by Carol Devine
She laid her head on his shoulder. "You're the only person I've told, the only one who knows about this tree." She wiped her eyes, inhaling deep. "It's dying, Shane. I don't know how to save it."
"It's already saved, Mariah. It's in your heart and in your head. Mine, too, since you told me what it means to you."
"You seem so sure. I wish I had your faith. It doesn't get shaky like mine does."
"I have my moments. When Kellen was born… And you almost…" he shook his head, unable to finish the sentence. "And me after the accident. Stuck in the hospital, I wasn't sure. Not at all. But you were there and I was afraid of letting you down if I didn't work my butt off to get home and get well. Talk about this tree keeping you alive. You kept me alive."
"You got mad at me sometimes. Admit it."
"Don't know why you put up with me."
"It's very simple. I love you, Shane. It's such a cliché, but I always have and I always will."
"Have I told you lately how much I love you?"
"You tell me every day. You're very good about it. Sometimes I wonder if I can ever hear it enough."
"Did Bird tell you he loved you?"
"Not with words. Until I had our children and realized how big the job is, I didn't think he cared. But he always made sure I had decent food to eat, clean clothes, sent me to school, made sure I got to the doctor and the dentist when I needed to."
"That's a pretty low standard."
"It could have been worse, Shane. The things I've seen in law enforcement would break your heart. Brutal parents, insane parents, pedophile parents. Believe it or not, Bird hit a high note once in a while. This tree, for example. My first memory is him carrying me to this tree. I probably was four or five at the time. He said this tree was a magical tree. He said people who loved me lived inside. He said some of them were too small to see, some so large they had to stay inside or they might scare little girls like me. He said his mama lived here and my mama, too, and if I ever needed to talk to them I could, as long as I stayed near the tree. He was trying to keep me safe, I think. He even built me a little platform once, like a tree house. But it was just the floor and it fell down in winter when we got, like, three feet of snow, three or four feet in two days."
"I think I remember that three or four feet of snow. School was cancelled. Hooked my sled to my Dad's truck and talked my brother into doing donuts in the school parking lot. Almost killed myself. Almost killed Ian, too, cause he was the smart one who should have known better."
"You have different smarts. Like convincing people to do stuff against their better judgment."
"I sure talked you into a lot of stuff. Really fun stuff."
"Truth is, I played hard to get. I force you to dig deep, summon John Wayne and use that romantic imagination of yours."
"Bull-headed is what you were."
"Another trait handed down from Bird. I wish he could have accepted rehab, accept the whole twelve-step thing."
"He was very sick."
"He did try to stop drinking once in a while. It would last a week or two, sometimes as long as a month. If he was feeling okay, he used to sing to me. He had a guitar and he was pretty good. He braided my hair sometimes before the school bus came in the mornings. Made me feel special. He said he could do it because my hair was different than hers, straight and blonde like a wheat field, where hers was curly and strawberry red."
"Like Cassie's."
"Yes. It's nice to know a little of my mother lives on."
"You're mother lives on in you and both our children, Mariah. I'm sorry you had to go through what you did, growing up. I wish I knew you then. Maybe I could have helped in some way."
"You did help."
"I did?"
"When I was around the age of nine or ten, I read this book called King of the Wind. It was about an Arabian stallion. Believe it or not, I went a little horse crazy. Can you believe, me, horse crazy? Couldn't afford one, of course. But at that time, I used to catch a ride to the county fairgrounds for the horse shows, looking for an Arabian stallion. Never did find one."
"Nope, I can definitely confirm that Arabians are scarce around these parts. If you're talking purebreds, most are Quarter Horses. Now you will find some half-Arabian crossbreeds or good working horses that are quarter bloods…"
She pressed her finger to his mouth. "I used to watch you practice. I didn't know your name. And just in case your head is enormous enough to think I was mooning after you, it was your horse I was interested in. I didn't even care about you, not really. It's not like I was old enough to want you as my boyfriend or anything. I remember watching you, though, because you were fearless. You loved to go fast. You used to practice roping calves with Juan Garcia. The two of you would blast your horses out of the gates, rope and jump the calf and grab three legs, tie them clean as a whistle. And you'd practice herding with whatever animals were around, ducks and packs of dogs, I remember distinctly.
"Dogs are the worst. Smarter than horses. They outsmart me, too. Good thing they're saved for jobs around ranches other than rodeoing."
"You were like a young colt yourself, wanting to run and buck and be free to do whatever."
"If you were nine or ten, I would have been thirteen or fourteen. Me and Juan were wild men back then. Didn't think about anything or anybody 'cept ourselves."
"I looked for horses all over the place, pastured on ranches round here. I saw the way they chased each other. They galloped for the pure joy of it. I wanted to be that way, too. I wanted to find something thrilling, thrilling enough to make me work hard, like you and Juan did. School was where I found it. Learning new things, new ideas. The way people think fascinated me. When I started studying psychology, it made perfect sense. That's all I wanted, to make sense of the world. To understand why people do the things they do, like Bird and my mother, and the world at large. I can't help but believe seeing how hard you worked to improve yourself, inspired me."
She finished her sandwich, offering him the last few bites like she usually did, because her stomach was full and she could always tell when his wasn't. They'd been together enough years to know each other pretty damned well.
She started stashing away the remains of their lunch, neatly filling the picnic basket, packing out the garbage, dedicated to keeping this little patch of land pristine.
Examining the tree, he thought about what it must have been like to call this place home, packed dirt and this tree as her yard, living with a stupid drunk of an old man in a broken down camper. If he could, he'd wave a magic wand and change it all, have her live with Ana's family from the beginning. He'd keep her from being hurt and betrayed, neglected by a father who knew better but couldn't get past his own hurts to change.
Once everything was packed away, Mariah set the basket aside. She scooted her fanny to rest against the tree the same way Shane was, joining him at his side. She cradled his hand in her lap and tilted her head to study the leaves swaying above, vivid green against the sky.
Breezes came by at intervals, shaking branches. It did sound like whispers of voices, gentle voices, voices only a child would understand.
"I can hear them talking," Shane said.
She laid her head against his shoulder. He laid his head on the top of her head. "What are they saying?" she asked.
"They're saying I'm lucky to have found you. They're saying you turned out to be the magnificent woman you were meant to be."
"Those are pretty long sentences for leaves in trees."
"Put your head on my lap and I'll tell you a story."
Mariah obeyed, stretching out beside him with her head resting on his left thigh, the one which had not been injured. "What story is it?"
"About a man who couldn't keep a thought in his head, unless it had to do with rodeo riding and breeding horses. Had his share of girlfriends as you already know, but none of them measured up to what he'd dedicated his life to do."
"And then I came along?"
"You did. And yo
u know what I thought?"
"What?"
"You were fierce. I recognized early on, you were a force to be reckoned with. It wasn't what usually attracted me to a woman. I didn't want to get sidetracked from my interests, you see, didn't want to risk sacrificing what was important to me for somebody else. Kinda selfish, I know, but that's how I was when we met. But you made me sit up and take notice." He imitated her voice. "How dare you sneak up on me."
"I said it slightly more emphatically than that."
"So you did, you did. I don't know what it was, but looking back, I think I fell in love with you at that moment. Didn't know your name, didn't know about Bird, or the FBI or any of your troubles. I only saw you, Mariah, surrounded by white water, standing in the middle of it like, like, I don't know, some magical creature who appeared out of nowhere."
"You make me sound like a unicorn or something."
"One of a kind. There wasn't going to be anyone else who measured up to you, man or woman, bustin' or beast. Even my horses…"
"Don't say it, Youngblood. I won't believe it."
His finger drifted across her face. "I could do without them as long as I have you."
Mariah grinned. "What a silver-tongued devil you are."
Shane traced her cheekbones, skimmed her nose, left his finger on her chin. "It's true."
He touched her lower lip and more tracing began, around her mouth until she closed her eyes. He fisted his entire hand and turned it over, using his knuckles and the back of his fingers, brushing the side of her face, her jaw, the long elegant neck.
She unbuttoned the top of her blouse enough for him to see the hint of lace edging the cups of her bra and the sweet curves underneath. Her sun-streaked braid snaked alongside. He picked it up and used the wispy end to stroke across her chest, and saw her lashes fan out across her cheeks and her smile relax.
The end of the braid became like a paintbrush in his hand, skimming the shells of her ears, the shape of her cheek, flushing her skin pink. He heard her sigh and listened for more, for the changes in her breathing that told him what she was ready for and when. There may have been more than one reason she chose this spot.
"It just occurred to me we're sitting on private property," he said.
"Yes, it is. Our own little private paradise."
"Is that why you wanted to come here?"
"It did figure into the equation. The ground's a little hard-packed though."
"We'll just kiss," he said, brushing her lips with the braid.
She undid more buttons on her blouse, letting him brush more bare skin.
"Takes me back to our honeymoon, making love under the trees," he said.
"What exhibitionists we were. And me six months pregnant."
"You're as beautiful now as you were then."
The compliment struck her funny and she started laughing. "I was round as a butterball."
"Very tasty as I recall."
"Do you ever stop thinking about food?"
"Not when it's laid out in banquet form in front of me." He stretched out beside her, kissing her forehead and the tip of her nose, then her lips, feeling them respond to his, softening, becoming playful and naughty.
He kissed long slow kisses that were thorough and alluring, making this a game, plying tongues, giving her hints about what might be in store for her if she kept teasing him. She was more breathless than usual. He drew back to check her face and discovered her flushed with pretty color, reddish across her cheeks.
"Is it okay if I just look at your face for awhile?" he asked.
She appeared amused. "You see it every day."
"Not like this. Not when it's just you and me, and you're soft and sweet and full of wants, when it's all I can do to keep from stripping you naked and making love in this very spot."
"And what's wrong with that?" She slipped open the top button on her jeans. "Will you love me here, the two of us naked? Except we can leave our shirts on and our socks."
"That's asking a lot, me leaving my socks on."
She unzipped her jeans, the green in her eyes sparkling. "Will you keep your socks on if I command it?"
"I'll do anything for you. You know that, Mariah."
He shrugged off his shirt even though she said not to bother, then tugged off her jeans, revealing the lace covering her softest curls. He kissed her there.
She got a little breathy, a little heated. Her hands got impatient as she tried to get to his jeans, tried to get to his boxers, pushing them down, forcing them off.
He plucked her lace between his fingers and drew down her panties, inches at a time. Her legs were restless and her lips parted, and he took that as an invitation. Naked, except for his socks, he bent over her, using his lips to whisper in her ear.
"You are loved, Mariah."
She took his head between her hands. She whispered, too. "You are loved, Shane."
He kissed her lips. She responded in kind, lips brushing his. Her body squirmed until she was underneath him and she opened her legs, allowing him to settle the bulk of his weight there.
She rocked against him, creating more heat. She imitated the act of intercourse, using her lips to massage his tongue, then taking it between her teeth, biting gently, starting him growling deep in his throat. She made purring sounds, foretelling more urgent sounds to come, her voice filled with huskiness and ardency, telling him how good his mouth felt against her skin, how she loved it when he touched her in this exact spot or that one, how she wanted him to move on top of her and come inside her and make her burn and squirm in ways which created a convergence between desire and completeness, making him lose control and her lose control, too, until they paused in unison before crushing one another.
Lying spent yet physically connected, they rested.
When she finally opened her eyes with him still heavy between her legs, she spied the green leaves overhead, momentarily stilled, as if God were holding His breath, making time stand still. Mariah held that moment very dear in her mind, the best of all worlds, green leaves and blue sky, Shane's dark hair and the sun's bright light, his heavy weight and the buoyancy of her heart, brought together in this deeply shaded place of perpetual meaning.
The tree became symbolic of the perfection of the moment. It stayed with her, through her trials to come, a balm for her past and a glimpse of her future, centered within her life.
After awhile, Shane lifted himself off of her, rolled sideways and gathered her into his embrace, settling her cheek to his chest, the insignificant weight of her head making him aware of the beating of his heart.
He let his free hand roam the warm skin on the arm she'd placed across his chest, exploring the resiliency of her slim muscles, much more refined and elegant than his, and feminine. He skimmed his way to her shoulder then down to the tender place under her arm, where her skin alongside her breast was more like baby skin, velvet under his fingers. Her fleshed swelled along the path of lace edging her bra, beckoning him to explore. He found something he'd never found before.
"Can you feel that?" he asked.
"It feels wonderful. Why don't we stay in this position for the rest of our lives? I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to move again."
"No, I meant can you feel this knot you have under your skin?" He pressed his fingers above the side of her breast, almost under her arm.
"What do you mean?"
She crooked her arm to find the place he was focused on with her own fingers. He guided one of them to what felt like a rounded pebble when he pressed her finger against it. "Does it hurt?"
"No."
"I don't remember feeling it before now."
"I'm sure it's nothing. It's probably been there all along and we never noticed because it's in such a hidden spot."
He examined it again, probing her with his calloused thumb. She sat up to prevent him, irritated by this sudden fixation on her little bumps and lumps.
"My body isn't quite what it used to be. Sorry."
"Don't b
e sorry. I'm just concerned. You're right, it's probably nothing."
"It doesn't hurt."
"I believe you. All I'm asking is that you get it checked out."
She pulled her blouse back on, buttoning it hurriedly. "Checked out by a doctor? Is that really necessary?"
"Do it for me, Mariah, for my peace of mind."
When he put it that way, she had a hard time saying no. But she also resented the fact that he was insisting. "I'll think about it."
"Not too long, okay?"
"You're making a big deal out of nothing."
"If you don't go by the end of the week, I'll make the appointment and take you to the doctor myself."
She refused to acknowledge the ultimatum with anything other than scrambling to her feet. She grabbed the picnic basket and headed for her horse, speaking over her shoulder. "Take care of the blanket, will you? We need to get back."
She hooked the basket over her saddle horn, aware of his brooding silence. She resented that, too. Sometimes he got way too protective of her, like he was Prince Charming and she was Cinderella in Shane Land. He folded the blanket, stuffed it in his saddle bag and mounted, waiting for her to lead the way.
She wheeled her horse and loped, needing to put distance between them, glad he was in the follower position because she didn't want to have to look at him, riding tall in the saddle above the powerful hindquarters of his horse, as though those two things together, squarely in her vision, was going to make her realize how right he was.
CHAPTER Nine
Cancer was not a word in Shane's or Mariah's vocabulary. Cancer, specifically breast cancer secondary to stage three lung cancer, happened to other people, people who didn't take care of themselves like Mariah did, people who smoked and drank, partied their lives away, not mothers with teenaged children, children who still needed raising.
Cassie was eighteen when Mariah was diagnosed, already accepted to Colorado State University, home of one of the most prestigious veterinarian programs in the world.
Kellen was fourteen, a gifted athlete, who competed in reining competitions and played football and baseball and skied the various slopes around Aspen whenever he could, keeping this particular activity a secret from his team coaches, coaches who didn't want their star player laid up with an injury.