Tom called Beth from his office at the ranch a couple of days after New Year’s Eve to ask her if she and Mitchell wanted to drive into Austin with him to pick up teaching materials. He would be leaving on his trip to Amarillo at the end of the week, and he was already dreading how much he would miss Beth while he was gone.
Mitchell answered the phone. “Hi, Tom!” he said, all enthusiasm. “When will you see us again?”
“I’ve been kind of busy at work.”
“Have you decided when you’re going to teach me to ride Captain?”
“We could start on your birthday. Would you like that?”
Mitchell let out a delighted squeal. “Would I!”
“Okay, then, that’ll be the plan.”
“I can’t wait. I guess you want to talk to my mom?”
“Sure. Put her on.” He avoided using Mitchell’s name as much as possible; it was pretentious and ill-suited to this particular boy. In his opinion, a kid deserved a rough-and-ready name, one that pegged him as tough. He was grateful for his own no-nonsense name, Tom. Never Thomas, and not Tommy. Just plain old Tom, thank you very much.
Beth picked up the phone, and he was glad to hear her voice. “How are you doing?” he asked, picturing her in her small house, up to her elbows in fabric samples.
“Fine, though I’m kind of busy at the moment.”
Something in Beth’s tone and manner didn’t feel right, but he was at a loss to figure out what it was. “How about if I phone you later?” He expected her to suggest a good time for him to call back, the way she usually did.
“Sure, if you want.”
“I’ll be through here before dinner,” he said. “I’ll touch base when I get home.”
“Okay,” Beth said, and then she was gone.
He stood staring at the phone in his hand. He felt emotionally flattened because he’d looked forward to offering her the trip to Austin as a treat, and she hadn’t even given him a chance to mention it.
FOR SOME REASON, Beth wasn’t answering her cell phone, and Tom tried her home phone three times that afternoon before she answered.
“I want to see you,” Tom insisted when she finally picked up. He was home now, and he leaned back in his chair to admire the blue print fabric on the cornices that Beth had supplied. He remembered her delivering them to his house, then their spending the night in front of the fireplace, waiting for the ice storm to pass. That had been the beginning of everything, the start of what he had begun to cherish as an important part of his life.
“We just walked in from Leanne’s,” Beth told him. A door slammed on her end of the line, and she sounded harried.
“What’s going on at my sister’s? Anything interesting?”
“Margery’s science project was the big thing. Mitchell, Jeremiah and Ryan played video games. Britney, the hamster, was having a workout in her plastic ball.”
“Anything else going on?”
Beth sighed. “I’m pretty tired today. I’m planning to heat up some leftovers and get Mitchell to bed early.”
He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Does that mean that you and I can also get to bed early? Together?”
A long silence. “No, Tom. I want to crash tonight, grab some sleep.”
He couldn’t believe that she was putting him off again so soon. Before Mitchell had arrived home from his father’s, Beth would have been as eager as he was now. No, that wasn’t fair. Maybe all those late nights making love had caught up with her. Maybe she was exhausted. After all, she was busy running a business as well as being a mother.
“It’s not easy being a superwoman,” he said, hoping to get a chuckle out of her, but his effort fell flat.
“I never said I was,” she said stiffly.
“Hey,” he said. “Are you all right?”
A long silence followed. “I’ve got a lot on my mind,” she finally said. “I’ve won the contract to design the interior of the Kettersburg Country Club. That means that Mitchell will be spending even more hours at day care.”
“He seems to like it okay.”
“He does. It’s just the guilt thing.”
Tom would bet that Beth spent more time with her son than most single parents; she shouldn’t feel guilty.
“Congratulations on the contract,” he told her.
“Thanks. I hope you’ll understand why I’m feeling pushed for time at the moment. In fact, when you called, I was preparing for my first big meeting with the country club people.”
For a moment he considered not asking her to go to Austin with him. If she was so busy, chances were she couldn’t. But he wanted to sit beside her in his pickup and be the object of flirtatious glances. Wanted to share a laugh, a confidence. With Mitchell, too, of course.
He cleared his throat. “I’m going to run errands in Austin tomorrow,” he said. “I was hoping that you and Mitchell would go with me.”
If the last silence was long, this one was even longer.
“I can’t, Tom,” she said, her voice low. “I’m supposed to be in Kettersburg first thing for the meeting.”
“I didn’t realize it was tomorrow,” he said. For a moment he considered reminding her that he would be leaving for Amarillo soon, but he decided against it. He might come across as pressuring her to duck out on her country club clients, and he didn’t want that.
“We’ll do it some other time,” he said. Then he had an idea and blurted it out without considering whether it was a good one. “How about letting Mitchell go with me to Austin?”
“Just the two of you?” She sounded surprised.
“Sure, why not?”
“I guess it would be okay. I was planning to leave him with Leanne because his day care won’t start up again until the public school does, and he could play with Jeremiah.”
“I’d enjoy his company.”
“What time will you leave?”
“I’ll stop by your house around eight o’clock to pick him up. How’s that?”
“Perfect.” She sounded slightly more like herself now, more cheerful.
“Tell Mitchell I’m looking forward to it.”
After they hung up, Tom pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Even though Beth had softened up toward the end of their conversation, his built-in problem detector told him that something was definitely wrong here.
Not only that, he was beginning to have trepidations. What if he wasn’t capable of entertaining an exuberant five-year-old for a whole day?
WHEN TOM PICKED UP Mitchell the next morning, the boy was fidgeting impatiently on the porch, a big smile on his face. He ran out to the truck, his bright red jacket unzipped and flying out behind him.
“Hi, Tom!” he said. “I wore my cowboy hat. It’s like yours.” He also wore cowboy boots.
Tom grinned down at the kid, thinking that he was a handsome child, with all that blond hair and those big blue eyes. If he had a son, Tom wouldn’t mind if he resembled Mitchell.
“Can we leave now?” Mitchell asked, hopping on one foot and then the other.
Tom had planned to go in and talk to Beth, maybe cadge a cup of coffee, but she appeared in the doorway and waved. “Thanks, Tom,” she said warmly. She was coiling her hair up off her neck as she spoke, pinning it in a twist. She was businesslike in a trim navy-blue suit and heels; this was a side of her he hadn’t seen before.
“When will you be back?” she asked.
“I’d like to take Mitchell to the zoo,” he said. “If that’s okay. It means we won’t be back until late.”
“The zoo! Wow!” Mitchell said. “Can we go, Mom? Please?”
Beth smiled indulgently. “I guess that would be fine. If you really want to, Tom.”
“Sure. It’ll be fun.”
“There’ll be monkeys and every stuff. I heard about it from Ryan.”
“That’s right,” Tom assured him.
Beth said, “Drive carefully and have a safe trip. ’Bye, honey. Behave yourself.”
“I will, Mommy,” Mitchell said as Tom opened the door of the pickup for him.
Mitchell climbed up, and Tom helped him fasten himself in. He was bouncing in his seat as Tom slid in under the steering wheel.
“Next stop, Austin,” Tom said, when they were headed toward the interstate highway.
“Can we go to the zoo first?” Mitchell could have passed for a real cowboy in his miniature cowboy hat and boots, and even his foghorn voice seemed kind of appealing.
Tom shook his head. “Not until after lunch.”
“Okay.” Mitchell tugged at his turtleneck. “I wish Mom wouldn’t have made me wear this shirt. The collar hurts. I wanted to wear a cowboy shirt to go with my boots and jeans and hat, but she said no.”
“Moms do things like that,” Tom said in a tone of commiseration.
“Boy, do they ever. Like my blue suit that she sewed for me. I hate that suit, but she makes me wear it for special occasions.”
Tom recalled the velvet outfit that Mitchell had worn to the pancake breakfast. “I don’t like to wear suits, either,” he confided.
“You could tell her that. Maybe she won’t make me wear it if your mother doesn’t make you wear yours.”
Tom tried not to laugh at this. Mitchell was totally serious. “I’ll see what I can do for you,” he said, thinking that there were a few other things that he could lobby for on Mitchell’s behalf. Like maybe even a dog.
By this time, Mitchell was off on a different subject. “Have you seen Captain lately? Did you tell him I’m going to learn to ride him?”
This topic eventually led to discussions about what real cowboys actually did, how Tom had learned to train cutting horses when he was still in high school and how he’d spent his time in the marine corps.
“Did you really fight a war? Was it exciting?”
“Yes, I fought a war, but it was not fun at all.”
Mitchell seemed to accept this, and they talked about how things could be fun but not exciting, which was how Mitchell regarded his kindergarten classes at day care. When they were through exploring that topic, they touched upon Jeremiah and his hamster, and the fact that Jeremiah had named the hamster Britney, which was a much better name than Ava. This reminded Mitchell of his new baby sister, which led to observations about life at his father’s house. All of this gave Tom the impression that Mitchell was a relatively well-adjusted kid who was good company when he wasn’t showing off to get his mother’s attention.
“Hey, cowboy, how about telling me when the sign comes up for exit 234. That’s the numbers two, three and four right next to each other.”
“On a big green sign like that one?” Mitchell asked, pointing to the one they were passing.
“That’s right.”
“Okay, Tom.” He leaned forward in his seat, scanning the upcoming exit signs.
Tom relaxed and stopped wishing that Beth could have come with them. He wasn’t worried anymore about what he would do to entertain Mitchell all day. He knew now that Mitchell was going to entertain him.
ON HER WAY HOME from Kettersburg that afternoon, Beth stopped at the antiques shop where Chloe worked. As she slid out of the minivan, she noted the handwritten For Lease sign in the front window.
“I guess the sign makes the closing of the shop official?” she asked when she found Chloe arranging a collection of milk glass in a corner cabinet.
“We’re out of here in two months,” Chloe said as she closed the cabinet door. “Come with me. Before the holidays, we got in some things that might be perfect for the country club.”
Beth followed her friend to the warehouse behind the shop, where Chloe showed her a row of elegant old bookcases that had recently been removed from a house scheduled for demolition.
“These will work beautifully for the library at the country club,” Beth told her as she ran her fingers lightly over the satiny finish of the chestnut wood. “How long can you store them?”
“No problem,” Chloe said, making a notation on the sales slip. “We’ll have use of the warehouse as long as we need it.”
Chloe led the way outside and back into the store through the rear entrance. They threaded their way through a thinned-out inventory of beds and dressing tables.
“Have you decided what to do about moving to Florida?” Beth asked her.
Chloe stopped beside a display of depression glass, her expression serious. “If I don’t make a break now, I never will design the kind of jewelry I really love.”
“I felt the same way about starting my own design business,” Beth told her.
“Remember how scared you were? How you worried that you wouldn’t be able to make a living at it? That’s how I feel now.”
“My fears involved being on my own after five years of marriage.”
“You’re doing okay,” Chloe said. “That contract for the country club is a big deal. I’m so proud of you, Beth.”
“Yes, but—” Beth, remembering how supportive Chloe had been when she was in a turmoil over the divorce, suddenly felt the urge to talk to her about Tom.
Chloe must have sensed Beth’s inner conflict because she studied Beth’s expression, her eyes going solemn and dark. “Hey,” she said softly, “you are doing okay, aren’t you?”
Beth heaved a giant sigh. “Professionally, yes. But personally, I’m not so sure.”
“It’s nothing to do with Mitchell, is it?”
“Oh, no. It’s Tom Collyer.” She winced, waiting for Chloe’s gasp of amazement.
Beth wasn’t disappointed. Chloe not only gasped, her jaw dropped. “Tom? Collyer?”
“The same.”
Chloe appropriated Beth’s arm and slid a dining chair out from under a table. “Sit,” she said, indicating the chair. “I can hardly wait to hear.”
“We’ve been seeing each other since the housewarming party at his house. We’ve—well, it’s more than hanging out. It’s everything. Eating together, going places together, cooking Christmas dinner together, sleeping together. Don’t look so shocked, Chloe. People do sleep together.”
Chloe closed her mouth, opened it again. Closed it. “I remember seeing the two of you at the Christmas pageant. I thought you were with Leanne and her family, had maybe splintered off from the group.”
“No, it was a—a date. Go ahead and tell me what an idiot I am. Maybe that’s what I need to hear.”
Chloe took a deep breath and grinned. “You’re not an idiot, Beth. The guy is gorgeous. Those gray eyes like smoke one day, silver the next. That abdomen—rock solid, I bet. What woman wouldn’t want a shot at Tom Collyer?”
“I don’t need a description of his appearance. I need to be told off and pulled back in line.”
“No, Beth. You should have started dating right away after Richie left.”
“I wasn’t in the mood for it.”
“Getting back into the singles life would have done wonders for your self-esteem.”
“I have a son to consider.”
“It worried me when you decided that the only man with whom you wanted a relationship was a preschooler.” Chloe delivered this statement tartly, succinctly, making no secret about her disapproval.
“Don’t be so quick to condemn. Most guys aren’t nearly as interesting to me as Mitchell. Then Tom Collyer comes along, and all my standards go out the window. I fall hard and then find out he’s no better than Richie. My ex-husband left me and his child for another woman. Tom walked out on his pregnant girlfriend. That doesn’t say much about the character of either one. Why, oh why, do I keep finding guys with no integrity?”
Chloe drummed her fingers on the tabletop. “I’m not sure that’s the case, Beth. Has Tom ever demonstrated that he’s untrustworthy?”
“No, he’s been above reproach from the get-go. He’s seemed like someone I can count on in a pinch, and I can tell from the things he says that he really cares. Mitchell has grown to enjoy his visits—they’re on the way to becoming friends. I considered Tom a good role model for my son. But he’s still the same person who left Nikki Fentress to bear her child alone, and the whole town knew about it.”
“He could have changed, Beth. Why not ask him about Nikki and give him a chance to explain?”
Beth shrugged unhappily. “I might learn too much.”
“Which means?”
“You’re going to say that I should have confronted Richie sooner about Starla and that I shouldn’t make the same mistake again with Tom.”
“It’s hardly the same situation, but yes.” Chloe patted her comfortingly on the hand.
“And if I don’t like Tom’s explanation, I should break it off now before Mitchell’s heart gets broken.”
“What about your heart, Beth?” Chloe watched her, eyes steady.
Beth only gazed back at her, unable to reply.
AFTER ARRIVING IN AMARILLO, Tom spoke to Beth once or twice from his motel, and for the most part, the conversations were unsatisfactory. She tended to be in a rush, uncommunicative and distracted. A few times, he managed to get a chuckle out of her, but it was always short-lived. He was growing resentful that she didn’t respond to his attempts to draw her out.
The rodeo exhibition took place over a weekend, with shows on both Saturday and Sunday. On Sunday night, he was walking to the parking lot while silently congratulating himself on performing well, when he heard a vaguely familiar female voice behind him.
“Hey, Tom.” The tone was seductive, which put him on alert.
He swiveled, squinted into the darkness, then realized that the person speaking to him was a woman who was sauntering along at the edge of a group. She had chin-length dark brown hair and a slightly chunky build, but she walked with the self-assurance of a woman who understood her own sexuality.
She wore a lightweight coat, thrown open to reveal a tight sweater over her jeans. “You are Tom Collyer, aren’t you?” she asked as she drew closer.
“Yes,” he said. A name flashed into his head: Dorothy. Dolores? Something like that.
“We met at a rodeo in Laredo a long time ago. You competed in bronc and bull riding, and I was running the barrels. Dorinda Neville. Or at least that was my name then. I’m Dorinda Hardy now.” She waited expectantly.
Tom recalled Laredo; he’d gone there when he was a teenager to compete in the annual rodeo. One of those years after all his events were over, he’d sneaked a few beers with Divver and Johnny and become violently sick to his stomach. A girl who had been tagging around after them all weekend had guided him to her parents’ camper trailer at the edge of the parking area, where she’d provided soap and water so he could clean up. Then—oh, wow. He remembered it all now.
The girl was older than he was. Her parents had been off partying somewhere, and he was woozy from the beer, so she suggested that he sleep it off in her parents’ double bed. When he woke up, she was beside him under the covers. Naked. And eager.
Dorinda.
“I—well, I do recall something about Laredo,” he said.
“We ran into each other a few times after that,” she reminded him.
“Dorinda,” called one of the guys who had now moved ahead of them, “you going to Poco Loco with us?”
“Meet you there,” she called back. She flashed a smile up at Tom, and for a moment, he remembered a girl with skin smooth as silk and dark hair that had swung in his eyes when she leaned over to kiss him.
“Want to go with us?” she asked. “We’re going to knock back a few, then call it a night. I have to drive back to El Paso early in the morning—got to pick up my kids from my mother’s house.”
He fell into step beside her, thinking that the years hadn’t been particularly kind to her. He noticed that she wore no wedding ring.
“So what you been doing all this time?” she asked, matching her shorter strides to his long, slow ones.
“Marine corps, Gulf War veteran, have a new venture going.” He didn’t want to get more specific than that.
Her car was an aging black Camaro coated with dust. She unlocked it and gestured for him to get in.
“Me, I’ve been married twice. Got a son from the first one, a daughter from the second. Picked the wrong person both times.” Her eyes, illuminated as they were by other cars’ headlights, reflected sadness.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Tom said.
“You ever been married?”
“No,” he said.
“Seems I remember you had a girlfriend last time I saw you…it was a couple years after Laredo.”
“Nothing ever came of it,” he said. He’d left Farish because he hadn’t wanted to defend himself or his actions, and he wouldn’t do it now. The pain of what happened with Nikki—and Johnny, of course—had receded to a hard little core deep inside his soul. For a long time that part of him had been like an open wound. After a while it became an ache, then no more than a prickle of discomfort, like a burr under the skin. Now, he realized with a new and surprising awareness, it was merely a scar that he noticed once in a while when something happened to remind him, like Dorinda’s remark.
He stared straight ahead at the taillights of the car in front of them. The truth was that the Nikki situation didn’t matter to him anymore because of Beth. Because Beth was more important to him than Nikki had ever been. Because he loved Beth.
“Those relationships don’t always work out,” Dorinda was saying reflectively as they headed down a street lined with strip malls.
At first Tom thought she was referring to the one he had with Beth, and he was ready to refute her statement. Then he realized that she meant the kind of romance that develops between two young people, like his with Nikki.
“I married young,” Dorinda said wistfully. “The first time, anyway. He was a bronc rider. I figured we had things in common. It turned out that he fell asleep after guzzling a six-pack every night. We were divorced after a year. My second husband died a couple of years ago. Serious illness.”
“I’m sorry,” Tom said, and he was. Dorinda had been a beautiful girl once, full of fire and spirit. Now she seemed discouraged and depressed.
“Them’s the breaks,” she said, rounding a corner into the parking lot of the bar. She cut the engine and they got out of the car. He slowed his step to accommodate hers, feeling he was out of place walking with anyone but Beth.
Inside, they were hailed by her friends and invited to join them. He and Dorinda crowded around a small table damp with rings from the bottoms of beer bottles as everyone began to talk about the day’s events, but Tom found his mind wandering before five minutes had passed. He knew that back in Farish, Beth would be tucking Mitchell into bed now. Afterward, she would tidy up the kitchen before settling on the living room couch. She’d watch TV for a while, maybe call her friend Chloe to share a laugh or two. He hoped she might call him. Maybe she had called him already.
Surreptitiously, he slid his cell phone from his coat pocket and checked for messages. Only one, and it was from Divver. He dropped the phone back into his pocket and drained his beer before signaling for another.
A wheezy country-western band was playing, and couples were circling the floor. “Let’s dance,” Dorinda suggested. Before a reasonable excuse came to mind, the band started to play “Cotton-eyed Joe.”
Dorinda brightened. “All right, Tom. No Texan worth his salt would sit out ‘Cotton-eyed Joe.’” A couple of the other members of the group stood up, and before he knew what was happening, Dorinda had tugged him to his feet and he was being led toward the dance floor.
He forced a smile and took her in his arms. She was well padded around the ribs, and her lipstick was smeared too thick on her bottom lip. Life had not been kind to Dorinda Neville. Yet he couldn’t help thinking about Beth and her hard breaks. Beth had managed to overcome a difficult childhood and an unwanted divorce without becoming cynical or discouraged.
Dorinda eased closer, her breasts pushing against his chest. She wasn’t much of a dancer—had no sense of rhythm. She stepped on his foot really hard and apologized, and when he tried to hold her farther away from him, she stomped on his foot again.
He was praying for an end to the task of jockeying her around the dance floor when the band wound up the song and started to play another one, this one much slower. As he prepared to escort Dorinda back to the table, she pulled him closer and rested her temple against his cheek.
“Just one more,” she whispered. “For old times’ sake.”
It wouldn’t have been gentlemanly to turn down a lady, especially when she’d asked so desperately, so Tom gritted his teeth and tried to insert more space between them. The heavy scent of her perfume was cloying, and he hated the way she sang the words to the song with her lips beside his ear.
As the music drew to an end, he was itching to leave, but he realized with chagrin that he didn’t have a way back to the motel.
Dorinda kept a tight hold of his hand as they walked back to the table.
“Dorinda, I really have to go.”
“Oh?” she replied in dismay.
He began to perspire, thinking that he should have planned his escape earlier. “I’m afraid so. I’ll get a taxi. It isn’t necessary for you to cut your evening short.”
“I’ll drive you to your motel. Is it nearby?”
He cringed at her eagerness. “Well, I—”
“It doesn’t matter. To tell the truth, I’d like to get out of here, too.” She grabbed her purse and told the others that they were leaving. No one seemed too perturbed; they all turned back to their conversations, flirtations, drinking.
Great. This was all he needed—a woman who wouldn’t give up when he was sending clear signals that he wasn’t interested.
He flung enough money on the table to cover his drinks and tried again. “Honest, Dorinda, I don’t want you to trouble yourself.”
She aimed a too-big smile up at him. “No trouble. Let’s boogie out of here.”
They snaked their way in single file between the crowded tables. Outside, Tom stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked wordlessly beside Dorinda to her car. It was raining slightly, little stinging drops. She kept up an endless stream of chatter, which was totally uninteresting to him. One of the things he appreciated about being with Beth was that when they conversed, they engaged in a lot of give and take. That certainly wasn’t the case here.
“Tell me which direction,” Dorinda said as they waited in her car at the stop sign for a chance to nose into traffic.
“Hang a right,” he said brusquely. He knew by this time that he should have insisted on a cab.
They rode for a mile or two, the noisy windshield wipers stuttering back and forth in front of them, and he caught her shooting little glances in his direction. Perhaps she was assessing his mood, or worse yet, maybe she was trying to muster the nerve to ask him something.
“I’m at the A-Plus Motel,” he said. “It’s a ways up the road.”
She wet her lips, braked at a stoplight, drew a deep breath. “We don’t have to go to your place. I have a room at the motel on the next corner. You could stay there if you like.”
Damn. He hadn’t invited this, didn’t want it. Maybe this was standard operating procedure for her.
“I—” he began. He shook his head and started over. “Thanks, Dorinda, but I’ll have to pass. I appreciate the offer, though.” Sometimes, he knew, you had to tell little white lies in order to propel yourself over the minor hurdles of life.
Her face crumpled. “Okay” was all she said.
“You can let me out here,” he suggested, thinking this might make it easier on both of them.
She slammed on the brakes and jerked the Camaro over to the curb. A tractor-trailer rig behind them honked, then passed, stirring up a whirlwind of soggy litter from the gutter.
Tom heaved a giant sigh and shook his head as if to clear it. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“No, you aren’t. Guys never are,” Dorinda said bitterly, refusing to meet his eyes.
He slid out of the car and shut the door. Once he was clear, Dorinda rammed her foot down on the accelerator, and the Camaro shot away from the curb.
Tom pulled his collar up and hunkered down inside his coat before striking off toward his room. Flickering neon reflected in the puddles on the pavement, and somewhere he heard a siren. It wasn’t such a long way to his motel, and he could use the exercise. As he walked, he checked his cell phone for messages, but Beth still hadn’t called.
Back in his room, he dialed her number. She didn’t answer. After he’d called her several times, he finally realized that she wasn’t going to pick up. He sat staring grimly at the phone in his hand for a long time.
He’d been successful in convincing Beth to let down the barriers. But it was clear that now he was going to have to work at weakening her defenses.