"Duncan, look at my dress," Mary Kate demanded as she twirled by.
"Mmm. You'll look like a fairy-tale princess in it, no doubt about it. Would you mind telling me where you're going to wear such a gorgeous outfit?"
"For my birthday party next month. Grandpa said I could have one. If he doesn't change his mind," she said with a frown.
"Tell you what, Mary Kate. If he changes his mind, you come to see me. Jane and I will change it right back again," Duncan told her. He had already extracted the admission from Rooney that he wished he could get Dearling back but could think of no way to do it.
"Let's go upstairs and get started fitting that dress," Jane suggested, and as she ushered Mary Kate out of the kitchen, she turned and mouthed silently to Duncan, "Ask Rooney when Mary Kate's birthday is." She knew he understood when he answered with a wink.
* * *
"I want to do something really special for Mary Kate's birthday," Jane told Duncan that night as they were lying in bed.
He traced idle circles on her shoulder. "Like what?" he asked sleepily, his chest vibrating as he spoke.
"Like doing something with the llamas. The other kids will love it."
"Like doing what with the llamas?" Duncan asked, slightly more awake now.
"Oh, maybe a pack trip. And didn't Mary Kate say something about llamas pulling a cart? Couldn't we give the kids rides or something?"
Duncan hooted. "Her birthday is only a few weeks away, sweetheart. On April 25, in fact. And we still have snowstorms here at that time of the year."
"Snowstorms? In April?"
"This is Wyoming, Jane. Not Chicago. Why, Chicago's weather can be tropical compared to Wyoming's. So I don't think we should plan a pack trip, and as for pulling a cart, Mary Kate was going to train Dearling to do it. But Dearling, unfortunately, is gone."
Jane sighed. "She misses Dearling terribly. I walked out to the barn to get more llama wool out of the closet today, and do you know what I found in there? Mary Kate, sobbing her heart out. How could Rooney have been so heartless?"
"He thought he was doing the right thing at the time. He'd like to atone for his mistake, which is why I think he'll agree to throw this big birthday party for Mary Kate. He wants to make it up to her."
"Nothing can ever make up for the loss of Dearling," Jane said with great certainty. "Nothing. Not even a party."
"You're right, of course. Now don't you think it's time to go to sleep?"
She thought about her own feeling of loss when she was separated from him, but they had come together again in the end, and she was glad. She reached out to him, marveling at the tautness of his muscles, the warmth of his skin.
"Of course I think it's time to go to sleep," she said as he responded to her touch. "But not just yet."
* * *
Jane set up her new loom in the bedroom that had once been hers, and she began to weave llama wool into blankets. Llama wool was less elastic than sheep's wool, and she experimented with mixing in ten percent sheep's wool as she spun her yarn. She was pleased with the results, and after providing samples, Moonglow asked her to send more. She also sent a check representing the proceeds from the sale of Jane's creations.
Jane put away the check, biding her time before mentioning it to Duncan. Once the money would have paid her way to California, but now she wasn't sure what the future held. Her dream of a new life there seemed unnecessary at this point. It had served her well when she needed it, but now she knew that she had no desire for job training. She was well able to provide for herself through her spinning and weaving. She had proven it.
But what about the future? Duncan had said nothing about his expectations, and she didn't want to bring it up. She was happy. So was he. Right now it suited their purpose to live one day at a time, enjoying their new relationship.
It was Jane who answered the telephone when Dearling's new owner called. She was tying up the treadling sequence on her new loom one day when the trill of the phone interrupted her, and she didn't want to answer it. But Duncan and Rooney had both gone into town and Mary Kate was at school, so there was no one else. She rushed to pick up the phone and was out of breath when she answered.
"No, Duncan Tate isn't here right now," she said, pushing Amos away when he tried to nudge the phone out of her hand. "May I take a message?"
When she started to write down what the man was saying, she realized with a jolt that she was talking to Dearling's new owner.
"Like I say, the llama looks like she's ailing. Nothing major, you know, but I thought I'd call."
"Is she eating? Drinking?" Jane asked in alarm.
"I can't say. I travel a lot, and I got her for my boy. He's kind of lost interest in her. She stays in the barn and well, my son's an average boy. Interested in baseball and girls. The llama's a novelty, but he doesn't pay much attention to it."
"I'll ask Duncan to call you," she told the man, and hung up feeling dismayed.
When she told Duncan about the call, he appeared concerned. After phoning the man and talking with him, he seemed even more so.
"It doesn't sound good," he told Jane. "In fact, it sounds like the worst way to treat a llama. Llamas are herd animals, and they like to have others around. I suggested that he get another llama to keep Dearling company, but he scoffed at that. He said that he wasn't about to go out and buy another one when his son didn't pay attention to the one he already had."
"Dearling was such a tame llama, used to a lot of petting. She's probably pining away from lack of love."
"I gave him some suggestions. All I can do is call at the end of the week and see how Dearling is doing," Duncan said on a note of apprehension.
They waited out the week but didn't mention Dearling's troubles to Mary Kate, who would have been even more heartbroken to know that Dearling's new owners didn't appreciate her. After the next time Duncan called the new owner to check on Dearling, his lips were set in a grim line.
"It's worse," he said. "In fact, he wants to get rid of Dearling."
"You mean sell her?" Jane asked. She was stunned.
"I guess so. He says he's got money tied up in her that could be used for better things."
Jane put aside the wool she was carding and went to kneel beside Duncan's chair. "Duncan," she said quietly, "I want to buy her."
"Buy her? Are you serious?"
"Definitely. Because I want to give her to Mary Kate."
"Well, I suppose I could give him a refund," Duncan said slowly.
"I don't mean that, I want to pay for her. With my own money. I have money, Duncan, enough to buy Dearling. It's from selling my wool and my shawls and handbags and blankets and—well, once I would have used it to start a new life in California. But now I know that the best thing I could do with it is to buy Dearling back as a birthday present for Mary Kate."
He saw that she meant it and cupped her chin in his hand. Her eyes, a deep, dark blue, gazed back at him with a candidness that he knew he could trust. His heart spilled over with admiration for her kind nature.
"I'll call him and tell him that's what you want. If it really is," he said.
Jane let the vision of palm trees and aquamarine swimming pools, of training programs and friends who sported deep suntans, slip away forever. That dream had never been real to her, had only been a stopgap solution. And it had never offered the safety, security and love that she had found here at Placid Valley Ranch with Duncan and Mary Kate and Rooney, who were family to her now.
"It's really what I want," she said, and reached up to kiss him lingeringly on the lips.
* * *
Twenty-six fifth-graders, members of Mary Kate's class at the Placid Valley Elementary School, milled around the kitchen, dining room and living room of Rooney's small bungalow.
"Now who wants to play Pin-the-Tail-on-the-Donkey?" Rooney shouted into the melee. No one paid the slightest attention.
Nine or ten children watched a cartoon video on the TV. Three were having a popcorn fight.
Another was energetically grinding kernels into the carpet, and one boy was playing games on his mother's smart phone. Five were stuffing cake and ice cream into their mouths and occasionally someone else's. Mary Kate, wearing a pointed gilt cardboard hat, was arm-wrestling the class bully.
"Nice party," Jane said as she poured lemonade into glasses.
"Nice party, my eye," Rooney grumbled. "When I was a kid, we all sat around the dining-room table and kept quiet until the birthday kid opened his presents. Then we all went home."
"But I bet you didn't have half as much fun," Jane observed.
Rooney grinned. "You're probably right," he said.
"I wonder where Duncan is," Jane said, tilting the blind at the window so she could see up the driveway.
"I don't know, but I wish he'd get here pretty quick so we can clear these kids out of here soon," Rooney said, before rushing to pry apart two boys who were rolling on the rug and trying to poke out each other's eyes with their fingers.
Jane had gone to assist Rooney when she heard the rumble of Duncan's truck rolling across the cattle guard at the end of Rooney's driveway. The truck pulled a small trailer, and Duncan parked so that the trailer was directly in front of Rooney's front door.
She signaled to Duncan with an Okay sign and went into the living room.
"Mary Kate," she said over the din, "there's a package for you outside."
Mary Kate brushed her bangs out of her eyes and trod across the cake crumbs to the door. Her eyes widened when she saw the pickup and trailer.
She sent Jane a puzzled look.
"Go ahead," Jane urged gently, and by this time several of Mary Kate's classmates had gathered to watch.
Mary Kate pushed open the front door. Suddenly shy, she hung back when Duncan, smiling broadly, held out his hand.
"Come open this trailer door for me, Mary Kate. It seems to be stuck."
"You open it," Mary Kate said in a choked voice. "I can't."
Behind Jane, Rooney snorted. "Seems to me you're pretty good at opening gates and doors and that kind of thing. Seems to me you know how to leave them open, too," but he said it in a joking tone.
Mary Kate said, "Oh, Grandpa, hush."
"What's in the trailer, Mary Kate?" asked the boy whom she'd beaten at arm wrestling. A girl said, "Just wait and see," and soon everyone was clamoring to know what surprise was waiting for Mary Kate.
She walked slowly up the ramp to the trailer door and fumbled with the latch. Then it sprang free and the door swung open. Finally there appeared a dazed Dearling, who, appearing somewhat startled by the watching crowd, lurched into Mary Kate's arms.
"Dearling! Oh, it's my Dearling!" Mary Kate cried, and the little llama nuzzled her cheeks, seemingly puzzled by the salty tears that now flowed freely down Mary Kate's face.
"She's a birthday present from Jane," Rooney said, pointing to the huge red ribbon around Dearling's neck.
As the group of awed children gathered around Mary Kate, Duncan slid an arm around Jane's slender shoulders and drew her apart from the group. The snow on the ground was thawing into mud, but he walked her over to the fence behind Rooney's house where they stood looking out over the pastures and at the mountains beyond.
"That was a good idea you had, buying Dearling back," he said.
"Dearling's all right, isn't she?" Jane asked anxiously. "I mean, she's not sick or anything, is she?"
"I expect she'll make a full recovery. She was suffering from a broken heart, and that, in this case, is easily mended." Duncan figured he knew a lot about the subject, considering his life experiences.
Jane leaned on the fence and inhaled a deep breath. "I smell spring on its way," she said, resting her head against Duncan's shoulder.
The sun was bright and golden, chasing the tail end of winter, and on the snow-covered mountain ridges, dark rivulets heralded the thaw. Soon the pastures and the mountainsides would burgeon with the gentle greens and yellows and pinks of spring.
There was something so optimistic about spring, Jane thought. No matter what went before, no matter how cold the winter or how many snowstorms it brought, you could count on spring coming along to make everything fresh and new. And after spring, summer, that golden flowering time when life seemed infinitely precious and beautiful.
"It was just this kind of day I used to dread," Duncan said, gazing down at her. "I thought you would leave in the spring."
"I've never been happier than I am here with all of you, Duncan. I'm never leaving. Ever. Not in spring, summer, winter or fall." She smiled up at him, loving everything about him.
"Of course you're not. We all love you, Jane. You're going to marry me and be part of our family forever," Duncan said comfortably, fitting her into the curve of his arm.
"Soon," she agreed.
"And we'll raise children," he said.
"And llamas—"
"And we'll live happily ever after, Jane Doe. You're home at last."
Mary Kate called them back to the party, and from where they stood they could see that the pink sash of her organdy dress was trailing in the mud. They looked at each other and laughed.
Then, hand in hand, they walked back through the melting snow toward a future as new as spring, as bountiful as summer, and bright with the radiance of the rest of their lives.
Jane Celeste Norton
and
Duncan Matthew Tate
invite you to participate
in the joy of their marriage
and the celebration of becoming a family
Saturday, June 12
Placid Valley Llama Ranch
Placid Valley, Wyoming
Reception immediately following at the home
The End
Dear Reader,
Thank you for purchasing Until Spring by bestselling author Pamela Browning. We hope you enjoyed the story and will leave a review at the eRetailer where you purchased the book.
If you enjoy getting free and discounted ebooks, we announce our book sales and freebies through eBook Discovery. You can get eBook Discovery's free Daily eZine and Special Find alerts to limited-time free and discounted ebook deals by signing up here.
Happy Reading,
ePublishing Works!
Want more from Pamela Browning
Page forward for an excerpt from
KISSES IN THE RAIN
Circles of Love Series
Book Two
Excerpt from
Kisses in the Rain
Circles of Love Series
Book Two
by
Pamela Browning
Award-winning Author
KISSES IN THE RAIN
Reviews & Accolades
"Ms Browning has given us another memorable story."
~Romantic Times
He greeted her at her door with a kiss, although she was less than enthusiastic. One look at her told him that she was angry; the naked pain in her eyes was eloquent testimony of her disappointment in him. He was instantly caught up in a riptide of regret. On the morning when he left, he should have awakened her and told her personally that he was leaving Ketchikan for a few days; slipping the note under her door had not, in retrospect, been a good idea. He admitted to himself that in a way he was a coward. He hadn't wanted to face her questions.
But now he must face her anger. He didn't relish that.
"Let's go out and get dinner someplace," he said.
"I don't think I could eat," she said.
"Please? I'm hungry because I had to skip lunch to catch up on things at the plant." Besides, he'd much rather sit across a table from her for the quiz session she had in mind. He had an idea that being out in public would decrease the tension between them. He'd had no experience with Martha's anger before, but in case she turned out to be the type who yelled and threw things, a restaurant seemed like a good idea. He knew she'd never make a scene in public.
Martha considered the restaurant idea for a moment. "All right," she conceded. She di
sappeared into the bedroom to get a jacket.
Nick had the nightmarish premonition that Martha's icy anger was going to last for weeks. They drove to the restaurant, a place on Front Street where he could order a big steak. On the way, she sat immobile on her side of the car, the hurt radiating from her in waves. The trouble was that the two of them didn't have weeks for Martha to indulge her anger. They had a little over two months left to be together at all. It seemed ridiculous to him for them to quarrel and spoil everything.
Over cocktails, after the dining-room waiter had taken their order, Nick said carefully, "I did leave you a note before I left. I'm surprised you didn't find it." He always thought it was better to take the offensive rather than to be placed on the defensive. He saw a darting flash of pain in her eyes, like a strike of lightning.
"I never found the note," she said.
"I did finally call you," he pointed out.
"By the time you phoned you had already been gone four days."
"In my note I mentioned that I'd call you as soon as I knew when I'd be home. I didn't know for sure until last night," he said, feeling a little desperate. Obviously she was not going to relax and accept his apology.
"Why didn't you know? Where were you the rest of the time?" Martha asked in a determined voice.
"I was—on business."
"Business?"
"Yes."
She shifted uneasily in her chair. She looked like an icicle, ready to drop and shatter at any minute. He knew that she didn't believe him, and he longed to reassure her. But he didn't know how.
"Something's wrong," she said. "Isn't it?"
"The only thing that's wrong is that you don't believe me when I say I was away on business. Do you?"
Martha bit her lip. "I'm not sure," she said, watching his face.
He sighed and leaned back in his chair. The silence stretched between them, tight as a haul line on a trolling rig. He'd missed her terribly, and he'd hated the fact that this most recent separation had come so soon after his trip to Juneau with Davey. Still, there hadn't been anything he could do. He'd had to go.
Until Spring Page 24