by Sandra Brown
"Don't worry 'bout nothin' here. We'll be waitin' for you to come home."
Lydia turned to Jake. Wordlessly, they went into each other's arms. Lydia buried her face in the collar of his shirt. His eyes closed tight as he hugged her. When they stepped apart, no words were necessary. They merely stared at each other long and hard.
Then Lydia took Banner into her embrace. Banner's heart was breaking over what she had just witnessed between her husband and her mother, but that didn't diminish the love she had for both of them. She clung to the woman who had given her life and made it such a happy one. Separate from her own grief over Ross's death, she was anguished for her mother.
Lydia set Banner away and scanned her face. She reached up to stroke Banner's eyebrow that arched like a black wing over her eye. "Your eyes look more like Ross's every day." Her lip began to tremble uncontrollably and she clamped it tightly. "You won't forget to tend his... his grave."
"Of course not, Mama."
"I know." Then her gentle smile collapsed and she hugged her daughter hard again. "Oh, Banner, I miss him so much. I pray to God that you and Jake will always be together, that you'll never have to know this kind of pain."
Mother and daughter held each other and wept for their private reasons. At last Lee said softly, "Mama, we're gonna be late."
The two women broke apart. Banner wiped her eyes unashamedly, smearing tears over her cheeks. Lee helped Lydia onto the wagon, then climbed up himself. Banner noticed a new maturity about her brother. He was solicitous, much more serious-minded than before Ross's death.
Earlier, Banner had told her half-brother goodbye by flinging her arms around his neck and dampening his shoulder with her tears. "We'll be back before you know it, Banner," he had said. "By the way, I'm surprised about you and Jake, but glad, too, ya know? I mean, hell, if I could have chosen a big brother it would have been him."
"Thank you, Lee. Take care of yourself. And Mama."
Now, Micah jumped into the wagon bed. He was going to drive it back to River Bend after seeing them off. Lydia had persuaded the rest of them not to come to town. Banner suspected it was because she wanted to leave with a picture of them near Ross in her mind.
Lydia turned to wave to them as they drove through the gate. Banner saw her kiss her fingers lingeringly, then blow the kiss toward the fresh grave on the hill to which she had already carried fresh flowers earlier that morning.
Banner realized how difficult it must be for her mother to leave the man she loved. But how much harder for her to stay.
* * *
"What are you doing out here in the dark, Jake?" Micah came up beside his brother at the fence and hooked his boot over the bottom rung, resting his forearms on the top one, as Jake was doing.
"Thinking. Want a smoke?"
"Thanks." Micah took the cheroot Jake offered him and cupped his hands around the match. "They got off without a hitch," he said, puffing smoke and fanning out the match. Jake only nodded. "Lee and I acted like a couple of damn fools. Got all teary-eyed."
Jake smiled at him, his teeth shining whitely in his dark face. The moon had just topped the trees. "There's nothing wrong with a few tears. Especially for a friend," Jake finished quietly, and returned his gaze to the pasture. The tip of his cigar glowed redly as he drew on it.
"I'm awful sorry about Ross, Jake. For your sake, I mean. I know he was your best friend."
"Yeah, he was. Helluva way for a man to die, to be gunned down in his own yard." Despairingly, his head dropped forward as though hinged at his neck. "At least I got the sonofabitch that killed him."
"What did the sheriff say?"
Everyone had been so concerned about Ross that afternoon, it wasn't until later that anyone inquired about Grady Sheldon.
"He said it was clearly self-defense. Grady's fingers were still around the trigger of that rifle. The sheriff said I had no choice but to shoot him." Jake laughed without mirth. "In fact he said I had done him a favor. He never had been satisfied with the explanation Sheldon gave him about the fire that killed his family."
"You read about Priscilla Watkins, I reckon."
"Yeah. I can't help but think there was some connection between her and Sheldon's killing Ross."
"In that case they both deserved to die."
"That's the way I see it."
They smoked in silence for a while. When Jake at last turned, he hitched his elbow over the top rail. "Lydia and I spent days in the office going over the books. She wanted me to know all there was to know about River Bend since the day she and Ross moved here. She made me foreman of it and Plum Creek."
"What the hell is Plum Creek?"
Jake smiled around his cigar. "That's Banner's ranch and if you know what's good for you, you won't say anything insulting about the name. Anyway, I'm going to have my hands full running both places until Lee comes back and decides what he wants to do. Will you help me out?"
"Sure, Jake. You don't even have to ask. Reckon I'm gonna miss Lee something fierce. I'll need work to keep me busy."
"Lydia wants Ma to move into the house until she gets back. It wouldn't hurt you to spend a night or two a week with her instead of in the bunkhouse." Micah nodded. "Banner and I are going home tomorrow. The hands have been keeping an eye on things, but I went over today to air the house out so it would be ready."
Micah shifted his weight from one foot to another, then back again. "I, uh, well, what I mean is..."
"Spit it out."
"I was surprised about the two of you getting married," Micah blurted.
"Well, I was kind of surprised about it myself," Jake said with a wry smile.
"How long... I mean when ... when did it start?"
Jake shrugged. "A while back." He studied his brother in the moonlight and was vividly reminded of himself at that age. Micah just as well get a bitter taste of the real world now as later. "She's pregnant, Micah." He saw his brother swallow hard, but he said nothing. "The baby's mine, but that's not the reason I married her. I love her. Do me a favor. If you ever hear anybody making a remark about—"
"You don't have to ask me that either, Jake," Micah said adamantly. "If any sonofabitch says anything about her, I'll set him straight if it means cutting out his tongue."
Jake laid his hand on his brother's shoulder. "Thanks. You know, it looks like my future is sewed up here. Banner and I will never leave Plum Creek and River Bend. I don't have any use for that hundred and sixty acres down in the hill country that Anabeth's husband is holding for me. Why don't I sign the deed over to you?"
Micah gaped at him. "You mean it, Jake?"
"Sure I mean it. You've spent more time on that place than I have. I need you around here for a while, but when and if you ever get ready to start out on your own, let me know and I'll make it all legal."
"Lord o'mercy. I don't know what to say."
"Say good night. It's getting late and we've got a lot of work to catch up on—starting early tomorrow."
"Thanks, Jake." Micah stuck his hand out and Jake shook it solemnly. Then Micah dropped his cheroot and ground it out. "G'night." He headed toward the bunkhouse, leaving his brother with only the soft stillness of the night for company.
* * *
Banner sat curled in the window seat of her upstairs bedroom and watched her husband.
How many times had she sat here as a child, contemplating the stars, the moon, her future, and wondering what promises it held for her? How many times had she thought about Jake Langston? She would wonder where he was and what he was doing and when she would see him again.
But never, during any of that daydreaming, had she imagined herself marrying Jake. Loving him. Having his child.
She covered her lower abdomen with her hand. A part of him was growing inside her. She was still awed and humbled by the miracle of it. Every day her body grew fuller with the new life. Apparently the surgery hadn't affected the baby. She knew, with a mother's intuition, that her child would be robust and healthy and the mos
t beautiful baby in the world.
Would it have dark hair like hers and Papa's? Or would it be fair and flaxen-haired like the Langstons, like Jake? She envisioned a towheaded younster with bright blue eyes scampering around the yard, tagging behind Jake, leaping to plant its chubby feet in its daddy's widely spaced footprints. Banner hugged herself with the thought. It would be a wonderful baby. She couldn't wait to hold it against her, smell its sweet smell, nurse it from her breasts, love it.
But her moment of happiness was snuffed out as surely as the cheroot she saw painting a fiery arc on the darkness as Jake threw it away. What was he doing out there? Did he prefer solitude to sharing a room with her?
It had been strange to have Jake sleeping beside her in the bed which had previously been hers alone. No one seemed to consider it awkward that they now shared her bedroom. No one but the two of them. They rarely spoke when they were in this room together.
As often as not she was already in bed when he concluded his quiet discussions in the office with Lydia and climbed the stairs to join Banner. He treated her with consideration. She was polite in turn. But there were no intimacies exchanged. They slept with their backs together, facing away from each other, as wary of accidentally touching as strangers.
One night, he had turned to her. Softly he spoke her name. She had pretended to be asleep. She felt his hand sifting through her hair, felt his light caress on her shoulder, felt his warm breath on her neck. She longed to turn into his embrace. Her body ached for the touch of his.
But she couldn't foget mat he spent every waking hour with Lydia; she couldn't forget the way he had held Lydia, whispering into her hair the morning after Ross died.
Oh, nothing improper had happened between them. Banner didn't entertain that thought. Jake knew that Lydia had loved Ross with her whole being. He had loved Ross himself and would do nothing to insult either Lydia or Ross's memory.
But it was no less painful for Banner to know that Jake longed for what was still unattainable. And on this night of Lydia's departure, Jake was morose, abjectly depressed if his posture were any indication. For hours Banner had watched him out there by the fence, staring into the darkness as though longing to pierce it and catch sight of Lydia.
Poor Jake. What irony. He had married the daughter only hours before the mother, whom he really wanted, had become available. How he must be cursing the fates.
Suddenly Banner was enraged with the fates as well. Their dirty trick had been played on her too. And it was the second one she had been dealt.
Well, she was tired of being the butt of fortune's jokes. She was tired of Jake's long, sorrowful face too. And sick to death of his mealy mouthed platitudes,
"How do you feel, sweetheart?"
"You look tired. Why don't you go lie down?"
"Sure you're all right? You look pale."
She wouldn't have it! She couldn't, wouldn't, live with him the rest of their lives and have him yearning for another woman. She had told him once she didn't want a martyr across the hearth from her. Well, she damn sure didn't want one in her bed either. If he couldn't have Lydia, let him find another substitute for her. Banner Coleman wasn't going to serve as one.
She bounded off the window seat, flew to the door of the bedroom and ripped it open. She took neither shawl nor robe to cover the white nightgown that trailed after her like an airy veil as she raced down the stairs.
Banner had watched her mother bravely leave the man she loved cold in the ground. She had realized then that Lydia couldn't stay and look at that fresh grave every day. It was a constant reminder of the reality that was too agonizing to bear.
Banner didn't want to leave Jake either. It would be like cutting out her heart and walking away from it while it still beat. But she would leave him before sacrificing her life by staying. She couldn't stand by docilely and watch him love her mother until they were all old. What kind of miserable life would that be? When would the resentment set in? When would he begin to hate her? Or worse, when her body was heavy and awkward with their child, would he begin to pity her?
No! She had more pride than that. She had chased him, thrown herself at his feet, argued and pleaded, but no more. Never again would she subject herself to humiliation. She couldn't make him love her. No power on earth could do that. Better to let go now than spend years in a fruitless pursuit.
She ran up behind him, panting with exertion. He heard her even before she caught his sleeve and yanked him around. He blinked in surprise. Her nightgown showed up against the darkness like the sail of a ghost ship. Hie moon caught her eyes and they glowed like a cat's in the night. Her hair was a wild wreath around her head, coiling and curling like a black flame. She looked unworldly, a beautiful and furious goddess from Greek mythology.
"If you want her, go after her," she cried. "I won't stop you. I love you. I want you. But not like this. I don't want to see your face across my pillow with that naked yearning on it for somebody else. So just go!"
She spun around and went marching back toward the house, but was jarringly halted when he grabbed a handful of white lawn nightgown. "Let me go!"
"Uh-uh," he said, pulling her backward, reeling her in. "It's about time somebody jerked a knot in your tail, Princess Banner. You started this fight, now by God you'll see it to the finish."
Giving him a mutinous look over her shoulder, she wrenched her nightgown free of his hold but made no move to run away.
"All right then," he said in a considerably lower tone of voice. "What's on your mind?"
"For starters, I'm sick of you sulking around all the time."
"Me sulking? You haven't put three words together in days."
"And I'm tired of you being nice to me all the time. I'd rather have you ranting and raving than putting cushions under my feet."
"I haven't... what the... cushions!" he sputtered.
"I think you ought to move into the bunkhouse since you obviously prefer the company of the horses in this pasture to mine."
"Who says? And I'll sleep in the house, thank you."
"You don't want to share a bedroom with me."
"The hell I don't! Why do you think I've been sulking and treating you like goddamned royalty? Huh? I want my wife back."
Her rebellion dissolved and she stared back at him blankly. "What?"
"I said I want my wife back. What happened to her? On the day we were married, her father died. So, all right. I could understand her acting standoffish for a few days, but it's been two weeks!" He made an effort to keep his rising volume under control. "I'm about at the end of my rope, Banner. It's time you started acting like a wife. I wish we could go back to that afternoon after we got married and start all over again."
He shook his head agitatedly. "You do remember that picnic after our wedding, don't you? What you did to me? What we did together? God almighty, Banner, you run hot and cold. One day you're making love to me like that, the next, every time I come close, you shrink away. I don't understand. How the hell am I supposed to be acting?"
"But you love her."
"Who, for crying out loud?"
"My mother."
He fell back against the fence. The rails caught him at shoulders and hips. His arms dangled loosely at his sides as he stared at her in disbelief.
"How do you expect me to play the role of wife, make love with you, when I know you love her? I saw you holding her the morning after Papa died. You haven't been three feet from her side since then except when you're forced to sleep beside me."
Tears were rolling down her face. She dashed them away with her fists. "I watched you say goodbye to her today. It was heartbreaking the way you looked at her. You know how proud I am. You've reminded me of it enough times. How can you think that I want to spend the rest of my life with a man who is in love with another woman? Especially since that woman happens to be my mother. She's had your heart for twenty years. I can't compete with that. I won't."
"Are you finished?" he asked quietly when she had wo
und down. His only answer was a long, liquid sniff of her nose and another swipe at her tears. "So that's what all this is about? You think I love Lydia."
"You do."
"Yes, I love her, I'll always love her, just as I did Ross. We shared something that is impossible to explain. I'm closer to Lydia than I am to my own sisters. On the day Ross died, we grieved together. Why shouldn't we? We held each other to give each other what comfort we could."
"That's not the kind of love I'm talking about and you know it."
He lightly slapped his thighs in exasperation. "Sure, as a kid I put Lydia up on a pedestal. I thought she was pretty, everything a woman should be. She became my ideal woman, and for years I fancied myself in love with her. Yeah, and I was jealous of Ross for having a woman like that in his bed every night." He drew a deep breath. "But I'm not in love with her now, Banner. Not like I am with you. I was never in love with her like I am with you."
Her whole body shuddered and she drew in a ragged little sigh. She opened her mouth to speak, closed it, tried again. "You're in love with me?"
He raised his eyes toward heaven imploringly. "What did you think? I have been ever since that night in the barn. Why do you think I acted meaner than hell all the time? I was fighting it. That night I felt like I'd been poleaxed and couldn't shake myself out of it. I didn't want to feel that way about any woman, but especially not about you. You were just a kid, and the daughter of my best friends." He extended his hand and said softly, "Come here."
She drifted toward him, a waif in a long white nightgown. Clasping her hand as soon as she was within reach, he drew her to him and pressed her body along his.
"Banner." He inhaled the fresh sunshine scent of her hair that be had missed so much. "God, you were sweet that first time. You shook me right down to my boots. I've been crazy in love with you ever since. Probably long before that. Probably all the time you were growing up, but I couldn't let myself see it."
"You've never said you love me."
"I haven't?" She shook her head. "Well, I'm saying it now. I love you, Banner."