by Jane Toombs
He shrugged. “I figured if you wanted to stay you’d have said so.”
So she could have. But he’d reminded her of how Ken used to make decisions without consulting her. Another reason their marriage wouldn’t have worked. What was it with men?
They were almost back to the cabin before Fay remembered her manners. “I enjoyed my night out,” she told Dan. “Thanks for the meal and the surprise.”
“I hoped you would,” he said. “Being confined to the cabin must be hard on a gal like you.”
She took his words to bed with her, wondering if he had any idea how she really felt. But how could he, when even she wasn’t sure herself?
The following afternoon, after the rain had become a half-hearted drizzle, Megan arrived for supper, bringing vegetable pasties with her and cookies for dessert.
“You realize you’re our first dinner guest,” Dan said as they sat down at the table.
“Should I feel honored?” Megan asked.
“Anyone who comes bearing the meal is always welcome,” he teased.
“I hope you like carrots and rutabaga in your pasties along with the meat, potatoes and onions,” Megan said to Fay.
“I’m not sure I’ve had rutabaga before,” Fay said, “but they’re delicious.”
The meal passed pleasantly enough, but Megan had to leave almost immediately after. “Sorry to stick you with the dishes, but there’s a meeting tonight I don’t want to miss. The town is trying to build an animal shelter and some people are opposed to the idea. Can you imagine? They’ll be there in force, but so will the good guys, meaning those for it, including me.”
“Try not to offer to be a pet foster parent,” Dan said.
Megan gave him a withering look. “He’s never let me forget how many stray animals I brought home as a kid,” she told Fay.
“Once even a goat,” he put in. “It climbed on to the shed roof, and Dad fell off the ladder trying to get it down. We all learned a few new words that day.”
After Megan left, and the dishes were cleared away and washed, Dan asked, “Feel up to a Scrabble game?”
“If you mean am I tired, no. Or do you mean do I dare take the chance I’ll have to give you a back rub?”
“I know you’re a risk-taker.”
“No risk. I’ll win. Again.”
The first letters she drew spelled out Anita, which, of course, she couldn’t use. Adding another letter, she put in “attain,” but, as she did, to her dismay she found herself saying, “Anita’s quite pretty. She must have been popular in school.”
Dan stared at her for a moment as if asking what Anita had to do with anything, finally saying, “She was Prom Queen her last year in high school.”
“I suppose you were Prom King.”
“Actually my brother Will was. I was still a sophomore.” As he spoke, using one of her letters, he spelled out jealous. “Got the J on a double space,” he crowed.
She eyed him narrowly. Did he mean anything by that word he’d made?
“That’ll put me way ahead,” he added.
Apparently he didn’t. But was she jealous? Is that why she’d persisted in asking him about Anita? Fay shook her head. If anything, it was probably because seeing Anita had reminded her that she had a ways to go yet before she’d look sexy again. Envy, possibly, but not jealousy.
She stopped thinking about it and concentrated on winning the game.
But she must not have concentrated hard enough, because when the scores were tallied, she’d lost by five points.
Dan grinned at her, rose, crossed to the couch and arranged himself face-down.
She sighed, made her way over and tried to sit next to him, but there wasn’t room.
“You’re too big,” she told him.
“We’ll have to use the loft.”
Curiosity had driven Fay up the steps once when Dan was outside, so she knew that, besides the double bed, the room held a bureau, bedside table and a cedar chest. The decor was masculine stark. Apparently Dan’s mother hadn’t had a say in decorating the cabin.
This time, as she climbed the stairs to the loft behind Dan, she wasn’t sure she liked the idea of going into his bedroom. She felt the couch was her turf, but the loft was Dan’s.
No matter, she told herself. I’m the one giving the back rub, the one in charge.
She came to the top step and saw Dan already sprawled on the bed, his T-shirt off. “You could have kept your shirt on,” she complained. “I did.”
“I didn’t mention it last night, but the patient’s back is supposed to be bare. Just thought I’d let you do it the right way.”
“Gee, thanks, Sergeant.” She sat down next to him and eyed his bare back.
After a moment of hesitation, she placed her hands on the small of his back, immediately feeling the warmth of his skin. When she eased her way up his spine to his neck, then down his shoulders and along his sides, she realized the procedure was more intimate than she’d figured. How did therapists distance themselves from their patients?
Still, if Dan hadn’t been the person she was touching, she doubted she’d experience such intimacy. Under the superficial softness of his skin, she could feel the hard muscles of his back and, though she willed herself not to react, she was aware her pulse had quickened.
Think of it as a therapeutic procedure, she scolded herself, not foreplay.
“I’d be happy to have you go on forever,” he murmured.
“Then I must be doing something right.” She made her tone deliberately tart.
“Mmmm.”
She half smiled, recognizing the sound as close to a purr. Obviously he was getting the same pleasure from her hands as she’d had from his.
Though she owed him as much time as he’d given her, how could she keep going and prevent herself from letting her hand drift over the curve of his butt? That would never do. Not at all.
Before she lost her cool completely, she felt a twinge in her shoulders. Relieved she could grab a real excuse, she said, “I’m getting a little tired, so I guess this is as long as forever lasts.”
He sighed but didn’t move. “Go down and rest,” he told her. “I’ll join you in a bit.”
Dan waited until he heard her on the stairs before he turned over and sat up, shifting uncomfortably. His own damn fault for allowing her to give him the back rub. It’d been bad enough when he had rubbed her back, what had he expected other than a complete arousal when he felt her hands stroking the bare skin of his back? In his bed, of all places. Hadn’t his brother warned him to keep away from her?
Since there didn’t seem to be any way he could touch her and not get aroused, he’d be a damn fool if he kept this up. More daytime walks in the woods, less—no, make that zero—evening touching. Hugs were out, too. Hell, he didn’t even dare hold hands with her.
The weather turned sunny once more, gradually warming as the days passed. After the tow truck Dan had arranged for came and hauled the wrecked rental car away, for some reason, the time seemed to speed by to Fay. She was caught by surprise when Dan announced that this was the day Bruce had scheduled to see her again.
“Already?” she said, the word escaping before she thought.
“Haven’t you looked in the mirror lately?”
She’d known, while refusing to think about how it meant an end to her time with Dan, that she was much stronger and the color had returned to her face. Examining her fingernails, she noted their unmistakable pinkness. Which meant her count must be getting back to normal. If that proved true, it would be time for her to go home.
Home. Not this cabin, but to her apartment in Archer. A lovely and desirable apartment, in one of the town’s big old houses. Her widowed landlady, Clara Monroe, who lived in the rest of the house, was a descendant of the original builder. Fay loved her apartment and was fond of Clara. Yet the thought of leaving Dan depressed her.
“You’re quiet today,” he said as they drove into town.
She couldn’t tell him t
he truth. Instead, she said, “You never told me when the rental company would have another car ready or how I’m supposed to get it.”
“That’s because you won’t need it.”
She stared at him. “What do you mean? I’m sure your brother is going to tell me I’m well enough to go home. How do you expect me to get there?”
“In my truck. I’m driving you back to Archer.”
“But—but have they called you back to duty?”
He shrugged. “They’ll find some desk job to keep me off the streets until the board wraps things up. It should be soon. There’s no reason you should push your luck by driving all that way downstate with the baby when I have to go to the very same town.” His glance at her clearly said argue if you dare.
She decided not to, admitting to herself she was relieved by his offer.
At Dr. Bruce’s office, Fay’s prediction proved true. “I’m pleased with how well you’re doing,” he told her. “Your count is borderline normal now, so there’s no reason you can’t return home. If you’ll sign a release form and give me the name and address of your doctors in Archer, I’ll send them my records for both you and your daughter. It’s important you make an appointment with your doctor as soon as possible. You need to discuss with him such things as how long you plan to nurse the baby and he can advise you about when it’s safe to resume sex.”
“I’ll do that,” she promised, hoping he wouldn’t notice her flush. For some reason Bruce’s mention of sex unsettled her, though it hadn’t when she’d discussed it with her doctor back home. Perhaps it was because Bruce was Dan’s brother.
“Dan’s driving you and the baby back to Archer, I understand,” he said.
She nodded, wondering if he disapproved.
“Probably a good idea, since the baby’s so young. Driving alone with an infant can be distracting. She’s gained weight by the way—a healthy little girl.”
“Thanks for all you’ve done for me. I really appreciate it.”
He smiled, looking for a moment remarkably like Dan. “I told my brother that he did so well with your delivery he ought to reconsider and go into medicine. He said the day I joined the police force he’d think about it.”
She smiled now. “Somehow I can’t visualize you as a cop.”
“Neither can I. To each his own.”
“Dan saved my life,” she said. “My daughter’s, too. I can never repay him.”
Bruce gave her a look she couldn’t interpret. “You don’t need to try.”
It almost sounded like a warning and she was still thinking about what Bruce could have meant as she and Dan drove over to say goodbye to Megan.
“I just put new film in my camera,” Megan said. “Let me take a farewell picture of you two with the baby. I can’t get over how much she’s grown.”
Later, as they were leaving, Megan hugged Marie and Fay, and lastly Dan. “Don’t bother cleaning up the cabin,” she said as she let him go. “I’ll use my key and take care of all that this weekend.”
Fay was about to protest that they could at least start the process, when Dan shook his head at her. So she simply thanked Megan.
Back in the truck, Dan said, “When Megan offers to clean up there’s no use arguing. She’s been trying to mother all of us since—well, for a long time now. She gets upset if you don’t let her.”
Since their mother left? Is that what Dan meant? Fay sighed. Poor Megan, feeling she needed to try to act as a substitute when, after all, she must have missed her mother as much or more than any of them, being the youngest and the only girl.
“Need anything from the general store?” Dan asked. “I have to stop there a minute.”
She didn’t and they were soon on their way again. Tonight, she thought, is the last night we’ll spend together. “It’s time to take up my life again,” she said, more to herself than to Dan.
He didn’t reply, but she hadn’t expected him to.
“In a way, being in the cabin has been like living in another world,” she went on. “A fantasy world.”
After a silence, he said, “Sometimes I think the entire Upper Peninsula is another world.”
“That, too, but…” She didn’t go on, unsure she could find words to express how she felt. Taking a deep breath, she said, “I’m looking forward to getting back to work.”
He glanced at her. “Who’ll take care of Peanut?”
“My landlady, Mrs. Monroe. She offered to when I was pregnant.”
“How old is she? Can she cope with a small baby?”
How dare he question her judgment? Then she reminded herself how fond he was of her daughter and tamped down her annoyance. “Clara Monroe raised three children of her own successfully. As for her age, she’s sixty-five and full of energy.”
Dan grunted, but said nothing more.
They reheated refrigerator leftovers for supper. Afterward Fay nursed her daughter and got her ready for the night. As usual, Dan didn’t so much as glance her way as she nursed, but she no longer commented on it, aware that ever since the night they’d waltzed together, there’d been a certain tension between them. Not that they’d stopped being friends, but a new dimension had been added. Other than the reward back rubs, he almost never touched her. Nor she, him. It was safer that way, but that didn’t stop her from regretting that they had to play it so safe.
Once Danny Marie was asleep in the cradle, Fay looked around for Dan, finding him nowhere in the house. Restless, she pulled on a sweater and went out to the porch. Though it wasn’t warm enough to leave the door open, the late May night was mild. She stood on the porch looking up at the moon, waning from full, as it rose over the pines. Words from an old country song came to mind, something about the moon looking lonesome shining through the trees.
Lonesome wasn’t a word that applied to her time here at the cabin and yet tonight maybe it did. Without conscious thought, she began to hum the song, a few more of the words coming back to her. Like a lot of country songs, it was a plaintive tale of a lover leaving.
She was leaving. But Dan wasn’t and never would be her lover. And, actually, he was going with her. They both were leaving.
A faint fragrance drifted through the night air, reminding her of the tiny pink flowers Dan had shown her on one of their walks through the woods.
“Trailing arbutus,” he’d told her. “Nothing else smells quite as sweet.”
No more walks in the woods with Dan. Nothing else would ever be quite like those walks.
A dark figure stepped from between the trees. The moonlight told her it was Dan. In silence, she watched him walk toward the porch, watched him climb the few steps, all the time thinking this would be the last time she’d stand at the railing and watch him. But she didn’t move or speak.
He came up behind her, so close she could feel his breath stir a strand of her hair. Close but not quite touching. She wanted to be touched. Needed to be touched.
One last time. She deliberately took a step backward. When she felt his arms go around her waist, she closed her eyes, savoring the feel of his body against hers.
For a long time neither of them spoke.
“You called this a fantasy world,” he murmured at last. “Tonight it seems like one.”
She sighed. “Fantasies aren’t real. This world isn’t real.”
“You feel real enough to me.”
She struggled against her urge to turn in his arms so she was facing him, wanting his lips on hers, wanting—him. At the moment nothing else mattered.
From the woods, an owl hooted four times, its mournful cry bringing her back to what was possible and what wasn’t. Deliberately focusing on the owl, she said, “Why do they always hoot four times?”
“They don’t. Sometimes it’s three.”
She recognized the hoarseness in his voice for what it was—need. Not that she already wasn’t aware of his arousal pressing against her back. If she didn’t move away from him the fantasy might overwhelm them both.
�
�I wish…” she murmured, not specifying what.
“So do I.” He whispered the words into her ear, making her melt against him.
Still holding her, he stepped backward, bringing her with him. A moment later, his hands moved up to her shoulders, he turned her sideways and then eased her down into one of the porch chairs. He sat in the one next to her.
The decision made, she did her best to accept it. It was, after all, the only choice. “Moonlight is as dangerous as a waltz,” she said.
He didn’t comment. Would he, she wondered, talk about seeing her once they were back in Archer? She’d already made up her mind that wouldn’t work out. Part of the desire they both felt, she was sure, was because of where they were—alone together in a wilderness cabin under most unusual circumstances.
When the silence continued, she said, “Tomorrow we go our separate ways.” Though she’d striven for a light tone, to her own ears her voice sounded plaintive. Hurriedly, she added, “Back to the real world.”
“It’s too bad you have to go to work so soon,” he said.
She looked at him, but he was staring into the darkness between the trees. “Why wouldn’t I?” she asked.
“So you could be with Marie more. She’s so little.”
“I’m starting out part-time.”
“Still…”
She shifted in her chair, turning so she faced him. “When you run a private consulting business, you can’t afford to let your clients forget you.”
He glanced at her. “I’m not arguing the point.”
“Then what are you doing?”
“Babies need their mothers.”
Her annoyance dribbled into her words. “Don’t you think I know that? I plan to spend as much time as I can with my daughter. At the same time I’m a single parent and I can’t let my business falter.”
When he didn’t reply, still miffed at him, she said, “Sometimes you remind me of my father.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth she regretted them.
Dan turned to look at her. “Your father?” His voice was even, but she sensed anger simmering underneath.
“Not really,” she admitted. “I suppose I was annoyed because you’re ignoring the basics of my situation. I’m the one who’ll be supporting my child. To support her I need to work. If I don’t start soon, my clients will forget me and I can’t afford to let that happen since a lot of my business comes from word of mouth. Remember, I don’t work for a company, so I don’t get a steady paycheck.”