Ooh Baby, Baby

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Ooh Baby, Baby Page 21

by Diana K. Whitney


  Fearing he’d stumble over the discarded boots, she set them neatly at the foot of the bed, then gathered his shirt and jeans, folding them over a nearby chair. His wallet lay on the floor beside the bed. She retrieved it, along with a haphazardly creased sheet of paper. After placing the wallet on the chair with his clothing, she noticed an odd notation on the paper, a circled dollar amount along with the handwritten word entry.

  A glance over her shoulder confirmed that Travis was still sleeping peacefully. She turned her attention back to the folded paper, weighing curiosity against the guilt of invading his privacy. Curiosity won.

  As she scanned the rodeo flyer, her stomach twisted, her heart sank like lead. Several areas had been circled, including the list of scheduled events, prize money, championship points available. Travis had scrawled marginal notes, travel directions to a fair ground outside of Cheyenne, Wyoming, along with the phone number for someone named Clem, who was supposedly looking for a team-roping partner.

  The rodeo would be held this weekend.

  Peggy stared at the wrinkled sheet until her eyes stung and the words began to blur. Travis had wanted to go to Cheyenne, would have gone if not for her. Rodeo was his life, after all.

  Or it had been, until Peggy had taken him away from it.

  I’ll always be here for you. Always.

  Biting her lip, she refolded the sheet, laid it beneath his wallet and tiptoed out of the room. The babies were fussing louder now. Peggy went to tend to them.

  She greeted her children with soft whispers, a mommy’s kiss. She changed them, and fed them, and hummed soft lullabies, as she always did. But her mind was in chaos. Travis had promised to stay, a promise that had wrapped like a fist around her heart. When he’d spoken those cherished words, she’d wept with pure joy. But she hadn’t asked for that commitment, hadn’t coerced him into uttering those words. He’d said them freely, of his own volition.

  Hadn’t he?

  Peggy carried the twins to their playpen, wound up their musical toy and went to put on coffee. Travis liked coffee first thing in the morning. He liked a big breakfast, too. Over the past few days she’d been amazed that he could consume so much food when the sun had barely crested the horizon.

  Travis always brought Peggy a huge tray, with plates of steamy scrambled eggs, buttery toast, potatoes fried so crispy that her tongue wept with pleasure. She’d make a production of tasting each item, moaning with delight just to see his eyes glow. He took pride in everything he did.

  He took pride in his profession.

  Water sloshed from the carafe, splashed across the counter. She steadied her hand, finished filling the coffeemaker, then cleaned up the mess. She tried to concentrate on wiping the tiled counter dry, to focus on the steady drip of the coffeemaker, anything to keep her mind occupied.

  Deep down, doubt gnawed at her.

  Travis was a man of his word, but if she held him to a promise made in passion, she’d be stealing everything he held dear. He was a cowboy, a champion. Rodeo was in his blood. Born to the saddle, he was a man for whom the road held mystical appeal. Peggy could understand that intense yearning for travel, that desperate need to explore the next bend in the road seeking new places, new people, new adventures. A man like Travis could never grow roots, never be content living in one place.

  He’d feel trapped, caged.

  Peggy spun, sagged against the counter, heart pounding, hands pressed over her ears, a futile effort to block out the noise in her head.

  No, he wouldn’t feel trapped. She wouldn’t let him feel trapped.

  Peggy snatched a box of pancake mix from the cupboard…she could make Travis happy…filled a mixing bowl to the brim…she would make him happy…grabbed a wooden spoon from the drawer and stirred the dry mix so frantically that it billowed like a sloppy white cloud.

  Panicked, Peggy spun around, yanked milk from the fridge and poured half a quart into the bowl without bothering to measure.

  Travis would be happy with her.

  She plunged the spoon into the bowl, whipped wildly.

  Travis would—

  Milky lumps slopped onto the counter.

  Be happy—

  Onto her clothes.

  With her.

  Onto the floor.

  The bowl spun and tipped over, pouring the contents over tile, down cupboards. A wet, lumpy mess pooled at her feet. It was ruined. Everything was ruined. Peggy wept.

  * * *

  “Yeah, sis, I know.” Travis shifted on the sofa, switched the telephone to his left ear. He lowered his voice, forcing Peggy to move closer to the kitchen doorway to overhear. “She’s doing good, real good. Even cooked breakfast this morning… I know, but it was all ready when I woke up and— Hmm? Oh.” He coughed, cleared his throat. “Umm, well, never mind about that. I said, never mind, okay? Some things are none of your danged business. Now, about the job, do I have it or not?”

  Peggy sagged against the doorjamb, twisting a dish towel into a damp spear. Her stomach twisted, lurched. A sour taste stained her tongue.

  “No more temporary, fill-in stuff, right? Full-time, with benefits, especially insurance.”

  She turned away, unable to bear it. Travis would rather have vultures peck his eyes out than drive a cab, yet he was on the telephone begging his sister for an opportunity to be miserable for the rest of his life.

  Peggy had never forgotten the fury on Travis’s face the day he’d been mugged, the disgust when he’d spoken about how much he loathed the job. Now he was ready to spend ten hours a day behind a steering wheel doing something he despised. He was willing to do it because he was a man of honor, a man of his word, and because he cared for Peggy enough to relinquish his freedom, to give up everything he held dear.

  And she was willing to let him do it because she loved him.

  No, not because she loved him. Because she feared losing him, because she needed him. Needed him.

  She froze, horrified by the thought, more horrified by the truth. She did need Travis. She’d allowed herself to lean on him, depend on him, and was willing to let him destroy his own life for the enrichment of her own. That wasn’t love. It was selfishness. It was weakness.

  “You’re supposed to be resting.” Travis strode into the room, swept a reproachful gaze at the drainer stacked with clean dishes. “I told you I’d clean up the kitchen.”

  Peggy laid down the towel, wiped her palms on her robe. “You have enough to do without taking on my work, too.”

  “Your work, hmm?” He sauntered over, brushed a proprietary kiss on her forehead. “Now, that’s real peculiar, seeing as how I never did see anybody’s name etched in syrup across those dirty pancake plates. Besides, you’ve been up early, cooking and all. That’s enough for one day.”

  “I’m fine, Travis.”

  “Did you take your medicine?”

  “Yes.”

  “All of it? You always forget those little yellow pills.”

  She touched his wrist, stopping him as he reached toward the cabinet where her medication was kept. “I took them all, Travis.”

  The edge in her voice caught his attention. “Is something wrong, honey?”

  “No.” She snatched up the towel, pivoted around to wipe off the spotless table. Tears threatened. She blinked them away. “I don’t like being treated like an invalid, that’s all.”

  Travis said nothing for a moment, then Peggy heard the scuff of boot heels on linoleum. He came up behind her, so close that his body heat radiated into her spine. Warm palms caressed her upper arms. “I’m sorry, honey. I never meant to make you feel that way.”

  The towel stilled against the tabletop. She bit her lip, peeled her tongue from the roof of her mouth. “It’s not your fault. You’ve been wonderful, really you have. I don’t want you to think that I haven’t appreciated everything you’ve done, because I have, but I’m all right now and—” she swallowed hard, forcing out the hateful words “—and it’s time for both of us to get on with our liv
es.”

  His palms stiffened, flexed, dropped away from her shoulders. “I don’t get it. Last night—”

  “Last night was wonderful.” Peggy closed her eyes, willed herself not to cry. “But it was a mistake.”

  A draft brushed her nape as he stepped away.

  “Things happened too fast,” she lied, staring at the painted wall directly beyond the table. “I’m not ready to make a commitment, not to you, not to anyone. I need…I need space.”

  “Space.” He said it dully, as if repeating a word he’d never heard before and couldn’t comprehend. “You need space.”

  “Yes.” A sob caught in her throat.

  Travis gave no indication that he’d heard it. “You want me to leave?”

  Not trusting her voice, Peggy managed only a thin nod.

  “Oh.” From the echo of footsteps, she knew he was pacing the kitchen. The footsteps stopped. “Right away?”

  She licked her lips, prayed she wouldn’t faint. “I think it’s best.”

  After a silent moment, she heard a shudder of air, as if he’d filled his lungs, then emptied them all at once. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

  She grasped the back of a chair. “Yes.”

  “And the babies…?”

  “They’ll be fine.” Her knuckles went white. “We’ll all be fine, Travis, just fine.”

  She heard him cross the room, pause at the doorway. “Is this really what you want?”

  A tear slid down her cheek. “Yes, Travis, it’s what I want.”

  * * *

  An hour later, Travis slung his duffel into the back seat of his pickup and cast a doleful glance over his shoulder. A curtain in the front window vibrated. Peggy was watching him.

  Tugging his hat down, he climbed into the truck and flipped the ignition. He let the truck warm up, not because the old diesel needed the extra revs, but because Travis needed the time to drink in the sight of Peggy’s sweet face between the parted curtains. He wanted to memorize her freckled profile, the adorable tangle of red curls that bounced around her face like twisting flames. It would be his last image of her, and he wanted to drink it all in.

  Pain stabbed through his chest. Travis cursed himself for the weakness. He should have known better than to let himself care, to believe that Peggy saw anything in him that the rest of the world didn’t. In the end, she’d recognized Travis for exactly what he was, a useless rodeo rat with nothing worth having and nothing to give.

  Travis had always known Peggy deserved better. Now it seemed that she knew it, too. So he shoved the old truck into gear, and drove out of her life.

  Chapter Fifteen

  After keypunching the final figures, Peggy compared the tallied totals. They matched. She felt no relief, no pride, no sense of accomplishment. The chore was completed, period. There was no excuse to stay any longer, chalk up more hourly pay than she was entitled to. It was time to leave, to return to the shabby duplex still haunted by memories of Travis, a place where Peggy couldn’t relax on the couch without remembering the popcorn fights they’d shared, the teasing laughter that always evolved into sweet, warm kisses. Nor could she climb into bed at night without the evoking memories of sweet lovemaking, stimulated by his musky scent clinging to the pillow.

  It would help if she’d wash the pillowcase, of course. But she just couldn’t bring herself to erase the final vestige of Travis’s presence in her life. He’d only been gone a week. Peggy wasn’t ready to let go. Not yet. Perhaps not ever. All she knew was that the old duplex had become a tomb, haunted by memories, stained by her secret tears.

  God, she missed him, so much that her heart ached with longing. The only way she’d survived the loneliness was by playing Travis’s rodeo DVD over and over and over again. He’d looked so happy in the film, so completely at home in his element.

  The gift of freedom had been all Peggy had to give. As painful as her decision had been, she didn’t regret it. How could she? Travis was where he belonged; he was happy. That’s all that mattered.

  Footsteps outside the dispatch center broke her reverie. She quickly exited the computer program and shut down the machine just as Sue Anne wandered into the office sipping a can of soda.

  Peggy swiveled away from the dark monitor, rubbing her palms on her thighs. “The month-end totals balance. I’ll forward a draft of the statement to your accountant next week.”

  “You’re a lifesaver.” Clutching a can of soda, Sue Anne flopped onto the office sofa, kicking her feet up. “The twins are snoozing in their playpen. Seems a shame to wake ’em up, so how about staying for dinner? I’ve got a roast on the stove that’s so big it took three of us to beat the danged thing into a pot. There’s more than enough for an extra plate.”

  “I’ve already had dinner here twice this week. Jimmy is beginning to think I’m part of the family.”

  “You are, hon.”

  Peggy turned away, took a deep breath and wished that was true, but it wasn’t. No matter how deep her feelings for the Conways, she could never be a real part of their family. But they would always be her dearest friends. She owed them so much.

  Suddenly feeling weepy, Peggy made a production of clearing the computer table, drank the rest of her water and carried the glass into the kitchen.

  Sue Anne followed, crossed her arms and propped a big hip against the counter. “Heard from Travis?”

  Despite an involuntarily shudder caused by the sound of his name, Peggy managed to set the glass into the sink without breaking it. “No.” She rubbed her palms together, glanced over her shoulder. “Have you?”

  Sue Anne shook her head, narrowed her wise eyes and stared right into Peggy’s soul. “You love him, don’t you, hon?”

  The question shouldn’t have startled her, but it did. Flustered, she wrung her hands, rotated her shoulders and stammered something that sounded very much like the pathetic bleat of a bewildered lamb.

  “I thought so.” Heaving a maternal sigh, Sue Anne swaggered over to toss a chummy arm around Peggy’s shoulders. “Didn’t your mama ever warn you about cowboys?”

  Peggy stared at the floor, saying nothing.

  The big woman gave her an affectionate squeeze. “Don’t you go worrying yourself. He’ll be back.”

  “No, he won’t.” Peggy stiffened her spine and tried for a brave smile that might have worked if her chin hadn’t been quivering. “Travis is where he belongs.”

  “He belongs with the woman who loves him.”

  “He has no idea how I feel.”

  “The hell you say!”

  Peggy spun around, narrowed her gaze. “And don’t you dare tell him, Sue Anne. I mean it. He’d feel duty-bound to do the ‘honorable’ thing by me, and I won’t allow it. I simply won’t allow Travis to give up everything he cares about just because I couldn’t control my—” her face heated “—my urges.”

  Sue Anne’s eyes stretched wide. A toothy grin followed. “Urges, hmm? Well, well, well. Fancy that.”

  “Sue Anne—”

  “Oh, don’t you fret. Your secret’s safe with me.”

  Judging by the gleam in her dark eyes, Peggy doubted that. She sighed. “It doesn’t matter, I suppose. The bottom line is that Travis will only be happy if he’s traveling the country, seeing sights most people only ‘dream of.”

  Sue Anne’s grin faded. “Travis said that?”

  “Not in so many words.”

  “Ah. But you could just tell what was on his mind, on account of you being in love with him and all.”

  Peggy tossed up her hands. “Travis was right. You are impossible.”

  * * *

  Thirty minutes later, Peggy pulled up in front of the duplex and made several trips from the car to the house unloading babies and groceries. She’d just hauled the folded playpen out of the trunk when a mail truck tooled down the street and dipped toward the curb just behind her car.

  The postal carrier hopped out, handed her a certified letter, then tipped his hat, climbed back in
his little truck and drove away.

  Peggy’s heart sank when she saw the return address of the property management company to which she sent her rent payment, and she recalled the real estate agents who had been sniffing around the place over the past few weeks.

  When she finally summoned the courage to open the envelope, she found exactly what she’d feared. The property had been sold. Peggy was being evicted.

  * * *

  “Hell of a ride, Stockwell! Too bad the horse took it without you.” The raw-faced cowboy slapped Travis’s bruised shoulder, then shuffled off, chuckling.

  Travis whacked his hat on his thigh, reached back to rip the paper entry number off his back and limped past the livestock corral, spitting sawdust. At least he’d made the finals. Might have had a shot at the big money, too, if he hadn’t glanced up from adjusting his grip and seen the glint of red hair in the grandstands.

  He knew it wasn’t Peggy, but couldn’t keep himself from looking, anyway. Then the gate flew open, the bronc lurched out. One minute Travis was airborne; the next he was sucking dirt.

  Now every bone in his body was jarred loose, and he was too parched to spit. Tugging his hat on, he wandered across the rodeo grounds toward a cluster of vendors hawking everything from cold beer and submarine sandwiches to belt buckles and silver spurs.

  Travis shuffled over, cast a longing glance at the beer but settled for a soda. He still had one more event this afternoon. This time, he’d keep his eyes off the stands.

  He gulped the icy liquid, purchased another, wandered back toward the arena and found himself waylaid by a souvenir booth displaying a tiny Stetson with baby-sized western boots and other miniature rodeo paraphernalia, including a white-fringed vest that would look terrific on Ginny. It was a little big for her now, but she was growing so fast and Travis figured it would probably fit in a couple of months. And the little hat was just made for T.J.

  “Can I help you, partner?”

 

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