Ten

At halftime the Chatsworth team was ahead four goals to three and Nicole had scored all but one of her team’s points.

“These new cleats are fabulous, Mom!” she said, dancing excitedly from side to side.

“You look great out there, sweetie. Your grandfather is spoiling you.”

Nicole’s smile vanished. “Do you really think so?”

“No. Of course not.” Libby put a reassuring arm around her daughter. Up until today her daughter had been the only child playing with ordinary running shoes. “I was just teasing. It’s wonderful, that he’s taking an interest. Lately he hasn’t seemed such a bear—have you noticed?”

The growing relationship with her grandfather was good for Nicole, too. Of course their home situation would be even better if Libby and her dad were now speaking to each other, but unfortunately her father’s turnaround had not extended quite that far.

“I like Grandpa,” Nicole asserted. “I wish he would eat with us in the kitchen....” Her voice faded as her gaze fell on the other team, who were gathered round their coach. “Why does that man keep staring at me?”

Dread pressed in against Libby’s chest. She didn’t have to ask to know who Nicole was speaking about. “He’s probably impressed with how well you play the game.” She felt a cold breeze down the back of her neck. “I think I’ll get my sweater out of the truck. Would you like your jacket?”

“Are you kidding? I’m sweating/” Nicole rubbed the moisture from her brow as proof and Libby laughed.

“So you are.” Leaving Nicole to dig into another orange slice, she went to Gibson’s truck, knowing it wouldn’t be locked. Just as she was throwing her blue cardigan over her shoulders, she heard footsteps behind her. Of course they had to belong to Darren. She steeled herself.

“Libby.” Darren rested one hand on the cab of the truck and leaned in close just as she stepped back. “Hey, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just want to talk.”

“We don’t have anything to talk about.” She kept her voice quiet and low, wishing she could tell him to get lost but not wanting to attract any attention.

“I guess I can’t blame you for that. I recall that we went out a few times. My memory’s not really clear on the details...I dated a lot of girls and did a fair amount of drinking in those days, as you probably know. Anyway, it sort of occurred to me, based on the way you were acting, that I may have been out of line that last time...”

“Out of line,” Libby repeated bitterly. People went to jail for what he had done to her, but if he honestly didn’t remember what had happened, they would all be better off. “I guess you could say that.”

She started to head back to the field, but he grabbed her arm.

“Wait a minute, Libby. I just wanted to apologize to you, that's all.”

She shook herself free, hating the way his fingers gripped her flesh. “Don’t touch me, okay?”

“Come on, Libby. We had some fun together, right? Maybe things went a little too far one night. Maybe I pushed a little harder than I should have.”

He scrutinized her face. Libby knew he was searching for a clue to which it had been. God help her, she wasn't going to let her face reveal a thing,

“...but you can’t tell me that you didn’t—” He stopped on a grunt of pain as Libby stepped onto his foot. Hard.

She put her mouth close to his ear and said through clenched teeth, “I hope you weren’t planning on telling me that I enjoyed it, O'Malley. And for the record, there was nothing between us that I could have enjoyed. Got it?”

She saw confusion mingle with surprise on his face and felt a lash of satisfaction. Without meaning to, she'd given him the impression that he had somehow failed to perform.

“I had my pick of girls, you know? And not one of them has ever complained....”

“That’s just great, Darren. I’m so pleased for you.” She was about to walk away, when he grabbed anew. This time her shoulder.

“Wait, Libby. I don’t want to leave hard feelings between us. I know I’m not from Chatsworth, but this is a tight community. We’re bound to run into each other again. Whatever happened between us is in the past. Can’t we let bygones be bygones?” Uncertainty edged his words. Obviously he was frustrated that he couldn’t remember exactly what had happened.

She steadied her voice. “I told you not to touch me and I’m not interested in making friends. All I ask is that you leave me alone. No pretending we’re long-lost buddies or anything like that. Just leave me alone.”

“But you don’t understand—”

Libby tried to twist away from his grasp, but he was holding tight.

“I think Libby asked to be left alone.” Gibson’s voice, laden with suppressed anger, came from behind her. He moved in close until she could feel his shoulder, solid and dependable, at her side. Then he pushed Darren’s hands off her.

“Come on, Gibson. I wasn’t doing any harm.” But Darren backed away nonetheless and returned to the playing field, where his daughter was looking for him.

Libby found herself tucked underneath Gibson’s arm. It was so tempting to accept the support he offered. Yet she didn’t dare. She let out a long, trembling sigh and prayed she wasn’t going to do anything ridiculous, like cry.

“You didn’t have to intercede,” she said.

“He was bothering you, wasn’t he?”

Libby stepped out from his protection. “Yes,” she admitted, pretending to focus on the buttons of her sweater. “But I had the situation under control.” She looked up, to find his eyes steady on hers. “The last thing I was after was creating a scene.”

She felt bad the minute she spoke the words. He'd come to her aid; he’d been trying to help. And all she could do was criticize. Now she saw the way he seemed to have shut down.

“Wouldn't want to have people talking about you, would you, Libby?”

“Give it a rest, okay? You may not care about gossip, but I’ve got Nicole to think about.” As soon as the words were out, she knew she’d made a mistake.

Gibson zeroed in quickly. “He’s her father, isn’t he?”

Libby yearned to deny it. But how could she lie when his face was just inches from hers, his eyes so close she could see the flecks of pale gray hiding in the midst of all that blue. Instead, she shut her eyes, wishing that she’d stayed home this game.

“We have to talk about this,” Gibson said, his body pressing ever closer. She felt her temperature rise, making her sweater superfluous.

“But not now,” he added. “The game is going to start any second. Meet me tonight. At the old tree house.”

On the border between their properties, Chris and Gibson had built a clubhouse out of scrap lumber when they were thirteen. She’d been five, and her feelings were sorely hurt when they insisted that no girls would ever be allowed inside.

“I don’t know....”

“You remember where it is, don’t you?”

“Well, sure I do.” Once the boys had grown older and forgotten about their hideout, she'd claimed it as her own, taking her pets out for picnics and inventing all sorts of adventures and subterfuges for them.

“I'll be waiting. At midnight.”

God, the witching hour. “I can’t” Libby said, but he'd already turned and didn't hear her.

Libby edged out the kitchen door, into a night that someone used to living in a city could never comprehend. She stood still for a moment, waiting for her eyes to adjust, reluctant to use the flashlight she held in her left hand. The heavens above her sparkled in the clear air. A half-moon sliced through the blackness, brighter than all the stars.

She could smell the evening-scented stock that she'd planted by the kitchen window, a sweet, seductive fragrance full of promise. Cautiously Libby stepped forward and headed for the field she would have to cross to reach the tree house. When she got to the fence she stopped and looked behind her.

The house was dark; she'd turned off the yard light before venturing out. Nicole had fallen asleep shortly before nine, and Libby’s father had shut off the television and gone to bed about an hour later. Now it was midnight, and they would both have been asleep for hours.

Hours filled with possibilities.

Libby grasped the rough wood railing in her hands, pressing her palms deep against the weathered spruce. She stared out across fields that were slowly becoming visible under the glow of the moon and stars.

She didn’t have to come. She'd hadn’t made any promises. For all she knew, he wouldn’t even show up.

Oh, yes, he would. Funny how sure she was about that.

Around her the vast space of the prairie seemed to mirror the emptiness that she felt deep in her heart and soul. She’d been alone for so long now. She yearned for someone to be on her side. Arms to hold her tight. A face to turn to in the night. Comforts she’d never really had, never even allowed herself to dream of having.

Maybe one day she would find love, but it couldn’t be here in Chatsworth. These feelings she had for Gibson, these tantalizing, contradictory, confusing feelings, could only lead her astray. After seeing Darren tonight, the need for her and Nicole to leave had never been stronger.

Yet when she looked into Gibson’s eyes, the compulsion to stay seemed almost as strong.

Off in the distance she heard the eerie noise of a coyote yip-yipping his secret messages across the prairie. Seconds later came an answering call. The sounds didn't frighten her; they were as familiar as the tractor starting on a cold winter morning, or the cows complaining as they were led in from far pastures to the milking barn.

She threw a jeans-clad leg over the fence. The other followed. Then she jumped to the ground, the thud resonating in the clear night air. Instinct propelled her forward; she wasn’t moving of her own free will anymore. Because only a fool would consciously decide to do what she was about to.

Gibson had said he wanted to talk, but she already knew there wasn’t anything more she could tell him. And so there was no point to this meeting.

Yet she couldn’t turn back.

She’d tried to convince herself otherwise during the long ride home from the game, then later, when she was sitting at the kitchen table, attempting to concentrate on math questions.

If two people were moving toward each other, at the same speed, headed for the same place... If one was a man and the other a woman...

She was in front of the tree house before she knew it. And there he was, sitting above her, his feet hanging off the wooden platform. His fair hair gleamed in the moonlight; the rest of him was revealed in varying shades of gray shadow.

“Need help up?” His voice was husky, as raw as the rope she felt in her hands.

“No.” She planted her grip above one of the evenly spaced knots, then jumped, her feet finding purchase against a lower knot. Slowly she worked her way upward, enjoying the exertion and the sensation of swaying in the night air.

When she reached the top, he was there to pull her to the platform and help her find her balance. It seemed only natural to rest her hands on his chest—like solid bedrock, it was there for her to lean on. Moments passed with neither speaking. Libby was glad for the comforting cloak of darkness.

When he finally dropped his hands from her shoulders, she brushed her own against her jeans and began to pace the length of the old structure. Half the fort was covered with a makeshift wooden roof. The other half, where they were standing now, was open to the sky. She tilted her head and searched out the familiar Big Dipper. The northern lights were dull tonight—just a vague glow against the far horizon.

“I was right in what I said, wasn’t I?” Gibson asked. “Darren is Nicole’s father.”

“And if he is? Why do you care? It has nothing to do with you.”

“No. But it has something to do with you. Libby. My God, you must realize how I feel...” He put his hands on either side of her face, twining his fingers through her hair.

Libby forgot about the stars and focused on the man. She was already halfway to falling in love with him.

“I dream about you every night. I've been alone since Rita died, never thought it would be any different. But then you came back and now...now, I just want to know you. To understand you.”

“You watched me grow up. You know me, Gibson.” The way no other man ever could. His connection to her family, to her past, only made her want him all the more.

“I knew you. But you’ve changed. Tell me, Libby. What happened to make you so afraid?”

The description was disconcertingly accurate. But she couldn’t confess to Gibson about that night with Darren. If he didn’t believe her, it would kill her.

And if he did—he’d want to beat the man to a pulp. Soon the truth would be out, and Nicole could never live under a shadow like that. And what about Darren’s wife and kids?

As far as she could tell, Darren had turned out respectably enough. A good father, a contributing member of the community. Maybe she wished he’d suffered, at least a little, for the pain he’d caused her. But she didn't bear the same grudge against his family. And they would be the real ones to suffer if his past was exposed.

“You know Darren is Nicole’s father. Can’t that be enough?”

He lowered his head and angled it to one side. “It’ll have to be. Because I can’t wait any longer to kiss you.”

Yes! She closed her eyes, expecting the same sweet pressure she’d felt the first time. Instead, his mouth came down hard and demanding. Her first instinct was to pull back.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Was I too rough?” Gibson was immediately contrite. He lulled her back into his arms with a warm hug, followed by light touches from his lips on the top of her head.

Libby could tell right away that she’d overreacted. Gibson wasn’t Darren. He wasn’t headed anywhere she didn’t want to go. Slowly, she tilted her head back, letting him know that his touch was okay.

His mouth came down softer, and this time she was the one to deepen their kisses, opening her mouth wide, teasing his tongue with hers. She tasted a hint of coffee and sweet brandy as he inched open the valve on his passion.

Then his mouth left hers, seeking the hollow at her collarbone. She tilted her head back and the weight of her hair fell behind her. She felt him grab a handful of the curls in one hand, as his other hand kept her secure.

“Gibson, don’t...”

He stiffened as he had before. “What?”

“Don’t stop.” Something fierce and wild was taking hold in her. That frisson of fear was gone now. She was more than ready to experience love, this time the way it was meant to happen between a man and a woman. She had no fear, no reluctance, despite her lack of experience and the unknown future before them. In fact, she’d never felt more alive or strong. Whole in body and mind.

He pulled her in tighter, so she could hardly breathe, then covered her mouth once more with his. The burn from his unshaven cheeks and chin was the perfect contrast to his sweet kisses.

“If I could, I’d crawl right into your skin.” Gibson was rubbing his cheek to her neck as he worked his hands under the hem of her sweatshirt.

She knew exactly what he meant. It was impossible for her to get near enough to feed the craving she had for him.

“This has to go,” he murmured, drawing the fabric of her top up from her back. She agreed, lifting her arms to the air as he removed the garment in one smooth motion, leaving her with nothing but a skin-tight white tank top.

“Libby.” Gibson ran his hands from her waist, up the sides of her breasts.

She wore no bra, and as he paused, she caught her breath wishing he would explore further, before she burst with need for his touch.

Down his hands traveled again, this time to the hem of her small tank. In a second he’d disposed of it, and she was naked from the waist up.

“You are beautiful—”

His eyes were so full of admiration she really did feel beautiful. Funny how natural it was to be without clothing. The night air was cool on her breasts and she wanted nothing so much as his hands, his mouth, on her skin.

“Can I make love to you, Libby?”

The fact that he’d asked, when she was so obviously ready to give, made her realize how right this was.

“I really think that would be a good idea.” She was filled with the euphoria of her newly found power. At the same time, the weakness in her knees made her close to collapse.

She swayed, and he caught her, one hand at her waist, the other just below her breast. “Steady...” Gently he pulled her to the floor of the tree house and cushioned her body with his.

This time his kisses focused on her breasts, then trailed a line of fire down her navel.

“This spot,” he breathed, his fingers dancing along the skin just above the waistband of her jeans, “has been driving me crazy for far too long.”

“You’re kidding.” She sat up, sliding her thumbs under the denim, working them toward the metal snap. “This spot right here?”

He kissed her below her belly button. “Right here. He kissed her again, as his fingers worked open the front clasp of her jeans, then tugged down the zipper.

Desire surged in her. “I see what you mean.”

In slipped his hand, under the soft cotton of her panties, his fingers searching for the hot moisture that awaited. Pleasure came in a succession of bright explosions.

“You are so ready. Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

As was he. Her hand skimmed the length of his erection through the denim barrier. She wanted to remove his jeans the way he’d done for her, but his touch made concentrating on the task difficult. Her breath caught and held as the waves of pleasure grew stronger and stronger.

“Gib, I really think you’d better stop touching me there.”

“Why would I want to?” He pressed his mouth to hers, then very lightly touched the tip of her breast with one finger.

“Oh!” Just like that, the waves crested into the most exquisite pleasure. She was embarrassed at how quickly it happened, how desperately she ground her pelvis into his hand at the end, but Gibson seemed pleased as could be.

“That’s my sweetheart. I want tonight to be perfect for you.”

She trailed her hands down his chest more interested than ever in removing his jeans. Already she could feel the desire building in her again. Was this normal? She decided she didn’t care.

“We aren’t finished, are we?”

“No!” He shifted his weight as she pulled down on the faded denim. “But we’re definitely off to a good start—”

To eyes accustomed to the light from the heavens, the night revealed as much as was necessary. As Gibson walked naked to retrieve the bottle of brandy he’d brought from home, Libby marveled once more at how powerful he was. Long legged, broad chested, tough, raw strength built from a lifetime of work in the fields and participation in sports.

The air was sweet in her lungs. A rare feeling of contentment made her happy to just lie there. True, the tree house floor was hard, despite the sweatshirt Gibson had placed under her head. And her body ached a little. But this ache was pleasant. Nothing like...

“No glasses,” Gibson said, passing her the open bottle. “You’ll have to rough it.”

“I believe I already have.” She tipped the heavy glass container in his direction before lifting it to her lips. The wash of warmth relaxed her further. She handed the bottle back, then invited Gibson with her arms to join her.

He settled next to her, cocooning her head against his chest “I wasn’t sure you would meet me.”

“Were you waiting long?”

He thought for a moment. “Ever since that first morning at the school.”

Had he really wanted her right from the start? She wondered when her own feelings for him had crystallized into the desire of a woman for a man, and wasn't sure she could pinpoint the exact moment.

“The last time I was here was to share a dozen beers with your brother.”

“Really? How old were you?”

“Not old enough. Were we ever sick!” He shook his head and smiled.

Libby felt that old familiar yearning for a life that was long over. The days when getting drunk and sick were the most dangerous things you could imagine.

“Libby?”

Soothed by the way Gibson was stroking her hair, she found it hard to respond. “Yes?”

“I didn't mean to jump at you about Darren. It was a bit of a shock, but I’ve been thinking it over. I guess what puzzles me most is that he never acknowledged Nicole as his daughter. He's such a devoted dad to his other children.”

Strange how quickly contentment could steal away from you. Libby blinked and raised her head. As Gibson’s arm fell back she was suddenly conscious of her nakedness. She reached for her clothes.

Gibson propped himself up on his elbows and watched as she got dressed. “Darren knows he’s Nicole’s father. Right?”

“Once, just once, couldn’t you give it a rest?” She pulled the zipper on her jeans closed.

Gibson grabbed for his clothes, not answering her question.

Libby raked her fingers through the tangles of her hair. Real fear made her tremble now. “Gibson, you can’t tell—”

“I swear to God, Libby—”

“I’m serious, Gib. You can’t tell Darren he’s Nicole’s father.”

He zipped his jeans, then crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t you think a man has a right to know when he’s fathered a child?”

Darren had forfeited all rights that night in his truck. Only Nicole and her rights concerned Libby. “You have to promise.”

Gibson’s expression was full of contempt, but after a long moment he nodded. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep your secret. But that doesn’t mean I think it’s right. Damn.” He bent to pick up his shirt, “I didn’t even know that you were once Darren’s girlfriend.”

Libby took a deep breath. “I wasn’t really. We only dated a couple of times.”

She angled her body away from him, not wanting to see how he reacted to that comment Attitudes had changed in small towns, but the concept of the nice girl still remained. Oh, nowadays the nice girl didn’t have to stay a virgin until she was married. But she did have to be in a serious relationship to justify making love.

Not that what had happened between her and Darren could be called “making love.”

“Do you think you’ve been fair to Darren?” he asked.

Libby felt a bitter sob at the back of her throat and forced herself to swallow it down. As usual, Gibson was quick to judge. He still felt she was to blame for having left her father. Now he thought she’d behaved sexually irresponsibly, then blown Darren off without giving him a chance.

Of course, it wasn’t his fault he kept drawing the wrong conclusions, when she wouldn’t tell him the truth. But once, just once, it would be nice if he could believe the best of her, instead of the worst.