The Cedar Tree (Love Is Not Enough)

by McGriffith, Danni

  The lullaby faded into the soft rustling of cottonwood leaves. She sniffed.

  "My mama used to sing that," he said quietly.

  She froze in place then dipped her head to rub her cheek on her tee shirt sleeve. Was she crying?

  She cleared her throat. "Probably better than me."

  "No."

  The fragrance of burning pine drifted on the breeze. He didn't move. She swayed with the kid.

  "I didn't know you played guitar so well," she said quietly.

  "I told you I used to play in bars."

  "Not songs like those."

  "No."

  A female shriek sounded near the fire, then laughter. Katie turned. The faint firelight reflected on her eyes, deep with sad weariness…no longer a girl's eyes.

  He frowned. What was her dad thinking, saddling her with his kid even at a party?

  He let down the tailgate of his truck. "Come sit down before you fall down."

  She hesitated but then hoisted herself and the kid onto the tailgate.

  He sat beside her. "Looks like your dad could've watched the rugrat for a while," he said gruffly.

  She gently brushed her hand over the fuzz of hair on her brother's head. "Dad sometimes…forgets things." She rolled her head on her shoulders again.

  He hesitated then held out his hands. "Let me have him."

  She stared at him with surprise but then slowly passed the kid to him. Their hands made brief contact, straining the nerve endings in his fingers toward every well remembered finger, joint, and callous of her small palms.

  He gave the baby an awkward jiggle. He'd never held one before. She shivered, rubbing her hands over her arms.

  "My jacket's in the truck," he said.

  "I'm okay."

  Somebody tossed more wood onto the fire, sending up a shower of crackling sparks into the silence between them.

  "Do you ever…?" She hesitated, her gaze on her sneakers. "Do you ever wonder about the baby?"

  The baby.

  His stomach clenched. He adjusted the kid on his arm. "What baby?"

  "Your baby. Or babies. Little kids." She raised her gaze. "Was there only one?"

  "That's the only one I know of." He jiggled the kid in silence.

  "You might've made a good dad."

  "I'd have made the worst dad in the world like I was then," he said bitterly. He met her gaze. "Only thing I could've done worse was bein' a husband."

  She didn't look away.

  He swallowed hard. "Katie? That letter? I had to tell you the truth."

  She held his gaze a moment longer, then she nodded and turned away.

  "What was all that at the ball game about?" he asked.

  Her slender throat moved. "I don't know," she whispered. "I don't know anything anymore."

  His heartbeat quickened. "You know we belong—"

  "Gil, don't," she said softly. "Just don't." She slid off the tailgate, holding out her arms for her little brother. "You'd better get back to Tracy."

  His stomach burned with acid. Did she take mood killing classes somewhere? It was the same old story every stinking time. He was so sick of it.

  "Yeah, guess I'd better," he said tightly, handing the kid back to her. "Your boyfriend's probably lookin' for you, too."

  "Tell him I'm ready to go, please."

  He slid off the tailgate. "Tell him yourself."

  She walked away. He slammed the tailgate closed then headed for the cab. Just as he touched the door handle, Lance stepped from the shadows.

  "I heard all that." Lance's nice guy voice cracked like a twelve-year-old boy's.

  "Congratulations."

  "What was all that at the ball game about?"

  "You heard her."

  "I wanna hear you."

  "She's not a very good pitcher."

  Lance's chest heaved with rapid, irregular movements. "You think you're such a stud. Always right there with your smart mouth and your smooth moves—"

  "Dude," he said impatiently. "Wake up. She treats me like crap. She throws balls at my head."

  "You don't know her." Lance's Adam's apple bobbed convulsively. "You'll never know her like I do."

  "No problem, then."

  Lance's bony face twisted with pain. His big knuckled fists clenched. "Except she loves you—" Lance swung his fist—"you stupid sucker…"

  His head snapped back as a teeth-rattling burst of light exploded the darkness in front of his eyes.

  Chapter Twenty

  At Sunnyside the next morning, heavy clouds hid the tops of the mountains. Fine grey mist swirled in the air, beading moisture on Gil's yellow slicker. He roped Juan's old horse then led him to the fence rail on the path to the bum lamb pen. Scowling, he flipped his lariat from the horse's neck then haltered the gelding to the rail, his mood as ugly as the weather.

  Katie, wearing a denim jacket, approached with two orphan lambs dangling from her arms. Her face glowed with color from the chilly air and her mist dampened hair curled around it, making her as pretty and delicate as a wild rose. With the lambs in her arms, she looked like Little Bo Peep, not a human wrecking machine.

  She stopped, eying him coolly. "What happened to you?"

  "Fell out of bed," he said sullenly, his voice slurring between his swollen lips. Never again would he allow a man who toted bundles of shingles up and down a ladder and used a shingling hatchet every day to hit him in the mouth…even if he did look like a scarecrow. "What's it look like?"

  "Like Tracy bit you."

  He stared at her in feigned amazement. "Dang, Katie, you're good. How'd you guess?"

  Suddenly motionless, her gaze sharpened. "You left before she did."

  "Maybe I came back after you and your boyfriend left."

  "I went home with Tim. Lance got sick."

  "Yeah, I'll bet he did," he said, twisting his swollen mouth sarcastically. He began to coil his lariat with angry movements. "Anyway, back to me and Tracy. I took her parkin'. We were gettin' it on like you and me used to. She was really diggin' me. Wow. She's so smokin' hot." He forced his mouth into a deliberately offensive grin. "But I'm kinda glad I didn't still have my tongue in her mou—"

  "You liar," she cried.

  "Liar? Well, you should know about that." He jerked at the rope. "It didn't mean anything, anyway. She didn't say she loved me. We just had a make out session with heavy breathin' like you and me used to." He eyed her with an insolent, measuring look. "You might have more experience, but I think she might be better at it than you."

  She stared at him, the blood draining from her face. "More ex—"

  "Lance. Me. Lance. Me again." He shrugged. "Maybe all your brothers' school buddies…Who knows? You're not very faithful, but go ahead and look down your nose at—"

  "You're the one who…kissed me the other night," she choked out, her lips white.

  "You kissed me back."

  "I didn't. You—"

  "Don't lie to me, Katie. I'm sick of it."

  Her nostrils flared. Angry, dark color flooded her face. "And I'm sick of you calling me a liar and unfaithful when you probably don't even know how many—"

  "You're supposed to be a nice girl. People like me and Tracy don't make much claim to bein'—"

  With a sudden snarl of rage, she dropped the lambs. "Tracy can have you," she screamed, springing at his face, her fingers like claws.

  He dropped the rope and seized her wrists. "Can she?" he yelled, yanking her to him to glare into her eyes. "You givin' me to her? I'm yours to give away?"

  She struggled violently against his hold, sobbing with fury.

  "I'm sick of all this, Katie," he roared, dodging a kick from her boot. "Make up your mind. You can't have it both ways. A few months ago, you wanted to get rid of me bad enough to make me think you'd made some kind of promise to God you'd stay away from me, but now—"

  "I never said—"

  "D'you have any idea what that did to me?" He shook her wrists. "Do you?"

  "You don't
know what I've been through. You don't—"

  "Who's fault is that? I wanted to be there. I tried—"

  "Who are you to talk to me like this? I've tried hard to do everything right my whole life. I was trying—"

  "You should've tried harder."

  "You wanted to kill your own baby," she shrieked into his face. "Who are you to—"

  "This ain't about me bein' a screwup. This is about you decidin' what you want. Not what anybody else wants…what you want. I don't even care anymore what that is. I just want you to make up your mind."

  "It's not that easy," she sobbed wildly. "Some people can't just write a letter and stroll away from their mistakes."

  Thunder rumbled overhead and the mist turned to a sudden downpour. He stared at her through the water streaming off his hat brim and pouring over her clenched fists. Somebody should've shot him before he wrote that letter. She was going to throw it in his face the rest of his life.

  "You've seriously underestimated me," he said between his teeth. "The Lord changed me. I don't even know that guy I used to be anymore, but that never mattered to you, did it? To you I've just stayed the scumbag who could stroll away from killin' my kid like nothin' ever happened. The one who deserves to get hurt."

  "That's not—"

  "Maybe I am a scumbag, but I loved you, Katie. I couldn't stroll nowhere."

  Shivering uncontrollably, she regarded him through sodden strands of hair, her eyes red and full of anguish. The lambs stirred on the ground, bleating miserably.

  "Somethin' else?" he said. "Lance ain't as dumb as you think. You've treated him like crap, too, but he loves you enough not to want you at any cost."

  Her face twisted with pain and she burst into real tears.

  "Aww," he said in mock sympathy. "You cryin' over me or him?"

  "Gil, I was only trying to—"

  "Cry over him. He cries over you. Wow. That guy can really cry. Did you know that?"

  She stopped. Her eyes opened wide in comprehension. "He hit you."

  He gave a derisive snort. "Mr. Nice Guy? He wouldn't do somethin' like that." He held her gaze without mercy. "Would he?"

  Guilt, shame, sadness, and finally weariness passed through her gaze. She closed her eyes, all the fight draining from her. "You didn't hit him back, did you?"

  "What'd'you think?" he asked sarcastically, thrusting away her wrists. "He's bigger than me."

  The pain driving Lance—too familiar—had kept him from striking back, but she didn't need to know that. And she didn't need to know about him leaning helplessly on his pickup beside Lance last night in the dark, listening while the other man's dreams did a big crash and burn. He flinched at the memory.

  Katie scooped up the lambs lying in a wet, tangled pile, their thin cries now loud in the silence. She stumbled away without looking at him.

  He picked up his muddy rope, jerking angrily at it. "I'll be sure and tell Tracy I'm all hers, now," he called after her.

  ***

  Ten days later at the high school, a makeshift stage sat on the emerald carpet of the football field. A warm breeze unfurled an American flag against cloudless blue and ruffled his hair, still damp from a hurried shower. Even though he attended uninvited, he'd nearly killed himself getting back from a week-long cattle haul to California in time for Katie's graduation.

  Standing near the crowded bleachers, he searched the twenty-four folding chairs on the field. He spotted her hair gleaming against a dark green robe then turned to scan the bleachers for the rest of the Campbells. Her family sat with a large group of church people on the west end of the stands, no empty seats near them, or anywhere else. A round man in a suit stepped to the podium to drone on about going forth armed with knowledge to conquer the world.

  He climbed the supports at the back of the bleachers, squeezing into a spot on the top east side between the end rail and a fat kid of five who smelled like he'd peed his pants.

  Twenty minutes later, the round man beamed smugly to unenthusiastic applause then sat down. The principal stepped to the podium with a stack of diplomas. The microphone squealed.

  "Santos Archuleta…"

  A short, wiry guy bounded onto the podium with a wide smile. He shook the principal's hand. A large section from the bleachers clapped and yelled. A couple of B names crossed the stage then the principal called Katie's name. Her section of the bleachers erupted with loud clapping, yells, and whistles. Soft curls fell in a shining wave down her back as she crossed the podium to the principal with quick grace, her white, high heeled sandals and pretty ankles showing beneath her robe.

  He raised his fingers to his mouth to let out a long, admiring wolf-whistle. Suddenly motionless, she looked toward the bleachers, searching. Then the principal said something to her and placed his arm around her shoulders. She turned to smile up at the man and nodded, hugging him back.

  His heart swelled with pride in spite of the words he'd said to her the last time they'd been together. When her world had crashed around her, she'd stepped up, shouldered her load, and carried it. Her decisions had been incomprehensible to him, but she'd made them in integrity and she'd done the best she could. She was smart, and stubborn, and tough…

  And she was really, really hot.

  "See that girl?" he asked, nudging the fat kid. "I'm in love with her."

  The kid's round, freckled face twisted disgustedly. "She's your girlfriend?"

  Katie descended the steps of the stage. Smiling, she waved at her family group, but her gaze swept over the bleachers again, searching for him.

  "Yeah," he said. "She's my girlfriend."

  ***

  By the time he descended the bleachers and talked to a half-dozen neighbors and acquaintances, most of the crowd had dispersed. He caught up to Dave just as he slid into his pickup.

  "Finally," Dave said in greeting. "I wondered if you'd skipped out on me."

  "Picked up a few extra runs, dear," he said in a mocking falsetto, "but it'll pay the bills for a few days."

  Dave grinned. "Don't make me divorce you already."

  He grinned back. "How are things?"

  Dave lifted his glasses to rub his eye, yawning. "I'm about to get worked to death, dude. I need to be out at camp right now, but I've gotta go to Katie's shindig or Aunt Rachel will kill me."

  "I'll take care of things out there."

  "You're not comin' to the party?"

  He grinned crookedly. "I didn't get an invite."

  "Since when d'you need an invite to Aunt Rachel's?"

  "Bring me some cake," he said, slamming the pickup door. He had no intention of hanging around the fringes of Katie's party. It was her night, and he wouldn't mess it up for her.

  But at Sunnyside, he circled the base of a massive sandstone boulder near the spring, eyeing a lamb caught in a fissure in the rock four feet above his head. How had the little idiot gotten up there?

  The lamb's mother stood staring up, too, her frantic bleats echoing from the surrounding boulders. The lamb panted miserably in the direct sunlight. It'd die if he didn't get it out of there, but even if he could climb the slick face of the rock, his shoulders wouldn't fit into the crack far enough to drag it out. Neither would Dave's.

  Twenty minutes later, Jon frowned up at him from a chair in Rachel and Dan's living room where a group of men sat eating cake. Carefully controlled pain burned behind the older man's eyes. The graduation must have been hard on him without Katie's mom there.

  "This can't wait?" Jon asked shortly.

  Katie's father tolerated him, but barely. The sheep venture and Karl's absence had left Jon with a staggering workload and he particularly seemed to resent the time Katie spent working with the sheep. Probably because he had to watch the kid more. It was surprising she hadn't had to pack the rugrat across the stage with her at the graduation.

  "I'll bring her right back."

  Jon eyed him. "You just ain't gonna go away, are you?"

  "No, sir."

  A muscle in Jon's jaw
twitched, but he nodded toward the kitchen where a group of women congregated like chattering sparrows around a water puddle. "She's in there."

  Katie stood with her back to the doorway, the kid on her hip. She had removed the green gown, but her hair still fell loose down the back of a yellow summer dress, fitted enough to accentuate her slender form. Laura said something to her. She smiled and poked a small piece of cake into the kid's mouth.

  He stepped up beside her. "Hey."

  She turned in surprise. Her gaze flicked over his hatless head and the blue-checked shirt he'd torn out of its plastic wrap for the occasion. Color rose in her cheeks.

  "I didn't know you were back," she said coolly.

  "Really?" There was something different in her eyes. "For some reason, I thought you did."

  She flushed and looked away. The kid ate another piece of cake from her finger.

  "I need some help out at camp."

  She frowned irritably. "Right now?"

  "There's a lamb caught in that crack over the spring." He shrugged. "It's hot and thirsty."

  She heaved an impatient sigh, but gave the kid to Rachel. Outside, he opened the pickup door for her.

  "You'll have to take me home so I can change my clothes," she said.

  "I'm not takin' you all the way home." He slammed the door then got in, turning the pickup toward Sunnyside. "It'll only take a minute then I'll bring you back to your party."

  Across the cab, she sat silent and moody in the yellow dress. The light fragrance of her perfume drifted to him—she'd replaced the bottle he'd stolen.

  He cleared his throat. "You look nice," he said stiffly.

  She gave him a sour glance. "As opposed to so smokin' hot?"

  He had it now…the difference in her eyes. She wanted to fight with him, but she was all there. Fully engaged. He grinned inside.

  "At least I didn't say that dress makes you look fat."

  She rolled her eyes, turning to stare out the window.

  "I tried to call you while I was gone," he said. "Twice. Did Tim tell you?"

  "Tim's a moron. Leaving a message with him's the same as flushing it into the black hole of outer space."

  "I didn't leave a message."