Max 2 - A Love Remembered

by Annette Broadrick

  For the first time since he'd awakened the day before Tim recognized how important it was that he was there. She needed him, and somehow he had known that. Perhaps she maintained a show of pride and strength to the world around her—she was Charles Winston Barringer's granddaughter, after all—but at the moment she needed Tim, and he was thankful that he was there for her.

  When the first storm of grief had passed somewhat, Tim stroked her hair away from her flushed face and said, ''He loved you more than he ever loved anyone."

  She caught her breath. ''Did he say that?"

  "Those were his exact words."

  "But I was always arguing with him."

  "What do you think kept him in such fine form? He thrived on arguments. You know that.''

  Her watery chuckle reassured him.

  "He wanted you to be happy. I know he didn't want you to grieve over him."

  "I heard that often enough!"

  "He was tired, love. He was ready to go home."

  "I know. I know it's selfish of me to wish for more. But he's all have."

  "You have me." Tim didn't know where the words came from, he only knew, when he heard them, that they were right. She had him for as long as she wanted him. She was important to him, her happiness was important to him. He never wanted her to feel that she was alone again.

  He could feel her body stiffening and knew that she had just then become aware of how closely he held her to him. Despite the seriousness of the situation his body had readily responded to her. He had no control over his physical reaction to her. He could only hope that she knew he would not act upon it.

  When she tried to pull away from him, he immediately loosened his hold on her. She scooted away. He didn't move but continued to lie on his back.

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to try to drown you."

  "That's just one of the functions of a husband, didn't you know?"

  ''You don't even remember being a husband."

  Her voice sounded discouraged, almost defeated.

  "Maybe not, but give me time. I'll get the hang of it."

  "I doubt that you'll be around long enough."

  He couldn't read anything into her comment and now that she was no longer within touching distance, he couldn't tell by touch whether she was relaxed or tense.

  "Why should I leave?"

  "Why should you stay? Charlie's gone now. He died happy, knowing I was being looked after."

  "Maybe I like looking after you. I might want the job on a permanent basis."

  He felt the bed move and knew that she had shifted. Her voice sounded closer. "Just a few hours ago you were enumerating all the reasons you weren't the marrying kind."

  Damn. She was a hard woman to argue with. She could use his own words against him. "That was because I was still shocked to find out that I was married."

  "I see. Now you're used to the idea."

  He moved his hand until he brushed against her, then rubbed his palm against her cheek. "Let's just say that the idea has more and more appeal to me."

  He heard her breath catch in the silence of the room.

  "It would be different if you could remember." she finally said.

  ''Remember what?"

  "Oh, nothing in particular, I suppose. I have such a sense of taking advantage of you. I could tell you anything and you would have to accept it.''

  ''Is that what you're doing?"

  "No! I wouldn't take advantage of you or the situation in that way."

  "I never believed you would."

  He moved his hand so he could feel the pulse in her neck, its rapid beat registering her agitation.

  "Will you let me hold you? I promise not to take advantage of you, either. I just want you to know I'm here for you."

  Almost childlike, Elisabeth returned to his arms, placing her head on his shoulder, resting her hand on his chest.

  "Do you think you can get some rest?" he asked after a moment. "I have a hunch we're both going to need it today." She felt so good in his arms...as though she was where she belonged.

  "I suppose. I need to start planning when I'm going to leave." She sounded drowsy, as though she were slowly drifting toward sleep.

  ''Leave? Leave where?''

  "Leave here. I'm sure that Jason and Marcus will push to get me out of here as soon as possible."

  "You think Charlie will leave this place to them?" He kept his voice carefully neutral.

  "Of course. It's been in their family for a hundred years. It's their birthright."

  "It's yours, too."

  "No, not really. Except for the past couple of years, I've only spent summers and school holidays here."

  "How much time have Jason and Marcus spent here?"

  She sighed. ''It doesn't matter. It belongs to them."

  ''Did Charlie know how you felt about the place?"

  "Of course. We talked about it years ago. He was in one of his patriarch moods, determined to arrange everyone's lives to suit him. He said he wanted me to have this place, and I told him it wasn't worth fighting over."

  "What did he say?"

  "Say? That's too polite a word. He roared. Whenever he couldn't get his own way. Granddad roared."

  She shifted, her hand idly playing in the curls on his chest. "I finally convinced him I'd be fine. I've never needed his money... well, maybe right at first. What I needed was his love and attention, and he was lavish with that."

  "Well—" Tim turned slightly so she was tucked firmly against his body "—it doesn't matter to me where we live. I've got a condo in Denver. Or we could buy a place wherever you want."

  She raised her head, and he knew she was trying to read his expression in the dark. "Tim, I thought we were agreed that the reason for our marriage no longer exists. I appreciate your being here for me. Granddad was right about that. But I'm a big girl now. I can look after myself. I don't need a keeper, despite what you two think."

  Tim thoroughly appreciated the feel of her body so warm against his. He closed his eyes. He was beginning to see what Charlie had been warning him about. Elisabeth had a great deal of pride and more than her share of independence. He was definitely going to need his rest at the moment because when she found out that Charlie had disregarded her wishes about the homestead, Tim had a hunch he was going to bear the brunt of her reaction.

  "Let's get some sleep," he murmured, patting her shoulder then letting his hand slide along her ribs to her waist.

  Strange how much he was looking forward to the coming skirmish. She was a worthy opponent. Charlie had raised her well.

  ❧

  Tim coaxed Elisabeth into going for a horseback ride that afternoon, hoping to get her out of the house for a while.

  Tim had learned from Mrs. Brodie that Elisabeth had been spending all her days at the hospital. No wonder she looked so fragile.

  He wondered if that was what they had quarreled about the day he'd gone riding alone.

  Tim had awakened and realized he was beginning to have flashbacks. The relief that swept over him was tremendous. The ache in his head seemed to have almost completely dissipated, returning only when he was tired or under unusual strain.

  Some of the flashes he got were in the form of silent movies. He couldn't remember what they were saying to each other, but he recalled Elisabeth's flushed face and vehement attitude. He remembered walking away from her, going outside, and later he'd gone to the barn, which was located, along with several other outbuildings, almost a mile from the house.

  Charlie had warned him she was stubborn. Well, so was he.

  This time, however, she had agreed to go riding. The day had turned out warm, but a fresh breeze kept it from being uncomfortable.

  Elisabeth's mount was a palomino gelding, his mane and tail the same color as her silver-blond hair. They made a striking pair. The green cotton shirt she wore reflected the green of her eyes as she seemed to drink in the view of the mountains that surrounded them.

  ''There's no place anywhere on earth
quite as beautiful, is there?" she finally said after they had ridden in silence for a time.

  "I have to agree."

  ''Have you always lived in Colorado?" she asked as they allowed their horses to follow an almost indiscernible trail.

  "Except for when I was in the military."

  "What do you do now?''

  He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Was she testing him for some reason? "Why do you ask?"

  "Because you've never said. When I asked Granddad he muttered something about government work."

  "That's about it."

  "But that could be anything from mail carrier to senator and all sorts in between."

  "I'm a troubleshooter. I check out a situation, then return and report my findings and conclusions."

  "Like an auditor?"

  He grinned. "Something like that."

  "You must work for the IRS."

  He laughed. ''Why do you say that?"

  "Well, you keep hedging. I would imagine that most people would react negatively to the idea of having an IRS agent in their midst."

  "Only if they have something to hide."

  '' Doesn' t everyone?''

  Tim stood up in the saddle, taking the weight off his rear end for a moment, knowing that he was out of shape for riding for any length of time.

  "What do you have to hide?" he asked, watching her profile.

  Elisabeth quickly turned her head toward him. "Why, nothing. What makes you ask?"

  "Because you never talk about your profession."

  "My profession!"

  "Charlie told me you're a writer."

  She glanced away from him, scanning the horizon. "Granddad always exaggerated everything."

  "He said you sold a book once."

  "Why would he tell you about that?"

  "He was explaining how you wouldn't even let him pay for your education. Instead, you insisted on paying him back out of the money you received for a book."

  Without looking at him, she said, ''No wonder you were so long returning yesterday. He must have told you my life story."

  ''I was interested. Remember, as far as I was concerned I met you for the first time yesterday."

  She was quiet, and Tim allowed the silence to spread between them. After a while Elisabeth spoke again, her voice musing. "I've always been interested in American history, particularly the Western United States. I enjoy reading about it, finding out little-known facts, then weaving stories about the people that lived in that time.''

  ''Was that why you were willing to move to Colorado?"

  She shook her head. "I moved back because Granddad needed me. He was too proud to admit it, but we both knew it. He was getting too old to travel. It really didn't matter where I lived. So I came home."

  Tim glanced at the sun. "We'd better head back, don't you think?"

  Elisabeth looked at her watch. "I didn't mean to stay out so long. Mrs. Brodie has so much to do, getting ready for everyone." And the phone was ringing off the wall."

  "Why do you think I got you out of there? I suggested she call someone in to help her with the cooking and cleaning."

  "I should have thought of that."

  Tim tightened his hold on the reins, watching as she did the same thing. They turned and started back.

  "How well do you know Jason and Marcus?"

  "I've only seen them a couple of times. They attended one of Granddad's social gatherings in Washington when I met them for the first time."

  "What do you think of them?"

  Her voice went flat. "I have no opinion of them one way or the other."

  ''What do they think of you?"

  She shrugged. "I'm sure you'll be able to ask them. According to Neil, they told him they'd fly in some time today."

  "They'll stay at the homestead?"

  She looked surprised. "Of course. It belongs to them now. Where else would they stay?"

  Thanks a lot, Charlie, Tim thought.

  ❧

  Tim and Elisabeth entered the house through the kitchen. Two young women were working there, and the savory scents coming from the stove and oven promised ample nourishment to everyone. The women glanced up with shy smiles but quickly resumed what they were doing.

  Mrs. Brodie came through the door from the hallway just as Tim and Elisabeth reached it.

  "Oh! There you are. Jason and Marcus Barringer arrived a few minutes ago. They're having coffee in the library."

  Elisabeth glanced down at her casual attire and made a face.

  "Why don't you go upstairs and change? I'll go speak with them."

  She was unable to mask her relief before she replied, "It doesn't matter. I'll have to see them sometime."

  "They can wait a little longer. And you'll be more comfortable."

  'That's true. If you're sure..."

  Tim couldn't resist leaning over and placing a soft kiss on her mouth. Her lips tasted and felt as enticing as they looked. "I'm sure." About a lot of things, he added to himself.

  Fully aware that he smelled of horses and outdoors, he crossed the foyer to the library and opened the door. As he entered the room, two men came to their feet and faced him.

  They were obviously brothers—both tall, blond and tanned, both wearing dark business suits with vests and ties, both sizing him up as he was them. These men were nobody's fools. Elisabeth wasn't the only one who had inherited intelligence and charm.

  The one on the left stepped forward with a dignified smile. Holding out his hand, he said, "I don't believe we've met. I'm Jason Winslow Barringer, and this my brother, Marcus Chandler Barringer. You must be the old man's foreman. I want you to know that you need have no concern about your position here. Our reports show that you have been doing a fine job managing the place." He glanced at his brother, who added a solemn nod of approbation.

  Tim took Jason's hand and shook it firmly, then shook hands with Marcus. They were good. He had to give them that. The look, the tone of voice, the just-right grip of the hand. It was all there in the most subtle way imaginable, carefully putting him in his niche in their life.

  He smiled. I'm sure Sam's going to be immensely pleased to hear you approve of his efforts, gentlemen."

  "Sam?''

  "Charlie's foreman. As for me, well, I'm just part of the family... your brother-in-law, Tim Walker."

  Neither man showed any reaction to his announcement other than to exchange a charged glance.

  ''Elisabeth's husband," he added helpfully.

  ''Ah. Elisabeth," Jason said smoothly. ''Yes. The attorney mentioned that she was still here."

  "Still?" Tim repeated softly.

  "What my brother means to say," Marcus interjected, "is we weren't sure until we asked if she intended to remain here until after the funeral."

  "Where did you think she would go?"

  Once again the men exchanged a look,

  "This is the first we knew that she had married," Jason offered.

  "Yes, I got the impression that the three of you aren't particularly close."

  Marcus coughed, and received a dirty look from his brother. He gave Tim a deprecating smile. "I know Charlie seemed to enjoy perpetuating the myth that Elisabeth was dad's daughter. We saw no reason to dispute the matter. She kept him entertained these last few years. That was the important thing."

  "I see. Then you don't consider her your sister?"

  Jason's chuckle was well-bred. "Definitely not, although I never ruled out the possibility that she was actually Charlie's bastard daughter. There is a certain family resemblance. I wouldn't put it past Charlie to cover his own peccadilloes with a story that makes him look like a benevolent patriarch rather than a scandalous old goat."

  "So what you are saying is that Elisabeth could very well be your aunt?" Tim walked over to the empty fireplace and leaned against the mantle, his arms crossed.

  ''What difference does it make?" Marcus asked, clearly irritated with the whole subject. ''The old man's gone now. I'm sure he's been genero
us enough with her. No doubt he's made some provision for her in the will. We have no argument with that."

  Tim nodded. "Very generous of you both, I'm sure."

  There was a tap on the door, and Tim noticed that it was Jason who responded, already taking over as master of the household.

  "Come in."

  Mrs. Brodie stuck her head around the door. "Would you gentlemen care for more coffee?"

  Before either brother could respond, Tim smiled and said, "Thank you, Mrs. Brodie. I'd appreciate some fresh coffee about now."

  Both men looked at him sharply, then returned to the comfortable leather chairs that were grouped around the fireplace.

  "What do you do, Tim?" Jason inquired politely, crossing his legs without disturbing the sharp crease in his trousers.

  "About what, Jason?"

  "He's asking about your employment." Marcus prodded.

  "Oh! Well, I'm what could be considered a private consultant."

  "A consultant on what subject?''

  "Oh, this and that."

  Mrs. Brodie entered the room carrying a full tray. In a few strides Tim was by her side relieving her of her burden. She smiled her thanks, picked up the smaller tray and left the room.

  Tim set the tray on the coffee table and sat on the sofa. He poured himself some coffee and leaned back, savoring the aroma as though he were alone in the room.

  Marcus stood, walked to the table and poured two cups of coffee, giving one to Jason.

  Jason took the cup and saucer and asked Tim. "Where's Elisabeth?"

  "Upstairs changing. She wasn't aware we had company until we got back from riding." He took a sip of the coffee and gave a nod of approval. "Are you two married?"

  Jason replied. "I am. Marcus is divorced. Why do you ask?"

  Tim shrugged. "Just wondered. Great idea, marriage. Helps to keep your back warm at night, your belly full—" He smiled at the two men before he continued. "I'd say it manages to take care of all a man's needs."

  "Is that what you'd say?" Jason repeated softly, barely veiling the contempt in his voice. "Just how long have you and Elisabeth been married?"

  Tim shrugged. ''Not long. It was love at first sight. Ya know what I mean? I took one look at her... she took one look at me... and there we were. We were married by the end of the week."