Chapter Three

“Oh, my word, is that you, Ray Ryder? What in heaven’s name brings you out to the Lone Star?” Doris McKay extended her meaty arm across the front desk to give him her paw. “And are those for me? Goodness, this must be my lucky day.”

Ray had been carrying his bunch of flowers out in front of him like a bride going down the aisle. He quickly pointed them south and extended his own hand to the smiling ranch manager, shaking her hand being something akin to squeezing a small pillow.

“Hey there, Doris. How’re you doin’?” He purposefully ignored her remark about the flowers. “Long time and all that.”

“Long time? Long time? Heck, I haven’t seen you since…I don’t know when. When was it? You recall?”

He scratched his head in a pantomime of thinking. “Mighta been when you and Hank come over to see a couple of my Arabs for sale. That’d be it.”

“Yeah, well…” She eyed the flowers again, waiting for an explanation.

“Say, you got a lady and her daughter from back east name of Bennett staying with you, haven’t you?”

Doris leaned across the expanse of desk in a confidential manner. “Famous author,” she whispered, her hand covering her mouth. “Puttin’ us all in her next book.”

“That so?” He attempted to act as if he believed her. “Thing is, lady sort of did me a small favor last night, and I’d like to thank her, so I come on over to give her these. You think she’s around at the moment?”

The hefty manager straightened into a professional manner and eyed him sternly. “Really shouldn’t be giving out any information on my guests, Ray. But seeing as how it’s you,” she went on with a softer tone, “and you promise to stay on for our Saturday evening dance starting in just a short while, well, they’re over in Cabin Three. Now, you make sure you knock and don’t go peeking in any windows.”

Ray nodded his thanks and was gone before she could continue.

****

Carrie stood peering through the screen door, just swallowing a last mouthful of chicken when two things went through her mind. The first, which made her giggle, was that Ray, standing and holding a bouquet of flowers out in front of him, resembled a young suitor come to take a girl to the prom. The second was how really pleased she was to see him.

“Come in, come in,” she said, trying to clear any residue of sauce from her mouth. “What a surprise.”

“Yeah, well...” He stepped inside the cabin and glanced briefly around.

A minor wave of embarrassment hit her as she became aware of the various small items of clothing hanging on chair backs and off wardrobe doors, while a brief glimpse into the bedroom revealed one neat bed and one with a mess of makeup and cosmetics strewn over it.

Paige was at the small dining table reading and eating; she glanced up at Ray inquisitively.

“Hey, Paige,” he greeted, removing his hat.

Carrie sensed the sudden nervousness, as if he wished he hadn’t come after all, so she offered, “It’s good to see you. Can I get you some coffee?”

“Oh, I don’t want to be any trouble, Carrie. I just came over to make a peace offering and apologize for my idiocy last night. I guess I sort of did go over the deep end with the drink and all.” He held out the flowers, the cellophane crinkling in his hand.

“I...you don’t have to apologize. It was fine. You went out and celebrated your son’s return home. But thank you, they’re lovely.” She took the flowers and walked briskly to the sink to search for a receptacle to make do as a vase.

“I think there’s a jug in the top cupboard, Mom,” muttered Paige, briefly glancing up from her book. “Why don’t you sit down, Ray? Take a load off and all that.”

He sat on the sofa, turning his hat in his hands as Carrie clattered about the tiny kitchen, dirty dishes covering the small countertop. She measured out coffee into the filter paper and set the machine to work, not quite accustomed to using the coffeemaker.

“Doris was reluctant to tell me where you were,” Ray went on, a somewhat hesitant note in his voice. “I hope you won’t be mad at her.”

Carrie cut the ends off the blooms and dumped them into the jug of water. “Oh, no, it’s fine.” She reached up for a couple of mugs and smiled back at him.

“You’re not seeking her autograph, are you?” Paige put in without looking up. “You don’t want a book signed?”

“No, not this time. Though Doris does seem to think she’s going to have a leading role in your next one.”

Her daughter let out a single laugh, which startled her.

“I don’t think you’ve got that desperate for heroines yet, have you, Mother?”

“Paige…”

“Yeah,” Ray joined in. A smile stole across his features. “She’s not exactly—well, I don’t want to be unkind. She has a good heart, Doris has.”

“No doubt a large one,” added Paige rather dryly.

“Paige…” Carrie’s shoulders slumped as she tried to catch her daughter’s eye.

“Paige, Paige,” she mimicked.

“Jake says hello,” Ray put in quickly. “Said he might give you a call later, Paige, and see if you wanted a dance partner for the night. I left him with some customers who’re considering one of our stallions. He’s real good with people, Jake is.”

Carrie breathed a sigh of relief that he seemed to have defused the situation with her daughter for the moment. She waited to see what reaction the mention of Jake might bring.

Paige slipped Ray a glance then slammed shut her book. “Well,” she said, her chair screeching back, “maybe I better go change for the evening’s entertainment.”

The door to the bedroom closed. Carrie made a face, part apology for her daughter, part ‘you know how kids are.’

“How do you take your coffee?”

“Oh, black—as it comes is fine.” A look of amusement momentarily stretched his face into a wide smile before his gaze slid away again.

Carrie was conscious of the sudden awkwardness between them. She had the sensation he watched her back as she added the sugar and milk to her own mug, aware of the sound of the fridge door opening and closing, breaking the wave of silence between them. For a moment, a surge went through her, an expectancy of what might happen, but she struggled to suppress it, to pull away. It was as if she were drawing back into herself, containing some portion of her being that might be trying to escape.

“Here you go,” she said softly as she handed him the mug and switched Paige’s vacated chair to face the sofa. “I hope it’s all right.”

Ray held his mug between his two hands as if they needed warming. “You know, maybe I shouldn’t have come. I guess I could’ve just sent over a note or left a message or something rather than comin’ on over here and bothering you both.”

“I’m glad you came. Really, I…” She slipped out of herself, like mercury from a thermometer, one bit and then another of her feelings were attracting and attaching like magnets until the liquid silver of her center would be gone.

“It’s just, well, I felt I laid an awful lot of my problems on you last night, and I wondered if you went away feeling, you know, upset or something. Damn, Carrie, I’m not real good with words. Help me out here, will ya?” He reached across and slammed the mug down on the table.

“You don’t need help, Ray. You were drunk. We all do or say things we don’t mean when we’ve had too much to drink.” She took a careful sip from her coffee and gazed at him over the top of her mug.

“Yeah, well. There wasn’t anything I said, as I recall, I didn’t mean. It’s just...maybe I shouldn’t have said it all.” He stood suddenly and grabbed his hat. “I don’t suppose you ever get drunk, do you?”

Her gaze met his, startled at his sudden antipathy. The resulting silence made the sounds of Paige’s preparations seem louder, like warning bells.

“You think me an awful prig really, don’t you?”

Ray’s piercing gaze caught her again, the lens of a camera catching the moment.

“No,” he said, sitting back down. “No, not at all. I just feel you’re very much in control of yourself, is all. You wouldn’t let yourself go, like I did last night.”

He reached for his coffee as the bedroom door swung open.

Carrie turned to see her daughter glaring at the two of them. She tensed at the look of impatience on Paige’s face before turning back to Ray.

He took a sip of the coffee, his face contorting with the taste. “Jeez, that is about the worst dang coffee I ever tasted.”

****

Paige had been the one to convince Ray to stay for the dance. She told him if Jake showed up to be her partner, her mother would be left alone to go back to the room and work on a Saturday night, and he couldn’t allow that. Her mom had busied herself at the sink clearing the dinner dishes, tossing out the rejected coffee before she excused herself to ‘freshen up.’

When the bell sounded outside the main ranch building, the three strolled down at a leisurely pace, Paige slightly behind the older pair, watching their body language. How every time Ray leaned toward her mother, her body would shift slightly away with the next step. How every time her mother said something, Ray would bend his head in much closer.

Hopeless, just hopeless.

And then Ray’s hand came out suddenly to stop her mother. “Well, I’ll be,” he murmured. “What the heck?”

Paige stopped behind them and peered ahead. The cowboy—a wrangler she guessed he was called—the one who had taken them out riding earlier in the day, was sauntering toward the dining hall. Slightly older than Jake, she figured, she had found him tense and wary, uncommunicative. She never did manage to ask him about the scar running down his left cheek.

“Ty Sheldon,” Ray’s voice called out. “What’re you doin’ here?”

The wrangler stopped, hesitated, then came part way to meet the trio. “Mr. Ryder? Hey, how you doin’, sir? Long time—”

Ray didn’t let him finish. “You working here now, Ty? I thought, uh…” He stopped himself, glancing at Paige and her mother, and obviously conscious of them listening.

“Mr. McKay gave me a job. I been clean for a couple of years now. Out…you know…”

Her mother shifted uncomfortably, then said, “We’ll see you inside.”

Ray shook his head. “No, it’s fine,” he assured her quietly. “This is one of my son Robbie’s old friends from school.”

“We met earlier today.” She nodded to the cowboy. “Ty took us out on a lovely, long ride.”

“Did he now?” Ray stood and crossed his arms.

“Dad, Paige.”

Jake’s voice drew her attention from the unfolding scene as he approached from the parking lot, then stopped in his tracks.

Recognition spread across his face as the wrangler took a wary step back. Yet Jake continued to stand there without acknowledging Robbie’s old friend.

Paige stayed where she was and waited for some reaction.

“I better be getting inside, Mr. Ryder.” Ty touched the brim of his hat with a small nod at her mother and headed off as Jake came forward toward his father. If Ray thought it odd his son and the old family friend didn’t exchange greetings, he didn’t show it. To Paige, it was just that—odd.

“What the hell is that bastard doing here?” Jake asked.

“He’s clean, son, he says. Whatever else he was, he was Robbie’s good friend.” Ray nodded to her mother. “You think a leopard can change its spots?”

Paige waited for her dance partner’s response, taking in the way the two men dealt with each other. And then something else caught her attention. After apologizing to her mother for his drunken behavior last night, the rancher now seemed to be ready for a repeat performance.

“Why have you got a hipflask in your back pocket?” The question was suddenly sharp, intrusive.

Ray’s hand darted to the flask. He eyed Paige for a moment and then his son. “I guess I just feel I need to carry an emergency supply. Sort of like one of them St. Bernard dogs.” He glanced toward her mom to catch her reaction. “Force of habit, I guess.”

Paige could see the wheels of her mother’s mind turning and working, yet no words came out. And then she caught a grimace on Jake’s face that faded away as she faced him.

“Jake,” she went on brightly, extending her hand, “are we going to dance?”

****

Tables had been moved to the sides of the wide room and a country band played from a platform set up at one end. Paper lanterns were strung along the wall to give a slightly festive air, while the bar was doing a brisk business. But it was nothing like the Bandera dancehall of the previous night. Ranch guests appeared to be shy about trying the local dances, and only a few couples were out on the floor.

Carrie fidgeted with her bracelet, twisting it on her wrist, unsure whether to offer to buy Ray a drink, unsure of what she was doing there aside from spending more time with this man, a man about whom she really knew very little.

“We’re going to go for a drive,” her daughter broke in suddenly after a quiet consultation with Jake. “Don’t wait up.” And with a wave, she was off.

Jake nodded his good-bye as he went to hold the door open for Paige, his gaze scanning the skimpy camisole she wore with her jeans.

Ray grimaced. “They’ll be fine,” he assured her. “Drink?” he asked, nodding toward the bar. “I believe I’m allowed two before the need for a ‘designated driver’ is reached.”

Carrie laughed. Her body relaxed, let go, as if she might enjoy herself. “You’re not going to let me forget that, are you? All right,” she said, following him. “I’ve found they do a mean Margarita, salt and all please.”

“So, you’re a tequila girl, then, huh? Okay. One margarita, one Jack on the rocks.”

He led her to a space at the bar. Carrie briefly acknowledged one of her fellow guests while Ray gave a busy Doris a nod as she passed.

“How long you been divorced, Carrie?” he asked bluntly as he shook a hand at the barman.

“Paige was three. Nearly twenty-four years.” She made it sound like a natural fact of life, but his reaction was immense surprise.

“Twenty-four years! And you never re-married? How the hell did you manage that?”

She squinted at him a moment, trying to decide exactly what he meant by his remark. “I managed it by working hard, very hard, since the day he walked out.”

“He walked out? Oh, that’s right, you said yesterday he’d moved on to greener pastures. Must’ve been a damn fool, then.”

“I thought so.”

“And all this time you never re-married? I just find that so hard to believe.”

“I didn’t re-marry, Ray. I didn’t say I hadn’t had any relationships.” She waited as he grew impatient for the barman. “I was very young when we married, and learned my lesson. End of story. How long have you been divorced?”

“Me? I, uh…” He broke off to give their order. “Now, let me guess, these other relationships, my bet is you broke them off, not the men?”

Carrie leaned an elbow on the bar and stared at him. Where was he going with this? And was it any of his business? Her fingers strummed for a moment. “Are you a psychologist in your spare time as well as a rancher?”

“No, no.” He handed the barman some cash before picking up the drinks and handing her one. “Salud!”

“Salud,” she responded, as he guided her to a space by the window. “But you think you have me figured out,” she went on.

“I think…I’m not sure what I think. But I do know it’s mighty strange for a good-looking, talented, kind-hearted lady like yourself to still be single after twenty-four years. You must be hiding yourself away, woman.”

“Or maybe I just never met the right man,” she retorted. “Or maybe I just like it that way.”

“Maybe.”

She waited a moment, taking a careful sip of the drink and watching the dancers on the floor. Was it worth going on? But she saw a genuine interest—or was it concern?—in this man’s face.

“When he left—David, his name was…is David—I decided I didn’t want anything from him except the apartment and some maintenance for Paige so no matter what happened she had a roof over her head and could attend decent schools. He was going off to Hong Kong anyway, and I figured it would be almost impossible to start legal proceedings to get alimony. I just let him be. He was out of my life, and I figured we were going to have minimal contact with him anyway.” She sipped again at her drink, the memory of that awful time bringing back the pain, the humiliation. It wasn’t the drink that chilled her now.

“Does Paige see him? Was he part of her life growing up?”

“Not really. She went out to visit him a couple of times when she was older and, of course, when he is in New York, he comes to see her. But David’s input was very little. I could choose the schools, basically do whatever I wanted regarding her upbringing.” She gave a small shake, trying to rid herself of those memories once and for all.

Ray took notice of his fast-disappearing drink; Carrie wondered if he normally drank whiskey as if it were water.

“So, when did you start writing?”

“The day he walked out the door.” She took a sip of her margarita. “It was good therapy.”

His dark, piercing eyes penetrated her in a way that made her feel violated. Then, gently, he reached forward, took her drink to put on the windowsill along with his own and extended his hand.

“What? What are you doing?”

“You know how to Texas Two-Step?” he asked.

“No,” she said, laughter just below the surface.

“Well, sweetheart, you have come to the right place. Or at least got yourself the right man. By the time I finish with you, you’ll be the best dang stepper on the floor.”

Carrie looked around. “There isn’t anyone else on the floor at the moment, Ray.”

“Well, heck, I know that. That’s perfect for learning.”

As soon as his hand closed around hers, the leather of his palm a strange glove over her own fingers, a sudden frisson of connection ran through her she hadn’t known in a very long while. He moved her to face him squarely on, a small smile tipping the edges of his mouth, the dark, impenetrable eyes shining with his captured prize.

“Just follow me,” he said as his right hand went to her back. A cover of a Vince Gill ballad started, the mournful tune setting a moderate tempo. “Perfect.” He held her right hand high and applied slight pressure to move her backwards. “Fast fast slow slow, fast fast slow slow.”

Carrie felt a light bulb go on. She got it. It was good. It was fun. And she relaxed in his embrace. He was an excellent teacher, a fabulous leader on the dance floor. Would wonders never cease?

“You’re doing well. You’re doing fine,” he assured her. “We’re gonna try a little promenade now, and then a twirl, so get ready.”

Carrie couldn’t stop herself from smiling, anticipation bubbling for just a second. And then out of the corner of her eye she caught Ty watching them, beer half-raised in salute and a smirk plastered on his face. A moment’s hesitation and she missed the step.

“What happened there?” asked Ray, oblivious to the effect the onlooker had on her.

Other couples were finally joining them on the dance floor, but despite the company, Carrie’s discomfort increased. “That boy, that Ty,” she told him. “He was watching us. It made me feel…uneasy.”

Ray scanned the sidelines, but Ty had gone, nowhere to be seen. “Oh, don’t pay him any mind. He’s harmless enough.”

****

“So, this is the man cave,” Paige said. She picked up a photo, glancing briefly at it before putting it back down. “Goodness.”

“Yeah, I suppose it is now. Guess you didn’t really see it last night.” Jake handed her a margarita and then motioned to the sofa, plopping down as she ignored the invitation.

Instead, she wandered the room as if she were looking for some clue, her drink almost forgotten in her hand. She gave occasional glances to Jake, considering him, sizing him up, comparing him to Steven. He would certainly not be like Steven, nothing like her lost man, no one would. Yet suddenly, she needed him, wanted him. There was something about him, something that told her he cared, he was giving, she could trust him to love her for the night and make no judgment, no demand.

Could she trust him?

The sudden rush of desire hit her hard, the need for another warm body.

She slugged back the cocktail. “Is this your brother?” she asked to give herself time to think. “He was in the army, too?”

“Yes.” Jake sipped at the dark liquid in his glass.

She could sense his reluctance to answer so she pushed, enjoying the power she felt she had. Jake wanted her, she knew he did. And she wanted…what? A man’s body, a release?

“Did you enjoy the army, Jake? Did you like it, the manliness of it all, the camaraderie, the adventure…the danger?” She dragged out the last word, her eyes widening at him like a lioness.

He didn’t take the bait. “No. I didn’t like it. Not one bit.”

She plunked herself down next to him. “So, why did you go?”

“To please my father. I thought it would, but by then he didn’t give a damn. Not really anyway. In fact, he tried to talk me out of it. He thought he would lose me the way he’d lost Robbie. I thought, somewhere inside of him, he still wanted me to serve.”

“Goodness.” She considered this. “If I did things to please my mother, I’d never get anything done for myself.”

“You were in law school, didn’t that please her?”

“Oh, hell, yes. She came from a family of lawyers—father, brothers, husband, just about every man she’s gone out with. But I don’t mean that. I mean, the small things. I think I stopped thinking about doing things to please her the day she shipped me off to boarding school. She was no longer my conscience. I stopped hearing her voice in my head. Took up smoking behind the bicycle shed and had sex with just about anyone with a penis. I didn’t stop loving her, which is probably what she thinks, but I started to be…independent. You should try it some time.”

“Jeez…” Jake rested his head against the back of the sofa. “You think I’m not independent. Interesting. You sure are quick to judge, Paige. You’ve known me all of, what, forty-eight hours? And already you have this idea in your head—”

“Don’t you have an idea of me? Don’t you think you know who I am?”

“I guess.” He clinked the ice in his glass, then slugged back another gulp. “So, am I another prick on your journey to full independence?”

Paige put down her drink on the side table and straddled Jake, pushing him back against the sofa. “Not at all,” she whispered. “You’re an interesting diversion…a very interesting diversion.”

She sat for a moment, studying him, thinking how beautiful he was, actually beautiful, with eyes like spring hyacinths. She bent in to kiss him. His hand on her back pushed her deeper, then clasped her, held her, wanted her.

She jerked back. “You know…I need you to know…this is not going to go anywhere. I am never going to be some cowboy’s girlfriend in Texas. It’s not who I am. I need you to know this is, if anything, a one night stand, a distraction for me. Nothing more. It’s not that you’re…prick of the month. It’s just…” What was it? A one night stand to relieve her tensions? An interlude?

Loneliness swept through her and she sat back, shimmied over to sit next to him again, looking straight ahead. “I need a living, breathing body. I need to feel alive.”

Jake leaned toward her, his hand reaching then holding her face toward his. He stared at her for a moment. “No, Paige, it’s not that you need to feel alive. It’s that you need to know you are alive.”

She peered at him, considered asking to go home, resisted—not him, but her own growing need. It flowed through her, heating her body, filling her as if desire were a breath. The need for fulfillment jagged at her memory.

Paige reached her hand out and brought him in closer, let his mouth capture hers. He pulled her back to straddle him once more as his hands slipped under her camisole and lifted it over her head before unclipping her bra. Her need was overcoming her now, her mouth unwilling to stop his assault as Jake’s tongue found its way and discovered her sensibilities. And then his arms enclosed her, and he stood, her legs wrapping themselves around him as he carried her into his bedroom.

She could not remember later the minutiae of how their clothes came off or how he had maneuvered her to the bed, but she would always recall Jake’s tenderness. Whether or not he was sorely aware he was meant to be a diversion from the ache of her loss, she didn’t know, but he loved her as a first lover might, with gentleness, a lightness of touch as his fingers roamed her body, embracing the soft curves of her breasts. His lips made their way down to the enflamed center of her being. And when he entered her, Paige let herself go, melt with each movement of Jake within her.

Another atom of her loss was left behind.

****

Carrie had let herself go, no doubt surprising Ray with bursts of laughter in response to his jokes, and not nagging him further about the extra drink he’d had. Now, she stood awkwardly, leaning back against the cabin door, feeling like a young girl on a first date with parents no doubt waiting—and listening—inside. A breeze carried with it the sounds of the night, the cicada choir and horses whinnying in a distant field. She remembered the feel of being in his arms, the revelation of strength in abeyance, the solidness of his body against her hand, and the black eyes that had their own life.

Ray stood back, those eyes catching the light that hung over the cabin steps. “I guess you’re going back tomorrow, or is it Monday?” he asked.

“Monday.” She waited, then continued, “I thought maybe—”

“Maybe the two of you might like to come on over for a barbecue,” he said at the same time. “I mean, I know you’re supposedly…no doubt are…doing work, but—”

“We’d love to,” Carrie broke in. She straightened, her gaze still on this Texan, this rancher, who had somehow broken down her defenses. “What time?”

“Oh. Any time you’re ready. We can go for a ride, if you like.”

“And will I be riding Widowmaker or Butt Buster?” she jested, remembering the old jokes from the dude ranch cowboys.

He laughed. “No, they’re for amateurs. We’ll be givin’ you Diablo.” He stood awkwardly for a moment. “You think you can find your way again? It was dark when you took me home.”

“I’ll find it. And if I get lost, I’ll give you a call.”

“Okay, well then.” He hesitated before turning back to the path with a wave. “See you tomorrow then.”

“See you tomorrow.”

In the privacy of the bedroom, curtains drawn against the intruding night and her daughter still not back, Carrie stood naked in front of the full-length mirror on the back of the closet. Still slender, or at least reasonably so, she tried to envisage herself as a man might now see her. It had been four years since her last intimate relationship, and time had not stood still. No, indeed not—it had advanced like an avenging army.

Her skin, once firm, had a certain flabbiness to it around her stomach, the loss of elasticity giving even her slender frame a different outline than before. The nipples of her small breasts pointed toward the floor accusingly, skin in the bend of her elbow and the crux of her armpit had begun to look like elephant hide, and her neck, while still reasonably firm, bore sinuous markings. Turning sideways to further assess herself, Carrie noted her legs were beginning to look like a road map, an ordinance survey, only instead of mountains and rivers, it was veins, bruises and spider nevus. A smattering of skin tags and light age spots completed the unwholesome picture.

Taking a deep breath to quell the self-pity, she lifted a nightdress to slither over her head and promptly burst into tears just as she heard the front door bang open.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” moaned Paige. “What the hell is the matter with you?” She stood in the bedroom doorway for a moment before bouncing down on the bed beside Carrie and drooping her head onto her mother’s shoulder. “Have a fight with Ray?”

“No, no.” She shuddered with her misery, sniffed and then threw a tentative arm around her daughter. “No fights, no arguments. Danced all night, and he behaved like a perfect gentleman.”

“Ah.”

“What is that supposed to mean? ‘Ah?’”

“Well. Maybe you were hoping for something else?”

“Hardly. How was Jake?”

Paige gathered herself and stood. “Not the perfect gentleman…definitely not the perfect gentleman.”

Carrie took in the slightly smudged eye make-up, the disheveled hair, the pinpoints of black in her daughter’s gray eyes, and decided not to comment. If she had made a connection with Jake, had enjoyed herself, so much the better. Paige was her own person now, not a child, and she needed this encounter.

Carrie eased herself back on the bed and glided between the turned down sheets. Paige gave her a satisfied grin and headed into the bathroom, then came back out, throwing her camisole off over her head.

“So, what were you bawling about?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Aging I guess. I had a good, hard, long look in the mirror and didn’t like what I saw.”

“You’re an idiot,” stated Paige, heading back to the bathroom, before facing her once again. “That was what you were crying about? Aging? Mother, for goodness sake, think of the alternative for once. Not only that, but you’re the best-preserved woman I know. Look at Diana Shawcross, botoxed into a positive rictus of plastic expression.”

Carrie sighed. “It’s not vanity. I just can’t…face someone. I can’t start all over and show myself like that, have someone look at me. And then, of course, I’d be wondering what they were thinking, wondering if they were disgusted.”

“Well, then, you should definitely have gone to bed with Ray and seen how it all worked out, because Lord only knows you won’t be seeing him again anyway.” She made her way back into the bathroom.

“He’s invited us over for a barbecue tomorrow,” Carrie called after her. “And I’ve accepted.”

Paige stuck her head back out the door. “Whatever possessed you to do that?”

****

Driving back to the ranch after dropping off Paige, nothing but the green lights of the dashboard and country music to accompany him, Jake’s mind dwelt on the girl, how unpredictable and detached she was, a chameleon, but never a snake shedding its skin.

A snake? Hardly.

She wore her beauty uneasily, as if it weren’t there, as if it were trivial. Yet that was part of her charisma, her detachment from everything and everybody, even herself. That and the sense he had of her vulnerability. Had she always been like that, or was it a consequence of her fiancé’s death?

Turning down the ranch road, the pervasive blackness was not broken by lights on the horizon. Momentary panic set in. If his father were back, he would surely have left on the outside light for Jake. But as he pulled up to the parking space in front of the house, there was the old pickup, no lights, no motor on. The dogs had started yowling at his approach, but a shout of “shut up” got them to stop with a solitary whine.

Slamming his car door behind him, Jake started toward the house before catching sight of his father sitting in the dark of the cab, the presumably empty flask being twirled between his hands like a giant worry bead. Moonlight glinted through the windows on the silver of the container and threw a spark of reference, silhouetting his father against the darkness. Jake tapped on the glass then opened the cab door.

“Hey, pardner,” his dad said. “You have a good night? You go dancing?”

He ignored the questions. “Come on, Dad, what are you doin’ out here? Why aren’t you inside?” He watched as his father swung his body around with a grunt and forced himself out. “You’re drunk again, aren’t you?”

“No-o-o, I am not.” There was the denial of the accusation. “I just had a flask full, hardly enough Jack to get a man drunk, Jake.” He started to the house, stumbling on the steps for a moment.

“Hardly?” Jake caught his father by the elbow and yanked open the screen door. “You mean to tell me you didn’t have any drinks at the Lone Star?”

“Two.”

But he was lying.

“I was on my best behavior with Carrie watching me like a damned hawk.”

He flicked the light switch and the room came to life; the three dogs suddenly rose as one with small whines from their quiet wait. “And you didn’t, maybe, stop over at Mulligan’s on the way home…or any other bar?”

His father took a deep breath and faced him. “Listen. I’ve done fine these four years without you here to tell me what I can and cannot do, you got that? So, let’s just leave things be, son. I managed before you got home, and before Miz Carrie Bennett arrived in Texas.”

“Well, you sure were all fired up to go on over and apologize to her. Then I go over to see Paige and I find you’re about to dance the night away. What happened? She step on your toes?”

“No, she didn’t step on my toes—in any sense of the word.” His father started to gather the dogs toward him and lead them out, Jake at his heels. “Fact is, I invited the two of them over for a barbecue tomorrow.” He stopped as if he were changing his mind, and headed to the kitchen instead.

Jake stood, hands on hips, as his father reached into the fridge and came out with a beer. He extended it to him, but Jake shook his head and waited as his dad snapped the pull-tab.

“You invited them over,” he said at last. “That should be interesting.”

“Well, you seemed pretty keen on Paige. The two of you ran off together like a herd of wild horses was at your heels. You gone off her already?” His dad patted one of the dogs who panted and wagged his tail expectantly.

“No, I haven’t gone off­­­­—look, there’s nothing between me and Paige, and there’s not going to be anything between me and Paige. You just have to look at her to see that.” Jake headed back toward the living room, his father and the dogs following.

“What the heck is that supposed to mean now?”

“It means Paige will go on back to her big city life, and I’ll be but a vague memory of something she didn’t care about in Texas. She as much as told me so.”

His father stood as if he were trying to think this through, as if it were a calculation he were making in his head. “Well,” he said at last. “Then a barbecue will be part of that vague memory as well.” He headed the dogs down the hall.

Jake stood a moment before turning off the living room lights, listening to his father’s faint mumbles as he steered the dogs out to the kennel and came back in through the porch. A few minutes later, he stopped for a second outside his father’s door and listened to the predictable sounds of a nighttime routine. But there was no point in pursuing the matter, not the matter of drink, not Carrie, and certainly not Paige.

Paige.

He opened the door to his own room, greeted by the rumpled, unmade bed and the smell of sex.

It was going to be difficult to sleep tonight.

****

Carrie lay in the darkness, Paige’s even breathing interspersed with the occasional sigh letting her know her daughter was sound asleep. No such respite enveloped Carrie; her mind was an open reel replaying the day, rethinking events. First Ray, then Paige, then Ray again. At some point, it struck her that her inability to relax with Ray and her incapacity to help Paige overcome Steven’s death were related, the two were the same vital flaw in her own character. Her sense of failure increased the more she tried to reach out to Paige, to help her, to break through the barrier her daughter had cocooned around herself. And the more that a connection, an empathy, grew for Ray, the more she stood back. Or…

No, there was no use going over any of this. Barbecue tomorrow, good-bye, farewell, and New York on Monday.

Then at least one of her problems would be solved.