Whispers of the Heart

by Woster, Barbara

  “And your point is?”

  “My point is that all of that, plus time, was supposed to bring you closure. And now you’re telling me that you need to get away for, not a normal two-week excursion, but eight, whole, freaking weeks.”

  “Why is it that you sound upset, Janet? I mean, the last I looked this was still my life, you know.”

  “Yes, well, when you write a potential best-seller, it becomes my life. At least until I get your book mentioned on every airwave, flying off virtual bookshelves, and as the subject of conversation around every water cooler in every office in America. But I can’t very well do that if you aren’t here to cooperate with my efforts.”

  “Wow, Janet,” Kat said in exaggerated awe, “that would sound extremely egocentric if I didn’t know you so well.”

  “It’s not being egotistical to want to see you become the successful writer I know you can be. Now if I added that the more successful you are, then the richer I become, then you could accuse me of being self-centered, selfishly motivated...”

  “Oh! Do stop being so melodramatic, Janet, I’ve been writing nearly non-stop for the last two years. I’m ready for a break, okay? And you’re probably right about my taking my computer, so you know that it will in all probability be a working vacation...”

  “Are you sleeping well?”

  “Of course I am!”

  “Then your desire to get away...”

  “Hasn’t got a damned thing to do with Robert, the children, the murder trial...”

  “This is the second anniversary of their death,” Janet said softly.

  “Ah, hell, Janet,” Kat sighed, “you had to bring that up, didn’t you?”

  “So you are running from ghosts?”

  “If I said yes, would you drop it?” Janet didn’t answer immediately and Kat sighed again, “I’m tired, Janet. I’m just tired, is all.”

  “But eight weeks?”

  “Yeah, eight weeks.”

  “That’s tantamount to a publicity death sentence in the world of publishing. Still, if you gotta go, you gotta go.”

  “Yeah, I gotta go.”

  Janet sighed, “I’ll do all I can to keep your name in the minds of readers everywhere until you get back, but do me a small favor, okay?”

  “Which is?”

  “Get yourself laid while you’re gone.”

  “You really are a piece of work, you know that?”

  “Yeah, Peter told me that too, or did he say I have a nice piece of...”

  “Alright, Janet, that’s enough.”

  “Want me to have him write you a prescription...”

  “I don’t need Valium. The Melatonin is working just fine.”

  “So you are still having trouble sleeping.”

  “Only a little.”

  “Well, at least you finally admitted it, but you know kiddo, running from your nightmares won’t make them go away. They have a nasty way of showing up no matter where you are, unless you give them the boot. Maybe you should see a shrink. You never did talk things through with anyone. Not really anyway.”

  “That’s because I don’t need to. I’ll admit that my heart still hurts around this time of year, but I expect that’s normal. At least I can talk about it without falling apart like this time last year.

  “True enough.”

  “I just need a vacation, Janet. In eight weeks, I’ll return to my writing just as if I never left, I promise. Who knows, the trip may just inspire another best-seller.”

  “Hmm. Music to my ears.”

  “I figured as much.”

  “Hey, I have an idea. Before you go, why not get laid by the cute police officer you told me about that’s been sniffing ‘round your door. What’s his name?”

  “Kieran O’Sullivan, and no, I’m not interested in him like that. We’re just friends. Besides, even if I were, it would simply be too awkward. He was Robert’s supervisor.”

  “Yeah, and if he wasn’t his supervisor, he was a drinking buddy, or he was an uncle of one of Robert’s drinking buddies...there’s always an excuse for intimacy avoidance.”

  “Well, Robert had a lot of friends,” Kat said lamely.

  “Yes, well, you can’t sit there and tell me that strangers haven’t hit on you.”

  “Have you ever thought that perhaps that’s all I’ll ever want from a man – friendship?”

  “Sweetie, you are twenty-seven, sexy as hell, appealing to the eye, and extremely successful.”

  “Careful, you’re making me blush,” Kat teased.

  “Oh! Do hush! All I’m saying is that for most women, that would be enough, but God designed you to be a part of a twosome. You do well in a relationship.”

  “So, what you’re saying is that I’m not meant to be single.”

  “Right. That in itself makes you a rare breed, aside from your other attractive qualities.”

  “You should be my publicist as well as my publisher. Still, have you forgotten that I wasn’t single; that I was contentedly married for five years? I didn’t ask to be single, and you’re right, I didn’t want to be single. I liked being married, but just because I am involuntarily single right now, doesn’t mean that I’m so horny that I have to jump in bed with every man who looks my way. You, of all people, should know that isn’t me.”

  “You’re right. My bad. You shouldn’t go to bed with someone you know. It wouldn’t work. So while you’re out west, find a sexy stranger and release some of that pent-up sexual frustration that has you snapping my head off.”

  “It’s like talking to a stone slab. You’re a piece of work, you know that?”

  “So you’ve said. Now, while you’re gone, I’ll get busy lining up some appearances for the couple of weeks after your return, and while you’re gone, I’ll push to get your book noticed. I hope that it’ll be enough to keep your name in the limelight until you get back. Then we’ll really have to work the media to rekindle the spark of interest. Eight weeks. Damnation! You had to make it eight weeks. That’s a freaking death sentence in this industry.”

  “So you’ve said. I’d apologize, Janet, but it wouldn’t be very sincere.”

  “Well, humor me and do it anyway.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, shut up!”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  March 2061

  Wind River, Wyoming

  “Welcome home, Dalian!” Marsha shouted, coming around the side of the house.

  “Good Lord, girl,” Dalian sighed in exasperation, “do you have a built-in radar that lets you know when I’m going to be here?”

  “Hardly, silly,” Marsha laughed. “One of our ranch hands saw you coming through town and rode out to let us know that you’d arrived back safe and sound.”

  “How much did you pay him to keep track for you?”

  “Ha! Ha! Well, I guess that vacation didn’t do much for your disposition, sourpuss.”

  Dalian let go a heavy sigh and closed his eyes to keep from having to look at this particular insipid twit, “I’m tired, Marsha.”

  “Yeah, riding a train’ll do that to a person.” Marsha’s comment was an attempt at humor, but her tone said that she was frustrated that Dalian still refused to take notice of her as a woman.

  Dalian wasn’t having any of it. He simply wasn’t in the mood to pander to her ego, “Kept better track than I figured. Old man that desperate to keep tabs on me?”

  Marsha’s face reddened, “Well, since it’s obvious my attempt at being neighborly is not being well-received, I think I’d better head on back home. Just wanted to welcome you back.”

  “Consider me welcomed.”

  It was Marsha’s turn to sigh heavily, “I’ll see you later, Dalian,” she said with an annoyed shake of her head, and then started toward the path that would lead to her house.

  “What happened to never wanting to see me again?” Dalian called after her.

  “I forgave you. I’ll always forgive you.” She called over her shoulder, although her tone was
anything but forgiving.

  “Lucky me,” Dalian shouted, although he felt anything but lucky. He sincerely wished that his time away would give Marsha and her dad someone else to focus on. Apparently, it was too much to wish for.

  “Kid getting to you?” Harvey asked, coming around the corner.

  “If hiring a hit man was legal, I’d happily do so,” Dalian said, leading his horse toward the stable.

  “No, you wouldn’t,” Harvey laughed. “That’s why she’ll continue to get on your nerves, because despite the fact you want to strangle the little nuisance – and her dad as well – you haven’t got a violent bone in your body.”

  “I’m sure if I looked hard enough, I could find one or two; especially in the area around my fists.”

  “I’m sure.” Harvey laughed.

  “What makes it so blasted annoying is that I know her dad is putting her up to it.”

  “Think so?”

  “Call it a very good hunch, but if she wasn’t being pressured by her dad, I don’t think she’d give someone nearly twenty years her senior the time of day.” Dalian led Swift into his stall and pulled the saddle from his back, and then reached for the brush. It felt good to preoccupy his mind with tending to Swift, but he had to exert effort to prevent brushing too hard in his present state of agitation. Just thinking about Marsha and her dad tended to get him riled. He hated having to throw up the imaginary barriers every time she came close to him, but he had to protect himself and his land from predators – animal and human.

  “Well, she’s a damn good actress then,” Harvey was saying, “because it sure as hell looks as if she has the hots for you.”

  “You nailed it – she’s excellent at acting smitten, but it’s a good thing I’m not taken in by her charade, or she’d have snared me by now and her daddy would be moving into the guest bedroom upstairs.”

  “Not a pleasant thought.”

  “A nightmarish notion, more like.”

  “Well, call me Randy Rooster, but I think a man needs to have a woman panting over him. Makes him feel real good about himself. Acting or not, she sure is doing a fine job stroking your ego.”

  “My ego doesn’t need stroking. I feel just fine about myself, but if a woman ever did come panting after me, I’d prefer the feeling be mutual.”

  “Well, if little miss 'come and take me’ doesn’t do it for you then maybe one of the guests coming in next month will.”

  “Sorry, Harvey, but men definitely don’t do it for me.”

  “That’s real funny,” Harvey laughed, “but accurate enough, because if your radar was tuned into that particular frequency, you’d have noticed how Tom keeps eyeballing you every day.”

  “Oh, holy crap! Tell me you’re pulling my leg, old man.”

  “Yep, but you had to admit, I had you going,” Harvey laughed at the reaction garnered by his twisted sense of humor and then had to duck when Dalian threw the brush at his head.

  Dalian went to fetch the brush and resumed tending to Swift, a grin on his lips. He should have known that Harvey was messing with him, as was his habit, but the way in which Tom carried himself did make Dalian wonder sometimes as to which side he buttered his bread. He shook the thought away and refocused on what Harvey had said. “So, what is so unusual about our guests next month?”

  “We actually have two women on the register.”

  “Women?”

  “Yeah, you know – the species that have breasts?”

  Dalian laughed. He finished brushing down Swift, hung his gear on the tack near the door, and stepped outside. A cool, evening breeze stroked his face and he closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply.

  “Missed the place, didn’t you?”

  “While I was gone, all I could think about was home. It’s my life’s blood.”

  “Yeah, I know, but you still managed to stay gone for five months. If it wasn’t for the regular post cards, I’d have thought you never made it through the mountain pass back in September.”

  “I never intended to stay gone so long.”

  “I take it that things went good with your mom then? Your postcards only mentioned that you were still alive and well. I really wished you’d taken your cell phone along. Would have made communication quicker, more efficient, and more informative.”

  “Sorry about that, but I wanted to make sure the few months that we had together were quality. I didn’t want to think about everything that needed doing here, nor was I ready to reveal anything Mom may have told me, which you would have hammered me to do – and don’t deny it. I can see curiosity etched all over your features right now, and you’ve been shadowing me worse than Marsha since I entered the stable.”

  Harvey laughed. “So, how is your mom? Still sexy as hell?”

  “Watch it old man, that’s my mom you’re talking about.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Harvey grinned mischievously, “but that doesn’t mean she wasn’t worth looking at to a kid my age way back when.”

  “You’re messed up,” Dalian said, moving toward the house.

  “So, did you and your mom finally clear the air?” The cautious delivery of the question made Dalian stop and look at his friend, eyeing him questioningly; however, nothing in Harvey’s return gaze revealed anything, so he resumed his trek toward the house.

  “If by, “clear the air”, you’re asking if she finally told me why she sent me to live with your folks when I was only twelve, then no.”

  “Sorry about that, Dalian. I know you’ve always had unanswered questions about your life, and . . . well, you naturally presumed that your mother would finally answer those questions.”

  Dalian stopped walking and turned to face Harvey again, his brow furrowed in puzzlement, both by the relief in Harvey’s tone and by a comment Harvey made a moment earlier. “Why would you ask if my mother is still sexy as hell? That would infer that you knew my mother, but I thought that only your parents had met her. Are you now telling me that my assumption was incorrect? That you actually did know my mother, but if you did, why didn’t I know you did?” Dalian questions became rhetorical as he continued mumbling to himself, as if asking the questions aloud might suddenly provide answers.

  “Yeah, I knew her.” Harvey said, jarring Dalian from his reflections. “Did you think she brought you to live with us because my folks were saints or something? Or that she just pulled our names out of the phone book? She had to have a reason, and that reason was...”

  “You?” Dalian interjected, as if saying it aloud accounted for all of the unknowns, but his triumphant declaration was short-lived, as even more questions poured into his brain. “Why did you never tell me? I thought she just dumped me at the first willing couple she came across.” Dalian continued toward the house, his footfalls heavier, and his pace faster.

  “Good Lord, man, slow down. Shoot fire, there’s no need to go getting all worked up. It’s not like there was some huge conspiracy going on. You don’t really think she would have dumped your scrawny hide with complete strangers, do you?” Harvey asked, plopping onto the front steps. Dalian was about to go into the house, but stopped. He turned around with a sigh and settled onto the step next to Harvey. His head bent, he sucked in a deep breath, trying desperately to calm his elevated agitation; agitation compounded by his visit with his mom and Marsha’s continued pursuit. Harvey placed a hand on his shoulder and said softly, “Obviously, there was a history there before you came along.”

  “You weren’t there when my mom dropped me off. I’d have remembered meeting you, so how did you know my mom was sexy?”

  “I could have been there, for all the attention you were paying to your surroundings.”

  “As I was only twelve at the time, I was hardly thinking about anything but the fact that my mother was kicking me out of my tribe. The whys and wherefores weren’t important to me. I was losing my mother and I didn’t know why; and now, you’re sitting here telling me that the reason she chose your family for me to live with was because you
knew her. Why, after all of these years, wouldn’t you tell me? Why would you keep something like that from me?”

  “Lord, Dalian, you’ve got a suspicious brain. You make it sound as if your mother and I had some torrid love affair that we were trying to keep hidden from you. Man, did you grill your mom like this?”

  “She’s my mom for heaven’s sake. Of course, I didn’t grill her. I went to make amends, not open old wounds.”

  “So you wait until you get back and lay into me, is that it?”

  “Ah, hell, Harvey, I’m sorry. I just have a feeling there’s something more to my past; something I don’t know and can’t remember. There’s always been this empty void in my childhood – and now that I know you knew my mom as more than just a quick “hello, take my child, goodbye” affair – well, I was hoping you’d be willing to fill in the blanks?”

  “Tarnation, Dalian, didn’t your mom mention even once about my family or her life before she went to live with the Blackfoot?”

  Dalian shook his head, “Her life before? What life are you talking about?”

  Harvey sighed heavily. “Good Lord above, what exactly did you two spend five months yammering about if not about your past? Sounds to me like she didn’t tell you a damn thing,” Harvey said. “Damn it all to hell, I can’t believe she didn’t tell you.”

  “Harvey, I’ve always loved you like a brother, and you may not think I’m capable of killing, but I’ll do just that if you don’t start talking.”

  “Okay, Dalian,” Harvey said. “Keep your britches on. I’ll tell you, but I still think it should be your mother doing the telling. Not me. She’s kept your past from you for far too long and it isn’t right that the burden should fall on my shoulders.”

  “Had I known that you knew about my past, I’d have pounded the answers out of you decades ago, but I didn’t, and if I could, I’d ask my mom about it all, but I can’t. She’s dead.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “What did you just say?”

  “I said she’s dead. That’s why I was held over,” Dalian said softly. “She was ill when I arrived,” he whispered, running fingers through his shoulder-length, black hair, “and getting worse by the day, so I decided to stay with her until the end. That’s also why I didn’t keep in touch.”