Family Tree

by Carol Grace

  “What about taking your metal detector and going up into the mountain to look for silver?”

  He shrugged. “Okay.” He stood up. “We better ask Brandon to come.”

  “Brandon?” she asked, startled.

  “Yeah, he wants to go up there. But he doesn’t know the way. I told him I’d show him where your great-grandpa found the silver.”

  “Yes, but I don’t think today is the day—”

  “I’ll call and ask him,” Dylan said, ignoring her feeble protest.

  She didn’t have the heart to say no. Not when she’d finally interested her son in something. But Brandon could and would say no. She knew he would. He didn’t want to spend any more time with her and Dylan any more than she wanted him to. So she got out the number and stood in the hall, just out of sight, but not out of hearing while Dylan picked up the phone. She shamelessly eavesdropped while he talked to Brandon.

  “You wanna come up to the mountains and look for silver with us?” he asked.

  A pause.

  “Yeah. Uh-huh.’ Kay. All right.” Then he hung up.

  “He’ll be here in a half hour,” Dylan said matter-of-factly. He’d never doubted it. “Are we taking a picnic?”

  Her aunt came around the corner from the kitchen. “Did I hear someone say picnic?” she asked.

  “Yes, Aunt Em. We’re going up into the mountain behind the ranch. Won’t you come with us?” Laura asked. Please come with us. Don’t leave me alone with Brandon. The more the merrier. There was safety in numbers, and so forth.

  “Oh, no, I can’t possibly. I’m working on my new ad for the newspaper. David is coming by to help me lay it out. I’m thinking of going color. David thinks it will make a big difference.”

  Laura nodded. Only half-aware of the way her aunt’s eyes sparkled at the mention of the newspaper editor’s name. Laura’s mind was still spinning with thoughts of spending the day with Brandon and Dylan. Just when she thought they’d broken the connection completely—now that Dylan was no longer interested in the tree house, she’d thought she could pretend Brandon was just another post office customer—now this. She didn’t have the heart to say no to Dylan. Not now. She was glad Dylan wanted to go anywhere with her.

  She just wished she’d had some excuse for squelching his plan of inviting Brandon along. Now Brandon would think she’d put him up to it. That she really wanted to continue their relationship or, or…something. She shook her head and went to the kitchen. It was too late to worry about what he thought. He was coming with them. And Dylan was happy about it. That was all that mattered.

  They were standing in front of her aunt’s Victorian when he arrived. He was wearing khaki shorts and a polo shirt, his bare feet in deck shoes. Her aunt beamed at him. Laura took a deep breath and tried to keep her eyes off his broad shoulders and muscular legs.

  “We should have come by to get you,” she said. “The place we’re going is on the other side of the ranch.”

  “That’s all right. I’m driving.”

  She told him his car would never make it up the dirt road. He said it would, and against her better judgement they loaded a shovel and bucket, Dylan’s metal detector and the picnic basket into his trunk.

  She sat next to Brandon in the front seat. Dylan sat in back, leaning forward in his seat belt, talking incessantly about what he was going to do with the money he’d make from the silver he’d find. Brandon steered with one hand and rested the other arm on the back of her seat. His hand grazed Laura’s shoulder when he turned the wheel. She was intensely aware of his touch. She fought off the memory of his hands on her feverish skin that night. That magic night she couldn’t forget.

  Dylan asked Brandon what he’d do with his share of the silver money.

  “Maybe buy a small plane,” Brandon said.

  “A plane?” Dylan’s eyes almost popped out of his head. “Can you fly a plane?”

  “Yes. But I haven’t been up for a while. I’d have to take some more lessons before I fly again.”

  “Can I come up with you?” he asked.

  Laura slid a glance in Brandon’s direction and she silently shook her head. She didn’t want Dylan to be making plans to do things with Brandon. Things that would never happen. Dreams that would never come true. He’d had enough disappointment to last a lifetime.

  “I don’t know, maybe I’ll get a sailboat instead,” Brandon said.

  “Where will you sail it?” Dylan asked.

  “Where’s the nearest lake?” Brandon asked.

  While Laura gave directions, they talked about sailing and fishing and flying and hunting and all kinds of other activities that men and boys like. She didn’t want to put a damper on their enthusiasm but she didn’t want to encourage their plans, either, for the obvious reasons. Brandon had no idea how seriously children took this kind of talk. How much they counted on promises made. How much it hurt when promises were broken. But she didn’t say anything.

  They headed up the narrow dirt road, his car surging over rocks and potholes, his tires spinning on gravel. Every time his car hit a rock, they lurched forward and their seat belts tightened; she shot him a look that said she should have taken her truck.

  He cheerfully ignored these looks and turned onto a small dead-end shale road to the site her grandfather used to take them and regale them with the story of his father’s discovery. The mine shaft was long since closed, and the road was barely passable, but it was a breathtaking spot on the edge of a small stream, overlooking the valley and the town.

  “That’s it, isn’t it Mom?” Dylan asked, hopping out of the car and pointing to a pile of rocks, some rusty tin cans and an old pump. “That’s where your great-grandpa struck it rich.”

  She smiled. The ranch might be gone. Her parents were dead and buried. But as long as there were memories, the past lived on. Dylan would always remember the story of Great-Grandpa and the lost mule and some day he’d tell his children and they’d tell theirs and…

  “Yes, that’s it.”

  Dylan grabbed his metal detector and went off to look for treasure at the entrance to the old mine. Brandon stood on a rock and surveyed the scene below with his binoculars. “This is beautiful,” he said. “Thanks for inviting me.”

  When she didn’t say anything, he turned to look at her. “That’s right. You didn’t invite me, did you?”

  “It was Dylan’s idea,” she admitted.

  “I’m flattered,” he said. “I really wasn’t sure how he felt about me. Except that I was a threat. So when he asked me along today, I was surprised. And pleased. He’s a good kid. But you know that.”

  “Not always,” she admitted. “We’ve had our moments, he and I. But he’s changed this summer. He was not a happy camper when I took him away from his home and his tree house.”

  “I don’t blame him,” Brandon said. “I should have been more understanding when he came back to the ranch. But I saw him as a threat, too. A threat to the solitude I craved. It’s funny, but I’ve missed him this week. I have no more excuses to ignore my work, to go outside and saw some boards, get some exercise. When is this day camp over? When is he coming back?”

  “He’s not coming back to the ranch,” she said, snapping a dried cattail in half. “He’s finally realized his daddy isn’t coming back.” She turned her face to the sun and closed her eyes so he couldn’t see the tears that threatened to flow. “So what’s the point of building a tree house if your dad isn’t coming to get you and you have no place to move it to?” She hated the way her voice shook, afraid he’d think she was feeling sorry for herself, when it was her son she pitied.

  “I see what you mean,” Brandon said matter-of-factly, as if he hadn’t noticed her voice was faltering. “But that’s what you wanted, wasn’t it, for him to face the facts?”

  “Of course. It was bound to happen sooner or later. It’s just…Before, he had hope. He was working for something. He was excited. Working with you to finish the tree house. Waiting for his dad. Now,
he’s made a grown-up decision, but he’s not grown up. He shouldn’t have to be. Not yet. Not at his age. And it’s my fault.”

  “Your fault? What about your ex-husband?”

  “It’s too easy to blame him. Because he’s the one who left, he’s not coming back and he ran through all my money. But it takes two to make a divorce, so…what can I say? I must be partly at fault. But no one who had a perfect marriage could understand that.”

  “I don’t think anyone has a perfect marriage,” he said slowly.

  She turned her head in his direction. He was still looking through his binoculars, one hand braced on a granite boulder. She sat on the hard ground and leaned back against a sun-warmed rock, not knowing what to say. Afraid to say anything, afraid to move for fear he’d clam up. Just when he might be ready to talk about himself.

  “Except me,” he said.

  She sighed. She should have known. “You’re very lucky. I hope you know that.”

  He shot her an incredulous look. “Lucky?”

  “No, no, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I just meant—”

  “I know what you meant,” he said, cutting her off. “I asked for it. Of course, it wasn’t perfect. As much as I want to believe it was. We had our fights. I’ve just refused to remember them. She was headstrong, stubborn, opinionated and temperamental. I was stubborn, too. Still am. I told her not to go out that day. The streets were slick. She laughed at my fears. Said I was overly protective. If I’d only insisted. I should have taken her keys away from her. So you see, I’m to blame, too.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t see it that way.”

  Laura was afraid to ask any more about his wife, but she realized it might be her only chance. She took a deep breath. “How did you meet?”

  He set his binoculars down, sat down next to her and gazed out over the valley. There was a long silence. Either he was thinking of a way to end the conversation, change the subject or open up and tell her more. She could almost feel the struggle going on. Finally the latter option won.

  “She was my college roommate’s sister,” he said at last. “She came to visit one weekend and I was completely smitten. She was poised, self-assured with ferocious red hair. I should have known then she’d have an iron will and a temper to match. But I fell like a ton of bricks. We got married right out of college. Everyone said we were too young. That we’d change.

  “We did change, but we also grew up together. I worked hard and so did she. We were sensible. We saved our money until we had a nest egg, bought a house, then when I cashed in my stock options, we decided it was time to have a baby. We’d waited a long time to have Stephen, so when he came—well, you know how it is, you pin all your hopes and dreams on that little being and then—” He broke off.

  She nodded mutely. Wishing she could offer some kind of comfort. But words were not enough. Impulsively she reached for his hand and squeezed it. Not knowing if he’d accept comfort, whether words or gestures. She held her breath. He didn’t pull away. He turned to look at her. Their glances locked and held for a long moment. The mountain air full of the scent of wild herbs and pine needles heated up by several degrees.

  Her pulse sped up so rapidly she was sure he’d notice. What had been sympathy turned to white-hot desire. He tightened his grip on her hand. Then he moved closer, or did she? The gap between them disappeared. His face blurred as he brushed his thumb across her lips. She was amazed at the shiver of anticipation, at the rush of emotion that shook her. She wanted more, but did he?

  A cloud crossed the sun and a rock tumbled down from the hills above them and landed some ten yards away. They jumped to their feet. Was that the gods speaking? Telling her she was asking for more than she had a right to? That she was getting her hopes up for nothing? Informing her of what she already knew—that Brandon was a one-woman man?

  “That was close,” he said, turning to look up. He brushed his hands together briskly. “That must have been a sign. I’ve talked way too much about myself. I must be boring you to death. Even the sun’s gone behind a cloud.”

  He looked relieved at the interruption. A sinking feeling of disappointment filled her chest. “I’m not at all bored,” she insisted. “I’m flattered that you told me. It must be hard to talk about.”

  “Yes. It is. Or it was. You’re a good listener. I always assumed no one would want to hear about it. It’s not a happy story, after all.”

  “No, but the story isn’t over, not yet. You have your life ahead of you.”

  He frowned.

  “Sorry, I guess that’s one of those clichés you’ve heard before,” she said. “But it’s true.”

  “You, too,” he countered. “You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. Hasn’t anyone ever told you that?”

  She nodded. “My aunt told me just the other day. I had the same reaction you just did. But I know she’s right. She always is.”

  “How’s your new job?” he asked.

  “Fine. I like being outdoors. I miss some of the regulars who come into the post office every day, but I’ve seen some folks who live in the country, whom I don’t usually run into. The only drawback is the lack of housing.”

  “You still haven’t found a place?”

  “We’re still at my aunt’s. She’s incredibly gracious, but we can’t stay forever.”

  He looked into his binoculars again. “All those houses down there, and no place for you?”

  Their ranch—no, his ranch—was spread out below them like a Grandma Moses primitive painting, the dry riverbed, the barn and the sprawling ranch house and the acres of land surrounding it. Was he thinking what she was thinking? It’s so big. So big for one person.

  No place for you. The words echoed in the stillness of the air. She shivered. Without the sun on the mountain, the air was cooling off quickly. The faint sound of thunder rumbled in the distance.

  Before she could think of an answer, Dylan came running from behind a boulder. “Look,” he yelled, holding a gray rock streaked with silver in his hand. “Look what I found.”

  They pored over it, Brandon rubbing his thumb over the smooth surface then giving it to Laura to look at while Dylan jumped up and down excitedly.

  “Is it valuable? Is it?” he asked. “Is it silver?”

  “I don’t think so,” Laura said. “But it’s beautiful anyway.”

  “It could be silver,” Dylan said, taking the rock back. “If it is, we’ll be rich as Great-Grandpa. Then we can get our ranch back.”

  Laura sighed. Just when she thought he’d accepted their fate, he came up with something like that. Brandon was staring at Dylan, the lines in his forehead deepening.

  “Time for lunch,” she said brightly, heading for the car where the picnic basket was still in the trunk. But the dark cloud overhead sent a few light drops falling on her head. Brandon took the basket from her.

  “Rain, in the summer?” he asked, squinting at the sky. “I thought it never happened.”

  “It does up here. You can see it’s still sunny down below. At the ranch and all over the valley. But as the warm air rises from the valley, it expands and the temperature drops. As you know, colder air can’t hold the moisture, so it condenses out as rain.” She held her arms out, tilted her head up and let the drops fall on her face.

  He smiled. “Pretty impressive, Professor. Where did you learn so much about physics?”

  She shrugged. “From my dad. A rancher has to be a weather forecaster, too. He used to study the skies, praying for rain up here, because the mountain streams fill our reservoir. I mean your reservoir.”

  “So what’s the forecast?” he asked. “Do we stay and have our picnic?”

  She studied the sky. She had no idea what would happen next. She didn’t have the gifts her father had. The gray cloud could move on in minutes. Or it could turn black and the heavens could open up. It wasn’t likely, but it could happen. She didn’t know that much about weather. She had to admit she’d been showing off for Brandon. That sh
e wanted him to think she was not as naive and stupid as she was sure she’d first appeared. And she didn’t want to cut the day short.

  “Let’s give it a try,” she said, spreading the red-and-white checkered tablecloth on the ground. “A little rain won’t hurt us or our ham sandwiches.”

  Besides the sandwiches, Aunt Emily had insisted they take artichokes with hollandaise sauce left over from last night’s dinner, three slices of cheesecake with raspberry purée, bottled water and a half liter of red wine.

  “This isn’t a picnic, this is a feast,” Brandon said, sitting across from Laura.

  “We can thank Aunt Emily for that. Aunt Emily and The Great Cooks of the World that she watches every day on cable TV.”

  Dylan was too excited to sit down. He turned his nose up at the artichokes, grabbed a sandwich and went back to look for more silver.

  The sun came out again and Laura felt the warmth seep into her bones. Her eyelids were heavy and she yawned and leaned back on her elbows.

  “I’ll pack up,” Brandon said, noting her lassitude. “You take it easy.” After one glass of wine and an emotional spilling of his guts to Laura, he felt like taking it easy himself. What he really felt like was making love to Laura on the ground in the pine-scented air. Her sympathy, her quiet understanding, the warmth of her lips, the promise in dark eyes, or one he just imagined, were driving him crazy.

  He told himself not to confuse sympathy and understanding with desire. He didn’t know if she felt the same about him. All he knew was she was a warm, giving and very sexy woman, whether she was wearing a uniform or shorts and a formfitting T-shirt.

  He packed up the basket and took it to the car. When he came back, she was lying on her side, with her chin propped in her hand. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing softly.

  He sat down, wrapped his arms around his knees and watched her breasts rise and fall under her soft cotton T-shirt. He was hit by a sudden shaft of intense desire. What was wrong with him? Just because he’d unburdened his mind didn’t mean he was free of his obligation to the memory of his wife and child. He had no right to lust after Laura. Oh, all right, he could lust after her, be unfaithful in his mind, as long as he didn’t act on his feelings. Like the last time. But that’s just what he wanted to do. He wanted to take her back to the ranch and make love to her. To spend another night with her and to wake up in the morning and find her still there.