Building Dreams

by Ginna Gray

  Ryan came home early one afternoon in late February and found her poring over books of wallpaper samples.

  She sat on the living room floor, so immersed in the chore, she had not heard him come in. Molly lay on a blanket beside her, industriously chewing on a rubber toy. He stopped in the entrance and watched Tess, his face grim.

  His gut was in a knot. How would she take the news he was about to give her? On the way home he'd told himself over and over that she would understand. Tess was resilient and scrappy. She would accept it. But would she? Julia hadn't.

  His expression hardened. He walked into the living room and tossed his sheepskin-lined coat over the back of a chair. Spotting him first, Molly squealed and kicked eagerly, grinning from ear to ear, her two tiny teeth sparkling.

  Tess looked up, surprised. "Ryan! What are you doing home so early?"

  "I want to talk to you about the house."

  "Oh, good. I need to talk to you, too." She sprang to her feet with one of the big sample books in her arms. "I want your opinion on this wallpaper I've picked for the entryway. Oh, and Bob Carlson called this morning and suggested that we consider adding a small sunroom off the master bedroom and put a hot tub in it. What do you think?"

  "It doesn't matter. There's not going to be a house." Inwardly, he flinched at his harsh tone. He knew he was being unnecessarily blunt, but he couldn't seem to help himself. Aggression was the only defense he had against the terror that was eating at his insides.

  Tess blinked three times, her face blank. "Wh-what?"

  "I said, there's not going to be a house. We've got troubles. This morning we had a fire at the storage barn."

  "Oh, dear. How bad was it?"

  "Bad. Most of the heavy equipment is a total loss. We have no choice but to replace it. So far, we've only laid out phase one at Wildwood. We can't continue without that machinery."

  "Won't the insurance cover at least part of it?"

  "We dropped the insurance a few years back when the building industry here went bust. All our machinery was old. We figured we'd take the risk and cut expenses." He shrugged. "It was a roll of the dice, and we lost."

  "Oh dear. I'm so sorry."

  "Yeah, well, so am I. Reilly and I are already stretched thin financially with the loan we took out to get the project started. Now we'll have to borrow more money to buy new equipment. For the time being, we'll have to tighten our belts. Which means no new house."

  "I see." Tess glanced around at the wallpaper books and tile and carpet and paint samples that had almost taken over her living room for the past few weeks. Her shoulders slumped. She looked down at the book in her hands, only then noticing that she still held it. She bent and placed it on the stack with the others. Glancing at Ryan, she spread her hands in a gesture of defeat. "Well... I guess that's that."

  His hard stare bore into her. "For a woman who claimed a house wasn't important to her, you sure look down."

  "Well, of course I'm disappointed. Who wouldn't be? But I'll get over it."

  "And if you don't?"

  "Ryan! I'm not a child. This is a letdown, of course, after all the planning and work and anticipation. But I've told you over and over that the house isn't something I can't live without. It can wait until the firm recovers."

  Making little grunting noises, Molly was trying to scoot across the blanket to Ryan, but he barely noticed.

  He searched Tess's face. The first stirring of hope began to tighten his chest. "You would be willing to do that?"

  "Of course. What else can—" An arrested look came over her face. "Wait a minute! There is another solution." She looked at Ryan and bit her bottom lip. "I, uh...I don't know how you feel about this, but... well ... I do have the money from Tom's insurance and the sale of my house. You're welcome to it."

  The offer hit him like a slap in the face. "No. Absolutely not. I won't take your money." Rage sizzled through him,

  "But-"

  "Dammit, I said no. That money belongs to you and Molly. Put it in a trust for her if you want, but don't ever offer it to me again. I won't use a dead man's insurance to salvage my business or my marriage." Shooting her a furious glare, he snatched up his coat and stormed out.

  Molly's little face crumpled and she began to wail.

  Salvage their marriage? Tess stared after him, her jaw dropping. Why ... he thought she was going to cut and run... the way Julia had done.

  Her legs grew wobbly and refused to support her another second. Tess sank down onto the arm of the Queen Anne chair, only remotely aware of her daughter's outraged cries. It hurt. It hurt terribly. Things had been going so well lately, Ryan had seemed content, even happy. She had thought— at least hoped—that the love she showed him in almost everything she did and her commitment to him and their marriage, the joy and pleasure they had found with each other, would heal those old wounds.

  Tess gave a mirthless little laugh. Apparently, she was wrong. She supposed she should have known better. Trust, after all, was an essential part of love; without it Ryan would never return her feelings for him. Worse, without his trust, how long would it be before her love for him began to shrivel and die?

  Moving like an automaton, she picked up Molly and soothed her feelings with soft words. When the baby was quiet and playing happily once again, Tess went to the telephone and called the architect. He was perplexed when she told him to stop working on their blueprints, but she did not elaborate. After the call she gathered up all the samples, bundled up Molly and returned everything to the suppliers. The rest of the afternoon she spent calling about apartments in the area.

  ❧

  A little after six that evening Ryan called to say he would be working late and would grab a burger. Mike answered the telephone, and when he relayed the message to Tess, he was unconcerned, but she knew that their clash, not pressing work, was behind Ryan's absence.

  She and Mike ate the pot roast dinner she had cooked, and afterward they watched a John Wayne movie on television together. Mike had already gone next door to shower and go to bed when Ryan finally came home. Tess jumped when she heard the door open. Her nerves began to hum like a high voltage wire, but she remained at her dressing table and continued to smooth moisturizer over her face and neck.

  He stopped just inside the bedroom, and she looked up, meeting his brooding stare in the mirror. A fine tremor quaked through her. Without a word, Ryan crossed the room and pulled her up into his arms.

  "Oh, Ryan," Tess cried. She went into his embrace eagerly and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her anguished face against his chest. The top three buttons on his flannel work shirt were open, and she burrowed her nose in the silky chest hair visible through the gap. The smell of sawdust and the crisp cold of outdoors clung to his skin, mingling with his intoxicating scent. He clasped her to him so tightly she could barely breathe, but she didn't care. He was home. And he was holding her.

  "I'm sorry, Tess," he whispered urgently.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and clutched him tighter. "Ryan, I would never leave you just because we're going through a rough period financially."

  "I know. I know."

  "The house isn't important. Neither is the money. You've got to believe—"

  "Shh. It doesn't matter." He raised her head, and her heart did a wild little dance in her chest. Passion, and something she couldn't name, darkened his face and blurred his features. Homing in on her mouth, his fiery gaze grew slumberous, and his head began a slow descent. "Nothing matters but this," he said in a raspy whisper against her lips, and his mouth closed over hers.

  ❧

  "It's a pleasure doing business with you." Reilly flashed the couple his most charming smile and offered his hand as he escorted them to the door. "As soon as we have your blueprints we'll start breaking ground. Barring torrential spring rains, we should have you in your house by late summer."

  "We're looking forward to it. We'll get our architect to start working on the plans right away."

  The ins
tant the door closed behind the couple, Reilly whirled around and let out a whoop.

  " Whoo-iiee! Let the good times roll. Pumping his arms, he did a hip-swiveling dance across the office, waving the Henderson's down payment check.

  Ryan smiled at his brother's antics. "Don't get too carried away. It's early days yet."

  "Are you kidding? At this rate, we'll be in the chips by summer."

  Ryan didn't know if he would go that far, but he had to admit, things had been rocking along surprisingly well lately. In the month since the fire they had gotten the loan with no hassle, taken delivery on the new equipment, and contracted to build eight custom homes—three this week alone.

  The last was particularly encouraging, since they hadn't even opened a sales office. In every case, the buyers had wandered into Wildwood and been impressed with the development's amenities and the quality of the three model houses they currently had under construction.

  Reilly rose from putting the Henderson's check in the safe and stretched his big frame. "I don't know about you, Hoss, but I'm knocking off early. It's Friday, the world is good, and I feel like doing a little celebrating. Besides, we've earned a breather." He slipped into his windbreaker, a ruminating smile tugging at his mouth. "Who knows? I may even give Amanda a call."

  Ryan heaved to his feet and reached for his Stetson. "What for? She's just going to say no. And probably a few other choice words to boot. Why don't you just admit that you've finally met a woman who's immune to your dubious charm and give it up?"

  "Heck, no. I'll wear her down one of these days. You'll see."

  "Yeah, right. And donkeys fly." Chuckling, Ryan flipped the dead bolt on the door and followed his brother out.

  The site was deserted. On Fridays the crew always lit out at the stroke of five, their weekly paychecks burning holes in their pockets. Ryan waved goodbye to his brother and climbed into the Cherokee. It felt strange to be going home so early, but Reilly was right; they had earned a little time off. Maybe he and Tess would go out to dinner and a movie. Just the two of them.

  He slipped a Natalie Cole CD into the player, rolled down his window and inhaled deeply of the mild spring air. Feeling happy and mellow, a slight smile softening his stem features, he headed home, his fingers tapping the steering wheel in time to the music.

  Ryan was looking forward to surprising Tess, but when he let himself into the apartment the hollow silence told him no one was home. He checked next door but no one was there, either. Not even Mike. He glanced at his watch and frowned. Where could they be? Disappointed, he went back to the other apartment and headed for the shower.

  Walking into the bedroom, he pulled his shirt free of his jeans and began unbuttoning it. Halfway across the room he noticed the double doors on the closet standing ajar and stopped in his tracks. An uneasy feeling whispered through him. Changing direction, he walked slowly to the closet. He pushed the doors open wider and stared. It was empty. All that was left were three forlorn wire hangers and a crumpled plastic dry cleaner's bag on the floor.

  She was gone.

  The vicious pain that sliced through Ryan was paralyzing. He could not move or make a sound. All he could do was stand there and stare at the empty clothes rod and bare shelves, the silent cry of anguish from deep in his soul trapped inside him.

  "Oh!"

  At the sound, Ryan's head whipped around in time to see Tess skid to a halt two steps inside the door, her hand over her heart.

  "Oh, my," she exclaimed in a breathless voice. "You scared me. I didn't expect you home so early."

  "Sorry if I spoiled your plan," he snarled between clenched teeth. "No doubt you expected to be long gone before I got here." Oh, God. She looked so adorable, standing there in her shabby jeans and workshirt, with her hair all mussed and a streak of dirt on one cheek. He wanted to go to her and snatch her into his arms and beg her not to leave him, but the hurt was too deep.

  A look of confusion flickered across her face. "No, not really. Mike and Amanda and I can only carry so much. And -"

  "You have my son helping you?"

  "Y-yes. He's downstairs with Amanda and Molly. Ryan, why are you acting this way? Is something wro—?"

  His bark of bitter laughter cut her off. "I suppose I should be grateful that you had the decency to tell me to my face. That's something, anyway. Not much, but I guess it's better than coming home to find a polite little note and all your belongings gone. Of course, you were handicapped— you can't get much in that little car of yours. What did you plan to do, send a moving van back for the rest?"

  She stared at him, her expression slowly changing from perplexed to stunned. ''You... you think I'm leaving you."

  He jerked his head toward the empty closet. "That makes it fairly obvious, wouldn't you say."

  For Tess it was the final straw. Ever since they married— ever since she had known him—she had tried to be understanding. Over and over she had forgiven his bouts of bad temper and bitterness and endured his occasional barbs. But no more.

  "Obvious? Obvious? The only thing obvious to me is that you are a blind fool," she raged at him.

  Clearly, Ryan had not expected anger from her. Had the situation not been so painful and serious, the stunned look on his face would have been comical. Tess was too incensed and hurt to notice.

  She brushed past him and flung the closet doors so wide they banged back against the wall on either side. "Look at that! Take a good look," she commanded.

  "So? It's empty."

  "Right. Completely empty. Your clothes are gone, too."

  Ryan's gaze shot back to the vacant closet, and Tess felt a surge of satisfaction at the startled uncertainty that flashed across his face. Most of Ryan's clothes were still next door, but for convenience he had moved a few things—mostly everyday work clothes—into her closet. Apparently, in his rush to think the worst, he had forgotten that.

  "What-?"

  "This morning, unexpectedly, a three-bedroom apartment became available in building B—one of the ones you rebuilt after the storm," she informed him in a stilted monotone. "The tenants were behind on their rent and they moved out in the middle of the night. When the manager called and offered us the apartment, I snapped it up. Amanda and I spent the morning cleaning it, and when Mike got home from school, we started moving what we could."

  "Why didn't you call me?"

  "I did. I called you several times, but neither you nor Reilly were in the office. I even left a message on the answering machine."

  Ryan winced. "Damn. I didn't think to check it. We had some home buyers with us when we came back to the office and we were so busy with them I didn't notice. I'm sorry, Tess."

  "Sorry just isn't good enough anymore, Ryan. Don't you see? Just because you came home and found an empty closet is no reason to jump to conclusions. If you had any faith in me you wouldn't have."

  "Tess..." Ryan started toward her, but she held up her hand and took a quick step back.

  "No. I'm not through. I am tired of being judged on someone else's behavior. I—am—not—Julia! Do you hear me?" Her voice shook with cold fury and she felt as though she were about to fly apart, but she was determined to get it all out, all the hurt and frustration and disappointment she had endured for the past three months. "For weeks I have done everything in my power to prove to you that I am nothing like that woman, but you're either too thick or too blind to see. Well, I'll be damned if I'll let you keep punishing me for what she did to you."

  "You don't understand. I—"

  "Oh, I understand all right. I understand that you're a fool. A pig-headed, embittered fool who would rather wallow in the pain of the past than be happy with what you've got.

  "I didn't marry you for your money, you idiot. Or for security. Or to have a father for Molly. Or to get a house. Not even to have a bedmate. I married you for one reason and one reason only. I married you because I love you."

  The statement had a stunning impact on Ryan. His stony face went slack, and for a momen
t all he could do was gape at her. Then his expression lit up with pure elation. "Tess. Oh, Lord, honey, you have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that." He started for her again with his hands outstretched, but once more she backed away. He halted, his smile collapsing.

  "Tess, sweetheart, don't you see? I love you, too. I think it happened a long time ago, but I knew for sure the day we married. I love you honey. I love you very much."

  She returned his hopeful look with a steady stare. She could see by his baffled expression that her reaction was not at all what he had expected.

  "Do you?" she questioned coolly. "I don't think so."

  "Tess! Sweetheart, I swear it's true. I think, deep down, I've known it all along, but I just couldn't..." He grimaced and made a frustrated gesture. "You've got to understand ... this isn't easy for me. But I do love you, Tess. You have to believe that."

  "I'm sorry. I would like to. You have no idea how much I would like to believe you. But I can't. Love means trusting someone, Ryan. Completely. Without reservations or doubts. Believing in them, no matter how things appear or what happened in the past with someone else. I have to know that you have faith in me, and in my love for you. Without it..." She stopped and swallowed hard, then lifted her chin. "Without it, we have nothing."

  "Tess... what... what are you saying?"

  "I'm saying that I love you, Ryan. With all my heart. But I don't know how long I can live with your doubts."

  She turned to leave and panic stabbed at him.

  "Where are you going?''

  She looked back at him with sad eyes. "Downstairs. It's time to feed Molly."

  ❧

  After she had gone, Ryan stared at the empty doorway. When he heard the front door close, he sank down on the edge of the bed. Leaning forward, he propped his elbows on his spread knees and held his head in his hands. Dear Lord, what had he done? Had he driven her away? Was she downstairs even now packing to leave him? He groaned at the thought and ground the heels of his hands against his closed eyes. He wouldn't blame her if she was.