by Susan Fox
"There are things you do, things you've said, that raise a lot of questions, Ronnie. So yes, I'd really like to know about your marriage."
Veronica started slowly, telling Cole only a few things at first about her relationship with Eric—the wedding, the accident, but including enough so he'd know that her sexual inexperience was total.
Veronica was able to relax then and found herself confiding her heartache that after his first visit, Eric had never been back to the hospital to see her and that he'd had their marriage annulled soon after. She even mentioned the personally unattractive part about sinking into depression for weeks, resisting anyone who tried to help her.
When she finished, Veronica lay quietly, her heart emptied of emotion, cleansed of the fear of humiliation that had lingered inside her for months.
"I survived," she whispered, aware of the awkwardness Cole must be feeling.
There was a rustling movement and Cole was suddenly propped on an elbow. Veronica turned her head and stared up at the breathing shadow that hovered over her and waited. She felt Cole's warm breath on her face the instant before his lips settled on hers. There was no passion in his kiss, only a gentle, compassionate, coaxing kind of contact.
"I'm sorry, baby," came the velvet whisper. Veronica didn't resist as Cole turned her to face him, then drew her close.
This time, she lay facing him, cradled against his lean length by strong arms. Neither spoke as Veronica snuggled deeper into Cole's embrace, feeling at peace with herself. The warmth and strength Cole's body offered was like heaven, the broad, hair-roughened chest she was cuddled against tantalizingly male. With the warm wonderful scent of him in her nostrils, Veronica gradually found sleep, comforted by the complete trust she now felt toward him.
For the tenth time in the past half hour Veronica glanced out the kitchen window, checking to see where Curtis was. Something about the way he was acting today distressed her. He had been sullen and uncommunicative since the day after they'd returned from the camping trip, but Veronica was hard put to pinpoint the reason.
The camping trip itself had turned out a success. After a very early quick breakfast that Helen and Jessie had insisted on preparing, the two women packed a huge lunch for the hike they assumed Bob and Wylie were taking on their own. Minutes after the lunches were loaded into backpacks, Helen and Jessie found, to their dismay, that they were expected to go along. Cole's frosty demeanor discouraged either of them from finding excuses to stay behind.
With the two women thwarted for the remainder of the day, Cole and Veronica had spent most of their time fishing with Curtis. At first, Veronica was uncomfortable when Cole used every opportunity to touch her, regardless of whether Curtis was watching or not. But gradually, Curtis stopped making faces of revulsion every time he saw his father kiss her. He even parked himself and his fishing pole next to them on the bank while Veronica sat on the ground in front of Cole, leaning back companionably against his chest.
By the time they packed up their tent and camping supplies to head for home, anyone seeing the three of them together might have assumed they were a family. That was probably the reason, when Helen and Jessie trudged back to the campsite behind Bob and Wylie, that the two footsore, whining women's every look indicated they would surely set another plan in action to disrupt the newly bonded threesome. Now that plan, if one did exist, seemed to be working.
Veronica pushed the door open and walked out onto the porch, aided by the walking cane that the therapist had recommended she begin using after her last visit. Unable to see Curtis anywhere out back, she carefully descended the porch steps and headed toward the side of the house. Just as she rounded the end of the porch, the charred smell of burning paper assailed her nostrils.
"What are you doing, Curtis?" Veronica bent at the waist, her hand braced on the porch rail for balance, to peer under the porch. Her quiet approach had been missed by the boy who was scrambling to toss clumps of earth on the tiny pile of shredded newsprint he'd just touched a match to. "Come out from under there."
Round-eyed, Curtis obeyed the calm order without question.
"Give me the matches." Veronica put out her hand, silently debating the best way to handle the situation. Cole wouldn't be home for at least a couple of hours, and Veronica was still uncertain how far he expected her to go in disciplining the boy. Curtis's face was filled with mutiny as he dropped a single matchbook into her outstretched palm. "Is that all of them?"
A dusty sneaker speared the sod. "Yep."
"I'm surprised at this, Curtis," Veronica began, feeling her way with the boy, not liking that she had to further risk his resentment. "You know how dangerous fires can be."
The sneakered toe twisted. "You gonna tell my dad?" Curtis's small chin came up at a defiant angle.
"I think one of us should tell him, don't you?" Curtis's lower lip quivered and Veronica had to harden herself to the boy's distress. "Why don't you run into the house and get a pitcher of water? The plastic one on the counter next to the sink will do fine."
"Why?" Again that challenging lift of chin.
"I want you to make sure that the fire is properly doused," Veronica explained patiently.
"It was just some paper," Curtis protested, and Veronica saw definite signs of Jessie in his shrugging, faintly ridiculing attitude.
"Are you going to mind me, or do you want to spend the afternoon in your room?" Veronica uttered the ultimatum with unwavering calm, trying to remember what she'd read about offering children options like that. The experts often disagreed, so Veronica had little to draw on but her own childhood experience. Unfortunately, as she recalled a bit belatedly, the problem adults had usually run into with her was that she almost always chose the punishment.
"Oh, all right," Curtis grumbled, then reached for the porch rail to climb onto the end of the porch like the half boy, half monkey he was. In a few minutes, he was carrying the pitcher out the back door, choosing the more conventional stairs before he came around the porch toward her. Veronica leaned down and watched as Curtis spilled the water over the powder-fine remains before he crawled back out.
"Thank you, Curtis." Veronica took the pitcher. "I've been baking cookies this afternoon," she said in a brighter tone. "How would you like to sample some?" She was grateful to be able to have something to offer that would let Curtis know she was still willing to be friendly despite the problems.
"I saw 'em. I even tasted one," he replied, almost as if he were daring her to tell him he shouldn't have.
"That's all right," she assured him. "Why not come in and have a big glass of milk with some more?" Veronica took heart at the sudden waver in the boy's defiant expression.
"Because I didn't like 'em," he burst out, then raced past her toward the trees at the edge of the yard. Veronica watched him go, hurt by his refusal.
"Your father wants you to stay in the yard," she called after him, then, disheartened, started for the porch steps.
The tentative acceptance Curtis had shown on their trip had vanished. If anything, the boy seemed more intolerant of her than ever. He'd spent Monday and Tuesday at Helen's, but Cole had kept him home the rest of the week, asking Veronica if she minded keeping an eye on him the few times he couldn't take Curtis with him around the ranch.
Yet in spite of Cole's almost too-obvious machinations to give her and Curtis more opportunity to get to know each other, Curtis remained withdrawn from her, unless he found something to criticize.
That had led her to suspect that Helen had possibly had a hand in the boy's sudden reversal. Things had been fine between Veronica and Curtis until he'd come home Tuesday afternoon, and there hadn't been a truly relaxed moment with him since. It upset Veronica that Helen could be so vindictive.
And really there was little point in Helen's being so, for Cole's interest in Veronica was just a passing thing, she was sure. She had likely come along at the time when Cole was finally ready to stop mourning Jackie a
nd think about a new relationship. Even though Veronica was head over heels in love with Cole, she didn't delude herself into thinking his feelings matched the intensity of hers. It hurt to remind herself that every look, every touch, every kiss and every confidence they shared would eventually come to nothing. Veronica had no illusions about her ability to sustain Cole's romantic interest. She only hoped that when that interest did wane, she could anticipate it and take the initiative to end their relationship by quietly slipping out of Cole's life.
With these depressing thoughts on her mind, Veronica made her way to the freezer to choose what meat to set out to thaw for the next day. She was just about to remove a roast of beef when she heard a scream from the back yard.
Grabbing her cane, Veronica turned and rushed awkwardly outside, hitting the porch door and sending it banging against the house as she did so. The horror that met her eyes when her frantic gaze found Curtis next to the barbecue grill made her grab the throw rug that lay across the porch rail. Fear propelled her still weak and unsteady legs rapidly down the steps, and she was heedless of the jarring pain that rocketed through her limbs to her hips and backbone.
In moments she reached Curtis. He was doing a wild kicking dance that served only to spread the hungry blaze of fire from his right sneaker to the ankle of his jeans. Veronica half lunged and half fell to drag the boy to the ground, smothering the flames with the small rug. Curtis writhed with pain as she tried to gauge the extent and severity of the burns that had eaten away at the top of his shoe and crept up past the hem of his jeans.
"Shorty!" Veronica's yell was directed toward the barns where Shorty usually spent a good part of the afternoon. She held Curtis tightly, her heart wrenching at the sight of his small tearless face, pale as he stared up at her in a mute plea for reassurance.
"You'll be all right, sweetheart," she crooned. "We'll get you to the doctor right away. Shorty!"
"I want my dad," Curtis whispered, and Veronica hugged him even closer.
"We'll get him. Don't worry." Veronica didn't have time to wonder how they would reach Cole. Shorty raced over from the barn, his weathered face whitening at the sight of Veronica on the ground, cradling Curtis.
"Lord a mercy! What'd he do, get hisself burnt?" Shorty was already swooping down to whisk the boy into his arms.
"Get him to the car and see if you can get his shoe off. Then elevate his foot, Shorty," Veronica ordered. "Can we take the station wagon?" She reached for her cane and rose painfully to her feet. Teddy, who'd just arrived on the scene, came close to steady her. "Teddy?" She barely noticed that the small fire was licking across the dry grass of the yard or that Jim Fisher was running from the barn with a feed sack to beat it out. "Get three of those bags of ice out of the freezer and grab a sheet out of the linen closet."
"Can you make it to the car okay?" Teddy's gentle brown eyes were worried.
"Yes. I'm fine. Please hurry." Reluctantly he released her and ran to the house. Veronica forced her aching legs toward the old station wagon where Shorty had deposited Curtis. Just as she reached the wagon, Teddy emerged from the house with the bags of ice and the sheet. Hampered by leg cramps that threatened to draw her thigh muscles into knots, Veronica climbed into the rear of the wagon. She partially unfolded the sheet and slid it beneath Curtis's injured foot, which Shorty had managed to free from the burned shoe and rest on a tool box. Frantic fingers tore open the plastic ice bags, gently packing the ice on and around the boy's foot and ankle before she wrapped the soothing cold securely with the sheet. Curtis whimpered during her ministrations but didn't pull away, and in moments Teddy had climbed behind the wheel of the car and got it started.
"I'll see if'n I can raise Cole on the cb," Shorty said, poking his head into the wagort. "If n I can't, I'll go find him."
"Good. But call Helen first and ask her to come to the hospital. Curtis may feel better if she's there. Then call the hospital to let them know we're coming." Veronica was unaware that her hands were trembling.
"Will do. You two take care." Shorty smiled encouragingly at the small boy who managed a quirk of lips before the old cowhand closed the tailgate securely.
Teddy gunned the engine and they shot down the driveway while Veronica held Curtis's hand. The boy clung to her, bravely trying to hold back tears.
Outside the trauma room at the hospital, Veronica waited nervously, her lower body enveloped in a relentless ache. But the ache in her heart was far greater. She had let Cole down, violated the trust he'd put in her. And now Curtis lay in pain just beyond that door because of her negligence.
Veronica doubted she'd ever forget the anguish and fear in those so solemn little eyes, a look that had gripped her soul and brought every mothering instinct she possessed to the surface. During the ride to the hospital she had held Curtis's hand, stroked his forehead, and spoken reassuringly to him, frustrated that she could do no more to comfort him or take away his pain.
But the instant Helen had come through the trauma-room door, Curtis had shrugged off Veronica's touch and reached for his aunt. Helen had hugged the boy, her curt "You can go back to the ranch, Veronica—I'm here now" effectively dismissing Veronica from the room.
Veronica remained in the hall, leaning against the wall to take some stress off her legs. She waited almost fearfully for Cole to arrive. Teddy had gone back to the ranch when a quick call home told him that Shorty still hadn't been able to track down Cole. Veronica had no way of getting back to the ranch, but even if she had, she wouldn't think of leaving. Not until she was certain Curtis would be all right.
Veronica's stomach twisted with guilt, her mind incapable of formulating thoughts that didn't begin with "If only. . ." If only she'd watched Curtis more closely. If only she'd paid more attention when he'd come into the kitchen that last time. If only she'd noticed he'd taken the can of charcoal lighter fluid from beneath the sink when she'd pulled out a new garbage bag. If only. . .
"What's happened to Curtis?"
Veronica turned, startled by the angry demand in Jessica Ryan's voice.
"He was playing with matches and had some charcoal lighter fluid out by the grill. He must have spilled some on his foot and it ignited when he struck a match."
"How bad is he?"
"He's burned his foot and ankle, but I'm not certain how badly. The doctor is in there now and Helen is with him," Veronica answered, brushing the dampness from her pale cheek. "Shorty hasn't been able to reach Cole yet." Jessie's cloudy look darkened.
"Well, you've done it this time," Jessie jeered, a slim hand waving in the air in an I-told-you-so gesture. "Cole should have known better than to let you look after Curtis." Jessie rearranged the angry lines of her face into a satisfied smile. "If I were you, I think I'd be getting out of town on the next bus, train, or plane going anyplace far, far from here. I don't think I'd even go back to the ranch for my toothbrush."
Veronica looked away guiltily, only able to think about the obvious parallel between Curtis's accident and Chapman Red's all those years ago. She'd been at least indirectly at fault both times, the blame resting on her irresponsible behavior.
"I warned you about history repeating itself, didn't I?" Jessie needled.
Veronica felt cold and sick, smothered by the escalation of the guilt she'd already assigned herself. She was terrified of facing Cole now, but face him she must. She deserved everything he'd have to say to the person who had violated his trust and allowed his only child to come to harm.
"I can't leave, Jessie," she murmured, then turned away from the lovely blonde whose perfect face tightened unpleasantly.
"You can't be thinking to talk your way out of this, are you?" Jessie's voice was filled with scorn. Neither of them noticed the trauma-room door opening only to be pushed almost—but not quite—closed again.
"Do you honestly think," Jessie went on, "that just because Cole seems to have developed some kind of passing interest in you that he'll overlook your negligence?"
She laughed. "Not a chance, Veronica. He'll be out for blood, and this time Hank won't be around to protect you. Cole will hang you out to dry."
Veronica took a quick breath.
"Then I guess that's the way it will be," she whispered, feeling as if she deserved to be hung out to dry.
"Look, Veronica," Jessie persisted, "this is not at all like what happened to Red. Oh, I suppose in some ways it is," she conceded when Veronica glanced back at her. "But you and I both know you didn't forget to properly secure that damned horse," she said with a toss of her head. "This time, Curtis was in your care and you failed to keep an eye on him." Veronica turned then, unable to put her finger on what Jessie was saying, but alert to it. "You really are a naive little sap, aren't you?"
"What?"
"You're a naive little sap," Jessie repeated as if she enjoyed saying it.
"No. The other. About you and I both knowing I didn't forget to secure Chapman Red." Veronica's eyes narrowed. "You were the one who reminded Cole that the two of you had just seen me coming from Red's paddock. I always thought you believed I was at fault."
In fact, Veronica recalled, Jessie had been the one who had incited Cole's volatile temper and goaded him on, feeding the fire of his anger toward Veronica. It came as a shock to hear that Jessie had actually believed, known, otherwise. Why hadn't she said so at the time?
"I knew you weren't," Jessie dismissed with a flourish of her hand.
"Then why didn't you say so?"
"Are you really so dense, Veronica? Why should I have? After I went to all the trouble of turning Red out myself, why shouldn't I have made certain you were blamed?" Jessie was untroubled by Veronica's gasp. "I was hoping for better results, though. Especially after that stupid horse had to be put down. I'd hoped old Hank would turn against you then, too, so I wouldn't have to worry about him throwing you at Cole one day. He was always so damned determined for Cole to like you."
Jessie smirked as Veronica's jaw dropped in astonishment.
"You did it deliberately, then blamed me?" Veronica was trembling. "You let me think all these years that I'd. . ." Veronica stared, incredulous. "My God, Jessie. How could you have destroyed a valuable animal like that? Cole loved that horse."