A strange, gnawing feeling unfolded in her, and her chest tightened up, as if she couldn't get a full breath. She took down the information and verified – twice – that his personal doctor had registered him for the program. But knowing that didn't stop the gnawing feeling; it got worse.
After she hung up, she stood staring out the window for a very long time, then went into Burt's bedroom. He and the boys were watching cartoons on TV, and she picked up the remote control and shut off the set. Three pairs of hostile eyes turned her way. She indicated Mark and Scotty. "Out," she said, using the tone of voice they knew better than to argue with.
Scotty scrambled off the bed, casting a worried look at Burt. "We were being good. Honest."
She managed a small smile. "I need to talk to Burt."
Scotty looked even more worried. "But he didn't do anything."
Genuine amusement surfaced, and she straightened his hair. "I know. I just need to talk to him about something." Both boys cast dubious looks at their cohort, then reluctantly headed toward the door. Kate gave them a stern look. "And I do mean out. Like right out the back door."
Kate expected Burt to give her a hard time, so he caught her off guard when he said gruffly, "You boys go down and make sure those pups have water. And you better check and see if that old gray cat has had her kittens yet. She usually hides them in the tack room."
She waited until she heard the back door close; then she sat on the edge of the bed and looked at him. "I got a call about a rehabilitation program for disabled seniors, Burt."
He shot her a wary glance, then looked away and fumbled with his cane. Kate studied him, assessing his reaction. "What's this all about?"
Burt looked at her, then his gaze shifted away again. He tried to bluff her with belligerence. "I ain't dead yet, you know."
Folding her arms, she stared right back at him, another twinge of amusement working loose. "I know. Now, what's this all about?"
He gave her an irritated glare. "Well, if you must know, I called Doc and asked him about it."
"You called the doctor?"
The scowl deepened. "I can still think for myself, you know. I had Mark bring the phone in here—"
"You had Mark sneak the phone in here," she qualified.
"Well, you were upstairs making that damned racket with the vacuum," he retorted, as if it was all her fault. "He did what I told him and hit the numbers for me. Then I talked to Doc." He gave her a fierce look. "I told the boy not to say anything. I knew you'd get your tail in a knot."
Maybe it was a good thing, she thought wryly, that her grandfather wasn't around. Three were bad enough. Four of them colluding against her would have made her life impossible. She stared at him for a moment, then spoke. "Are you sure this is what you want?"
He gave her a disgusted look. "Hell, no. It's not what I want, woman. It's what I'm going to have to do if I want to get the hell out of this bed."
Kate's mouth lifted. Two "hells" in three sentences; he had to be aggravated. The flicker of amusement faded, and she experienced an unnerving rush in her middle, as if she'd just stepped into a rapidly descending elevator. The sensation faded, and she made herself meet Burt's gaze. "If you're going to sign up for the program, we have to let them know by tomorrow morning – and if you do go, you have to be there a week from Monday."
Looking as ill-tempered as possible, he made an impatient gesture with his hand. "Well, then, what are you sitting here for? Phone 'em and tell 'em."
"Aren't you going to talk it over with Tanner?"
"No, I ain't going to talk it over with Tanner."
Feeling totally unprepared for all of this, Kate rubbed her thumb over an old cut, unease spreading through her. She'd thought it would take weeks to talk him into this. Weeks. Trying not to let her uncertainty show, she looked up at him. "Are you sure you don't want to talk to him?"
Burt shook his head and made a clumsy, dismissive gesture. "I make my own road, missy. Now go phone."
She hesitated, and he waved his hand at her again. "Go on. Don't just sit there looking at me like that. I said I was going, so I'm going."
Filled with misgivings, she left his bedroom. Once back in the kitchen, she checked the number on the pad and picked up the phone, an unnerving rush hitting her. A rush that was closely related to panic. When she made the call, she would be effectively putting herself out of a job. Blocking out that unsettling thought, she took a deep breath and dialed the number. The decision was out of her hands.
For the rest of the day Kate didn't give herself any time to consider Burt's decision. Every time she thought about it, her stomach would drop and tentacles of dread would begin unfurling in her, and she would close them out and find something else to do. She polished all the furniture, she vacuumed and she collected every shred of dirty laundry she could find, but the feeling persisted.
She knew that going to Calgary was the very best thing for him. In fact, if she'd had any say in the matter, she would have had him in some kind of program weeks ago. There was no reason why, with proper retraining, he couldn't recover some mobility, some level of independence. Yes, his program technically left her unemployed, and that realization set off a host of anxious butterflies in her stomach. But until the program checked out, and until it was absolutely certain that Burt could cope with it, she would stay here.
By early afternoon she had done everything that needed doing and a dozen things that didn't. She took the last of the laundry off the line and folded it, then took everything upstairs. When she came back down, Tanner was at his desk, his back to the stairs, leafing through the mail that Cyrus had dropped off earlier. Letting the laundry basket rest against her legs, she paused halfway down the stairs. "Hi. I didn't think you'd be back until suppertime."
He shuffled through the remaining stack, then tossed everything in the basket and turned, not a trace of expression on his face. Resting his hand on his hip, he stared at her, his eyes reminding her of an eagle's eyes – haughty and unblinking – and unfeeling, so unfeeling. He didn't say anything for a moment, then he answered, his tone blunt. "I got a message from Cyrus to call Doc Casey."
Her insides dropping away to nothing, Kate stared back, feeling suddenly trapped. She made a motion with her hand, then nervously stuck it in her pocket. "You're going to have to talk to Burt, Tanner—"
"I've already talked to Burt," he interjected flatly. He stared at her for a second longer, his expression cold, then strode out of the room. Paralyzed by the sickening sensation sweeping through her, she stared at the empty archway, her heart pounding with alarm. God, what had Burt told him?
She heard the back door slam, the sound somehow releasing her, and she dropped the laundry basket and went after him. But by the time she got to the back door, his truck was turning onto the lane, and for one desperate instant she considered getting the Bronco and going after him.
Upset over his reaction, her whole system fizzling with dread, she headed for Burt's room. God, what had happened?
Not sure what she would find, she entered the room, her heart lurching to a stop when Burt looked up at her, his expression irritable. "Don't anyone know how to shut a door proper around here? Enough slamming to wake the dead."
Kate stared at him, her legs suddenly too shaky to hold her, and she abruptly sat down on the end of the cot, clamping her trembling hands between her thighs. She didn't understand. He looked as he always did. Taking a shaky breath, she spoke, her voice trembling. "Did Tanner talk to you about going in for rehab?"
Burt glared at her. "Doc had to poke his nose in. Called him and told him. You'd think I didn't have the sense of a mule, the way he keeps checking up on me."
A terrible sensation unfolding in her, Kate clamped her thighs tighter together, her pulse turning heavy. "What did Tanner say, Burt? Why is he upset?"
The old man looked at her for a moment, then started fumbling with the controls for the bed. He elevated his shoulders a little, and Kate knew he was stalling. She went cold in
side. "Burt?" she queried urgently. "What's going on?"
He set the controls aside, then looked at her, his expression solemn. "He's not having any trouble with me going back to the hospital. He sees it needs doing." He turned his head against the pillow and stared off into space. "But I figure he ain't too happy about how it was done. How nothing was said to him." He awkwardly dragged his thumb across his eye, the tremor in his hand noticeably worse, and Kate saw the muscles in his throat contract. Finally he continued, his voice gruff and quavery. "Tanner don't like to get caught unawares. Makes him skittish."
Kate closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead, a chill of comprehension making her insides shrink. It wasn't skittishness she'd seen in Tanner. It was anger. And it had been aimed directly at her.
Kate could barely function after she left Burt's room. She felt like a bomb ready to explode. Every sound sent her heart into overdrive, and all she could think about was the look in Tanner's eyes.
Minutes dragged into hours, and the afternoon seemed endless. She must have gone to the window a thousand times to see if there was any sign of him. She waited supper for over an hour, then finally fed Burt and the boys, her stomach in such turmoil that she couldn't eat anything herself. Her anxiety got worse and worse, until she couldn't even sit still.
Out of desperation, she finally phoned down to the cook house at eight o'clock, her voice uneven as she asked Cyrus if Tanner had shown up there for supper. There was a long hesitation, then he said that he hadn't seen Tanner since he'd given him the message to call Doc Casey.
At a loss and needing an excuse to get out of the house, she took the garbage that could be burned out to the burning barrel, folding her arms and watching the light breeze fan the flames, sending a spiral of sparks skyward. Her nerves felt as jumpy as the flames, as unpredictable. Hugging herself tighter, she looked away, feeling as if she had nowhere to turn.
As she turned to go back to the house, she noticed that the big overhead door on the Quonset hut was open, and that the lights were on inside. The structure, which was used as a shop, was situated in a stand of trees along the road leading down to the barn, and she realized there was a vehicle up on the hoist. A funny feeling stirred in her belly, and she went down the path until she could see which vehicle it was. Her knees went weak, and she closed her eyes, waiting for the rush to pass. It was unquestionably Tanner's truck. He drove the only super-cab on the place.
Kate finally lifted her head and stared at the structure, feeling what little hope she had fade away to nothing. Her vision blurring, she turned and started back toward the house, unhappiness flooding through her. She didn't know why he was so angry at her – it had to be more than her suggesting treatment for Burt – but it hurt that he was.
When Kate reentered the house, dusk had infiltrated the kitchen, and the muted sound of the TV in Burt's room was the only indication that anyone was there. Wearily raking her hair back, she stopped in the doorway, resting her shoulder against the frame. The blinds on the west window had been closed to block out the afternoon heat, but tinges of sunset crept in through the unobstructed north window. Dusk had also claimed this room, the light from the big screen creating a blue aura. Scotty was asleep on the cot, and Burt was dozing. Only Mark was awake, sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed, the remote control in his hand, the sound low. He was watching something about volcanoes, unaware that she was there.
"Mark?"
He turned and looked at her, the light from the TV tinting the side of his face. "What?" he whispered.
Entering the room, Kate stopped at the end of the bed. "Do you think you could watch Burt and Scotty for a few minutes – I have to go over to the shop."
He nodded and turned his attention back to the TV.
Kate knew that Mark at nine was more responsible than most thirteen-year-olds, but he was still only nine. "If you need me, you blow twice on the whistle Cyrus gave you, okay?"
He nodded again. Kate wanted him to look at her, to acknowledge her instructions, but he'd done this before, staying in the house if she had to run down to the cook house for something. He could manage. She knew he could; she just didn't feel right about it.
Burt spoke from the bed. "Go and quit yapping. And put something over the young one. It's cooling off outside, and the window's open."
Feeling almost mechanical, Kate covered Scott with an extra blanket off Burt's bed, then turned and looked at the old man. "I'll be right back, okay?"
Burt made a shooing gesture with his hand.
Kate collected a jacket in the utility room and went outside, easing the screen door shut behind her. Burt was right. It was cooling off, as it did nearly every night this close to the mountains. Slipping the jacket on, she stuck her hands in the pockets and started toward the Quonset, stirrings of dread springing to life. She didn't know what she was going to say to Tanner. She didn't know what was wrong.
Reaching the shop, she paused in the doorway, the sound of a country station coming from somewhere. The truck was no longer up on the hoist, but its hood was raised, and Kate caught the distinct smell of oil. She entered, her insides clumping together into a knot. "Tanner?"
A voice came from under the hood. "He ain't here."
Kate recognized Barney Shortt's voice, and she stepped around the back of the truck. Barney did all the vehicle maintenance for the Circle S, and he showed up every two weeks to take care of things. As Kate approached, he stuck his head out from under the hood, his grubby ball cap on backward, his overalls dark with oil and grease. Kate gave him a weak smile. "Do you know where he is?"
Barney waved toward the barn with the container of motor oil he was holding. "Think he headed down to the barn – either there or the cook house."
By the time Kate left Barney, her insides were in such a boil that she felt almost sick, and she briefly considered returning to the house. But she went down the hill toward the barn instead, her heart in her throat, her hands like ice. She had never been good at confrontations. Never. But this one scared her to death.
The barn was dark, but there was a light coming from the tack room midway along the aisle, and she walked down the dark alleyway, the open doorway at the other end framing the last vibrant rays of the setting sun. Swallowing against the flutter of nerves, she stopped at the tack room door, panic grabbing at her when she saw Tanner straddling a shoemaker's bench, a bridle lying on the raised work area. Folding her arms tightly under her breasts, she spoke, her voice shaking. "Tanner."
He glanced up, his face expressionless, his eyes revealing nothing. "What?"
Kate realized he'd heard her coming and had all his defenses up and armed. She entered, closing the door behind her, then huddled in the warmth of her jacket. "I wanted to talk to you about Burt going back to the hospital."
He shot her another cold glance, then answered, his tone flat. "A little late for that, isn't it?"
Feeling her throat closing up, she gave a tense shrug. "I didn't think he'd act on his own. I just made a couple of comments about how much he'd benefit from a good therapy program. I never once dreamed he'd arrange it himself."
His hair gleaming blue-black in the overhead light, Tanner took two leather screws out of the headstall and set them on the scarred wood, then threw the broken cheek strap in a metal pail sitting in the corner. He didn't even look at her.
Desperation gripping her, Kate stared at him, needing some response from him. Something. "Tanner, please," she pleaded. "I wasn't going behind your back. I wasn't manipulating him. I just wanted what was best for him, that's all."
Twisting at the waist, Tanner reached back for the replacement strap, then turned, fixing it in place.
"Don't do this to me, Tanner," she whispered urgently.
He finally looked up at her, his face cast in harsh lines, his expression glacial. "Just drop it, Kate."
Starting to tremble, Kate hugged herself. "I can't drop it. I don't know what's wrong."
It was as if those few words uncorked his temp
er, and anger flared in his eyes, the muscles in his neck suddenly taut. "This has nothing to do with Burt checking into a rehabilitation program, and you know it." He slammed the leather punch down on the bench and stood up, swinging his leg over the seat. "So what are you going to do, Kate? Have you made other arrangements?"
Her pulse heavy with uncertainty and confusion, she stared at him, not knowing how to respond. "Of course not. I was just—"
"Of course not," he responded, his tone cold. "What are your plans? Or is that up for grabs?"
Feeling as if she'd been blindsided, Kate faced him, confusion mixing with dread. "Tanner, I don't know what you're talking about."
He stared at her, his face Ike granite. "Yes, you do. What were you planning on doing? Just disappearing one day after Burt went into the hospital? Or were you planning on sticking around for a while?"
Kate didn't know what to say, and she stuffed her hands in her pockets and forced herself to meet his gaze. Her own defenses were under attack, and fear began to unfold in her. "I wouldn't do that to you—"
"Wouldn't you? Do you want to know something very interesting, very revealing, about you? Not once – not once in the whole time you've been here – have you ever made any kind of reference to a future here, not even casually. Not even a reference about next week, about any plans for the boys for school – or even something as insignificant as wondering what it's like here in the middle of winter. Nothing. You don't make plans, Kate. You haven't even made one offhand comment about us going somewhere or doing something in the future. Never – because you never intended on staying here."
An unnerving cold started deep inside her, and Kate stared at him, trying to grasp even one solid denial. But there was nothing, nothing, just a sickening feeling.
His hand on his hip, Tanner clenched his jaw and stared at the wall, visibly trying to check his fury. He didn't say anything for the longest time, then he looked at her, his expression cold and controlled, his eyes even colder. "You choose to live your life one day at time – I knew that right from the beginning. I tried like hell not to crowd you. But I can't live like that – never knowing if you're going to cut and run. You can live your life in some kind of limbo, but I can't."
BEYOND ALL REASON Page 23