"It's all right." Sara blinked back her own tears, searching for some way to comfort him.
"No it's not all right! Bill's dead and I'm alive and there's no sense in it. It's not fair!" He turned restlessly, as if trying to pull away from the whole situation. His breath hissed from between clenched teeth as he twisted his injured knee and Sara could see the pain lance through him. Color drained from his face, and he collapsed back onto the bed, his hand tightening painfully on hers.
She reached for the button to call the nurse, but he shook his head, sensing her movement though his eyes were still closed.
"It's all right." Sara hesitated and then let her hand drop away from the button. Cullen was no fool. If he thought he'd done any real damage, he wouldn't try to tough it out.
His eyes opened. Though the pain was still there, she could read the beginnings of acceptance. "The bottom line is that I'm lucky to be alive."
"I wish there was something I could do or say to make this easier. It isn't fair, but there's not much we can do to change things."
"You know, I can remember Dad telling me that life wasn't fair and any fool who thought it was going to be was in for a rude awakening."
"I can remember him telling me the same thing. I...I wish he were here now. I just have the feeling that he'd know what to do or what to say to make you feel better."
Cullen's fingers tightened on hers. "He couldn't do any better job than you have, Sara. You've never let me thank you for always being there. It can't have been easy for you."
"Hush. You're my family, Cullen. I needed you just as much as you needed me. I don't ever want you to feel like I did you a big favor."
"Family. What would we do without them?" His mouth twisted in a half smile, and Sara knew that he would come to terms with the doctor's prognosis. It might not be easy, but Cullen was a survivor.
❧
She drove home, parking the car in the driveway and staring at the little house as if seeing it for the first time.
In the days since their return from Colorado, she'd slept very little. Not only did the walls of her bedroom seem to close in on her, but the bed felt too soft and the usual low hum of traffic seemed to screech in her ears. She'd become accustomed to the silence of the mountains and the city noise seemed intolerable.
With a sigh, she climbed out of the car. She had to stop thinking about Colorado and the mountains and, most of all, Cody Wolf. That was a time that was past and she had to let it go. She let herself into the house, trying not to notice how small it seemed. Throwing her purse on the sofa, she crossed directly to the little desk that sat in one corner of the living room. It was time to cut the last tenuous link between them.
Sitting down at the desk, she pulled out a piece of stationery and drafted a polite little note thanking Cody for finding Cullen and telling him that the prognosis for his leg was good. Reading it over, she decided that it sounded like something that Emily Post might have written to thank someone for a birthday gift. But she refused to change it. It was best to keep things very impersonal. There could be nothing between them, and she didn't want to pretend otherwise. She read the note over one last time and then got out her checkbook and wrote out a check for twenty-five thousand dollars. Her hands was shaking as she added her signature to the bottom.
After sealing the envelope, she had to take a few deep breaths before she could steady her hand enough to address it. Just writing his name sent a surge of pain through her. Before she could change her mind, she snatched up her purse and hurried out of the house. If she didn't mail it now, she might chicken out, and that would only drag things out.
As she watched the envelope disappear into the slot at the post office, she felt as if she had just cut out her heart. That envelope represented her last link with Cody. Once that check was cashed, she would have only memories.
That was good, she told herself firmly. The sooner she broke the connections, the sooner she could get on with her life. She was relieved to have the whole thing over and done with. It was only relief that made her cry herself to sleep that night.
The next morning she dragged herself out of bed and practically crawled into the bathroom to go through the motions of getting ready to face the day. Cullen wasn't expecting her until the afternoon, and the hours between then and now stretched out with appalling emptiness. Her head hurt and her eyes felt as if they were filled with sandpaper. She threw water on her face, trying to rid herself of the gritty feelings.
When she looked in the mirror she was struck by the utter hopelessness in her eyes. Columbine eyes, Cody had called them. But at the moment they looked more like empty holes than mountain flowers. With a disgusted grimace, she tossed her washcloth into the sink and dug through a cabinet searching for a mud pack.
If nothing else, she had to take care of herself so that she could earn a living and afford to pay back David's loan. She had always hated fictional heroines who lay back with die-away airs when they lost their lovers. She was damned if she was going to become one herself. She'd get through this. It might hurt a lot, but she'd make it through.
Two hours later she parked her car behind David's studio and got out. The weather had turned from sunshine to threatened rain with a speed typical of Southern California. In deference to the gray skies and the hint of dampness in the breeze, she was wearing a pair of light wool trousers and a bulky purple sweater that reflected in her eyes. Her makeup was perfectly applied, her nails were manicured and her expression was serene. If someone looked closely, they might see a look of emptiness in the depths of her eyes, but they'd have to look deep to find it.
Her fingers tightened on the strap of her shoulder bag as she climbed the steps to David's studio and knocked on the door. She wasn't quite sure how to react to him, what to say. She'd left a message with his answering service letting him know that Cullen had been found and telling him that she'd be in touch soon, but she'd deliberately left the impression that the two of them were still in Colorado. She hadn't been quite ready to deal with David. She wasn't sure she was ready now, but she didn't see any reason to put it off.
It was still fairly early in the day, and she knew David was likely to be home. She almost hoped he wouldn't be. That would give her a little more time to decide what she was going to say to him. But the door opened and she was standing face-to-face with a man she had seriously considered marrying only a few short weeks ago.
He looked just the same. Shaggy brown hair and lean features, his tall, lanky body clad in a moth-eaten crewneck sweater and jeans. His brown eyes lit with pleasure when he saw her, and Sara felt like a worm. She cared for David, really cared for him. How was she supposed to look him in the eye and tell him that their relationship could go no farther because she'd slept with a man she'd known only a few days and then compounded the error by falling in love with him?
"Sara!" David swept her off her feet, squeezing her tight and swinging her into his studio before setting her down. He bent and she accepted his kiss, fighting the urge to pull away. When he lifted his head his eyes seemed to search hers for a moment, but he said nothing and she thought perhaps she'd imagined the look.
She stepped away, trying to look casual. "You're not in the middle of a shoot or anything, are you? I probably should have called first."
He shut the door and then leaned against it, his eyes following her as she wandered into the room that served as a living room and sometimes the setting for his photographs. "You never have to call first, Sara. You know that. When did you get back to L.A.?"
"We've been back a few days. I called your service and they said you were in San Francisco or I would have come over sooner."
"I called them every day to see if there'd been any word from you. When they gave me your message, I had the impression that you were still in Denver or I would have called you right away."
"Oh, that's okay. I haven't been home much anyway." She picked up a lens and turned it idly in her hand. The smile she gave him showed her nerves. "I've bee
n spending most of my time at the hospital."
"How is Cullen? You didn't really say anything beyond the fact that he was alive. And his friend?"
He stepped away from the door, and Sara set down the lens and moved farther, into the room. "Bill was killed in the crash." She forced another smile, her eyes not quite meeting his. "But Cullen is going to be all right. He tore up his knee and the doctor say's he'll probably always have a slight limp, but he'll walk."
"I'm sorry about his friend." He watched her nervous movements for a moment, feeling a knot settle in his gut. "Want a glass of orange juice? Something nice and healthy to start out the day? Have you eaten yet? I could fix some breakfast."
Sara shook her head. "I'm not really hungry, thanks. But orange juice would be pleasant, if it's no trouble." She didn't really want the juice, but it would give her something to do with her hands. David disappeared into the kitchen, and she took a few deep breaths, forcing herself to sit down. This was David. They'd been friends long before they became lovers.
Her smile was a little more natural when he returned and handed her a glass of juice. She took a sip, hoping he didn't notice her relief when he sat on a chair across from her rather than on the sofa beside her.
"So, it seems you were right all along about Cullen. How did you go about finding him? Was it this guy that the search-and-rescue people suggested?"
Sara looked into her glass, fighting down the surge of pain and gathering her thoughts. She nodded slowly. "He really did know the mountains very well. We traveled on horseback into the mountains and found Cullen and came back out. There's really not much more to say than that."
David knew Sara well. He had caught her every expression on camera. He'd studied her face as both an artist and a lover. He knew when she was lying to him, or at least not telling the whole truth.
"This guy must have been pretty incredible. What was his name?"
The silence stretched out for a moment and then Sara nodded slowly. "Cody Wolf. And he was pretty incredible."
There was something in her quiet words that tightened the knot in his stomach. When he'd watched her drive away, he'd had the feeling that he was watching her go away forever. Since she'd been gone, he'd managed to convince himself that it had been just his imagination working overtime. All she'd done was say another man's name, but there was a note there he'd never heard before. Her tongue caressed the name in a way he'd have sold his soul to hear applied to his own name.
He got up and crossed to the window, staring out. The threatened rain had arrived, and it streamed down across the gray streets of L.A. like a thick wet blanket. The clouds pressed down on the city, seeming to smother all the light out of it. Even the park across the street looked a depressing gray-green.
Behind him, he heard the faint clink as Sarah set her glass down, and he closed his eyes, shutting out the gray scene outside. But there was a grayness in his heart, too. He'd lost her. Just as he'd always known he would. He'd loved Sara Grant ever since she first came to his studio, scared out of her wits, pale with fright but determined to earn a living for herself and her nephew. It had taken him years to slowly cultivate their relationship, coaxing her into friendship, and from there into becoming his lover.
Recently, he'd even begun to think that they might make a good marriage together. He knew he didn't set her soul on fire, but she loved him and they could have a good life. Sara was twenty-eight. If she hadn't found the love of her life by now, maybe she never would. But now that dream was gone. And he had to decide where to go from here.
Rage burned inside him, and he wanted to yell at her to get out of his sight. He turned, not even sure what he was going to say to her. She was looking at him and there was so much pain and regret in her eyes that he felt all the anger drain away.
He'd liked her before he'd loved her. Whatever had happened in Colorado, it hadn't made her happy. With a rueful smile for his own stupidity, he knew that he'd rather have her friendship than nothing at all.
"There's a great assignment coming up for Widmark Jewelers. Could bring in a very tidy sum of money for the lucky pair of hands that wins it. I suggested your name and showed them some of your work, and they seemed very interested. Are you in the market for a job?"
Sara saw the pain in his eyes and she wanted to explain, to offer some apology. But she also read pride and acceptance. Her mouth trembled and she could feel the sting of tears as she nodded.
"I just wrote a check for twenty-five thousand dollars that comes out of your account. It might be a good idea if I found some work so I could pay it back."
"Great. I'll set up an appointment for you tomorrow. Do your nails a pale pink. That will let the jewelry stand out. If they want to go for something darker, they can let us know after they hire you."
"Thank you, David." He knew that she was thanking him for far more than the possibility of a job, but he didn't allow the knowledge to show in his eyes.
"No problem. You're one of the best. It does me good to have your work in my portfolio." He glanced at his watch, pretending he had another appointment, wanting her to go. He needed some time to deal with their changed relationship, time to come to terms with it. Sara immediately stood up.
"I'd better let you get back to work. I'm due at the hospital soon."
She hesitated at the door, her eyes searching his face. He shoved a clenched fist into his pocket and shook his head, his mouth tight.
"Don't."
After a moment that seemed to stretch out forever, she nodded and hurried out of the studio. David shut the door behind her and then leaned back against it, listening to the click of her heels as she walked down the stairs and out of his life. He didn't have another appointment, but there was a limit to just how damned noble he could be.
❧
It didn't take long for life to settle into a pattern. On the surface, everything was much as it had been before Cullen's disastrous camping trip. Within two weeks Cullen was home again. The crutches he had to use even began to seem normal. Sara had already worked on several short assignments. She'd done runway work at a charity showing of petite fashions, plastering a smile on her face and gliding along as if she hadn't a care in the world. Her hands had dialed a telephone to demonstrate just how easy it was to call an advertiser, whose name she couldn't even remember.
It seemed as if life was settling back into old patterns. Of course, some things had irrevocably changed. Cullen was reevaluating his life. David was gradually making the transition from lover to friend, and Sara was grateful for the fact that he cared enough to make the effort.
She should have been pleased with the way things were going. But she was miserable. Instead of fading into the background, the time in Colorado began to seem much more real and vivid than the life she was living now. Every night, Cody walked through her dreams smiling, angry, worried, sensual. His every mood, his every expression penetrated her thoughts. She wondered how winter was treating him. She watched the weather reports for news of the weather in that part of the country.
She had thought the pain would go away after a while, but it seemed to grow every day. She had hoped that, unfed, her love would fade away and die, but love is a flower that sometimes thrives on suffering, and each day she seemed to remember some new thing about him that she loved.
His eyes haunted her until, when she looked in the mirror, she was almost surprised to see her own clear amethyst instead of a vivid emerald green. She wanted to know what was happening on the ranch. She wanted to share in his dreams. It gave her some small consolation to think that the money she had sent him would be put to use making his dreams come true. At least she could feel that she had a part in his dreams, however small.
Christmas came and went, but the holiday spirit was distinctly lacking in her heart. She went through all the motions, but she couldn't help comparing the gray Los Angeles rain to the fresh blanket of snow she'd have in Colorado. Was Cody celebrating Christmas alone?
It wasn't just missing Cody th
at kept her unhappy. She'd never before regretted her decision to give up sculpting and go into modeling. Modeling had enabled her to take care of Cullen and nothing had been more important than that. She missed her art. Sometimes she missed it so badly that it was like a burning ache inside, but she hadn't regretted the decision. Since returning to California, however, she found herself wandering into art stores and fingering the equipment. Everywhere she looked, she seemed to see something she'd like to try and capture in clay.
Once or twice Cullen brought up the subject of Cody, but Sara refused to discuss him. She didn't want to hear what Cullen had to say. She would get over this. She had responsibilities here that she couldn't just walk away from, even if Cody had wanted her. And he didn't want her. He'd made that clear.
The day after Christmas there was an envelope in the mail from Colorado. There was no return address, only the red postmark, but Sara's hands started to shake. Cody. It had to be from Cody. She forced herself to walk calmly back into the house, oblivious to the fact that she walked through two puddles on the way up the walk and completely ruined her shoes. She sorted the mail, setting aside the obvious bills. Cullen was sitting in the living room, engrossed in a rerun of I Love Lucy, which he'd somehow missed seeing more than twice. He didn't even glance up when she walked through, and Sara was able to slip into her room without being forced to make coherent conversation.
The bills and junk mail were dropped on her dresser with total disregard for her careful sorting. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she stared at the plain white envelope with that all-important postmark. It had to be from Cody. She'd never seen his handwriting, but that bold scrawl couldn't be anyone else's.
Why had he written? Maybe he had discovered that he loved her after all and he wanted her to come back.
She tried to rein in her excitement. It was probably something more prosaic, like an inquiry about Cullen's health. But wouldn't he have written directly to Cullen for that? Her pulse was pounding so quickly that she felt breathless and the palms of her hands were damp. What if he had written to ask her to come back? She'd go in a minute.
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