Gift of Fortune

by Ilsa Mayr

  That was true. Not since they'd gotten married.

  "Let me massage your temples," Quint offered.

  "It's too late for that. I'll just have to ride it out."

  "Are you sure? If you sit up-"

  "No, no. I need to lie perfectly still. I feel less nauseated that way."

  "Can I get you anything?"

  "No, thanks. I'm sure I'll feel better in the morning." She felt Quint's hand on her hair, stroking it gently. She thought she felt his lips tenderly touch her hair before he left. Aileen lay still, fighting the nausea, letting the pain wash over her.

  She did feel better the next morning when she finally woke up, hours past the time she usually rose. Thinking that Quint had left already, she took a long shower before going downstairs. She came to an abrupt stop in the kitchen doorway.

  "Quint, you're still here? Is something wrong?"

  He lowered the newspaper he'd been reading. "I wanted to wait to see how you were this morning before I left. How's the migraine?"

  "Gone. Knock on wood. Why didn't you wake me? I've made you hours late."

  "Aileen, I don't punch a time card."

  Except he drove himself as if he did.

  "I just made coffee. Want some?" Quint asked.

  "Yes."

  "Let me get it for you. I don't want you to work so hard. No more canning and freezing. I mean it."

  "Just a little more. Until the jars I have are filled. I won't buy any more. I promise."

  A knock on the front door startled them. They looked at each other. People they knew came to the back door. "Are you expecting anyone?" Aileen asked.

  "No. Are you?"

  Aileen shook her head. "I'll see who it is."

  She opened the door to a tall, thin woman with graying hair. For an instant she thought there was something familiar about her. "Yes? Can I help you?"

  "Are you Aileen Bolton?"

  "I'm Aileen Bolton Fernandez."

  "I'm Linda Cameron. My maiden name was Bolton."

  It took a moment for Aileen to process this information. "Then you're-"

  "Jack Bolton's sister. Your adoptive aunt, if there's such a thing."

  "Who is it, Aileen?" Quint asked, stepping into the hallway.

  Linda's hand flew to her mouth as if to restrain a gasp. As Quint came closer, she dropped her hand. "For a moment I thought you were Jack, the way he looked when he was young," she said, her eyes fastened unwaveringly on Quint.

  "Quint, this is Jack's sister, Linda Bolton Cameron. Your aunt."

  He managed a polite greeting. "Won't you come in?"

  "Yes, please," Aileen added. "There's some fresh coffee."

  They made small talk until Aileen had filled their cups and they were sitting around the dining room table.

  "You're probably wondering why I'm here," Linda said. "I know Jack passed away this spring. A lawyer from Cheyenne phoned me. I would have come to the funeral, but Dad took a turn for the worse, and I couldn't leave Colorado."

  "Is that where Jack is from?" Quint asked.

  "Yes. Didn't he ever talk about his family?" Linda asked.

  "Not to me. I never met the man," Quint said.

  "I know, and I'm real sorry about that. I wish I'd known I had a nephew, but I guess that's water under the bridge, as they say." She turned to Aileen. "Did Jack talk to you about us?"

  "No. I knew his father's name, but only because of the initials on the cue case."

  Linda chuckled. "Jack stole those sticks from Dad when he lit out. He was fifteen. Couldn't stand living with that mean old man anymore. I got married at sixteen to get away."

  "What about your mother?" Aileen asked.

  "Ma didn't run away. She died instead. When we were still in grade school." Linda took a sip of coffee. "Ma was a sweet, kind, warm woman. The exact opposite of Dad. He used to beat Jack something awful. I was scared to death of him. Today they'd put him in jail for child abuse." Linda sighed.

  "But you're taking care of the old man?" Quint asked.

  "Your grandfather. Yeah. So does, did, Jack. That's why I came. To thank you."

  Quint and Aileen exchanged a puzzled look.

  "Jack put a chunk of money into a bank account to pay for Dad's nursing home. In the will it was mentioned as a bequest, or something like that. I want to thank you for not challenging it."

  "It never occurred to us to challenge a bequest," Aileen said, shocked at the very idea.

  "I don't know what I would have done if you had. I couldn't begin to pay for his care. I visit him every evening after work. You know, to make sure he eats his supper and takes his medicine."

  "I'm surprised Jack left money for his dad's care, given the way he was treated as a child," Quint said.

  "Jack said he did it mostly for me. To make my life easier. But, you know, I suspect he also did it for Dad. Blood is thicker than water."

  "What's wrong with him? With...Granddad?" Quint asked.

  "Just old age. He's ninety. Some days he knows who I am and some days he doesn't. That's not unusual for that age." Linda finished her coffee. "Well, I better be on my way."

  "But you just got here," Aileen protested. "Why not spend the night and start fresh in the morning? We have a guest room. Or at least stay for a meal."

  "It's sweet of you to offer, but I better get back. You know, work and Dad." Linda stood. "Maybe I'll take you up on your offer some other time. Get to know you. Get to know my nephew."

  "Yes, I'd like that," Quint said.

  They walked Linda to the front door and watched her drive away.

  "You have an aunt and a grandfather. A family," Aileen said to Quint. "How does that feel?"

  Quint rubbed his neck. "I don't know. I have to get used to the idea of a family."

  "I'm glad Linda came and told us about Jack."

  "You think his background excuses his behavior?" Quint challenged.

  "No, it doesn't excuse it, but it offers some insight into his character. His mother died when he was small, which must have seemed like abandonment to him. And then he was raised by an abusive father who caused him to run away when he was only fifteen. No wonder Jack wasn't a warm, loving man. He didn't know how to be."

  "You see the best in everyone, don't you?" Quint stroked her cheek gently.

  The way Quint looked at her, his green eyes filled with warmth and an emotion she couldn't identify but liked, made her feel light-headed.

  "I better get to work," he said.

  Aileen sensed that Quint needed to be alone.

  "I'll see you tonight. I may be late," he said and hurried toward the barn.

  The remaining weeks passed much as the whole summer had passed: filled with work. There was much to be said for having work to fill the days. It precluded prolonged fits of brooding.

  Not that Aileen didn't still brood in unguarded moments, but her daily schedule didn't allow mammoth indulgences in self-pity, fruitless speculations, and useless longings.

  Although Aileen watched Quint-unobtrusively she hoped, and with her fervent love for him well hidden-she saw no change in him toward her. He expressed his appreciation of the meals she cooked for him; he treated her kindly, considerately. And yet she sometimes caught him looking at her, his green eyes watchful, waiting. Waiting for what?

  Aileen did see one thing in Quint that was different, one thing that filled her with a flicker of hope. His attitude toward his father seemed to change. For weeks the two photos of Jack she had shown him lay facedown on the desk in the den he used as his office. Then one day when she came to dust, she found them lying faceup in the upper corner of the desk, carefully placed side by side. Quint had looked at them, had to look at them, every time he sat down at the desk.

  She put them into a frame which she placed on his desk. Not next to their wedding picture or the photo of him as a boy, holding his mother's hand, but in the same spot where they'd been. When Quint left Jack's photos there, Aileen rejoiced.

  If Quint could come to terms with
his father's rejection and let go of all those hostile feelings, wouldn't that put a crack into the stone wall he'd erected around his heart? And once that wall was breached, wouldn't he be able to allow himself to feel freely, to trust, to love?

  Aileen prayed daily for that miracle to happen; she watched for it, eagle-eyed, but the last week of summer vacation was drawing to an end, and Quint remained silent and distant.

  The next day Aileen decided she had to do something or go crazy. But what? She brooded a long time until she remembered that Quint had said he liked his women to take some initiative. She'd taken the initiative at faculty meetings, in committees, in the classroom. She could take the initiative in her home, couldn't she?

  Aileen thought about what she could do, considered strategies, discarded them, formulated new ones. Eventually she came up with a plan. It involved a good meal, a new dress, perfume, and a whole lot of raw nerve and steely resolve.

  She put the plan into action the next morning.

  Grocery list in hand, Aileen started walking toward her car. Suddenly, she saw the green pickup return to the yard. She opened the car door, but, curious about the visitor, she didn't get in. Early that morning Quint had left with a stranger driving. Now he got out, waved to the driver as he left, and joined Aileen.

  "Who was that?" she asked.

  "Cal McAllister. I met him last week in the feed store. He wanted to look at our north section."

  "Why? We don't have any feed planted up there."

  "Cal isn't a feed buyer."

  Aileen looked at Quint, waiting for him to explain.

  "Cal's an engineer." Quint looked at her steadily. "He's a petrochemical engineer."

  Aileen reeled as if from a blow to the diaphragm. Blindly she steadied herself against the opened car door. "You had an oil man look at the range? What else did you have him do? A survey? What did you promise? What did you sign?" she asked, afraid of the answer.

  "Nothing. Don't get all worked up. I-"

  "That's how it starts. They look, then they make you an offer to drill, and then more and more money until you can't say no! How could you do this? I've told you how Mom and I felt about drilling on our land. And once again you didn't even consult me! My Gosh, I was hoping that one day you'd care about me the way I care about you-" Her voice broke.

  "Aileen, I-"

  She heard Bob call Quint, asking him to look at a foundering horse.

  "I'm coming," Quint yelled back.

  This was serious, Aileen knew.

  "Aileen, the horse could die. I've got to go. We'll talk about this later. I promise." He sprinted toward the stable.

  Aileen ran into the house. She was so upset she couldn't even cry. She paced the floor. When the phone rang, she answered it. Anything to distract her.

  "I'm so glad you called," Aileen told Dora. "I didn't realize how much I needed to talk to you."

  "What's wrong?"

  Aileen told her.

  Dora was silent for several seconds after Aileen had ended her impassioned outpouring. "You object to drilling for oil on the ranch mostly because your mother did, right?" Dora asked.

  "Yes, but I've also seen what the land looks like after the oil company gets through with it."

  "That was years ago. They're more environmentally aware now." Sensing Aileen's expression, Dora said, "You're in no frame of mind to listen to logic, so let me just tell you something. Will you listen?"

  "Yes."

  "When you hang up the phone, look in your illustrated copy of Alice in Wonderland."

  "Why?" Aileen asked, puzzled but intrigued.

  "There's an envelope in there for you from your mother. It's a geological survey of the Triangle B. My copy of the survey is in my safe-deposit box."

  Aileen felt the room tilt off center. "Mom had the land surveyed?"

  "When she came back from the Mayo Clinic. She knew she wasn't going to get well, so when Jack went on one of his hunting trips, she had the north range surveyed."

  "Dad never knew?"

  "No. Ruth knew her husband's weaknesses. She was afraid he would start drilling at the first financial setback. She wanted this to be your nest egg, your legacy." Dora paused, letting Aileen take all this in.

  "She asked me to keep this a secret until you really needed help. You were still so young when she died. She wanted to protect you. She left it up to my judgment when the right time arrived. I think it has."

  There was a long silence on the line.

  "Aileen? I wonder if you're really that upset about Quint letting the engineer look at the north range. Isn't there more to this crisis than that?" Dora asked.

  "Maybe there's more," Aileen admitted softly.

  "Such as?"

  "Such as my being a fool. I let myself fall in love with Quint, and he doesn't love me." Aileen stopped, trying to control a flood of tears.

  "Has he said he doesn't love you?"

  "No, but neither has he said that he does."

  Dora sighed impatiently. "Sometimes I forget how young you still are."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "Naturally it's wonderful if the person we love reciprocates the feeling. But think of the alternative. Would you rather not love Quint?"

  Startled, Aileen drew a sharp breath.

  "Think about it, Aileen. If you could, would you like to stop loving him?"

  "No." Her answer surprised her. She tried to imagine not loving Quint. She couldn't.

  "You also have to remember that men don't always, or even often, express their feelings. Hasn't Quint shown you in what he does daily that he cares about you?"

  Aileen considered that. He had. He did. Small things he did for her. The way he expressed his appreciation for an ironed shirt. A pie she'd baked. An unexpected smile, a brief touch of his hand.

  "Well?" Dora demanded.

  "Maybe you're right."

  "I am always right," Dora said, with a smile in her voice. "Go look for the survey."

  "Do you know what it says?"

  "Not exactly, but I have a good idea. Call me later."

  Aileen said she would. Then she went in search of the book. She found the envelope just where Dora said she would. She recognized her mother's handwriting. Tears clouded her eyes. She blinked several times before she could read the words.

  For Aileen Bolton, my beloved daughter, to be opened in case of a financial emergency.

  Aileen traced the words lovingly.

  "Aileen?" Quint came to a sudden stop when he saw her slumped against the hall table. "Are you okay?"

  She didn't say anything. She placed the envelope on the hall table with trembling hands.

  "Aileen, I didn't hire the engineer. I would never do that without talking to you first. As I said, I met him, we talked, and he asked if he could look at the north section. Apparently that part of the land is nearest to the oil fields north of here." When she remained silent, Quint placed his hand on her shoulder. "Aileen, look at me."

  She didn't. She held up the envelope.

  "What's that?"

  "A geological survey Mom had done before she died. She only told Dora about it."

  "Jack never knew?"

  "No." Aileen steeled herself to ask, "Do you want out of this marriage so desperately that you want to drill for oil?"

  "I don't want out of this marriage. What are you talking about?" he asked, truly perplexed.

  "You said that after a couple of years when we're in better shape financially, we might end the marriage. I thought maybe you wanted out earlier, and that's why you were interested in getting the survey done. Even if there were only a small amount of oil, the money would be good."

  All Quint could do was stare at Aileen. "Are you bring ing this up because you want out?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

  She shook her head vigorously.

  Quint felt the awful pressure ease from his chest. When Aileen handed him the envelope, he asked, "Have you read it?"

  ''No."

  He tossed the
envelope on the hall table.

  Aileen looked at him. "Aren't you going to read it?"

  "No. I don't want out of this marriage. And I'm not letting you go either."

  "You're not?" she asked, barely able to whisper around the lump in her throat.

  "Nope. You may as well know that you can't get rid of me that easy." He drew her into his arms for a fierce hug.

  He nearly crushed the breath out of her, but Aileen didn't care. She luxuriated in the touch of his strong arms.

  "I know I haven't been as attentive as I should have been. I've put work first, but that's because I have to prove myself."

  "You don't have to prove yourself to me," she said.

  Quint released her. He rubbed his neck.

  "Maybe it's me I have to convince that I'm good enough to...to own half of this ranch." And to be your husband. "Prove that I'm not like my father."

  "You're not. You may have inherited half of his DNA, but your character is nothing like his."

  "Thanks. Your saying that means a lot. I have to go. The vet's here. He charges by the hour, so I better get back out there and help." Quint walked to the front door. He paused there a moment. "I'll see you tonight."

  Aileen stared at the door long after Quint had walked out. Something had shifted between them. She couldn't put her finger on it, but whatever it was, she sensed it was momentous.

  Quint was late for dinner. It was just as well, Aileen thought. Given the extra time, she might compose herself. All day she'd been as nervous as the proverbial cat on a hot tin roof.

  She had told Quint that she cared for him. He hadn't responded. Maybe he hadn't heard her. Maybe he hadn't wanted to hear this declaration. No, that didn't make any sense. Hadn't he said he wouldn't let her go? He had. And he had hugged her. It hadn't been a friend's comforting hug either. Aileen clung to these two things as if they were a piece of lifesaving driftwood in a storm-tossed sea.

  When he came home, she served him dinner, claiming she had already eaten. She didn't think she could keep any food down. She busied herself tidying the kitchen while he ate.

  "This was very good. Thank you, Aileen."

  "Are you still hungry? Would you like a piece of cake?"

  He shook his head. He watched Aileen closely as she put the food away. She had said that she cared for him. What exactly did that mean? He cared for Sweepstake. He cared for the ranch. What he felt for Aileen went way beyond that. Quint didn't know just how he was going to ask her what she meant by caring, but ask her he would. He had hardly been able to think of anything else all day, not even when he'd been helping the vet with the sick horse.