Forbidden Moon--The Moon Trilogy--Book Three

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Forbidden Moon--The Moon Trilogy--Book Three Page 28

by Jane Bonander


  “Once I quit obsessing about myself and took a good, hard look at two of my best friends.”

  A heavy weight left his chest. Excitement coursed through him. His mind was already filled with plans to return home and claim what was his—and he didn’t just mean Dusty.

  Examination day, again. Jason listened to her heart and her lungs, then pressed the stethoscope against her stomach. “Dusty brought news from Buck.”

  Molly’s pulse quickened, but she kept her eyes focused on the colorful quilt that lay across her bed. “That’s nice,” she answered blandly. “And what did he have to say?” Her pulse continued to thrum.

  “He’s coming home.”

  She felt a surge of panic. She hardly dared breathe. She didn’t dare speak.

  Jason slung the stethoscope on the bed, pulled her dressing gown closed then sat down beside her. “You had me fooled for a long time, Molly.”

  She looked away, toward the window. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Don’t you think that I, of all people, didn’t notice that every time Buck’s name came up, you clammed up? Honestly, girl. I remember how it was with you. You chased after him with a vengeance.”

  “Oh, Jason. Don’t remind me of my wicked ways,” she groused, moving off the bed and to the window. She didn’t need a reminder from anyone else. Everywhere she looked, she remembered something that brought her a little shame—and a lot of confused memories.

  “Molly, Molly. Even if I haven’t seen Buck for many years, I still think I know him better than I know my own brothers and sisters. He was sweet on you when you were just a girl. Hell,” he added, shaking his head. “He was even sweet on you when he was married to Honey.” He snorted softly. “Not proud of it, though.”

  Her breath came in ragged gasps and she had to force a calm she didn’t feel. “Then you don’t know him as well as you think you do, Jason.”

  “What in the hell happened in Texas, anyway?”

  Shivering, Molly rubbed her arms and tossed him an impatient glance. “Don’t you have something better to do? Like deliver a baby? A calf? A porcupine? Something?”

  Jason chuckled and went to the door. “Why did I think you’d let it all out once you discovered he was coming home?”

  “As far as I’m concerned,” she said on a shaky breath, “we didn’t have this conversation.”

  “We’ll do it your way,” he answered, stepping out into the hall, “for now.”

  “Jason?” When he turned, she asked, “When?”

  He thoughtfully rubbed his chin as he studied her. “Your ‘when’ sounds like ‘how long do I have to make my escape.’ ”

  Looking away, she couldn’t help smiling. “No, I’m not running anymore.”

  “He’ll be here by Christmas.”

  She turned away until she was certain her feelings wouldn’t show. “Dusty must be ecstatic.”

  “And a little scared. He hasn’t seen his pa since he was a tad.”

  She wanted to ask if he was coming alone, but couldn’t. “Is he staying?” She held her breath, not sure she wanted to hear the answer. In some ways, she’d become comfortable not having him around. It was easier to cope when she didn’t have to think about him.

  “Says he is.” He came back and touched her arm. “Are you going to be all right?”

  “Yes,” she said, nodding vigorously. “Of course.”

  After Jason had gone, she returned to the window and stared out at the rows and rows of bare grapevines that grew over the sloping hills. So, he was coming home. Not because of her, but because of Sky. Well, at least that was something. Even though the knowledge did little for her own selfish needs, she hoped he was finally becoming the man she knew he could be.

  Christmas was only a month away. After she’d dressed, she left the room, unable to decide if that month would pass like the blink of an eye, or drag like a lifetime.

  She met her mother on the stairs.

  “Did Jason say you’re all right, Molly?”

  The woman’s beauty still amazed her. Taking her mother’s arm, she drew her back down the stairs. “Yes, Jason says I’m doing fine.”

  “I’m gonna be a granny, Molly. Just like Anna.” She beamed at her daughter, who returned the smile.

  “And a better one I’ll never find anywhere.” They descended the stairs and went out onto the porch. There was still an hour before it would be time to start supper. Nicolas was out in the fields and Anna was down at the school.

  Molly settled into the porch swing and watched her mother page through the flower book. She felt such peace, being here with everyone. Nicolas and Anna had been wonderful, taking her back in. She felt as though she hadn’t even left. And there was just nothing more wonderful than being with her mother again.

  “Molly,” her mother asked, shoving the book toward her. “What’s this word?” June had been determined to learn to read better. It had always been a struggle.

  Molly leaned over and studied the word. “Why, Mama, you know what it is.”

  June frowned and looked at the book again. “I do?”

  “What’s the blue flower that grows wild and free, in the meadows and under the trees?” she asked lyrically, remembering the way Anna had taught all of them to read.

  June looked puzzled, then suddenly her face lit up. “Lupine?”

  Molly leaned over and squeezed her hand. “Exactly.”

  June put the book down and gazed at her daughter, a certain strain on her beautiful face. “I’m so happy you came home to me, Molly. Are you gonna stay?”

  The fear in her mother’s eyes frightened her. “We’ll always be together, Mama, I promise.”

  June frowned and picked at the pocket of her apron. “But are we gonna stay here?”

  “I don’t want you to worry about it,” Molly said, rubbing her temples.

  “But are we?” June persisted.

  “Of course. Yes,” she answered. “We’ll stay here.”

  Her mother visibly relaxed. Molly had wanted to add “for now,” but knew it would alarm her.

  Molly knew what the problem was. Her mother was afraid to leave. No matter how much Molly wanted to care for her mother and be responsible for her, the woman was terrified of change. She’d truly wanted to independently take on her mother’s care, but Anna had argued—gently but firmly—that June wouldn’t weather being uprooted and moved to San Francisco, or possibly even to Pine Valley. Jason had agreed with her. Although June had perked up considerably since Molly’s return, that could all change if her routine was altered, even if that change included Molly. Looking at it from that point of view, Molly realized she didn’t have many places in which to look for work.

  She made a fist. Her wrist had healed, but Jason had told her, as she’d suspected, that the bones weren’t where they should be. Unfortunately, he’d said, she couldn’t expect to ever have full use of it again. But he’d encouraged her to exercise it, even play the piano, if she could. Oh, she thought, still disgusted, she could. But she hated the fact that she didn’t sound like she had before. And she’d found a job teaching music, both at the reservation school and the school Anna ran on the vineyard property, although she suspected Anna had been instrumental in creating both jobs just for her. It was something, but it wasn’t enough to support her and her mother.

  She occasionally had nightmares about her kidnapping. They were almost as real as the dreams she still had about Buck. Dreaming was such a frustrating thing. She hated not having any control over her thoughts of him. But it wasn’t just the dreaming that bothered her. Being home, here, where she’d grown up, infatuated with the young, wild Buck, had made blocking him from her mind impossible. Every time she turned around, there was something there to remind her of his existence. And now, of course, there was her pregnancy. A person couldn’t have much more of a constant reminder than that, she thought wryly.

  She’d strolled through the yard shortly after she’d re
turned home and saw the dilapidated old pig shed, now standing alone, unused by the pigs since their new little shed was built. It brought back her night with Buck, when they’d reminisced. The memory of that bittersweet night still brought her pangs of heartache. How perfect they had been together. She would never know if they’d had a chance at all.

  Even now, when she’d discovered he was coming home, she felt more dread than excitement. There was that feeling of constant restless anticipation. It wasn’t pleasant.

  What she would say or how she’d react when she saw him eluded her. Suddenly, she again remembered his circumstances, and the feeling of panic pressed against her heart. Yes, he was coming home. But was he coming alone, or was he bringing Tomas, and possibly the boy’s mother?

  Two days later, Molly sat picking through a basket of wild blueberries when Dusty ambled up the path toward the house.

  He waved and grinned. Molly waved back, swallowing the catch in her throat she always felt when she saw him. He was dark, darker than his father, but tall, straight and handsome. As yet, he hadn’t honed the many heart-catching traits he’d gotten from his father, but he was on the verge of manhood. One minute he was a young man, serious, moody and silent. The next minute, he was talking in an animated fashion and his voice would change mid-sentence, squeaking until he forced it back down again. He’d been a joy to Shy Fawn and Sky. In that respect, Buck had done them a favor.

  “Good morning,” she shouted.

  “Mornin’.” He smiled and settled down across from her at the table. “Josh home yet?”

  Josh was Nicolas and Anna’s youngest son. Though two or three years separated them, she’d discovered that he and Dusty had always been inseparable. Much like Buck and Jason had been years ago. “I think I heard Nicolas say he was going in to pick him up today.” She studied Dusty. “Missed him, have you?”

  He shrugged. “Sure. Willy’n me were going fishin’. Thought Josh might be back so he could come along.”

  “You boys have finished your chores?”

  “All except those that have to be done tonight.”

  Molly had noticed Willy, the quiet boy, with Dusty, often. She’d thought he was merely shy, until she heard that he couldn’t speak. He’d apparently been orphaned very young, and one day, many years ago, after some traumatic incident, Dusty and Josh had discovered Willy cowering in a cave. He’d lived at the vineyard ever since.

  She couldn’t help smiling. That was the way these people were. There was always enough love for everyone. It was an ever widening circle, a remnant left over from tribal days when the family was always extended to include one more.

  She looked up and caught Dusty’s confused gaze. “What is it?”

  “My pa’s comin’ home.”

  Molly understood. No doubt the look in his eyes mirrored the look in her own. Excitement and fear. Anticipation and dread.

  She sighed and bent over her basket, sorting the blueberries. “So I’ve heard.” She gave him a brief glance. “How does that make you feel?”

  “I don’t know. Me ’n Grandfather talked about it a lot last night.” He grabbed a handful of berries and popped them into his mouth. “He’s bringin’ home a surprise,” he said around his mouthful.

  Her stomach dipped. “Oh? What do you think it is?”

  He turned in his chair and put his feet up on the porch railing. “Well,” he said confidently, “I’m kinda hopin’ it’s a new rifle or a pair of boots ’n spurs, him comin’ from Texas and all.” He leaned back and put his arms behind his head. “I’ve been readin’ a lot about Texas lately.”

  Molly smiled in spite of herself. Unfortunately, Buck’s “surprise” was probably Dusty’s little brother. Now that would be a terrible disappointment. Oh, not that Tomas would be a disappointment, but it surely wasn’t the kind of surprise a twelve-year-old boy bursting to be thirteen would enjoy, especially if he’d dreamed of something different. Something very different.

  In spite of the fact that Buck had basically abandoned Dusty, the boy had a positive, happy outlook about his father. That was Sky and Shy Fawn’s doing. And Nicolas, Anna and Jason always told Dusty stories of his father. Dusty had once related some of them to her, and she’d had to bite back a smile, for suddenly Buck appeared to take on ultra-heroic proportions, doing deeds one only reads about in books. Though she knew they were probably embellished by Dusty’s active imagination, she knew that Buck could perform heroic feats. He’d done so when he’d come to rescue her. It had been hard not to tell him her stories, adding to his repertoire of Buck fables. As angry as she’d been with Buck because she’d loved him and he hadn’t loved her back, she had to admit that no one else could have done what he did.

  She glanced at Dusty again. “Will you be disappointed if it’s something else?”

  He turned, and when he looked at her, giving her an adolescent version of Buck’s hard gaze, her stomach fluttered. She briefly looked away.

  “Like what?” he asked, his face stamped with a familiar frown.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she answered, forcing herself to look away again. “But it isn’t always a good idea to get your hopes up. It’s better to be surprised.”

  “Ha. That’s what Grandfather said last night.”

  “Well, your grandfather is a pretty wise man, wouldn’t you say? By the way,” she added, “how is he feeling?”

  He took another handful of berries, popping them into his mouth by twos. “Jason was by last night. Said he’s doin’ real good.” Suddenly he chuckled—another sound that was so familiar, Molly shivered.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Grandmother, that’s who.”

  “Is she excited about Buck’s return?”

  “Oh, she tries not to be, but every once in a while when she doesn’t think anyone’s lookin’ she gets all teary-eyed and her face gets this soft look … I dunno. Grandmother’s always so firm. So … stern. It’s kinda nice seein’ her this way.”

  In her youth, Molly had always felt Shy Fawn was a humorless woman. Now, since her return, she’d discovered the precious cache of warmth that Shy Fawn shared with all of those she loved.

  Molly stood, almost reluctant to stop her chat with Dusty. “Well, I think Concetta is ready for these blueberries. Are you coming in?”

  Dusty shook his head. “I think me ’n Willy will go fishin’ without Josh.”

  Molly left the basket of blueberries in the kitchen, then went to check on her mother. She peeked into her room, found her napping, so she sat quietly in the rocker and gazed openly at her beautiful mother, although her thoughts were elsewhere.

  There had been such a flurry since the news of Buck’s pending return. A big family dinner was planned for that night. And since Nicolas and Anna had the biggest place, the gathering would be here.

  She wondered how she could avoid it. She probably couldn’t. Anyway, if she tried, it would just make it more obvious to everyone that something had gone on between them. Lord of mercy, she thought with a sigh, Jason already suspected.

  It was odd that no one had pointedly asked her who had gotten her pregnant. She’d told everyone that she’d traveled to Texas to see her fiancé, but that it hadn’t worked out. None of what she’d said was a lie. She knew the unspoken answer to everyone’s silent question was that her ex-fiancé was the baby’s father. Well, thank the high heavens that wasn’t true. Memories of Charles were so unpleasant, always leaving her with a sour taste in her mouth.

  Buck would know who the father was. Every time she approached their first meeting in her mind, she refused to follow through. She had no idea how he would react. And anyway, she thought, feeling that sick, empty sensation in the pit of her stomach, what would it matter if he had a new wife in tow?

  Molly stood at her window in Buck’s old shirt. She’d used it as a sleep shirt ever since she’d arrived at home. She’d also discovered it had become something of a “security blanket.” Although she had some n
ice, warm nightgowns, she couldn’t get to sleep in any of them. She’d always gone back to wearing the shirt with the torn tail, and falling asleep immediately. It was probably a silly, girlish thing to cling to, but she was hurting no one but herself.

  Studying the winter flowers that bloomed in the garden below, she thought about the rest of the day. For the past two weeks, everything anyone had said had been prefaced with “The day Buck comes home …” Well, for better or worse, like it or not, “The Day” had come.

  She gave herself a stern shake. There was too much to do today. She couldn’t afford to stand around moping, hoping, and not coping.

  Unbuttoning her shirt, she crossed to the mirror and studied herself. Her breasts were larger, although her stomach barely showed a change. She’d felt some discomfort from her petticoats, but it wasn’t too bad yet.

  Molly had forced herself to be happy. Unlike Nicolette, she felt that a woman couldn’t have it all. She had so much, she felt selfish wanting more. After all, she was going to have the child of the man she loved, and would always love. She had home, family, and their love in return. There was hardly anything more she could expect.

  In spite of her resolve, she felt a selfish twinge in her chest. No matter how many times she told herself what she had was enough, she knew that deep in her heart, she still wanted Buck Randall.

  Twenty

  The kitchen smelled wonderful. Nicolas and the boys had dug a pit out back, and the delicious smell of roasted pig wafted in through the. windows. Pies lined the table. Beans bubbled on the stove. Freshly baked tortillas were kept warm inside soft cotton cloths. Hot fry bread was heaped into baskets.

  Jason and Rachel’s oldest son, Lucas, crept to one of the baskets and stole a piece of bread, laughing with glee as Concerta, old but still crusty, pretended to chase him with a broom. He escaped outside, unscathed.

  Lucas’s sister, five-year-old Faith Twilight, was snuggled next to her Auntie June in an easy chair by the window. She read aloud, though she was barely heard above the din.

 

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