by Ginna Gray
"Don't you think I want those things too? Hell, I realized months ago that I'd reached a crossroad in my life. It's time for me to take a different direction. I just didn't realize until now what I wanted it to be. I'm ready to settle down, Rebecca. I swear it. Believe me, I've had enough excitement to last a lifetime." He looked at her tenderly, his handsome face full of emotion. "I love you, sweetheart," he whispered. "And I will when I draw my last breath. Whatever kind of life you choose is fine with me, just as long as you let me share it."
Smiling sadly, she smoothed her thumb over one of his silky eyebrows. "Oh, my love. You say that now, but you would hate it. Within six months you'd be miserable."
The eager hopefulness faded from his expression, along with every trace of tenderness. Muscle by muscle, his face tightened and his eyes turned hard. Watching him, Rebecca felt a knot forming in the pit of her stomach.
Travis sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The stiffness of his back and the rigid set of his shoulders loudly proclaimed his anger. He sat with his hands braced on his thighs, staring straight ahead. Lying motionless, apprehension growing by the second, Rebecca watched the taut muscles in his jaw work. The awful silence seemed to stretch out endlessly.
"You know what I think?'' he said in a tight voice, startling Rebecca. He turned his head and looked at her over his shoulder. "I think that's all a bunch of bunk. You're not worried about my job or the differences between us, or us not being able to make a marriage work. Or even that I might stray. You're afraid of being loved."
"That's not true!"
"I think it is. You claim to want love, but when I offer you mine you shy away from it. You don't want to make the commitment because you're afraid I'll turn out to be like Evan. Isn't that right?"
"No. Travis, no. I... I know you're not like him. You're nothing like him," Rebecca insisted, but even to her own ears her protests sounded unconvincing.
Sadly, they both knew there was a grain of truth in his accusation. She was afraid of binding herself to another man, of giving a man, any man, any kind of power over her life. It gave her cold chills to think about it.
She loved Travis with all her heart and soul. He was a good man. He would never hurt her physically. She knew that... but still...
"Do you really?" he asked skeptically. "Then prove it. Marry me, Rebecca. Let me love you the way you deserve to beloved."
Rebecca swallowed hard. Unable to hold his steady gaze, she looked down at her hands, twisting a corner of the sheet. A shiver she was powerless to prevent rippled through her, and Travis's mouth thinned. "I... I..."
"That's what I thought," he snapped, and the bitterness in his voice wrung her heart. He stood up abruptly and stomped to the dresser. After pulling on a pair of briefs he went to the closet, put on jeans and a shirt, which he didn't bother to tuck in or button, and stuffed his feet into his holey sneakers.
Sitting up in the bed, Rebecca tucked the sheet up under her arms and watched him, her uneasiness growing. Without even looking in her direction, he headed for the door.
"Travis, where are you going?" she called after him.
"Out."
He didn't slow down or even look back. He simply walked out, leaving Rebecca sitting in the middle of the bed staring at the empty doorway, hurting for him, hurting for herself. Her heart felt like a lead weight in her chest, and her eyes slowly filled with tears.
She heard the French door in the living room slam. A short while later the speedboat motor roared to life. Within moments the powerful rumbling receded into the distance.
By dawn Travis had not returned. Rebecca told herself it was just as well. At least they would be spared the awkwardness and pain of saying goodbye. But in unguarded moments she wondered where he'd spent the night.... and with whom, and the heavy ache in her heart would increase tenfold.
During the long hours of waiting for Travis to return, Rebecca had reached a painful decision; the time had come for her to leave. Their idyll was over. They were at an impasse. There was no going back to the way things had been, and, no matter how much she might yearn to, she couldn't do what Travis wanted. Rather, what he thought he wanted.
So she had spent the night packing and hauling her cases out to the end of the pier. Just before dawn, when she knew the fishermen would be preparing to go out for the day, she had telephoned Senor Delgado, the proprietor of the one and only tiny grocery-cum-cantina in the village, which also happened to boast the only telephone.
After receiving assurance from Senor Delgado that he would make arrangements for one of the boats to take her to Alhaja Verde, Rebecca placed another call, this one to Erin and Elise. Then she locked the house, went out on the pier and sat down on one of her suitcases to watch the sunrise and wait for her ride.
On the dock in San Cristobal, she hired a taxi to take her to the airport, but on the way she made one stop. She could not leave without saying goodbye to Constanza and Pepe.
It was still early, and only Constanza and three of her daughters were in the cantina, setting up tables and sweeping up, getting ready for the day. The Mexican woman did not seem at all surprised to see her. The minute Rebecca stepped inside she came bustling over, wiping her hands on her apron.
"Ah, Senora, you are here. Muy bueno. You are looking for Senor Travis, no?"
"Travis is here?" Rebecca glanced around at the empty tavern, her heart beginning to pound.
"Ah, si. We were closing for the night when the senor, he arrived. He was un hombre desdichado, senora—very unhappy man. All night the senor and Pepe, they drink tequila and talk of love and women. Ai yi yi!" Constanza rolled her eyes and threw up her hands. "They both get muy borracho... how you say... drunk-as-skunks."
"Oh, dear. Where are they now?"
Constanza tipped her head toward the family living quarters behind the cantina. "In the back, sleeping it off." She patted Rebecca's arm. "You wait here, senora. I will go wake the senor for you?"
"No! Please, don't do that!"
Constanza's eyebrows shot upward. "You do not wish to take the senor home?''
"No. That is... I didn't come for that. I, uh... I just stopped in to say goodbye."
Constanza's expressive face registered shock. "Ah, no, senora, you must not go! This quarrel, you and Senor Travis, you will make it up. It is nothing. Nada."
"There's more to it than just a quarrel, Constanza." Swallowing hard, Rebecca shook her head. "This... this is the only way. I have to leave."
"But, the senor, he loves you."
"And I love him. But it just won't work." A tear slipped over onto her cheek. She dashed it away and surged forward to give Constanza a hug. "Tell Pepe goodbye for me," she said tearfully. "And all the others."
"Si, si. Adios, senora. Vaya con dios," the motherly woman murmured sadly, patting Rebecca's shoulder.
Almost blinded by tears, Rebecca whirled and hurried from the cantina. Behind her, Constanza sighed heavily and mumbled a string of mournful Spanish.
* * *
"She claims she loves me, dammit. So tell me how she could think I would ever hurt her?" Slumped on his spine in an overstuffed chair, Travis glared at his cousins.
He saw the worried glance that passed between Erin and Elise. They'd been exchanging the same kind of looks ever since he showed up, unannounced, on the doorstep of Elise and Sam's sprawling ranch house, two hours before.
Travis's mouth turned down at the comers. He knew he looked a little rough around the edges. Hell, after the thirty-six hours he'd just had, who wouldn't? He was disheveled from traveling all night, unshaven, and in one rip-roaring bitch of a mood, but the way they were acting you'd think he was ready for a straitjacket.
"Travis, I've never seen you like this before," Elise said, her soft voice riddled with concern.
"Yeah," her twin piped in. "You're so... so angry. This isn't like you, Travis."
"Dammit! I've got a right to be angry!" he roared, thumping the arm of the overstuffed chair with his fist.
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"Okay. Okay. Take it easy. Sam won't like it if you demolish his favorite chair. Trust me, you don't want to rile my brother-in-law."
"Erin, don't tease," Elise scolded, but her expression remained troubled.
Travis scowled at both of them, but deep down, he understood their confusion. He'd never experienced emotions this strong before. Love, rage and frustration roiled through him, creating a painful pressure in his chest. He damn well felt ready to explode.
In the past he had pretty much taken life and its ups and downs in stride. Occasionally he had experienced mild anger or disgust, a touch of sadness, an occasional twinge of excitement or fear. He loved his family and he had usually felt a warm affection for the women he dated. He had enjoyed life with all its pitfalls and absurdities and generally he'd been a happy man. When they'd experienced extremes of emotions he had commiserated with friends and family but he'd never truly understood what all the fuss was about Until now.
Before accepting his feelings for Rebecca, he'd never felt such piercing joy... or such black despair.
Travis dragged both palms down over his face and sighed. Hell, now he knew what people meant when they talked about being heartbroken. His felt as though someone had cleaved it in two with an ax.
The twins were eyeing him warily and waiting for him to speak. He shot them a disgruntled look. "She left me a note. Did I tell you that?"
"Only six times."
"A damned note," he muttered, ignoring Erin's sarcasm. "I poured Out my heart to her and asked her to marry me, and she takes off without a word the minute my back is turned."
"Well after all, Travis, you did stomp off in a huff first."
"Erin." This time Elise's voice held a warning. She aimed a quelling look at her sister, but her expression softened when she turned to him.
"Travis, I'm sure in her heart Rebecca knows that you would never hurt her, but her fear has little to do with rational thought or even emotion. It's the result of six horrible years of enduring pain and degradation that most of us probably can't even imagine. Don't you see, it's ingrained and instinctive. You shouldn't take it personally."
"That's right," Erin chimed in. "You're just going to have to give Rebecca time."
"Time! Time for what? If she doesn't trust me by now, she never will."
"You have to give her time to heal," Elise said gently. "Time to recover—-from that hideous six years and from the loss of her baby. Time to build her self-confidence, her self-esteem." Elise went to Travis and knelt beside his chair. Taking his fist in her hands, she gazed at him, her brown eyes full of sympathy and entreaty. "Rebecca needs a chance to stand on her own two feet, to prove to herself that she can make it on her own. Once she has, the fear will fade and she'll be able to trust again."
"Elise is right."
Travis swept them both with a sour look. "Oh, great. You two practically railroaded David into marriage, but you advise me to wait. Thanks a lot."
"That was different," Erin sniffed. "Abigail and David were ready for marriage. David just needed a Utile push, is all. Rebecca, on the other hand, is afraid of making another mistake, which even you have to admit is understandable."
"I suppose," Travis conceded grudgingly.
"And I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss her other concerns either, if I were you. Face it, Cuz. We love you dearly, and God knows, you do set feminine hearts aflutter, but you're hardly the type to inspire much hope in a woman who dreams of picket fences and station wagons and a passel of kids. Frankly," Erin stated with her usual irrepressible bluntness, "if I were in her shoes, I wouldn't consider you likely husband material either."
"Hey! Bachelorhood is not an unalterable condition, you know. You make it sound like some kind of incurable disease. For your information, the single life was beginning to pale for me even before Rebecca and I fell in love. That was one of the reasons I took the summer off—to reevaluate my life."
"And what did you decide?"
Her gaze swinging from Erin to Travis, Elise sat back on her heels and waited to hear how he would answer her twin's question.
Travis did not hesitate. "That a house in Crockett with a picket fence around it and Rebecca inside sounds like heaven."
"Then, Cuz, if I were you, I'd make sure that Rebecca knew how I felt."
"And just how do you suggest I do that? I've already told her that I love her and that I wanted to settle down with her and raise a family and she didn't believe me."
Erin smiled smugly. "Don't tell her, you jerk. Show her."
Chapter Thirteen
"Rebecca!" Joe Blaine hollered up the stairs. "Shake a leg, girl, or we'll be late for church!"
Rebecca jumped at the bellowed command and picked up her already frantic pace. With a moan, she rushed to the four-poster bed, dumped the contents of one purse onto the candlewick bedspread, snatched up what she needed from the pile and began stuffing it into another purse.
"Rebecca!"
"I'm coming! I'm coming!" She grabbed up the gray suede clutch bag, a lipstick, tissue, wallet and keys and dashed out the door. Hurrying, she crammed the last items into the purse as she clattered down the stairs.
"There you are. It's about time," Joe grumbled.
Arriving breathless at the bottom of the stairs, Rebecca found David and Abigail, Elise and Sam already in the foyer.
"Here, put this on," Joe said. "Time's awasting."
Obediently slipping her arms into the coat he held for her, Rebecca glanced at the grandfather clock. "Goodness, Joe, service doesn't even start for another forty-five minutes."
David grinned and winked. "It's the same every Sunday. Dad thinks 'Thou salt not be late for church' should be the eleventh commandment. He's always in a dither about it, especially when it comes to holiday services, but I can't remember a time when we were ever late."
"That's right," Joe snapped. "And this family has me to thank for it."
He looked around and gave an aggravated snort. "Now, where the devil did those two women go? They were here just a minute ago. Dorothy! Erin!" he yelled. "It's time to leave!"
The kitchen door swung open and Dorothy came bustling out, followed by Erin, who made a face at her father. "There's no need to shout, darling," Dorothy said calmly. "We're right here. I was just basting the turkey one last time."
"Good heaven's, woman. You've been working in the kitchen since before dawn. Aren't you done yet?"
Unperturbed by her husband's mouthing, Dorothy slipped her arms into the coat he held for her and calmly pulled on her gloves. "Meals do not cook themselves, Joseph. It's Christmas, after all. Maggie and Colin and their family will be over right after church. I want everything to be ready for our Christmas dinner when they arrive."
"Humph. You've been cooking for the past week. There's already enough food in that kitchen to feed an army."
Joe was right. The smells of roasting turkey and dressing, candied sweet potatoes, wassail, mince, pecan and pumpkin pies permeated the big old Victorian house. Mingled with the cooking smells were the sweet aroma of bay-berry candles and the pungent scents of the pine Christmas tree in the parlor and the evergreen boughs draped over the mantle and the banisters.
Rebecca inhaled deeply of the heavenly smells. Christmas in the Blaine home was the fulfillment of every fantasy she'd ever had of what holidays should be. The past weeks had been hectic and wonderful, and she had loved every minute of them—the shopping, wrapping gifts, tromping through the woods and cutting down the tree, putting up the decorations, helping Dorothy with the cooking, getting the rooms ready for the Blaine offspring and their spouses. It was the most wonderful Christmas Rebecca had ever had.
If it were not for the persistent ache in her heart for Travis, the holiday season would have been perfect.
In unguarded moments Rebecca found herself daydreaming of how it would be to share this time with Travis, of the-two of them together as a couple, living the same sort of simple, day-to-day life that had brought his parents and Joe and Do
rothy so much joy and contentment. Always, though, the instant Rebecca realized the drift her thoughts had taken she impatiently dismissed the foolish dreams. Travis simply was not the domestic type, and no amount of wishful thinking would make it otherwise. Nor, despite her heart's yearning, was she ready to chance marriage again.
"Well, come on. Everybody get a move on."
Elise and Erin rolled their eyes, and Sam tolerated his father-in-law's prodding with a sardonic half smile, but they all headed for the door.
"Where's Max?" Dorothy asked, looking around for Erin's husband.
"He's out warming up the van. He's the only one in this family besides me who knows what punctual means."
"Punctual, my patootie," Erin snorted. "He's just trying to get on your good side."
"Whatever. At least he's ready on time. Now, out. Out, all of you." Joe shooed them all out to the van, including Rebecca in his parental haranguing as though she, too, were one of his and Dorothy's brood.