Return to Paradise

by Carol Grace

  Christine had ceased to think. Since her outburst she'd lost control. So had Parker. That left nobody in control and that was fine with her. All she knew was how much she wanted him. It didn't matter how, it didn't matter where. But it had to be now. Before she burned up with the fire that consumed her and there was nothing left but a tiny heap of ashes. She thrust the sweater over her head. Then she went for the buttons on his shirt. But he was in the way, and she was getting desperate. When his mouth took the taut peak of one aching breast she dug her fingernails into her palms and shuddered with pleasure. She felt she just might explode into tiny pieces of light.

  With clumsy fingers he slid her skirt over her hips. She helped with the slip and the stockings and her silk bikini. And still he was dressed. She wanted to see him, feel his skin, taste him as he tasted her. All of him. She was frantic. But he wouldn't let her go. His hands pressed down on hers, his eyes bored into hers, blazing fire, blazing passion and need. And something else, something she'd never seen before, anywhere, ever.

  This was no time to wonder what it was. No time to ask where it was leading. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew he'd be sorry for this, just as she knew she wouldn't. The flames were too hot, the pleasure too intense, the need too great to feel regret. Not now, not ever. He slid his hands under her hips and lifted her up to him. Giving him access to her most intimate secrets. Her skin burned as his kisses trailed across her stomach and continued on downward. She gripped the edge of the cushion beneath her, and arched her body, unable to wait, unable to breathe.

  And then she remembered. With the clarity her mind had lacked before, she knew why she couldn't continue to encourage Parker. He wanted more children. He'd expected a boy when Sarah was born, Emilio wanted a grandson to carry on the name, inherit the land. She couldn't have children, but Parker didn't know that. She had to tell him. But she couldn't. Not now. She could only pull back and withdraw. It wasn't fair to lead him on and then tell him she was infertile. She covered her face with her hands and pulled herself to a sitting position.

  Parker froze. Despite the efficient central heating, a chill fell over the room. He felt like he'd been kicked in the gut by a six-hundred-pound ram. Something was wrong. Something had changed. While he was losing himself in the wonder of her body, she was pulling away from him, mentally and physically. And he didn't know why. He pressed his knee into the couch and stood. He didn't look at her. He couldn't.

  "What's wrong?" he demanded, shoving his shirt into his pants.

  She didn't answer. She sat up and gathered her clothes from the floor as if nothing had happened. "Nothing. I just don't think we ought to be making love at this point in our relationship."

  "Our relationship? Is that what you call it?"

  When he finally glanced at her, she'd pulled her sweater over her head and had her skirt in her lap. Her hair clung to her forehead in damp tendrils, her mouth was red and swollen from their kisses. He didn't know how she felt or what she wanted. All he knew was that she didn't want to make love with him. And it was a good bet she wanted him out of there. But he had something else to say first.

  "You at least owe me an explanation, don't you think? Of what's going on here. Something that makes a little more sense. I'm accustomed to women walking out on me with no explanation, but I expect more from you. Or I did."

  "Wait a minute," she said, wadding her clothes into a ball in her hands. "You don't know me at all. Not anymore. You never will, either, because you're only interested in what happened to you. Not in me. Not in Sarah. You can't accept her for what she is because she's not what you want her to be. With me it doesn't matter. I'm not part of your life. We can walk away from each other right now and it won't matter to either of us. But it matters to Sarah. She's your daughter and she's more like you than you know. If you weren't so pigheaded stubborn, you'd see it." Her cheeks burned and her eyes blurred with anger.

  Parker stared at her, struck dumb by her words. How she'd turned what happened here tonight to an indictment of his treatment of Sarah was more than he could fathom. Then he left. Walked out of her house and out of her life.

  Christine buried her head in her hands. She'd heard his footsteps, heard the door close behind him and his car start up. Then the tears came. Flowed like water, soaking her skirt and sweater. What a way for it to end. With her past coming back into her life to ruin her future. As if she had a future with Parker. She didn't. Especially now, after she realized that no man wants a woman who can't bear his children. She should have told him, but it was too painful to talk about it. All he really needed to know was that they weren't right for each other. And he definitely must realize that by now. She'd been angry, but she meant every word she'd said, and she wasn't sorry she'd said them.

  She took a shower and went to bed, but not to sleep. She'd broken off with Parker for good. She wouldn't apologize. She wouldn't have the chance. He was angry. Angry and puzzled. She didn't blame him. He wasn't expecting a tirade from her. Somehow a tirade had been easier than the sad truth. And yet she couldn't forget the look on his face before he left. Surprise, hurt and anger.

  Parker didn't sleep, either. He paced his hotel room until dawn. He replayed every word she'd said, and nothing made any sense. She wanted him and he wanted her. He didn't know where they were going with their "relationship" but he wanted to find out. Evidently she didn't. He relived every hungry kiss and every touch until his brain had turned to mush and his body begged for mercy.

  She was wrong about one thing. They could walk away from each other, but it did matter, at least to him. He'd missed her. He missed her now. And she wasn't right about how he felt about Sarah. He only wanted what was best for her. How could Christine know what that was? How could she understand how a parent felt if she had no children of her own? He finally took a hot shower and got dressed for his appointment with the headmistress.

  His head felt twice the size of the soccer ball the girls' team was kicking on the green field in front of the office. He'd feel better when he had his conference. It always gave him a warm glow to hear how well his daughter was doing. It reinforced his decision to send her away to school. Enabled him to stick to his plan of keeping her there despite her protests.

  He straightened his tie, glad he'd brought an extra since the one he'd worn last night looked like it had been balled up and mashed by the fashion police along with his shirt and pants. For a fleeting moment he wondered what condition Christine's soft gray sweater was in, and her silk and lace bra, then he took a deep breath and walked into the office. He stopped in his tracks. Instead of just the headmistress, the dean and the school counselor were waiting for him.

  "Sit down, Mr. Robinson," the headmistress said without a trace of a smile. "I'm sorry this meeting can't be as positive as those we've had in the past."

  He sat down feeling light-headed and confused.

  "I'm afraid Sarah's broken one of our important rules," the counselor interjected, her eyes fastened on him.

  "But I just saw her last night," he protested.

  "Yes, we understand. At that time you told Sarah there was no chance she would not be continuing at the Academy next year, is that right?"

  "Of course."

  "When she returned to her dorm she evidently brought out a package of cigarettes and smoked one."

  Parker stared at the woman in disbelief. "But she doesn't smoke," he said.

  "Which explains why she was coughing so badly when the dorm was evacuated."

  "Evacuated?" he said, still stunned.

  "After the fire alarm went off," the headmistress explained.

  "They're very sensitive," the counselor interjected.

  "And the fire department arrived."

  "Oh, my God."

  "Our sentiments exactly. The school, being built in the last century, is composed of many historic buildings, as you are aware, which are extremely vulnerable to fire and other natural disasters. Unaccustomed to smoking as she is, your daughter might have left the ciga
rette burning... and any number of catastrophes might have occurred, including loss of property or even life. Nothing happened except that the local fire department spent their valuable time and considerable efforts to come to our aid and all of us here endured a severe scare. It's what could have happened that really frightens us."

  "Of course," Parker said. His daughter. No matter how high-spirited, how mischievous, she'd never done anything like this before. "What... what kind of punishment ..."

  "There's only one thing to be done in a case like this," the headmistress said. "The rules are clear. Immediate expulsion."

  Parker gasped.

  The counselor held one hand up. "But in view of her excellent academic record, we want her to complete her school year. Perhaps at home under your supervision? We will send all materials with Sarah, as well as her final examinations, with the understanding she'll be monitored."

  "Of course," Parker muttered, having no idea how he'd accomplish that. Maybe his father...

  "As disturbing as this must be to you and to all of us here at the Academy," the counselor said, "Sarah herself did not seem overly upset at the idea of returning home. Often in these cases of aberrant behavior, where a model student suddenly breaks out of the mold, we notice a desperate bid on the part of the child for attention."

  Parker nodded slowly. "I have to accept some blame in this. She hasn't been completely happy here, which is not at all the fault of your school," he assured the women. "It's more than homesickness, but... it's too complicated to explain. I thank you for your understanding." He shook hands before he left the room, feeling hollow and empty inside. Why, why, why? he asked himself. But he knew the answer.

  Sarah was sitting on the front steps of her dorm, surrounded by boxes and suitcases, with her head on her knees. Parker's aching head was full of conflicting emotions: guilt, anger, shame and now sympathy. She looked so small and alone there in front of the imposing old frame building. But when she looked up there was defiance in her blue gaze and a trace of fear.

  He held out his arms and she hesitated only a moment before she rushed into them. "I'm sorry," she sobbed against his chest. "I didn't mean to cause an uproar," she said.

  "What did you mean to do?" he asked with his hand smoothing her hair, as if he didn't know.

  "Get sent home."

  "Well, you got your wish," he said dryly. Then he looked down into her tear-streaked face. "Do you know you could have burned the dorm down, including your classmates?"

  "With one cigarette?" she asked, round-eyed.

  "It's happened. One cigarette carelessly left near flammable materials. I know that's not what you had in mind. And thank God it didn't happen. But it was an irresponsible and dangerous thing to do. Smoking is clearly against the rules. You knew that. I guess that's why you did it."

  "I hate it here," she declared. "I hate the rules, the dorm, the food. I hate the city and the way we're cooped up in there," she blurted, and then she started to cry in earnest. With one arm around her shoulders he led her to the car, settled her in the front seat with his large clean handkerchief, then he loaded her suitcases and boxes into the trunk. And as they drove away past green lawns and brick buildings he knew he would have hated it, too, if he'd had to go there. She'd said all those things to him before, but he hadn't listened to her. Not really. So she took desperate measures.

  "I understand," he said. It was wrong of her, but he really did understand why she did it.

  She leaned her head back and looked up at him, her cheeks stained with tears. "What are you going to do to me?"

  "Take you home."

  "What about school?"

  "They said you'll get credit for this year if you do the work and pass the tests. As long as someone supervises you. As for next year, I don't know. I'm going back to the hotel and check out. I'll give Pop a call and tell him we're coming. Maybe he..."

  "Sure, Pop can be my teacher," she said with a watery smile.

  Parker nodded, but he couldn't expect the old man to keep up with Sarah, to discipline her, make her study, keep her in the house. He was putty in her hands, always had been...the perfect grandfather, kind and loving and spoiling her every minute he could. Her own pony, a pet lamb, baby chicks, a swing set... whatever she wanted.

  He did call the ranch, though, to prepare his father for their arrival. Dusty answered the phone. "Your pop is in town at Doc Haller's having his leg set. Yep, he fell off the hitching post watching the men branding. Mac drove him in. It's not too bad, they said, ought to be up and around in his cast and crutches... oh, in a month or two. Till then, got to stay put."

  Parker stood staring at the telephone in the hotel lobby wondering what else could go wrong today. He didn't have to wait much longer to find out.

  "Oh, yeah, three of the men are gonna quit. Jack Spade, Lionel and Lucky. Got their bags packed. Less you come back with a cook. Told 'em that's not what you was doing in Denver, hiring a new cook, but they got it in their mind. Well, just thought you ought to know."

  "Thanks." Parker stared out the window at the cars whizzing by, at the concrete city out there with the mountains in the distance. "Look," he said, "tell them I'll get a cook. If I have to kidnap one from the culinary academy." Then he hung up and looked around the lobby. Sarah was in the coffee shop having breakfast, eating with the ravenous appetite of a child who knows she's going home.

  The words "culinary academy" reminded him of Christine. But then everything reminded him of her. Everything in the city, everything at the ranch. He remembered how she said she'd been happier at the ranch than anywhere in her life. When she was there she made everyone else happy, too, Sarah, the men, his father. .. and Parker, too. But would she come back if he asked her? Not likely, not after last night. If he begged her? If he apologized for whatever it was he'd done? If he promised not to come on to her?

  All he could do was try. All he had to lose was his pride. His self-respect. He looked up her number in the phone book. His palm stuck to the receiver. The sweat beaded on his forehead as he punched in the numbers with his finger. When she finally answered she sounded as tired as he felt.

  "Christine, it's Parker. I'm in a jam."

  "What kind of jam?" she asked.

  "Every kind you can think of. Sarah got kicked out of school." Christine gasped but he continued. "My dad broke his leg and the men are going to quit if I don't bring home a cook."

  "Yes?"

  Couldn't she say something besides yes? Couldn't she show some sympathy? Apparently not. "I need someone to supervise Sarah's homework so she can finish out the school year and I need someone to cook. I need you. And I need you now." She didn't say anything. He couldn't keep the desperation out of his voice. "It would just be until June. Look, I know you weren't happy with the way our relationship—" he almost choked on the word "—was going. You made that perfectly clear. And I know you've probably got other people in your life, other options, but nobody needs you as much as I do. They couldn't. And it will be strictly business, I promise."

  "Where are you?" she asked. "Where's Sarah? Is she all right?"

  "We're at the hotel. Sarah's a little subdued considering what happened, but she's all right."

  "What happened? Never mind. I'll come."

  "You'll come?" Relief flooded his body. "Are you sure? I'll pick you up."

  "I'll take my own car. I'll leave this afternoon."

  Her own car. That way she could leave whenever she wanted to. It made sense. And yet it hurt. It was deja vu all over again.

  "Thanks, Christine."

  "You're welcome."

  She sounded cool, detached, and yet she was coming. It was more than he'd hoped for, more than he'd expected and definitely more than he deserved. His father was in a cast, his daughter was expelled and his men were about to quit, but he smiled all the way to the coffee shop where he joined Sarah for a very large breakfast, and told her the news.

  Christine tossed her jeans and cotton shirts into a large suitcase telling h
erself she was an idiot for jumping whenever Parker held out a hoop. For falling into Parker's arms whenever he invited her in. Of course it was flattering to be needed. But what about her needs? She needed a family of her own. She just didn't know how to get one. And the longer she stayed connected with Parker and his family the longer she put it off, pretending, hoping, imagining he wouldn't care about a son to inherit the ranch. "Strictly business," he'd said. That's what she wanted and yet that's what she was afraid of.

  When she arrived at the ranch that evening she was filled with anxiety. When she'd left she thought she'd never be back. As she slowly drove up the circular drive to the house she saw they were there on the front porch to greet her. Parker, Sarah, her grandfather, some of the boys. Her heart swelled with emotion and she blinked back the tears. The contrast between her cool, elegant town house and this solid, comfortable old ranch house struck her with the force of a boulder tumbling out of the mountains.

  She barely got out of the car when Sarah came running down the steps to grab her and twirl her around. "I'm so glad to see you. I'm going to be so good from now on you won't even recognize me," she promised, with a meaningful glance at her father.

  Christine laughed. How long had it been since she'd actually laughed? Did Parker know how fortunate he was to have a child to laugh with, to play games with, to ride with, read with. . . He was still on the porch watching them with his shrewd blue eyes. How did he really feel about her coming there? Besides grateful, was he worried that she'd disrupt things, make another scene, criticize his parenting and then leave when the going got tough, like his wife did? Tempt him to forget why he didn't want to fall in love again? Probably not.

  Christine walked slowly up the steps, while Sarah dove into her car to get her luggage. Christine said hello to the ranch hands, then bent over to inquire about Emilio's leg and inspect his cast. When she couldn't put it off any longer she said hello to Parker.