| |
Alice didn’t turn from her fire, and Saul didn’t bother calling out. She’d know he was here. He suspected she also knew what he wanted to chat about. He pushed through the last branch of willow and strode to the pit fire.
Without preamble, he sat, legs bent, forearms rested on his knees. “What is it you want from me, Alice?”
“I wouldn’t presume to want anything from you. But you might find you have a need to address your wrongs.”
Straight in. No messing about. “I haven’t done anything to hurt Molly.”
“Of course you haven’t, and neither will you.” She glanced at him. “Not the way you think.”
“Did you have something to do with my coming here? And, if so, what is it I’m supposed to do before I leave?” He’d do it, then get out.
“Perhaps you’re here to reflect on your past.”
Regardless of the strange situation, he felt surrounded by some sort of hungry warmth. Not from the flames in the pit fire. Something intangible, eager to embrace him, or maybe have him acknowledge a presence deep in the back of his mind, or even in his soul. “What are you doing to me, Alice?”
“Nothing. You’re just feeling what’s already in you.”
“How can you know I have a past? How do you know anything? Do you see the future as well as the past?”
“I just guide.”
He was sitting by her fire, fired up and ready to argue, but all he felt was the strength of companionship—and that strange kind of comfort. “I guide myself.”
“Sometimes in the wrong direction. Not that it’s a fault. It’s normal. Your mother knows that, too.”
“How the hell do you know anything about my mother?”
“You need to settle all that now, or you’ll never be over it.”
“She lied to me. All my life.”
Another glance from keen green eyes. “Did you ever ask her why?”
“Of course I did.”
“Did you listen to her answer?”
He’d heard, he’d taken it in, but the pain of not belonging to the family he’d thought he’d always belonged to had dampened the sound of reason. She’d told him she’d lost her way all those years ago. That she’d gotten tired—and who could have blamed her with a bunch of kids, a workaholic husband and a ranch to run. So she’d run off for a week and she’d had a one-night stand with some man—who’d left her the next morning, never to be seen again. She’d come home, and discovered she was pregnant.
“Your mother won’t push you anymore, she thinks she’s lost you.”
That hurt. He didn’t want Belle Solomon to feel pain for the rest of her life. “I can’t get out of it all now. What’s done is done.” He didn’t have a true family, except for his grandpa and his mother, and he wasn’t able to face either of them without feeling like a loser.
“What’s done was done thirty years ago,” Alice said. “It had nothing to do with you.”
“She has her other sons and her daughter.” They were looking after her.
“You’re fighting yourself, not them,” Alice said, pushing a stick into the fire and poking at the flames.
“So what are you telling me? That I need to go back again?” It hadn’t worked out well two years ago.
Alice threw the stick onto the ground. “Your brothers will fight if you fight. That’s always been your way of handling things. But they also want to accept you. They miss you, although they don’t show it in a manner you might expect. Everyone misses you. It’s up to you to finish it, and finish it well.”
“I’m not going back.” What happened two years ago was enough of a finale. He didn’t want an encore.
“Your father knew.”
Saul bit down on his back teeth and contemplated the fire. He’d always lived in the moment. He never gave himself self-inflicted boundaries, even as a kid. He moved from one event or situation to the next, not giving whatever issue that required growing or learning much thought, except to get on with whatever was needed. But that lie had been harder to accept. It had changed everything. It had given him a world without boundaries, without discipline, because he’d lost all that. “He wasn’t my father.”
“He was there when you were born. He celebrated your birth the same way he did his other children’s births. You were no different to him. Not for a second. Because you were part of your mother and he loved her.”
It was what his grandpa had told him. It was what his mother had told him. Saul hadn’t believed a word. Or maybe he hadn’t listened, not wanting to understand while he was neck-deep in sorting out his emotions and trying not to break down in front of everyone.
“You ought to tell Molly about all of this. She’ll help you through it.”
“I don’t need help. I’m through it.”
“I don’t mean she’ll lend you a caring ear. I mean Molly’s style of getting through tough times is not a bad way of dealing with a crisis. You could do with some of that toughness yourself, Saul Solomon.”
She was telling him he wasn’t tough enough?
“Oh, you can use your fists when you need to,” Alice said, “and perhaps Molly might be in need of that type of strength from you too. But while you’re together, you should take a deeper look at the other and learn something.”
“You mean while I’m here building the roof? Or do you mean while we’re together when I decide it’s the right time to make a move on her—in the romantic sense.” He didn’t feel a need to beat around any longer. Alice could read his damned thoughts. Same way Marie had earlier this morning. Only Molly didn’t reach into his mind. Thank you for that. He sent Molly his silent appreciation.
Alice chuckled. “You’re not right for her, Saul. You’re not right for each other.”
“So you’re telling me to leave her alone, romantically?”
“I wouldn’t presume to tell you anything.”
Yet he had a feeling she was doing just that. Except he couldn’t make sense of what it was she wanted him to do. What did she mean, they weren’t right for each other?
“Marie wants me to look out for her,” he said.
Marie probably wanted him to stay and fall in love with Molly and get down on bended knee in the Texas dirt and offer her marriage, leaving all his own plans on the shelf. Not that he had plans at the moment, except to get out of the mess he was in and regroup for a while.
“You’ll do what you have to do,” Alice said.
Did that mean she was giving him the go-ahead to get romantically involved with her granddaughter? Because romantic involvement wasn’t the only type of involvement on Saul’s mind. There was also a hot, tangled, sweaty kind, and he didn’t mean overexertion from building the roof.
He stood, and brushed the dirt off his backside.
“Deep within you know what you want, Saul.” Alice looked up at him. “You just refuse to acknowledge it. That’s why I see it.”
He paused, then looked out at the darkened valley over the rim of the pit and the crackle and hiss of the fire, not wanting to look into her eyes, not wanting her to peer into his. “How can you know all this stuff?” He looked down at her. He wasn’t a coward. Whatever she could see from his eyes, let her see it. “Are you reading my thoughts?”
“It’s nothing more than a mirror. I see the happenings and the reflections. That’s all.”
“Can Molly do this?”
“She doesn’t recognize it.”
“And Marie?”
“Marie has the gift. She uses it differently.”
“You haven’t pushed your daughter or your granddaughter into accepting their gifts?”
“Nobody pushes Marie. I don’t push Molly. I guide. Just not in the way most people would.”
Six years ago and two years ago, he’d reacted with emotion, not with rational thought. He’d known it but hadn’t acknowledged it. Or had he just been feeling sorry for himself? “Are you projecting something onto me?”
“No. You know yourself what you need. Maybe you just haven’t dug deep enough to find it yet.”
“Are you prophesising?”
“I just see it how I see it.”
Saul looked away in exasperation. “That doesn’t help. And I don’t need changing.”
“Good. I’d hate to see you change.”
“So how come I find myself believing you, and yet I’m one hundred per cent certain I’m not going to let you guide me?” Still, that wrapped in a blanket of warmth sensation surrounded him so much that he wanted to shrug it off the way he kicked at the sheets on a hot night.
“Because you’re man enough to discover what you have to do all by yourself.”
Pictures of his grandpa formed in his mind. The patient smile as he taught Saul how to ride, how to be a dust-kicking cowpoke and not a dude. How herding sustained the land. How to sit a horse all day and into the night, and how to get used to it. How to fix the trucks, how to mend a broken fence or put a roof on a barn. He’d loved his life, but he’d wanted out long before his discovery that he didn’t belong to the Solomon clan. He’d thrived on adventure from the moment his grandpa had lifted him into the saddle on his first pony.
Another picture took over. His grandpa teaching him tolerance when Saul had done something childish or stupid in his youth. He’d first walked off when he was seven years old. That had caused a fuss. It hadn’t stopped him walking off again at other times though, always looking for an adventure.
Then he heard his grandpa’s words. “Wherever you go, Saul, good manners is all about being tolerant. Always use your manners, but don’t forget tolerance. It’ll see you through just about anything.”
He’d thought walking away six years ago a means to rid himself of sudden intolerance with everything that had happened to him. Maybe he was still using that as some form of payback. Like giving the world the finger. In which case, none of this was Alice’s fault. There was no way she could shape him or his future. It was already spread before him, whether he could see it or not. Whether he liked it or not.
He shifted as he came out of the contemplation. “I’ll let you be. Goodnight, Alice. I apologize if I was rude.”
“I like a man who asks for what he wants. So long as he doesn’t always expect to get it.”
“I’m staying to build the roof. Then I’m gone.”
Alice nodded, but didn’t look at him. She was staring into the flames.
Saul left her to it and made his way back through the willows, pushing at branches and kicking up leaf debris with his boots as a mantle of discomfort took over from the peculiar security of being next to Alice. He hadn’t known his maternal grandmother. He wished now that she was still alive. Maybe she’d have been able to deal him the kind of feminine hand he needed, like Alice was obviously trying to do. There was nothing bad about Alice, but she was scaring the life out of him.
He’d promised he’d stay and get the roof on the hacienda. He wasn’t going to stick around much longer than that though. Molly would be all right. She had Alice to guide her, however it was Alice managed to do that with Molly. He had no doubt Molly would cope, but regardless of all the enthusiasm she had, it wouldn’t be enough to keep her business going once she got it up and running. The town needed more than one photographic studio.
Had they thought all this through or were they simply charging at the gate, locking horns with the enemy without reading the bull or knowing what their best defenses were? It was all well to get something started, but they needed to think before they leapt into the next idea. Saul’s first three actions when he’d been making plans for his own business, Wilderness Hiking, had been calm down on the enthusiasm, get his facts, then think it through all over again.
Hopeless had economic problems to fix and that wasn’t a short-range project. Not that Molly was thinking of her business as a quick fix. He’d taken a look at some of the notes she’d left around the kitchen and the lodge house. Notes she was obviously going to use on her brochures and maybe on a website.
Picture this. Untouched, natural wonder. Flora and fauna in the wild, plus the odd friendly local.
She’d gotten that right.
Need a wide-angled lens on life? Need to refocus? Zoom in on Calamity Valley, a photographer’s dream.
He didn’t need a wide angle on life. He’d had one, when he’d still had a family; when he’d still belonged, and losing all that had gotten his life out of focus for a long time. Maybe there was still some graininess in his life picture, but it was his picture. His life. His decision. He was zooming in on what he knew he needed, and what he knew he’d get. He’d never bothered chasing something he wanted but probably wouldn’t get.
You’re not right for each other.
He didn’t know why that prophesy bothered him the most. He shouldn’t care. What did Alice know about it, anyway? She was wrong—they’d be right for each other if Saul stayed and played the happy family man. But he wasn’t going to do that because it wasn’t what he wanted. That didn’t mean he and Molly couldn’t be right for each other, if they both wanted the same thing.
He needed to refocus and he wouldn’t be able to do that if he got close and romantically cozy with Molly.
Book a date with Through the Lens. You won’t regret it.
Was Saul going to regret it if he stayed and got that roof up? He wouldn’t. Not the roof part. He just wasn’t so sure about the other things he was going to get roped into.
He halted when he heard a rustling noise up ahead. It was dark but the moon was bright enough for him to see Molly.
She came stomping up the track, head down, arms swinging. The sight of her drew all sorts of tender things from his chest. He’d see this through. He’d build her roof. But nothing more. She was fine. She was smart enough and strong enough to get her business up and running. Nothing would kill her spirit. She didn’t need him to get all weird and sensitive, then mess her life up when he left.
“Evening,” he said when she got to the sign that said A. Mackillop. No Appointments Necessary. “Going to see Alice?”
She halted and smiled. “Hi. Been to see her yourself?”
“Just wanted to make sure she understood a few things.”
“Good luck with that.” Her smile widened, the sweet goodness in it almost busting his heart into a dozen pieces.
He firmed his expression, snapped his emotions back into place, and scowled. He would not be guided. He’d always found his own way out of a mess, whether he’d started the mess or just gotten caught up in it. He knew what he wanted and it couldn’t be Molly and everything she had here in Hopeless, whether he was right for her or not.
Molly lost her smile when Saul didn’t return it. His mouth had a clenched look, as though he was gritting his back teeth.
What had he said to Alice? Or what had Alice said to him?
“I won’t be long,” she said. “See you at home. I mean—back—see you when I get back.”
He didn’t answer so she walked past him.
“Molly?”
She stopped, and turned.
“All that romantic stuff—the sweet kisses. The near kisses. I think we ought to forget it.”
She clenched her hands at her side. “Good idea. My thoughts exactly.” Or they were now.
“So no more candles in the kitchen.”
“Another good idea.” Except they needed them. The temporary fluorescents were horrible. They showed every dark blond stubble on his chin, but he was a guy, he could get away with that and people called it sexy. She was a woman. She didn’t want him or any man to see clumped mascara or larger than normal open pores.
“Well, I’ll let you get on with it. You know your way back.”
He left her. Just like that. No following her to protect her cute little ass? Did this mean he was thinking about leaving? Leaving her without a roof?
She watched him go until he disappeared into the darkness, then turned her sorry, loveless and about to be homeless ass toward the willow clumps and Alice’s pit fire.
“Did you know your granddaughter is a sexual deviant?” Molly asked as she sat next to Alice, drawing her knees to her chest and hugging them. “What did you say to Saul? He’s in a bad mood. I think he might try to murder me when I get home—back. No—home.” It was home to Molly and back for him. “I got a notice from debt collectors in Colorado. The thing hasn’t been paying his bills. I got so mad. And a bit upset.” She picked up a stick by Alice’s side and poked at the fire. “But Saul came home—back—and he was nice. A bit stern, but nice, if you know what I mean.” She threw the stick down. “Anyway, we had dinner—I cooked your pork ribs recipe—and then he said I should go to bed and get some sleep. But I had to come and see you, and I just passed him on the track. He’s been here and now he’s mad.”
“Finished?”
“What’s going on now, Alice?”
“First,” Alice said, “you ought to have known your ex wouldn’t sell that sports car just because you asked him to.”
“He said he would. I’ve got it in writing. In a text message.” She frowned. “Is that a legal document? Anyway, I gave him two choices. I said I’d either make arrangements for him to take over the loan, or he could sell the car and send me the ten thousand to pay off the loan, and give me back the other ten thousand. I told the lease company what was happening. They acknowledged receipt of my letter and now—this!”
“You didn’t check that the repayments were being met.”
“I had other things on my mind.”
“What about the ring?”
Molly took a breath. “He’s still got it. But you were right—I’m going to forget about it.”
“He hasn’t got it, Molly. Look for it.”
Alice focused on her. “You’ve got it.”
“I have not. I threw it at him.”
“You’ve got it, Molly. Look for it.”
Molly sighed. All right, she’d look. But she didn’t have it. “Did you know about the Hopeless Herald dot com?” she asked, getting onto the next conversation.
“Davie told me.”
“Momma stole my photos of hot-Saul.”
Alice chuckled.
“What? He is hot.”
“He is,” Alice agreed.
“And I’m hot. I’m really hot. I’ve got a cute ass.”
“So did your mother. So did I once, come to think of it.” Alice’s mouth crinkled in another smile.
Molly brushed the hair back from her face, slid a little further away from the warmth of the pit fire and studied her grandmother. Yes, she could see it. If she pictured Momma in her head, she could see it in Marie too. Very beautiful women, her Mackillops. Not in-your-face beautiful, apart from Momma’s bling look, but beautiful in stature and in intent. Beautiful from the inside.
“You’re also beautiful on the outside,” Alice said. “You’re a looker, Molly. You and your cousins.”
“We are?” They hadn’t been brought up to pamper themselves and simper over makeup and all that beauty stuff, although Lauren always enjoyed dressing up and pinching Momma’s lipsticks and eyeshadows. But even Momma never hassled them to be too girly-girly except when she was trying out new styles and ideas. She used them as test cases, but never minded when they scrubbed their faces clean of the makeup or dipped their heads into a sink of water to get rid of the hairspray and the curls and waves and kinks. Momma had always told them they didn’t need anything more than what they already had.
“We are kind of attractive actually, aren’t we?” Molly said, contemplating this seriously, which unfortunately only resulted in picturing Saul just now walking away from her and telling her not to light her candles and that he was going to quit with the kissing.
“What was I saying?” she asked Alice. The last thing she wanted was to start fluttering her eyelashes at Saul in a please-think-me-beautiful manner.
“You were talking about your mother’s tendency to overdo things.”
Overdo? Understatement. “She’s your daughter, Alice, you should talk to her.”
“She’s your mother, Molly, you talk to her.”
“The valley is getting more attention than ever before. I’m concerned about how Momma can cope.”
“She can cope.”
Could she? Calamity Valley was used to being forgotten. Used to being the butt of jokes, but notoriety was now getting worse when it was supposed to be getting better.
“Didn’t worry you while you were away,” Alice said calmly.
“It’s the entire reason I went away.” She sighed, and stared at the flames, Saul’s negativity to her internal or external beauty returning like a burden that couldn’t be shifted. “I like him, Alice,” she said, admitting defeat where this one was concerned.
“I like him too, Molly.”
“I like him in a different way to you.”
“He’s independent. Whether he was brought up that way or not, it’s currently the only way he sees the world.”
“He’s had big troubles, hasn’t he?” Molly asked quietly, wondering if she’d get an answer.
Alice nodded.
“He’s not bad though, is he? He’s not dangerous in that way.”
“No.”
Molly sighed again. “I think I might like him a lot.”
“You two—I told you, and now I’ve told him, you’re not right—”
“I wish you’d stop saying that.” Saul had his issues to deal with and Molly had hers. He lived wherever he walked, and she lived in the valley. Neither the twain was right for the other.
“Were you listening properly?” Alice asked. “Are you hearing what’s inside you?”
“I hear you. I just don’t want to believe it.”
“You do what you have to do, Molly.”
She tried to take her thoughts off what she wanted to do in case Alice caught on. She pushed hard at those thoughts of getting tangled with Saul in a hot embrace that ended with him shirtless and Molly panting.
“Remember the coyote?” Alice said.
“Yeah. I remember.”
She’d been five or six, walking with Alice in the early morning cool of a summer’s day with temperatures expected to reach one hundred minimum. Momma had been back at the house in town, squeezing juice from Mrs. Wynkoop’s fruit to make frozen lollipops for anyone who might wander through Hopeless, parched and dehydrated.
The coyote pup had wandered in front of them. She’d made a dash for the pup, but Alice had held her with a hand on her shoulder. “It isn’t yours, child.”
“It’s got no momma.”
“Watch.”
The coyote pup fell over its legs, seemingly unaware that it might be lost and in danger, and a pull of attraction in Molly’s stomach, so big it made her own spindly legs tremble and her heart pump, overwhelmed her. She’d wanted it. To pat and to cuddle, to talk to, to play with. To teach. To learn from, too. She even envisioned them running over Calamity land, tail up and hair flying. Laughing together with yaps and calls as they watched out for each other.
She almost felt the same way about Saul. The pull of attraction to his hard, muscled body and his strong, quiet mind filled a cavernous gap inside her. She wanted him around. To talk to. To play with. To work with. To be with.
“It’s not yours,” Alice had said again, giving the young Molly her first lesson in love and how it could hurt worse than the worst cut knee or grazed elbow.
She couldn’t take a coyote out of the desert. It wasn’t fair, regardless of how they’d adapted to living next to humans. They were still hunters. Still wary. Not meant to be tethered. The pup wasn’t in any danger, he’d been taught well. He wasn’t even frightened. He was on his own and that was what he wanted.
Like Saul.
Molly took a breath and stared beyond the pit fire. “It hurts, Alice.”
“Love always hurts.”
“Not if it’s meant to be.”
“What made you think about the pup?” Alice said.
“You asked.”
“I didn’t say a word.”
Molly blinked and angled her focus to her grandmother. “You said it.”
“I say lots of things, child, but I don’t always speak them out loud.”
Molly straightened. “I knew what was on your mind?”
“Think on what I’ve said about you and Saul, Molly. Then listen to what you didn’t hear.”
