by Eileen Wilks
"No. There isn't." Shared pain and understanding glowed in Kelly's dark eyes. Gwen knew she was thinking of Hillary, too. Hillary, who had done everything right.
Gwen broke off a piece of doughnut. "I'm not saying rules aren't important—"
"Thank God. You scared me for a minute – thought you might be going crazy on me, really cutting loose. Start jaywalking or something."
Gwen threw the piece of doughnut at her.
Kelly's eyes lit up. "Food fight!"
Gwen laughed. "No, no – peace. I don't want to get kicked out of here."
"Then don't start something you aren't ready to see through." Kelly stuffed a piece of cinnamon roll in her mouth.
"I think I already have."
"Can we take this discussion out of the abstract and down to the nitty-gritty? What have you started, and does it have something to do with Zach's father? And why aren't you having sex?"
"Because the man I want to have sex with is Zach's uncle, not his father."
Kelly's eyes widened. "Well. This is juicy." She made a come-along motion with her hand. "Out with it. I want the rest of the story."
So, in between bites of doughnut, Gwen told her. About Ben and how wonderful he was with Zach. About their date, and how stable and good he was, everything she ought to want. Only she didn't, not in the way she needed to. She'd wanted so much to do the right thing … but she'd also wanted to make things tidy again. Falling in love with Ben would have given her the kind of life she understood – sane, sensible. Safe.
But safety was an illusion. Big risks and little risks, that was reality, and you couldn't always tell which was which.
Kelly pointed her last piece of cinnamon roll at Gwen. "Of course you wanted to be in love with Ben. That would have justified what you did the last time you cut loose. It would have made it all right to have had sex with him way back when. You wouldn't have made—" she shuddered dramatically "—a mistake."
"You really are obnoxious, you know that?"
"It's part of my charm. You obviously think a lot of Ben, since you left Zach with him when you came here. Not that I think you're overprotective or anything."
"Wait until you have one of your own. You'll want to wrap him or her up in cotton."
Sadness flickered in Kelly's eyes. "Maybe so. I don't know if I'll ever find out."
"Kels, I'm sorry." She put her hand on her friend's. "It will happen, sooner or later."
Kelly shrugged. "We're talking about your problems now. You haven't said much about the man you do want."
"Duncan." Gwen rubbed the side of her cup with her thumb. "He's in the army – Special Forces. About my age, I think. Tall—"
"Everyone seems tall to you."
She stuck her tongue out, then went on, "He's quiet, doesn't say much. But what he does say … matters." She found it hard to put words to what she thought – what she felt – about Duncan.
Kelly looked surprised. "I always thought that when you fell, it would be for someone outgoing, uninhibited. The opposites-attract thing."
"I haven't fallen for him! I mean … I don't know what I mean," Gwen admitted. "But whatever this thing is I have for Duncan, it's obvious I can't marry Ben."
"I knew you had some sense. So, are you going to have a flaming affair with Duncan?"
"You don't understand. He's all wrong for me, or I'm all wrong for him. Or both. He's…" She paused unhappily. Spilling Duncan's secrets – what little she knew of them – didn't feel right. "He's got … issues. You know how I am, Kels. Shoot, one of the things I like best about you is that I don't have to guess. Everything's out there for me to see, and if it isn't, you blurt it out."
"That's me – all surface, no substance."
"That's not what I mean and you know it. You let everything out in a way I wish I could. Even I can tell what you're feeling. Duncan … he's so private. Nothing shows. He bluffs at poker," she said, and sighed. "I ask you, is that the kind of man I need? I'd never be able to figure him out."
"Yet you can't get him out of your head." Her friend hummed a few bars of the old song with that line, then shook her head, smiling. "If it doesn't make sense, it must be love."
"Oh, God." Gwen dropped her head into her hands. "I think I'm hyperventilating."
"A perfectly reasonable reaction to falling in love."
"Stop saying that."
"Okay. So what are you going to do?"
Gwen lifted her head. This much she knew the answer to. "Fly back to Highpoint and tell Ben I can't marry him. But before that—" she took a deep breath "I have to get some boxes, start packing. And talk to my mother."
"Ye gods. Are you going to move there? Just like that?"
"I don't know. I don't know what I'll do in the long run. But Zach and Ben – they need each other. And I need to find out what I want. I … damn, I'm doing it again. Hedging my bets." She swallowed. "The bottom line is, I'm pretty sure what I want. It scares me to death. I don't know if it's possible, I don't know if it's right. But I'm going to find out."
* * *
Colorado, three days later
Sleet hissed against the windshield. It had been raining in Denver when Duncan picked Gwen up at the airport, but there was snow and ice in the mountains. The Mustang's headlights showed a road black with rain, but rapidly turning white on the shoulders. The air was a dingy gray edging toward darkness. It was four-thirty, and visibility was lousy.
This morning, the forecast had been for clear skies and chilly temperatures. Ben and Charlie had taken Zach to "Pony Day" in Egerton, a town on the other side of Ray's Pass. It was an annual event that combined a horse auction with other western-themed events, including pony rides for the kids. Zach had been desperately eager to go. Ben had put in a lot of extra hours to free up enough time to take him. Charlie had decided to tag along. Duncan hadn't. Though he'd privately cursed himself for an idiot, he hadn't wanted to leave the house. Today, Gwen would be back. Well after Ben, Zach and Charlie returned, or so they'd thought. But Duncan hadn't wanted to leave. He was glad now that he hadn't. When the weatherman started talking about a freak spring storm with ice and now, Duncan had called Ben's cell phone and left a message on his voice mail. Gwen had no business driving in this. She wasn't used to snow, ice and mountains.
He'd driven to the Denver airport and waited.
Gwen's face had lit up when she'd seen him. Then she'd decided she was insulted by the idea that she couldn't handle a little bad weather. She hadn't argued for long, though. Duncan couldn't help hoping that meant she'd been glad to be with him.
And indeed, for the first part of the drive she'd been animated, as if some private excitement simmered inside. She'd asked about Zach. He'd asked about the friend whose death had pulled her back to Florida. They'd talked about Florida weather and Colorado weather, and he'd teased her about buying the new, heavyweight jacket she'd tossed in the back seat.
It hadn't seemed to matter what they talked about. He didn't know if she took as much pleasure in the sound of his voice as he did in hers, and he didn't let himself think about it. But for the past twenty minutes she hadn't said much. Not since the rain turned to sleet.
The radio was tuned to a classic-rock station. The windshield wipers were working hard, as was the car's heater. Duncan hummed along with the music. He didn't look at the woman beside him. He needed all his attention for the road, and he didn't need to add to the physical ache she brought him. But he felt her presence the way he felt the air from the vents.
He was happy.
Ben would be waiting when they got home. Even if Duncan lost every gram of honor and common sense between Denver and Highpoint, there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it. He had her all to himself, yet it was safe.
"You can talk if you want, you know," he said at last. "I'm capable of driving and listening at the same time."
"I'm trying to figure out how to admit you were right about me driving in this."
He grinned. "You don't have to. I already
knew it."
"Pig." She hesitated. "The road looks icy."
"Not yet." It would be soon, but they only had another twenty miles to cover and on a road he knew well.
"I didn't realize how much worse the weather would be up here. I'm not used to driving teensy little winding roads up a mountain in a blizzard."
"Hardly a blizzard," he said dryly. When she didn't respond, he risked a quick glance. She was looking down at her lap, fiddling with her ring. It was the one she'd worn the first time he'd seen her, the silver one with the pearl. "It's okay, Gwen. I'm not in any difficulty here. I'm used to this."
"Oh, that's not… I trust your driving. You said Ben has snow tires?"
Now he understood. "He does, and his truck is heavy enough to hug the road. Ben won't take any risks when he has Zach with him."
She sighed and relaxed. "I'm being ridiculous, but I can't help worrying. Mother guilt, I suppose. I've never been away from Zach this long before."
Since she'd called Zach every day, he didn't think she needed to hear again that her son had handled her absence just fine. But she did need some kind of reassurance. "He missed you. He nearly drove us crazy every day, asking if it was time for you to call."
"Oh…" She gave a little laugh. "You do know the right thing to say. I couldn't stand it if he'd cried himself to sleep, but I'm not ready for him to be too independent yet, either. Maybe I'm a little jealous of Ben, too. The two of them became close so quickly, which is just what I hoped for, but … I'm not used to sharing Zach."
"It took guts to decide to do that. Any regrets?"
"No … no, not about that. But – oh, never mind. How's your arm?"
That was abrupt. "It's fine."
"I wonder," she said thoughtfully, "if you said the same thing when you were shot. I can see it now. Your captain comes up to you and you're bleeding all over the place – but you still salute, of course. Only your arm flops around in a most unmilitary way, not being attached properly anymore. So your captain says, 'My God, Sergeant, your arm!' And you say, 'It's fine, sir.'"
He laughed. "You must have hung around soldiers before. Or nurses – from what I've seen, they enjoy the same kind of black humor."
"It's a survival skill." She was twisting that ring again. "Duncan … I know you don't like to talk about what happened, but … was there a point when you thought you were going to die?"
His mind blanked. After a moment he realized he was holding his breath and let it out. "Yes," he said, speaking carefully. She'd just come back from burying her friend, who had died of the same disease she'd been treated for. Death was on her mind. He'd give her what he could, but he didn't know how much good it would do her. "For a while it seemed real likely."
She didn't respond right away. When she spoke, the words came slowly at first, as if she had to gather them one by one. "When I realized I could die, it changed me. Not as much as it should have, maybe." Wry humor touched her voice briefly. "But I'm not the same person I was, and I can't go back. That's the part I struggle with sometimes – I can't go back to the way things were. Forward is all I've got, only I can't always tell where forward is. I don't know who I'm becoming well enough, so sometimes I flail around in all directions."
"Yes. Yes, that's what it's like. You can't go back." His hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Life doesn't come with a reverse gear, so you have to go on. But I don't know where forward is. I don't have a clue. I'm frozen between what I used to be and whatever I am now."
Silence fell. His words echoed in his mind. Where had that come from? And how had she known? He swallowed. "What, no advice?"
"I'm terrible at advice," she assured him. "I can't spot my own forward. I'm not about to guess at yours."
He was smiling. He wasn't sure why. "Right now forward seems to involve Highway 191." They were passing the resort, visible only as a few dim lights shining through the murky air. Snow was mingled with the sleet now, wet, white flakes drifting down in leisurely swirls.
Highpoint lay just around the next brawny shoulder of mountain. His time alone with her was nearly over. "We'll be there soon."
"Good. I'm ready to stretch." She leaned forward, hunting on the floorboard for the smart little purse she'd carried. "Will this storm interfere with Fed Ex deliveries?"
"It shouldn't. This wouldn't qualify as a storm if it weren't so late in the season. You ought to see the real thing sometime – we've been known to get three feet of snow in twenty-four hours."
"Ugh. I can hardly wait." She took out a lipstick and began smoothing it over her lips.
His heart skipped a beat. She meant that she'd be back with Zach in the winter. Surely that was what she meant. "You expect to be here next winter?" he asked carefully.
"Ah … that just slipped out. I hadn't planned to say anything until I talked to Ben."
She was going to marry his brother. Sick disbelief rose in his throat like bile. He wanted to stomp on the brakes, stop the car and shake her, make her deny it. He couldn't speak.
The little click as she snapped her purse closed sounded very loud. He didn't turn, didn't look at her, but he was as aware of her stillness as his own. Finally she cleared her throat. "I'm going to stay in Highpoint awhile. I don't know how long. That will depend on – on how things go. Zach needs… Damn," she muttered. "I'm doing it again."
"You're going to marry Ben." The words sounded no more real when he said them than when he thought them, but the sickness increased.
"No."
The breath he drew was shaky. The relief was huge. "You're staying in Highpoint so you can get to know him better, then."
"No. I want Zach to be near his father, but I can't marry Ben. Getting to know him better won't change that. I thought … but that's what I meant about flying around in all directions. I shouldn't be telling you this," she finished miserably. "He deserves to hear it first."
Duncan couldn't hear the music from the radio anymore. Or the rhythmic slap of the windshield wipers. All he heard was the sudden rush of his blood echoing surf-like in his ears, driven by the pounding of his heart. Hunger, so long denied, burst over him in a flood.
He was going to have her.
Soon, he told himself in a desperate grab at sanity. Soon, but not yet. She had to tell Ben, make it clear he had no claim on her. "You probably shouldn't have said that. I'm having a helluva time paying enough attention to my driving to keep this car on the road."
She made a choked sound – a laugh maybe, strangled by the same tangle of honor and restraint that kept him from reaching for her.
"And I shouldn't have said what I just did." He forced himself to relax, easing off on the accelerator. They were passing the army-navy store on the outskirts of town. Soon they'd be home – home to Ben's house. His mouth tightened.
They'd reached the first traffic light. He slowed to a stop. There were other cars around them now, their headlights cutting through the drifting white. The sense of being surrounded by other people helped Duncan get a firmer grip on his control.
Technically the house was his, too, and Charlie's. The tiny efficiency apartment where Duncan bunked when he was in the country was only the most recent of a series of places to sleep. Home was Highpoint and that big old house.
But the house was more Ben's than his. Far more.
It was just as well he was taking her there, though. The sooner she told Ben, the better. And then … then, or very soon after that, the fat would hit the fire, when Ben realized Duncan meant to have the woman he wanted for his own.
"I wasn't sure," she said softly. "Until you said that, I didn't know if you … but even if you didn't, I couldn't marry Ben."
He didn't have to ask what she meant. He knew. He wanted badly to reach for her hand, to touch her. "My leave is up soon. I have to be back at the base by the first of May."
"So soon! I mean … I knew you'd be leaving, of course." She looked down and picked some invisible spot of lint from her creamy wool slacks. "Where are you stationed?"
/>
"Georgia." A helluva long way from Colorado.
"Well." She swallowed. "I'll need to find a place to stay. Obviously I can't stay with Ben once I've told him. That's why I asked about Fed Ex. I packed up a few boxes while I was home – books, toys, some kitchen things. A friend of mine will ship them to me when I have an address to give her. Maybe you have some ideas?"
"What kind of place?"
"An apartment, I guess. I don't want to sign a long lease. If … I suppose I may end up buying or building a house if I move there permanently."
If. Such a small, sensible word. "You aren't sure you're going to stay, then."
She shook her head. He caught it out of the corner of his eye. Her voice was very soft. "It depends."
Did it depend on him? On what he decided to with his own life? He wanted to grab her and shake her, tell her not to make plans based on him. Then he called himself an idiot. Naturally she would want to see how well she liked living in a small town high in the Rockies, so vastly different from what she'd known all her life, before making the move permanent. And Zach, too – she was moving there for him. She'd want to see how he adjusted.
For some reason that line of thought didn't make him feel any better.
They'd reached the turnoff for Sentinel. Oak Street lay only three blocks away – Oak Street
, home … and Ben.
Duncan slowed, signaled and found the first patch of ice as he made the turn. The rear end skidded slightly. Gwen didn't seem to notice, lost in her thoughts. He stole a quick glance. She was looking at her lap, twisting that ring again. Her expression made it clear those thoughts weren't happy ones.
He should warn her. He was too big a risk. He should at least make it clear he wasn't in any shape for commitments – hell, he couldn't even commit to what he would do for a living two months from now. Nightmares dragged him from sleep half the time, and a few of the local cops had started keeping an eye on him when he went running. Sane, respectable people didn't haunt the streets at night.
The last turn was upon them, onto Oak. "What about Zach? What will you tell him?"