“Become what!” she yelled bitterly. Then she sat back, fighting her emotions. “I’m sorry, Emma.”
“I...it has to be your decision. I just want you to know you’ve fulfilled your obligations to the ranch and to your father.” Emma stopped there, not trusting herself to go further with this discussion. After what she had learned from Gwen yesterday, she could well imagine the turmoil in Heather’s mind.
“Thank you, again,” Heather said.
“Again?” Emma questioned.
“I can still hear the way you sounded when you told me about yourself. You made me face my own needs.”
“Hon, I hope I didn’t cause you to do something you’re regretting.”
She knew, Heather realized suddenly. Somehow, Emma knew. “No,” she said. “I’ve nothing to regret.” Heather forcefully maintained an even tone in her voice and managed an encouraging smile. “Besides, I don’t have time to think about men right now. Not if I’ve got to get ready for a show in three weeks.”
“Really?”
“Really,” Heather stated, understanding she had made the only decision she could. If Gwen thought she was good enough to take the chance of using her to replace a well-known artist, then she had no choice but to agree.
“That’s wonderful... My goodness, even your coffee tastes good this morning.” Both women laughed at that.
“Emma?” Heather called softly.
“It will work out,” Emma said.
“I know. What’s going on between Tom and Gwen?”
“How’d you find out already?”
“I heard them talking this morning.”
“You’re turning into a peeping Tom,” Emma admonished.
“They were standing under my window.”
“It’s no secret. I think Tom Farley fell head over heels in love with her the minute he saw her. And she’s nice, too,” Emma added.
“But she’s not a rancher. I think maybe Tom’s going to get hurt again.”
“Neither was Tom until five years ago—don’t forget that,” Emma reminded her. “Besides, it’s Tom’s business, and you have enough problems to keep you busy. Let them work out theirs by themselves.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Heather replied.
“Now, I’ll get Gwen so you can give her the news.”
~~~
The sun was setting; the change in the air told Heather that fact. The July heat had grown strong, but the evenings were a blessed relief. It had been hot in the studio as she, Gwen, and one of the men had finished the last of the packing. For four days, Heather and Gwen had worked continually, sorting, picking, choosing, only to reject all their choices and begin again, until, at last, they made their final decisions. They chose fifteen pieces in all: four busts, four animal figures, and seven large abstract pieces. The abstracts were the ones that Gwen believed would bring the highest praise from the critics.
“Heather,” Gwen said, taking a deep breath and wiping the perspiration from her forehead, “I’ve made all the arrangements. The freight company will be here tomorrow, and in three days, everything will arrive in Santa Fe. No,” Gwen said cutting off Heather’s next remark. “Everything will be fine. The shipping company is the only one I use. They specialize in art works. You don’t have to worry about that.”
“I can’t help it. I guess I’m nervous,” she admitted.
“Don’t be. The pieces will be safe and you’ll be a big hit. The first press releases were sent to the papers yesterday.”
“Gwen, what press releases?” After four days of working closely with Gwen, Heather had found out how little she knew about the other end of the art business.
“I spoke with my assistant right after you agreed to the show. I gave her your background and she wrote up several releases, which she sent to the papers. If the newspapers are interested, they print them, and most interview you when you get to Santa Fe.”
Heather listened and digested everything Gwen told her. “Do you think they’ll be interested?”
“Heather, they’ll have no choice. If only to see the work replacing Ainsworth’s.”
“And to laugh at a blind artist’s perceptions?”
“No.”
“How can you be so sure?” Heather asked.
“Because no one will be told you’re blind until after opening night.”
Heather felt tears of love build in her eyes at Gwen’s words. This was something she had not expected. She’d expected Gwen to make a big deal out of the fact that she was blind.
“Th...thank you,” she mumbled. Then she felt the tall woman’s arms around her and put her own around Gwen.
“You’re welcome. Now don’t make me cry. You’re a wonderful artist, blind or not. Don’t forget that.”
“I’ll try not to.”
“Good. Come to dinner with Tom and Gregg and myself tonight?” Gwen asked.
Heather felt a momentary loss but shrugged it away. “I’d love to,” she said with a smile.
“Okay. Let’s double-check these last three crates before we clean up.” '
Less than an hour later Heather stood under her shower. Washing the grime and dust from her skin, she smiled at the thought of the friendship that was growing strong between her and Gwen. Gwen was so open, so warm, and so giving that Heather had found it difficult not to question her background and learn more about Reid. She had fought the impulses, deciding what she did not know would make it easier for her to accept the loss of the man she loved.
By the time she had finished her shower and dressed, everyone was ready. Heather sat in the back seat with Gregg, while Tom and Gwen sat up front. Not only was Heather hungry, but she was looking forward to having company while she ate dinner.
Suddenly another thought struck her. How was Gregg taking this new situation with his father and Gwen? Tomorrow, Heather decided, she would have a talk with Gregg. She wasn’t trying to be nosy—she just loved the boy and wanted him to be happy.
Sitting back and letting the cool evening air rush across her face, Heather smiled. In two days, she would be gone. She and Gwen would drive to Reno, fly to Albuquerque, and then drive to Santa Fe. Even with the hurt of losing Reid in her mind, a new excitement was growing. She had been waiting for a long time for this opportunity, and now she found she wanted it very badly.
She would be staying with Gwen at her home, and in a few days, the present exhibit at the Hunter Gallery would close. During the next week, she and Gwen would set up for her show.
Her first show! Her unveiling as an artist, she thought.
EIGHTEEN
“Are you sure I have everything?” Heather asked, doubt filling her voice and making it quaver slightly.
“Everything, right down to your panty hose,” Emma replied. “You’re all set. Even Polaris has his ticket and his bowls. Relax. Go for a walk. It will help you calm down. You’re as nervous as Tom is upset.”
“How bad is he?”
“He’s hurting, but he’ll survive. I heard him make plane reservations for the show. He’s going to be there opening night. And I don’t think it’s only because of you.”
“No,” agreed Heather, “I don’t think so either. He sure did fall hard.”
“So did Gwen. She’s as down and out as he is.”
“I’m glad.”
“You would be. I think there’re some very good possibilities for those two. It’ll take time. And,” Emma added, “Gregg likes her a lot.”
“I know. I had a talk with Gregg yesterday. He does like her, and that makes me feel good.”
“Hon,” Emma began. Heather heard the change in her voice and knew what was coming. “How are you?”
“Honestly?”
“No other way,” Emma said.
“I’m surviving. I have to. I haven’t spoken to Reid since he got back today. I don’t know if I want to,” Heather admitted. “It hurts a lot.”
“I know. Maybe your leaving will help.”
“Help? Being a thousand miles away can’t p
ossibly help.”
“You can never tell. Maybe he’ll realize what he’s losing,” Emma told her.
“Or maybe he’ll breathe easier when I’m gone.”
“Maybe,” Emma responded. “Now, everything’s done. You go take a walk.”
“Yes, ma’am!” Heather said as she saluted and left the room. She would miss Emma very much, but she also knew she had a wonderful opportunity; one she’d wanted almost her entire life.
The night air was warm and pleasant as Heather strolled along. Polaris was at her side, pressing against her every so often, more to remind her he was there than to guide her around the familiar land.
She passed the corral, pausing to listen to the stallion within. She stepped to the rail and cooed to him. A moment later, the large bay came over to her outstretched hand and nuzzled it affectionately.
“Hi, fella. Like your new home?” she asked.
“He should—he’s the new king,” said Reid. Heather jumped at the sound of his voice, startled because, uncharacteristically, she had not heard him approach.
“Sorry—didn’t mean to spook you.”
“It’s okay,” Heather replied, fighting to regain her equilibrium. Along with the surprise had come another rush of emotion, making her mind spin numbly.
“I understand Gwen discovered your talents and is stealing you away from the ranch.”
“Not quite stealing. Did you get your problem taken care of?” she asked, trying to regain her poise.
“Everything’s settled,” he replied. Heather noticed the curt way he spoke and decided again not to pry. She heard Reid take a deep breath and felt the heat radiating from his body. She willed herself to relax, but failed.
“Heather, I’m sorry for the way things turned out. I really am. But it just couldn’t happen.”
“Why, Reid? At least be honest with me now. I’ll be gone in the morning and you won’t see me for at least six weeks, maybe longer. Please talk to me. Tell me why.”
Reid looked at her, gazed at the face he had missed so much while he was in Albuquerque, and forced his mouth to work.
“It’s simple. It’s so simple it’s hard. Heather, I have nothing. I live a life that takes me from place to place and I do the work I love. I have nothing to bring into our relationship. You own this ranch. I have nothing to bring to balance the difference. I can’t live off of you. I just can’t accept that.”
Heather listened intensely. She heard what he thought of as their predicament. She also heard the pain. Lifting her arm slowly, Heather reached out and caressed his cheek. “You’re wrong, Reid. Very wrong. You have the one thing which is more important.”
“What?” Reid asked as his hand covered hers.
“That’s what you have to learn. Reid, I love you, but it doesn’t seem to be enough for you. Take care of the ranch,” she said, pulling her hand back and walking away.
Reid watched her go, puzzled. Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw Tom and his sister. He thrust away the haunting thoughts invading his mind and went over to them.
“Evening, Reid,” Tom said with a smile.
“Evening, Tom. Mind if I steal my sister for a few minutes?”
“So long as you return her,” Tom bandied. He walked away, moving toward the spot where Reid and Heather had been only moments before.
“Gwen, watch out for her,” Reid said.
“I plan to. Reid, what’s wrong with you?”
“What are you talking about?” he asked evasively.
“No games. I think you’ve about run out of them. I saw what happened the night before you left. I saw and heard it all. So did Tom.”
“I suppose you told everyone?” he asked, stunned by his sister’s words.
“You don’t give me much credit, do you? No, Reid, your secret’s safe. Tom knows but he won’t say anything. He even likes you.”
“Gwen—”
“When’s it going to end? Reid, when are you going to stop hurting the people who love you?”
“I don’t want to hurt anyone, Gwen. I don’t,” Reid told her. He gazed into his sister’s eyes and saw himself reflected there. “Take care of her, please,” he finished. Turning, Reid walked away, his shoulders straight, his head held high and unmoving.
~~~
“My Lord, it’s hot here,” Heather said as she opened the car door.
“Just wait until tonight. It’ll make your ranch feel like the midday desert. Nights in Santa Fe are chilly,” Gwen told her. “Let me take you inside and then I’ll get the bags.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m blind, I’m not crippled. I can carry my own bags. Do you think the truck got here yet?” Heather asked in a quick rush of words. Ever since the truck had picked up the sculptures, she’d been worried. Gwen told her it was natural—all artists felt the same way. Heather couldn’t know from experience but empathized with her peers if they went through what she was going through now.
“Stop it!” Gwen admonished as she handed Heather two suitcases. “I suppose Polaris can carry his own bag, too,” she said in jest.
“Just hold it for him and say, ‘Take,’ ” Heather told her with a smile. Gwen did and laughed delightedly when Polaris took the bag holding his two bowls.
“Okay, follow me,” she said.
“Gwen…”
“Sorry. Walk straight. I’ll tell you when to stop.” Heather stopped when Gwen told her to. She put her bags down and waited until the door was open. Then, with Gwen taking one arm, Heather lifted a suitcase and let Gwen guide her inside. The air was cool and fresh without any trace of mustiness.
“Laureen, my assistant, came by this morning and aired the place out. Now wait here until I get the rest of the things.”
Heather waited, content to smell the new scents and to think for a moment. The flight from Reno to Albuquerque had been pleasant. They had flown coach and had taken three seats. Heather was on the aisle, Gwen next to her, and Polaris in the window seat. Because she was blind, and Polaris her service dog, the airline did not protest.
In Albuquerque, Gwen had retrieved her car and they’d driven straight to Santa Fe and Gwen’s house. For the entire hour’s ride, Gwen had kept up a running commentary about the countryside and the people populating it.
Now, with a moment alone, Heather realized Gwen had kept the conversation going non-stop from the very minute they’d left Tom at the gate and boarded the plane. First, it was art and then a guided tour of the New Mexican countryside. Was Gwen trying to make Heather feel better or herself, when she’d left Tom? she wondered.
“All set,” Gwen said as the front door closed. “Your bedroom is straight down this hall, on the left.” As Gwen spoke, she took Heather’s arm and guided her along the hallway. Inside the guest bedroom, Gwen explained the room’s layout, and after Heather was unpacked, Gwen took her on a slow tour of the house so that she could learn her new quarters.
Polaris was at her side at all times and he, too, learned the house. “Now, would you like something to drink or a shower?”
“Both!” Heather declared.
“In that case, first a drink to celebrate your arrival and then a shower to get the New Mexican grit off your skin.”
As they drank a glass of cold wine, the telephone rang. Gwen answered it, and when she hung up, she turned to Heather. “That was Laureen. The truck arrived safely. It’s parked at the gallery, and first thing tomorrow morning you and I will supervise the unloading.”
Heather breathed a sigh of relief and smiled at her new friend. “Thank you.”
“It’s all part of my job. Now, let’s take our showers and go to dinner. You like Mexican?”
“I like food,” Heather said with a laugh.
An hour and a half later, Heather and Gwen arrived at the restaurant. With Gwen’s help in choosing her outfit, Heather wore a cinnamon-colored cotton dress and tan shoes. She had done her hair up, tied in a small knot in the back, and wore a single gold chain around her neck. She had meticulously applied her
makeup, using her favorite blue shadow and just the slightest hint of blush on her cheeks. The small tan clutch rested comfortably in the crook of her arm.
As they entered the restaurant, a momentary hush fell on Heather’s ears. Not knowing the reason made her feel self-conscious but she did not allow anything to show as they followed the host to their table. Gwen graciously guided her to the waiting chair before she sat.
“Drinks?” asked the maître d’.
“Heather?”
“White wine,” Heather responded.
“The same,” said Gwen. Just as Gwen started to say something to Heather, she stopped. “Watch it, here comes trouble.” Heather felt someone step next to the table.
“Gwen, darling, I was shattered to hear about Ainsworth. Whatever are you going to do?”
Heather heard the woman’s falsely sad tones and mentally cringed for her friend.
“Ainsworth...My goodness, Alicia, it was a relief to have him go. I was waiting for a break so that I could bring a really talented artist in.”
“Oh? Who is it?”
“I’ll send you an invite, dear—have no fear.” Heather almost lost the laugh she was holding back at Gwen’s perfect imitation of the woman’s voice.
When the woman left, the noise level inside the restaurant picked up again; their drinks arrived and menus placed on the table.
“I thought everyone stopped talking because they were watching me,” Heather admitted.
“You’re not that beautiful,” Gwen said.
“No, because I’m—”
“No,” Gwen said, cutting her off. “You’re not the first blind person or the most beautiful to come here. They were surprised to see me in public. Everyone knows that Ainsworth was under exclusive contract to me in Santa Fe. Jumping to another gallery is supposed to shame the loser.”
“But not you,” Heather stated.
“I was raised differently. When you have two older brothers, you learn how not to be embarrassed by anything. I didn’t introduce you to Miss Bitch for a reason. I’ll explain it later. Now, what do you like to eat?”
“Food. You order,” Heather told her as she sat back and listened to the voices floating around her. By the time dinner was finished, Heather had learned a great deal more about the tightly knit art community she was in the midst of.
Cry Mercy, Cry Love Page 16