by Diana Palmer
“Think of your mother,” the reverend added, when he saw that his arguments were having no effect.
She lifted her eyes. “Mama?”
“She was the most moral human being I ever knew,” he said. “She waited for marriage. So did I, Colie,” he added surprisingly. “I loved her almost beyond bearing.” He lowered his eyes. “Life without her would be empty, except for my faith and my work. I carry on, because that’s what she’d want me to do.” He looked up. “She’d expect you to live a moral life.”
Yes, she would, Colie agreed silently. But perhaps her mother hadn’t been as hungry as Colie was, as much in love. Her parents had been together in a different time, when things were less permissive in small towns. Goodness, half the young people in town were in relationships. Few of them actually married.
“If you live with someone, you get to know them and you find out if you’re suited enough to get married,” she ventured without looking at him.
He drew in a slow breath and sipped his coffee. “It’s your life, Colie,” he said gently. “You’re a grown woman. I can’t tell you how to live. I can only tell you that many people who live in an open relationship don’t eventually marry. There’s no real commitment. Not like there is in marriage, where you bring children into the world and raise them. J.C. doesn’t want children.”
“He could change his mind,” she said.
“He could. But I doubt he will. He’s how old, thirty-two? If he still feels that way, at his age, he’s unlikely to change. There’s something else,” he added quietly. “You can’t involve yourself with someone with the idea that you can change things about them that you don’t like. People don’t change. Bad habits only grow worse.”
“Not liking children,” she began, moving silverware around on an empty plate. “That might change, if he had a child.”
He closed his eyes and winced.
Colie saw that. It wounded her. “Daddy, I can’t help how I feel,” she ground out. “I’m crazy about him!”
He drew in a long breath. “I know.” He looked up at her and saw her stubborn resolve. He finished his coffee and got to his feet. He brushed a kiss against her cheek. “I’ll always be here for you. Always. No matter what you do. I’m your father. I will always love you.”
Tears sprang to her eyes. She put down the plates and hugged him, tears bleeding from her eyes.
He patted her on the back and kissed her hair, as he had when she was very small, and hurt, and she ran to him for comfort. It had always been like that. She loved her mother very much, but she was daddy’s girl.
“It will all work out,” he said, trying to reassure both of them.
“Of course it will,” she replied, fighting more tears.
CHAPTER TWO
COLIE WAS DRESSED and ready to go by three o’clock on Saturday, and so nervous that she could hardly settle anywhere. J.C. had said they’d eat at the fish place, but she didn’t know if he’d want her to wear a nice dress or jeans or what. She’d never seen him in a suit or even a conventional jacket, so she assumed he’d wear jeans, as he always did.
So she wore jeans, nicely laundered, with lace inserts on the side from the hem up to the knee, with a pretty white blouse, also with lace inserts. Against her dark hair and light olive skin, she looked exotic. The excitement made her green eyes sparkle. She was almost pretty, even without gobs of makeup, which she detested. She had a naturally smooth complexion, which she touched up with just a little face powder and a glossy lipstick. She couldn’t abide mascara. In fact, she was allergic to most of it. But she had thick, black lashes that looked as if she used it.
Her hair had a natural wave. All she did was wash it and comb it. She grinned at herself in the mirror. She didn’t look half bad, she thought. Maybe J.C. would kiss her. She caught her breath at the anticipated pleasure. J.C. had been around. He’d know how to kiss. Hopefully, he’d teach her, because she hadn’t a clue.
“Primping?” Rodney teased as he joined her in the hall. “You look fine, Sis.”
She laughed. “Thanks.”
“You know, J.C. isn’t big on family,” he said unexpectedly. “He doesn’t have any left. His mother is dead, and he and his father don’t speak. I’m not sure he even knows where his old man is.”
She turned and looked up at him. “Why?”
“He doesn’t talk about it,” he said. “He let something drop, just once, about a family that adopted him when he was ten. A man and wife, up in the Yukon. She was a teacher. So was his mother, so maybe they knew each other or something. Anyway, he lived with them for a while. Tragic thing, there was a fire. Both of them died. J.C.’s been alone for a long time.”
“He has you,” she said.
“We’re not that close,” he replied. “You can’t get close to him. He doesn’t trust people. He doesn’t share anything.” He frowned. “I know how you feel. Maybe that could change,” he added when he saw her pained expression. “Just, don’t let him hurt you, okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“He had this really bad experience with a woman. He didn’t tell me. I heard it from one of the guys he taught with overseas, who was in basic training with him. She was a call girl. He didn’t know. At that time, he’d had very little to do with women and he was naive. He fell head over heels for her. Then he heard her talking about him to another man, laughing at how he’d bought her so many fancy things and he thought she was innocent. She said she’d worked at that pose for years, because so many of her paying customers liked it. J.C. went wild. They said he wrecked a bar and put another man in the hospital afterwards. When he left the military, the guy said, he was so different that he hardly knew him anymore,” he added quietly. “He’s had some knocks.”
“Poor guy,” she said softly.
“So, forewarned is forearmed,” he added. “J.C.’s attitude toward women changed after that. He’s no playboy, but he does have women.”
She ground her teeth together. She’d suspected it, but she was learning things about J.C. that were very disturbing. “A lot of men are that way. Aren’t they? They still get married and have families....”
“Don’t count on it,” he returned. “J.C. does a job that invites violence, haven’t you noticed? He heads up security for Ren’s ranch, and he goes overseas all the time to help train policemen, in areas where insurgency is high. He likes risk. That doesn’t mesh with grammar schools and birthday parties, sweet girl.”
She was feeling sicker by the minute.
Rodney saw that and winced. “I know how you feel about him,” he said in a gentler tone. “That’s why I’m saying these things. You already know that Daddy doesn’t move with the times. He lives in a fantasy world of happy ever after, because he and Mama had that. It doesn’t work that way for most people. We take what we can get and move on.”
“You mean, we enjoy what we can and don’t look ahead,” she said in a hollow tone.
“Something like that.” He drew in a breath. “Colie, I’m not trying to hurt you. I just want you to know what you’re up against. J.C.’s my friend. But you’re my sister. He doesn’t respect women. Not anymore.”
She moved her shoulder restlessly. “You think I shouldn’t go out with him.”
He hesitated. There were reasons why he wanted to keep her away from his best friend that had nothing to do with her well-being. J.C. was a stickler for law and order. Rodney was into some very bad things. J.C. knew that he used drugs, and it was why they didn’t spend as much time together as they had overseas. He knew other things about Rodney that he didn’t want his father finding out, too. J.C. wouldn’t rat him out because he didn’t know what was really going on. But his baby sister would, if she had any inkling. He needed to prevent her from becoming close to his friend.
On the other hand, he cared about her, in his way. “Honey, you do wha
t you think is right,” he said after a minute. “I’m on your side. Whatever you decide to do. Okay?”
She hugged him impulsively, her cheek resting on his chest so that she missed the agonized look on his face.
“Thanks, Rod.” She drew back. “Daddy said he’d always be here for me, whatever happened.” She looked up. “He thinks I can’t resist J.C.”
“No woman can resist him, if he wants her,” he said. He caught himself and clenched his teeth.
“It’s okay,” she said, forcing a smile. “He likes variety, they say.”
“He does, now,” he replied. “Before, that guy told me, he was Mr. Conventional. That changed after the call girl took him for the ride of his life.”
“Somebody should give her a taste of her own medicine.”
“Women like that don’t feel anything, honey,” Rodney told her. “They’re cold as ice inside. A woman who prostitutes herself usually does it because it’s easy money; maybe there are control issues as well. It gives a woman power over a man, when she sells a service.”
She just nodded. It was a world she’d never seen.
“Maybe you’ll change J.C. back to the way he was,” he said gently. “Who knows?”
She smiled. “Right. Who knows?” She sniffed him. “Honestly, Rod, you reek of smoke...!”
“My buddy from Jackson Hole came up to visit. He’s staying at a local motel. I have to go see him tonight, so I’ll be late. Very late. We’re talking to another man he knows, from the west coast.”
She frowned. It sounded odd.
“Hardware store business,” he said quickly. “It’s samples of tools.”
“Oh! I see.” She laughed and turned away. She missed Rodney’s quickly erased look of guilt.
* * *
J.C., AS SHE’D SUSPECTED, was wearing jeans with hand-tooled boots and a long-sleeved blue plaid shirt and a shepherd’s coat. He smiled when he saw her pretty but casual clothing.
“I hoped you’d realize it isn’t a formal date,” he chuckled. “I should have said so.”
“Oh, it’s okay,” she assured him. “I read minds.”
His dark eyebrows arched.
“Really,” she said, green eyes sparkling.
“If you say so,” he returned. “Ready to go?”
“Oh, yes.”
Her father came out into the hall, glanced at J.C. and smiled. He had a book in his hands. “Have fun. Don’t be too late, Colie, please?”
“I won’t, Daddy.” She kissed him. He smiled, but there was concern in his whole look as he turned back to his study. He hadn’t said a word to J.C.
“Daddy’s not comfortable with people,” Colie defended him when they were settled in J.C.’s big black SUV headed for town. “It’s funny, for a minister, because he has to be available to his congregation when they need counseling or comfort.”
“I noticed.”
“It isn’t that he doesn’t like you.” She was trying valiantly to explain something that wasn’t really explainable.
He glanced at her and smiled. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “Don’t sweat it.”
She smiled. “Okay.”
“Do you like fish?”
“Oh, yes. Fried, poached, grilled, any way at all. Do you?”
He chuckled. “I grew up in the Yukon. There are lakes and rivers everywhere. My grandfather taught me to fish when I was about four years old.”
She noticed that he didn’t speak of his father, and she recalled what Rodney had told her. “My grandfathers were both dead when I was born,” she said. “I only had one grandmother living, and she died when I was in grammar school.”
“That’s sad. I had my grandfather until my mother died. He was a grand old fellow. Blackfoot,” he added with a smile. “His family came from Calgary.” He noticed her puzzlement. “It’s in British Columbia. Northwest Canada. Have you ever heard of the Calgary Stampede? It’s a rodeo they hold every year. My granddad rode in it.”
“Gosh! Yes, I’ve heard of that.”
“My father didn’t care much for rodeo, but he was bulldogging with Grandad when he saw a pretty little red-headed Irish woman in the stands, cheering him on. He found her after the event and started talking to her. He was fascinated with her coloring. She was an anthropology student, and she was fascinated with First Nation people, like my father. They dated for a week and got married.”
“You had a red-headed mother?” she asked, staring at him. His hair was coal black, his eyes that odd, beautiful shade of pale silver.
He chuckled. “I did. It doesn’t show, does it?”
“Not really.”
“I get my eyes from her. They were pale gray, like mine.”
“You loved her.”
He stared ahead at the snow-lined road. “Very much. She was always there for me. She took terrible chances to keep me safe.” He drew in a long breath. He’d never spoken of these things, even to Rodney. There was something about Colie that drew his confidence. “I lost her when I was ten. I went to live with an adoptive family.” He forced a smile. “They were good, kind people. They had no kids of their own, so I was pretty much spoiled rotten.” His face hardened. “They died in a fire. I was just getting home from school. I got there just before the ambulances and fire trucks did.” He averted his eyes. The memory still hurt. “I couldn’t get them out. The whole structure was involved by then.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said gently.
The sympathy twisted something inside him, something he’d hidden for years. “I couldn’t get past the flames at the front door,” he gritted. “I tried. A neighbor pulled me back and sat on me until the fire trucks got the hoses going. They were good people.”
Her face contorted. She could only imagine standing helplessly by while people she loved died.
He glanced at her, saw the sympathy that wasn’t feigned. “You don’t push, do you?” he asked after a few seconds, his attention turning back to the road. “You just let people talk when they want to.”
She smiled sadly. “I’m not interesting,” she said. “I listen more than I talk.”
“I noticed that about you, when I first met you. Rod used to talk about his kid sister who sat and daydreamed and played guitar. You still play?”
“Not often. I don’t practice as much as I used to. I have a full-time job and I’m taking night courses in business two days a week.”
“You work for Wentworth and Tartaglia, don’t you?” he asked, naming a well-known law firm in Catelow.
“I do. I went to work for them just out of high school.”
“That was a while back, I guess,” he chuckled.
It was six months, but he didn’t know her real age, apparently. Rod must not have mentioned it. She wasn’t going to, either. If he knew she was barely nineteen, he might not want to take her out. He was thirty-two; Rod had told her. Just as well to let him think she was more mature than she was. She couldn’t bear the thought that he might not want to keep dating her.
“I guess,” she replied with a smile.
He settled down. He’d never asked Rod how old his baby sister was. He knew there were a few years between them, but not how many. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t about to get serious. He just wanted someone cute and responsive to spend time with. She didn’t seem the sort of woman who’d cling, and that suited him very well.
* * *
THE FISH PLACE was crowded, but J.C. found them a table that was just being vacated and captured it before another young couple. They laughed as he grinned at them.
“Wow,” Colie mused, letting him seat her. “That was a nice takeover.”
“Thanks. I can do it with enemy positions, too,” he chuckled.
She cocked her head and laughed. “You really do have a flair for it.”
“I’m hungry and the place is crowded. What do you see that you like?”
She wanted to say, “you,” but she was far too shy to flirt overtly. She settled down with the menu and made her choices.
* * *
THEY ATE IN a comfortable silence.
“Do you fish?” he asked.
She paused with her fork in midair. “Well, yes,” she said. “I used to go with Daddy. We’d sit on the river bank for hours waiting for something to bite. Not much ever did.”
“Come spring, I’ll take you fishing.”
Her heart jumped. That was a long-term invitation. She was touched. “I’d love that,” she said, with her heart in the eyes that slid over his face like exploring hands.
“Me, too,” he said softly.
He held her gaze for so long that her heart ran wild and her fingers trembled. She dropped the fork into her plate with a clatter that stunned her. She dived for it, flushing.
He chuckled. Her headlong reaction to him was delicious. He couldn’t remember a time when a woman had appealed to him so much in ways beyond the purely physical. He hated the memory of the call girl who’d shattered his pride and his ego. But that was in the days before he became experienced and sophisticated. That was before he learned to turn the tables, to make women beg for him and then walk away from them.
His pale gray eyes narrowed on Colie’s face. Could he do that to her? Make her beg, make her do anything he liked—and then just walk away? The thought of giving her up was troubling, even at this very early stage in their relationship. Better not to dwell on it. Live for the moment.
He smiled at her. “How’s the fish?” he asked, to relax the tension.
“It’s great,” she said. “I love the French fries, too. They make them fresh. No frozen stuff here.”
“I noticed. I’m partial to a good French fry.”
“I make them for Daddy sometimes. He likes fish and chips.”
“Your father doesn’t like me.”
“It’s not that.” She struggled for words. “He’s protective of me. He always has been. I go to Sunday school and church, I sing in the choir, I teach primary classes in Sunday school.” She gnawed her lower lip. “I guess that sounds painfully conservative to someone like you, who’s traveled and sophisticated. But around here, it’s pretty much the normal thing. Not everyone is conservative,” she confided. “We have people in our congregation who live together and aren’t married, we have people who do drugs, we have people who have babies out of wedlock, stuff like that. Daddy never judges, he just tries to help.”