by Verna Clay
Walker reached and placed his thumb and forefinger on either side of her chin, gently rubbing her skin. "Nothing about you is boring, Joy. I love listening to you."
Her eyes widened, her cheeks flushed, and she chewed on her bottom lip.
Walker almost groaned. Joy was killing him. He removed his hand and reached for his cup.
She said, "The history of San Diego goes all the way back into the 1500s, but it wasn't until the early 1900s, when the rails provided a link to the east, that the city started to boom. And it was even the site of The World's Fair in 1915 and 1916. How I would have loved to have been there."
There was another silence, and Walker said, "Now tell me more about your Lest We Forget collection. I take it there are paintings in the collection from all the places you've visited."
Joy's eyes sparkled and Walker felt like a hero just by asking that simple question.
She said, "I've actually completed twenty-four paintings with twelve of them in the series. There are seven oils and five watercolors. Would you like to hear how I'm going to describe them on a brochure? Well…you know…if I ever get a showing?"
"I would love to hear it."
She looked embarrassed, but continued, "Okay, here goes.
Oil painter and watercolor artist Joy Abigail Ryder invites you to never forget the craggy mountains of Colorado or the desolate, beautifully stark hills of New Mexico. In Arizona it is purple sunsets overshadowing a desert of tall saguaro and squat prickly pear cactus. Farther west, California's aqua ocean crashes wildly against glittering sand crystals, while up north, a wagon train in Oregon settles for the night under a forest canopy.
She shrugged. "Well, something like that. I've been working on it."
The eloquence of her words was a painting in itself and stole Walker's breath. In a swift movement, he stood and pulled Joy into his arms. For a moment, he just held this precious woman against his heart. When he could no longer resist, he lowered his mouth to hers. By sheer force of will he kept the kiss gentle, even though he wanted explore her sweet mouth and devour it with hot kisses. She made a sighing sound and leaned into him. Lifting her arms, she cupped the back of his head and tangled her hands in his hair.
He increased the pressure of his mouth and wrapped his arms tightly around her, pulling her against his hard body. Her tiny gasp let him know she'd felt what she'd done to him. He lowered his head to her neck and suckled, and when he used his tongue to explore behind her ear, she moaned and pressed herself even tighter against him, as if trying to step into him. His erection hurt and felt wonderful at the same time. He hadn't felt so alive in over a year. He splayed his hands over her small waist and squeezed. He wanted to move his grip lower and cup her buttocks, lifting her softness higher against his hardness, but he knew she wasn't ready for that. A sound startled them and they jumped away from each other.
In the next instant, Misty walked into the room rubbing her eyes and holding her doll. She said, "I'm thirsty."
Joy rushed to the cupboard for a glass and Walker turned around to adjust his clothing. He heard Joy talking to Misty and after a few deep breaths, faced them. Joy wouldn't meet his eyes.
He said, "Joy, I can drive you home now. Misty can ride with us."
She nodded, but still didn't look at him.
Unbidden, his conscience started blasting him with recriminations.
Chapter Nineteen: Thunderstorm
On the Friday after Joy's encounter with Walker, she was trotting Murphy along the Oregon Trail on the Jeromes' land one last time to say goodbye to the history she had felt there. Instead of allowing herself to think about the intensity of Walker's kisses and caresses, something she thought about all the time, she focused on the pioneers who had traveled the trail. So far, she considered her wagon train painting to be her best creation. She'd completed it only a week earlier and now envisioned it in her mind—splashes of light fanning out from a dozen lanterns hanging from prairie schooners encamped around a center campfire of men, women, and children sharing the day's events in a comradery forged from months of traveling together.
Jake had taught her much about the early pioneers, having learned from his father and stepmother. And, to Joy's delight, two weeks previous, he and Pauline had driven her to his family's old homestead several miles outside Oregon City to meet his parents.
Cooper and Hallie Jerome were in their eighties, with Cooper pushing ninety. Jake had explained that arthritis and other age-related ailments kept his father close to home, but that Hallie remained active on their farm. He proudly related that her farming skills were legendary throughout Oregon.
At the farm, Jake introduced Joy to Benjamin and Blaze Wells, twin grandchildren of his stepbrother Tim. He also introduced Selena Keith, the granddaughter of his half sister, Maddie. He explained that the young adults had decided to live with their great-grandparents, not only because of their love for them, but to keep the farm going. He said that although they tilled fewer acres now, the produce was still legendary for its size and quality.
Also living on the homestead with them was a lovely lady who looked to be a few years younger than Hallie, but whose health was very poor. Before entering her bedroom for an introduction, Jake had said softly that she was bedridden most of the time. He had explained, "When Clarissa's health became so bad she was housebound, she sold a lucrative business in Pendleton with the intention of moving into a nursing home, but it was Hallie's insistence that brought her to the farm to live out her days among friends."
His words about a friendship that profound had put a lump in Joy's throat.
Hallie had led the way into the room. "Joy, I'd like you to meet my dear friend Clarissa Smith. We met on the Oregon Trail under, shall we say, strange circumstances."
Clarissa replied in a fragile voice, "Hallie's being discreet. I was a fancy gal with an eye for Cooper."
Joy's eyes widened.
Clarissa giggled like a young girl before lapsing into a spasm of coughing. When she was finally able to talk again, her voice sounded breathless. "But Cooper only had eyes for Hallie, even though me and the other ladies did our best to capture his attention." She paused and smiled sweetly. "He made the right choice."
Hallie sat in a chair beside Clarissa's bed and invited Joy to sit on the opposite side. Jake left the room to visit with his father. When Hallie and Clarissa began reminiscing life on the trail, Joy became transfixed. It was then that the inspiration for another painting was birthed. She would paint this bedroom scene to the exact detail—two elderly women, one bedridden and dying, the other sitting beside her friend holding her hand and chatting about fifty years of memories. That painting would also be added to her Lest We Forget collection.
For Joy, the day spent at Cooper and Hallie's farm became a precious memory to be reflected upon over her own lifetime.
Now, riding along the trail, she thought about the love that still simmered between Hallie and Cooper and it reminded her of the relationship her Grammy Abby and Grandpa Brant had had. Joy decided that she would never marry unless she could have that kind of relationship—a relationship built on trust and love; a relationship that would last throughout eternity. She sighed at the poetic nature of her thoughts.
Joy patted Murphy's neck. "Hey, boy, look at that stretch of road. Do you feel like galloping?"
The horse snorted, dipped his head as if to say yes, and Joy laughed aloud. "Oh Murphy, I'm going to miss you so much!"
To keep melancholy thoughts at bay, Joy slapped Murphy's rump and yelled, "Let's fly!"
At her command, the gelding sprinted with the wind and the thrill of the ride blinded Joy to anything but the cerulean sky with darkening clouds, mossy pines whizzing past, and Murphy's powerful stride. The ride was exhilarating but ended far too soon because the stretch of cleared road was short. Again, she was under a roof of trees. Murphy snorted as if in disgust at the briefness of the ride and Joy said, "I know. I know. When we get back to the pasture I'll let you run again."
As if in concert with her sadness, the air darkened and she opened her eyes. The clouds had become ominous. "Looks like a storm's brewing, Murphy. We better head back before we're drenched."
Murphy lazily lifted his head and she reached in her pocket for a sugar treat. He blew in her face and then placed soft lips against her palm to gobble his snack. Joy stood, hugged Murphy's neck, and then mounted. Returning to the trail, she traveled only as fast as was safe; however, when she reached the clear stretch of road, she loosened the reins and allowed Murphy to again gallop. They had almost reached the trees on the other side when a bolt of lightning pierced the sky and cracked the air with a boom that scared even Joy. Nearby, the noise of a splitting tree was loud, and coupled with another bolt and boom, the sight and sound was too much for Murphy and he reared upward. Joy held on and yelled comforting words, and just when she thought she'd settled him down, another lightning strike flashed and the accompanying thunder was ear shattering. Murphy reared again, this time toppling Joy to the ground. She landed with a thud and had the air knocked out of her.
Quite unexpectedly, hands touched her and a voice yelled, "Goddamn horse! I should have shot him when I had the chance! He's not fit to live!"
Joy finally sucked a breath into her hurting lungs and jerked her eyes open. Walker was kneeling beside her. She just stared into eyes made dark with an emotion that could have been hatred. He said in a commanding voice, "Don't move until I can feel for broken bones."
She nodded her understanding. Confused by his words about Murphy, she studied his face. Slowly, her breathing became normal. The lightening and thunder had moved farther away, but now rain began sprinkling them.
Walker finished his examination. "I don't think you've broken anything. Why don't you move your arms and legs, slowly at first?"
Joy did as he requested and saw relief replace his former anger. She was just about to ask him to help her up when he reached under her arms and legs and lifted her against his chest.
The rain began pelting them as he headed for the cover of trees. Gently, he set her on the ground under a fir tree and said, "I'll be right back."
Joy watched him run to Jake's mare, grab the reins, and lead the beast toward the trees. He secured the animal several feet away and then returned to her. He removed his cowboy hat, ran a hand through his hair, and squatted in front of her. "I wish I had a blanket to cover you with."
She said, "I'm really all right." The rain was coming down in a steady stream, but the forest canopy kept all but a few plops from landing on her. The frown on her face deepened. "What did you mean you should have shot Murphy?" She studied Walker's eyes. He returned her stare and his next words shocked her beyond speech.
"Murphy was the horse that killed my wife."
Time seemed to stand still with only the sound of rain breaking the silence.
Still holding her gaze, Walker said, "After my wife's funeral, I was leading Murphy into the forest to shoot him when Jake stopped me. He wanted to purchase him. I agreed." Walker picked up a stone and tossed it. "When I saw you lying on the ground, I wished I'd shot him."
Walker's confession was too much for Joy and she jumped to her feet. "I can't believe you never told me he was the horse your wife was riding. I thought we were friends and something like that should be shared. When I think of all the times I praised Murphy to you…and how you must have felt, it makes me ill!" She paused to catch her breath and then finished with, "And Jake was right to stop you."
Joy's emotional overload was now such that she couldn't remain still. Without considering her recent fall or Walker's concern, she turned and ran into the forest. Walker called her name, but she ignored him. He had lied to her, not outright, but by omission. She wasn't important enough for him to share something so…important. And that's what hurt the most. Her girlish fantasies had envisioned him falling in love with her, but this omission proved how silly her imaginings were. The fact that she was leaving in a few days and he hadn't asked her to extend her stay, brought a sob from the depths of her heart and her cry echoed in the forest.
Chapter Twenty: Under the Canopy
Walker jumped to his feet to follow Joy. He'd driven to the Jeromes to ask her to consider staying another month, but when he'd seen a storm brewing, he'd borrowed one of Jake's horses to find her.
He was an idiot. He should have told her long ago about Murphy, but she'd been so enamored with the horse that seeing the light fade in her eyes when she knew the truth, had kept him silent. He'd even come to accept that her belief in the horse, as well as Jake's, was justified, and his wife's death had only been a freak accident.
But when Murphy had galloped past him riderless, he'd galloped to locate Joy. Seeing her lying motionless on the ground was like history repeating itself. However, yelling the truth about Murphy while consumed with anger had been stupid. He had to apologize.
He started running after her. Her sobs, heard under their shelter of dripping leaves, wrenched his gut. He called her name, but she kept running. A short sprint brought him to within reach of her and he grabbed her around the waist, pulling the back of her to the front of him. She struggled to get away and cried out, "How could you not tell me? I hate you!"
He pulled her tighter, wrapping his arms around her flailing ones until she was imprisoned. She kicked backward, but her foot only grazed his shin. In a desperate attempt to calm her, he twisted her around and planted his mouth against hers.
Immediately she ceased struggling.
Walker's attempt to quiet Joy backfired and he moaned. Just as before, her small body felt so good against his large one. He deepened the kiss, reveling in reactions both physical and emotional that he had thought were gone forever. He loosened his grip, but she did not attempt another escape. His palms framed her face and he kissed her with the same passion he had kissed his wife. Momentarily, he felt a wave of guilt for craving Joy, but guilt was replaced by love and desire. When she responded to his kiss by wrapping her arms tightly around his neck like she had done before, he was lost to anyone and anything but her. Loving Joy could never be wrong.
She was not experienced at kissing, so he gentled his mouth. She arched up into him and made a little sound, as if pleading with him to again deepen the kiss, and God help him, he did. He ravaged her mouth and grazed his tongue over her lips. She opened for him and became his most excellent pupil. Soon, he wondered who was teaching whom.
Unable to stop himself, he lowered his hands to her bottom and lifted until her legs straddled his waist. Now her head was higher than his and she leaned over him, continuing their kisses. He belonged to her.
Moving his mouth to her neck, he kissed and suckled and then moved lower until he had contact with her breasts. She was small but perfectly formed and he imagined her naked beneath him. He was a doctor and knew the intricacies of a woman's body. He longed to see and feel and pleasure her before lunging deep into her sweetness.
There was only one thing he could do. He lifted his head away from her breasts, lowered her body until she was standing on the ground again, nipped her lips, and rasped, "Marry me, Joy."
He leaned back
to stare at her closed eyes. As if in a trance, she slowly opened them to reveal their beautiful mahogany color. Her gaze was unfocused. He asked, "Will you marry me?"
She blinked and said in a whisper, "You want to marry me?"
His mouth curved into a lopsided smile while his heart pounded unmercifully. "Yes, with all my heart. I love you."
She studied his eyes for so long he almost asked again. Finally, she said simply, "Yes, I'll marry you."
His half smile grew into a full one and slowly her mouth curved upward also. Walker pulled her against his heart, hugging her tightly, and bent to whisper in her ear. "We need to leave. Not only because we're getting drenched, but because I want you so much I ache. If you were to kiss me again, I'd lay you in the grass and have you, but that wouldn't be fair to you. You deserve a beautiful wedding ceremony and wedding night." He stepped away and extended his hand toward hers. She slipped her small palm against his and they entwined their fingers.
Before they reached the Oregon Trail, Joy tugged on Walker's hand to stop him. He looked down at her and waited. He thought he knew what she was about to say and he was right.
"Walker, we have to talk about Murphy."
He puffed a breath and glanced upward. Through the pine branches he could see blue sky appearing. He replied, "I know."
"He didn't purposely throw me. The lightning and thunder frightened him and made him bolt."
Walker looked back at her, considered her words, and finally said, "I promise to keep an open mind about Murphy because I trust your judgment."
Joy smiled and Walker had visions of her smiles over the years—the shy one she would give him when the preacher pronounced them husband and wife, the sated one after he made love to her, the smile with a giggle when she opened his Christmas presents, the tired smile after their children were born, the loving smile when he surprised her with anniversary gifts. Walker hadn't felt this happy in a long, long time. He was about to bend at the knees to brush a kiss over her lips, when a sound distracted them.