightened and there was a spark in her voice suddenly, as if she'd just landed back on the same planet.
Chan's jaw clenched. "Said he was when I was talking to him in Livermore," he told her tightly.
"Oh." He heard her take a deep breath. Then, "Oh, God." She sounded as if she'd swallowed her computer.
"What's the matter with you, Decker?"
"N-nothing." But there was life in the back of the camper now, movement. She didn't sound as if she was sleepwalking anymore.
Chan felt something akin to irritation snake through him. "Does Dev kiss that much better?"
"What?" The shuffling stopped.
His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. "Nothing." He'd been an idiot to ask that. He clamped his teeth together and put his foot down on the accelerator. Then he remembered the last time he'd done that and eased off. He didn't need another speeding ticket on top of everything else.
* * *
She didn't know what to say to Dev. Didn't know if she should say anything at all. She'd worried about what had happened with Lily for days, regretting her words, regretting her involvement, wishing she could take it all back.
Not for her the enthusiastic meddling her mother seemed to thrive on, Madeleine thought. She doubted if Antonia ever once questioned what she did. Madeleine was a wreck.
And she couldn't talk about it. She could just imagine what Chan would say.
But now she was going to have to face Dev. Had Lily seen him? Talked to him? Were things better or worse? She felt a little sick.
She debated holing up in the camper while the rodeo was going on. If she did, maybe she could avoid Dev altogether. A good cowardly solution. But she didn't think she could live with not knowing what had happened, either. Knowing he was mad at her would be better than not knowing how he felt.
So in the end she went.
She didn't see him to talk to until after the rodeo. And when she did, having waited in trepidation near the camper, not daring to venture back near the chutes, he came out with Chan and Gil and greeted her like a long-lost friend.
"Maddy!" He gave her a hug and a kiss and asked how she was surviving her travels with Chan. Then he asked about her dissertation. She answered him with vague, babbly sorts of answers, all the while trying to look beyond his smiles.
The four of them had dinner together and nothing was said. He didn't know, she decided. While she and Chan had gone to Canada, he and Gil had gone to Utah and then Grand Junction, Colorado. From what he said, she knew he hadn't seen Lily since the performance at Livermore.
She wondered if she ought to tell him what she'd done. She picked at her food, crumbled her roll and shoved it around her plate. She glanced at him, then poked at her potato.
"Something wrong with the food?" Chan asked.
"No. It – it's fine."
He gave her a hard look. The waitress came back to refill their coffee cups and batted her eyes at Chan.
He teased and flirted right back. Madeleine's teeth were on edge.
She was glad when the meal finally ended and they all walked out into the parking lot.
"See you in Reno," Gil said.
"Is that next?" Madeleine asked.
"Thursday," Chan told her.
Lily would be in Reno. Reno where it all began. "Can I talk to you a minute, Dev?"
Leaving Chan and Gil standing there staring after them, she took his arm and dragged him off toward the far end of the parking lot.
"Something wrong?" he asked. "Chan giving you problems?"
"No. It's not Chan. Or me." She hesitated. "Well, no that's not exactly true. It's me. Or rather, it was me." She was babbling and she knew it. "I talked to Lily, Dev."
He stared at her. "What do you mean, talked to Lily?" His eyes were glittering, intense.
"At Livermore. She was talking to me about Chan. About marriage. And I asked her about … about whether she'd marry again."
"Mad—" He looked stricken.
"I know. I know. I shouldn't have. I should have kept my big mouth shut. But I didn't."
"She's not ready to get married again."
"No, but someday she may be."
"Don't count on it," Dev said flatly.
"No, I don't believe that."
"So you told her she ought to?"
"Not exactly."
"Good."
She chewed on her lip. She swallowed, her throat feeling incredibly dry. "The thing is, Dev, I … I sort of … mentioned your name."
"My name! Hell, Mad—" He kicked at some pebbles with the toe of his boot, then lifted his gaze to glare at her. "You know how she feels about me!"
Madeleine looked down at her own toes peeking out of her sandals. "She's wrong!"
"You didn't tell her that!"
She didn't say anything. She didn't have to.
"Oh, Christ," Dev murmured.
"I—" She looked up to meet his anguished gaze. "I'm sorry, Dev," she whispered. "It … just happened. I didn't do it to make things worse!"
"I know that! But for God's sake, Mad—" He grimaced and shook his head, despairing.
She put out her hand to touch his arm, then drew back. She couldn't. How could she offer comfort when she'd been the one to make things worse? He stared at the ground. She saw a muscle ticking in his jaw.
Then finally he lifted his gaze. "What'd she say?"
There was no way Madeleine was going to tell him that. Not all of it. "She said … she'd talk to you."
"She already has talked to me." His jaw tightened and his eyes flickered with remembered pain. "Or looked right through me. I don't need that again."
"She was hurting, too, Dev. A lot. Maybe—" Madeleine stopped, then started again. "Maybe this time it won't … be that way."
Dev just looked at her.
A family, laughing and talking, came out of the restaurant and walked past them. Chan and Gil still stood by the camper. They didn't seem to be saying anything.
"Do you really think so?" Dev's tone was fatalistic, not hopeful at all, and Madeleine heard in it the echo of Lily's.
She sighed. She shrugged and gave her head a little shake of desperation. "I don't know, Dev. I don't know."
* * *
They drove as far as a campground somewhere between Cheyenne and Laramie.
"No reason to drive all night when we don't have to get there till Thursday," Chan said. "Suit you?"
"Fine," Madeleine said, her tone remote.
So what else was new? he thought irritably.
Well, her little one-on-one with Dev in the parking lot, for one thing. That was new. He couldn't believe it when she'd just taken Dev's arm and walked off, leaving him and Gil standing there.
He'd tried to ignore it, to go on talking to Gil about some cattle Gil was thinking of buying, but his gaze had kept drifting over to Madeleine and Dev at the end of the parking lot, their heads close together as they talked.
They looked like lovers, totally wrapped up in their own universe. And not happy lovers at that. And they'd both looked miserable when they'd finally come back.
They hadn't kissed goodbye, either. Chan had taken a certain amount of grim satisfaction in that. He'd got damned little satisfaction from anything else. The drive to the campground had taken a little less than five hours. In that whole time she'd stared out the window and hadn't said a word. Of course, he hadn't, either. He didn't know what to say to her.
He heard her shifting around in the bunk above him. The bed creaked, then creaked again. He folded his arms under his head and stared out the window into the moonless night. She was as restless and sleepless as he was.
Probably wanting Dev.
She shifted again. Rolled over.
"Richardson?" Her voice, when it came so soft and tentative, startled him.
He glanced up. In the darkness he could just make out her eyes peering down at him from the upper bunk. "What?"
"I think maybe I'd better go back to New York." There was a hollowness in her voice he hadn't heard before.
"What brought that on?" he asked gruffly after a moment.
He heard her roll over again and guessed she was lying on her back now. He couldn't see her anymore.
"I don't belong here."
He didn't say anything for a moment. Then he admitted something he didn't think he'd ever admit. "You haven't done too bad."
"I've made a mess."
He sat up and turned to look up toward the bunk, but she was lying down and he still couldn't see her. "What's that supposed to mean?"
She didn't say anything for a moment. The covers moved as if she was plucking at them with her fingers. "Oh, nothing," she muttered at last.
"Did you—" he took a deep breath, not sure he wanted to know this, but knowing he was incapable of not asking "—did you screw things up with Dev?"
She sat up and looked down at him in the darkness. "How did you know?"
"Well … he didn't kiss you goodbye."
Madeleine made a small sound in the back of her throat. "I can hardly blame him. He thinks I may have screwed up his life." She lay back down again. "And I may have," she said after a moment. "I talked to Lily."
"What's Lily got to do with it?"
"He loves her."
"What? Dev loves Lily?"
Madeleine's head appeared over the edge of the bunk again. "You don't have to sound so surprised," she said mildly.
"I am surprised." Stunned was more like it. "That doesn't make sense. He's the one in the arena, the one who—"
"He was on the bull," Madeleine cut in sharply. "He did not kill John."
"I know that!"
"Everyone knows that. Even Lily knows it, I think, deep down where it counts. And even deeper down, I think she may feel something for Dev. The same something he feels for her. But right now that only makes it worse."
Chan's mind was reeling. He couldn't take it in. "All this stuff with Dev? It's about … Lily?" He felt like he'd just got a metaphorical kick in the head.
"Of course," Madeleine said matter-of-factly. "What'd you think?"
"I thought – well, hell, Decker, he's been kissing you!" Madeleine stared at him. Even in the moonless night he could see the whites of her eyes.
"You're very hung up on kissing, aren't you, Richardson?" She swung around so that she was sitting cross-legged, her head bent beneath the roof of the camper.
"I never used to be," Chan muttered under his breath.
"What?"
THE EIGHT SECOND WEDDING Page 14