Cry Mercy, Cry Love

by Monica Barrie

  Heather went to the clay and let her fingers roam over the surface of the partially completed sculpture. The nose was almost finished and the eyes outlined. She wanted to recheck them, not trusting her memory to be as accurate as she wanted.

  Again, Heather thought about the night, the kiss they had shared and the words they’d spoken. Since she had been a child, she had always gone after what she wanted—more so because she was blind. Heather had built her inner strength to a point that refused to allow her to give up on any goal she had set for herself. This part of her demanded she fight for it—perhaps, she thought, because she was blind and had to rely on herself and her instincts more than she would have had to had she had her sight. Heather knew she wanted Reid Hunter: she also wanted more than just an affair.

  She was so absorbed in her thoughts, she did not hear Reid enter the studio.

  “Miss Heather?” she heard him call.

  “I thought we agreed about that,” she said.

  “We did. But—” Reid left the rest unsaid.

  “All right, Reid, we’ll play by your antiquated rules. I guess I don’t have much choice. Sit over here,” she told him, pointing to the same stool he had first seen Gregg on.

  Reid watched her face as she spoke, feeling each word she said as if they were being shot at him. He shook his head, sad to be hurting her but knowing it was for the best. Even as he moved and watched her moisten the clay, he felt his desire stir again. With the iron willpower of years of practice, Reid forced the emotion down and made himself comfortable on the stool.

  “I’m ready,” he said.

  “Yes, sir,” she replied.

  Feeling her heart begin its increased pounding, Heather walked to him. When her thigh touched his knee, she paused. Then, slowly, she raised her hands and began to “see” his face.

  She started with his eyes, gently passing her fingers across them, feeling the softness of the lids and the feathery fineness of his lashes. Her fingers glided over his eyebrows and then the sides of his eyes. She touched the indented lines of the crows-feet, and her stomach fluttered again.

  “Smile.” When he did, and the lines beneath her fingers furrowed deeper, and she explored these to their ends. Slowly, reluctantly, she drew her hands away. “You can relax for a few minutes,” she told him as she walked back to the clay.

  There she began to work on the eyes. As she did, she sensed Reid behind her, studying the work she had already done. “It’s still in the roughest stage.”

  “How long have you been working on it?” he asked.

  “Almost a month,” she answered honestly.

  “I think the nose is a touch big.”

  “No, it’s exact.”

  “You only saw it once.”

  “It made an impression. Be quiet for a few minutes and let me work.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And stop calling me ma’am!” she yelled, louder than she’d intended. “Sorry.”

  Reid didn’t reply as he backed away from her. He knew he shouldn’t push, but he was trying to lighten things up. He returned to the stool, contenting himself with watching her work.

  “Reid?” Heather called softly as her fingers molded the clay.

  “Yes?”

  “Do you always stay up that late?”

  “I wasn’t up,” Reid said, knowing what she was talking about and surprised he was admitting the truth. “I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep.”

  “Does it happen a lot?”

  “Enough,” he replied. Heather sensed intuitively he was hiding something behind his words but decided not to force it.

  For the next fifteen minutes Heather’s fingers probed, patted, and smoothed the clay until she had what she wanted. When she was satisfied, she dipped her hands in the basin, rinsing off the clay, and dried them.

  “The forehead now,” she said as she moved to Reid again. Her hands went to his skin. She traced the area from his eyebrows to his hairline, following the hairline until it ended in sideburns and then returned to his forehead. She traced the three deep grooves that were there, and then made him wrinkle his forehead to better grasp the mobility of his face. When she was done, she left him quickly and returned to the clay.

  It had been easier this time, Heather realized. She had her emotions under control and refused to allow her body to betray her. If he didn’t want her, she would not force herself on him. At least, that’s what she tried to tell herself. Then she remembered the intensity of his kiss and the way he had drawn her to him. He wanted her and she knew it.

  “Do you dream a lot?” Heather asked, using her words to break the patterns her thoughts were taking.

  “A fair amount.”

  “What’s it like?” she asked.

  “My dreams?” Reid’s voice sounded strained to Heather’s ears.

  “I’m not trying to pry into your dreams, just making conversation,” she said. “I dream, but mine are very different. I’ve know people about dreaming in color, about seeing things that are both real and surreal. I was just wondering about yours.”

  “Why are yours different?” Reid asked. The moment the words left his mouth, he’d realized how foolish they were. “That was a stupid question,” he said.

  “Not really,” Heather told him. “You have to understand I’ve never seen, ever, and I don’t know what color is like. In my dreams, I can hear, feel, and I guess see, but I’m not sure. I think when I see in my dreams that what I’m seeing is my imagination.”

  “I’d trade imagination for reality,” Reid said suddenly.

  Heather felt a different type of tension fill the air following Reid’s words. Before, there had been an electricity permeating the studio and making them careful. Now the charged atmosphere seemed directed toward Reid and his words.

  “Is that why you haven’t settled down yet?” Heather asked, holding her breath as she did.

  “Partly,” said Reid. “How’s the sculpture coming?” he asked, changing the subject and the tone of his voice. He was getting into dangerous water and he didn’t want to pursue it any further.

  “I’ll respect your privacy, Mr. Hunter.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” Heather said quickly. Then she began to laugh. When she settled down, she finally spoke. “You know, Mr. Hunter, we’re both adults who are in a…a different situation. Why don’t we try to relax and enjoy each other’s company instead of being so formal?”

  “Miss Heather...”

  “Can’t you understand? Reid, I’m trying to be friendly. I’m trying to pretend the other night never happened. I’m trying to make you relax.”

  Reid looked at her for a long-drawn-out moment before he spoke. “I know. And I appreciate it, Heather.”

  “Good. Now, I’m finished with you for tonight. You’re free to go.”

  “I don’t think so,” he murmured in a barely audible whisper. Heather caught herself and did not let him know she had heard. Even as low as the words were, they sent a thrill racing through her. “I’ll see you in the morning,” Reid added.

  “Good night,” Heather replied as she turned back to the clay.

  Reid left, walking slowly, taking his time. His thoughts focused on Heather Strand, and nothing seemed to be able to tear them away. Reid knew he should leave, get his things together and get the hell away. He was playing with fire, and although he didn’t care if the fired burned him, he would not allow her to be hurt. The problem was he knew if he became involved with her, she would be hurt. Heather had suffered enough in her life without adding Reid’s problems to it.

  Reid stopped on the porch of his small house and sat on one of the chairs. He lit a cigarillo, drawing deeply on the smoke as he tried to force away, once again, the emotions that kept filling his thoughts.

  EIGHT

  Each evening meal was getting harder to finish, knowing afterward she would go to the studio, meet Reid, work on the sculpture, and “see” his face. Heather was almost finished wit
h him, as far as needing him to sit. She’d completed the rough sculpting, except for a few minor details, which would be taken care of tonight, she thought, ignoring the blood pounding in her ears.

  No, the hard part was acting normal, pretending she felt nothing for him and knowing deep down within her he felt the same attraction toward her.

  Heather admitted she was confused, to herself at least, about why she felt the way she did toward Reid. She didn’t want to. She didn’t want any emotional entanglement in her life. She had sworn that after her one time in college she would not have a man in her life. She had her art and the ranch, which was all she needed. Yet, her dreams and her thoughts all called her a liar.

  The sound of the typewriter in the office reminded her Emma was still hard at work. Emma needed to be off tomorrow, Friday, and in order to do so she had to set up the payroll today for Reid to have on Saturday.

  Heather took her plate with the half-eaten food on it to the sink. She put it down and turned. She needed to talk to someone, and the only woman she could speak with was Emma.

  She walked through the house quietly, trying to build up enough courage to tell her friend her problem and at the same time to be open and honest about it. The problem was the honesty. Reid had put enough doubt into her mind, when he’d told her why they could not be lovers to make her wonder about seeking Emma’s counsel. When she opened the office door, Heather began to doubt the wisdom of what she was doing.

  The typewriter stopped its clacking as soon as Heather stepped inside. “Hi, hon, finished with dinner?”

  “Yes. I just stopped by to see how you’re doing,” Heather said.

  “Another hour and I’ll be finished.”

  “Excited?” Heather asked.

  “At my age, if I got too excited I’d have a heart attack,” Emma informed her gravely.

  “Stop being so blasé. You haven’t seen your nephew in five years. You have to be excited.”

  “I am, hon, believe me I am. You know, he graduated with honors and was accepted for his residency at Johns Hopkins. We finally have someone with brains in the family,” Emma finished proudly.

  “Besides you, you mean,” Heather added. She knew the smile she put on her mouth didn’t look as happy as she sounded.

  “How’s your latest model doing?”

  “Fine,” she replied, fighting the quaver in her voice.

  “Look, young lady, I’ve been watching you mope around here for days. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You don’t look like nothing.”

  “I don’t know how I look,” she snapped back.

  “But you know how you sound. C’mon, hon, this is Emma you’re talking to. ’Fess up,” she admonished, undaunted by Heather’s sharp words.

  “You know, I came in here to talk to you but I don’t think I’m ready yet,” Heather said truthfully.

  “Well, then, as down at the mouth as you look, I guess I’ll just have to cancel my trip. I don’t want to be a thousand miles away thinking you might need me.”

  Heather stiffened. “You’ll do nothing of the sort! You’re going to visit your family, and that’s all there is to it!” Heather heard Emma shift in the chair and heard the funny sound she always associated with Emma, a soft whooshing of the chair seat filling with air as Emma stood. Heather knew she was standing now. She regretted her decision to speak to Emma and should have realized she had to work it out by herself.

  “Really, Emma, it’s something I have to handle myself.”

  “You know what? I think you can’t handle this yourself. You never come to me when you should. What is it? Is it a man?”

  Heather wondered if Emma could read her mind. It wasn’t the first time she’d thought so either. She nodded her head slightly.

  “Do I know him?” Emma probed. This time Heather shook her head. “Heather,” Emma began, and Heather felt her friend’s arm fall comfortingly around her shoulders. “I know everything that happens at this ranch. And I know there hasn’t been any man a-callin’ on you.”

  “The problem is, it’s someone on the ranch,” Heather admitted in a hushed voice, secure in Emma’s warmth.

  “He’s a hell of a man,” Emma said.

  “You don’t know who it is.”

  “Heather, since the day Reid Hunter started, I’ve seen the change in you. It was only a matter of time before you admitted it.”

  “But it doesn’t make any difference. I’m the boss and he’s the foreman. Besides, who’d want a blind woman?” Heather finished bitterly.

  She felt Emma stiffen next to her and then relax. “I’ve never heard you say anything so foolish in all the time I’ve known you.”

  “Well, I feel foolish.”

  “But you’re not an idiot. Being blind has nothing to do with it.”

  “I know,” Heather whispered, “but it’s either that, or I’m not pretty enough, or—” Emma interrupted her before she could think of anything else.

  “He’s too damned young to be one of the old breed. But he is, isn’t he?” Emma asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you really feel it, deep down in your heart?” Emma asked in a hushed voice. Heather nodded slowly. “How does he feel?”

  “I...I don’t know. I think he feels the same way, but all he said to me was it can’t be.”

  “I know the feeling. Heather, I’m going to give you some advice. You can take him or leave him…. But if you don’t take him, you’ll have only yourself to blame.”

  Heather heard what her friend said, but only the first words really penetrated. “You know the feeling?” she echoed.

  Emma’s voice sounded far away and sad as she spoke. “Yes, I know the feeling. What you’re going through happened to me thirty years ago.”

  Emma sighed, then guided Heather to a chair next to hers. When both women sat, Emma spoke.

  “I was almost twenty. My father owned a small ranch outside of Butte. We had fifteen hands working for us, and one of them—Jim Garber was his name—was the most handsome, devil-may-care cowboy you ever met. The minute I saw him, I fell in love. He was tall, and slim, and sat in a saddle like he was born to it.

  “Well, during the summer I started riding in the evenings—just a little ride while there was still light. I would ride out from the ranch—not far—and enjoy the land and the early stars that were beginning to come out. After about a week, I had company. Jim started to ride with me. He’d meet me after I was already riding, and we’d ride for half an hour, never speaking, just riding and enjoying the horses and the country.

  “I don’t know how it started, but one night we ended up in each other’s arms. Heather, it was beautiful. I was in love, and he was in love with me. Well, as we returned to the house, Jim stopped where he always did and said good night. I didn’t understand. We were in love, and there was nothing wrong with it.

  “That was when I learned the rules. He got off his horse and helped me down. We walked, and he talked.

  He told me why no one could ever know about what had happened. He told me if we wanted to keep on seeing each other it would have to be secretly. I argued with him, told him my father wouldn’t care.

  “He said to me that even if my father didn’t mind, the rest of the boys would. They would think he was trying to marry into the ranch. I told him we’d run away. He said ‘no. It wouldn’t work that way’.

  “No matter how much I cried, no matter what I said, I couldn’t shake the way he felt. I learned a lot that night, and over the next weeks, I found out more. I talked with my friends and listened to what they said. Jim had been right. It would never work.”

  “So you didn’t see him anymore?” Heather asked, almost biting her lip at her interruption.

  “It wasn’t that easy. I told you I was in love with him. I was, deeply, and he was in love with me. We kept on seeing each other for almost two years, living a secret life that was hell. I wouldn’t give him up, and he wouldn’t bend an inch. Finally, the day came
when he told me he was leaving, he had to leave so that I could find someone else and have a real life.

  “I begged him not to go, I told him there was no one else for me. A week later Jim was gone. I never saw him again. And I never found anyone I could love as much again.” When Emma finished, Heather raised her hands to her friend’s face. She felt the tears on Emma’s cheeks and pulled her friend into her arms. After a few moments, Emma drew away.

  “Now, I told you my story for only one reason. To make you to see what you might be getting yourself into and to see Reid was telling you the truth, as far as he can see it.”

  “Did you regret it?” Heather asked.

  Emma took her hand and squeezed it gently. “Not for one minute. I had two years with the man I love, and it’s lasted me a lifetime. I wouldn’t have given that up for anything.”

  “Then you think I should—”

  “I don’t think anything,” Emma interrupted. “My advice is simple. Do what you have to, but if you decide to force things with Reid, go in with your mind open and know what the results might be. But, I have to tell you something else. Reid Hunter is no ordinary ranch hand. I don’t know why I feel that, but I do. There’s more to him than just being a cowboy.”

  “I know there’s something... Emma, thank you. Don’t worry about me. Enjoy your family.”

  “I will. And, Heather, you’re my family. Don’t forget that either.”

  “I won’t,” Heather said as she stood and started to the door. She touched the dial of her watch and knew Reid would be waiting. “I’ll see you on Monday,” she said as she closed the office door.

  ~~~

  Heather stood in the studio, her hands clean from the clay, and finished for the night. The session had gone smoothly and Heather knew she’d been unusually quiet. Emma’s words kept echoing in her mind as she worked, and she couldn’t trust her voice to keep up any real conversation. She knew that Reid had noticed her silence, but he had been good enough not to say anything. Now, she thought, she should go to bed and sleep, but she knew tonight, like the night weeks ago, she would find sleep a hard sanctuary to find.

  Heather closed the studio and walked toward the corral. She had no destination in mind, but had a need for physical activity. She walked slowly, with even strides, Polaris at her side. The evening air was warm—unusually warm and still for this time of year. Next month it would get warmer, but nothing like the lowlands. She was glad she wore only a light cotton top and her jeans.