CHAPTER TWELVE

 

Max slept in the guest room. In truth, She lay awake in the guest room, haunted by Jon’s words. The real me.

This was going to be bad.

She’d finally met the man she could actually see herself spending the next sixty or seventy years with and he didn’t even know her name. Max pulled the pillow over her head, eventually falling into an exhausted sleep.

A soft knock at the door woke her the next morning. She felt groggy and confused.

“Millie?” Jon called through the door.

“Yes,” she rasped. She didn’t know where she was or why she’d crept under the pillow.

“Breakfast will be ready soon. I thought I’d better awaken you.”

“Thanks, I’ll be right out.” Max threw back the coverlet and set her feet on the floor. If I can just make it through another twelve hours I’ll be back in Houston and this major mistake will be over.

She groped her way into her clothes and headed for the bathroom with her bag. A quick shower and she was ready to face the day.

Breakfast was immodestly cheery. Jon and his father were dressed in jeans, boots and long-sleeved Western-style shirts. Jon’s mother served pancakes and eggs with biscuits. A platter of thick sliced bacon and link sausage was passed to her. She put a pancake on her plate and Jon added bacon and sausage.

“You’ve got to try mom’s sausage gravy.” He opened a biscuit on her plate and ladled gravy on top of it.

“Yum,” she said, smiling at the trio of encouraging grins. The meal was surprisingly good, though she knew the family would be horrified to learn that her usual breakfast consisted of yogurt and granola or a breakfast bar.

Jon filled her glass with orange juice and she realized it was freshly squeezed. Who are these people and where is the Beaver?

“Do you ride?” J.C. asked.

“Ride? Oh, you mean horses.” Max shrugged her shoulders. “The only horse I’ve ever been on was attached to a carousel.”

“Sorry to hear that, young lady,” J.C. said. “We can correct that today.”

A sinking feeling in her gut caused her to cry out. “Oh, no! They’re so big and I’m a complete klutz.”

Jon squeezed her thigh under the table and leaned close to her ear. “You don’t have to ride, Millie, but, if you want to try later, I’ll saddle a very gentle little mare for you.”

Looking into his eyes she thought she could ride a lightening bolt. “Whatever you think,” she said.

“We’ve got some work to do this morning, so just relax and kick back with my mom.”

“I’ll do that.” She glanced toward the smiling, brown-eyed inquisitor.

“You boys go on,” Carla said. “We girls will have a great time without you.”

Max smiled. Big whoop. I can hardly wait. She watched as Jon and J.C. rode out on seemingly enormous horses.

“Can I help you clear this away?” she asked. Picking up her plate and the empty platter, she followed Carla into the sunny kitchen.

They rinsed the dishes and loaded the dishwasher. Carla put away the condiments and leftovers. Max wiped down the table and countertops.

“We make a pretty good team,” Carla said. “I always wanted a daughter to go with my little boy.” She beamed at Max.

Max expelled a long breath. “Your little boy is a great big man.”

“So he is. The two of you look good together.”

“Jon is a very nice person.” She smiled at Carla.

“Have you known each other for a long time?”

“Not too long.”

“You seem comfortable together.”

“Sometimes we’re more comfortable than other times. We’re different in many ways.”

Carla smiled, her brown eyes glowing with the same warmth as Jon’s. “You should understand that Jon has never brought a woman home with him. That makes you extra special to him and to me.” She patted Max on the arm.

Max cleared her throat. “Jon and I really don’t know each other very well.”

“I can help you with that.” Carla took her hand and led her into the great room. “Wait here and I’ll be right back.”

Max wandered around the room and admired the landscapes adorning the walls. The subject matter looked local, hills and creeks and trees and beautiful skies.

She stood before a particularly lovely painting depicting sugar maples growing close to a stream bed. The early fall scene captured the color of the maples just beginning to turn colors and the morning sunlight filtering through the trees, dappling rocks and water. The artist had captured a quicksilver moment in time.

Max stood, spellbound by the magnificent detail presented within the confines of the frame. Stepping back, she swallowed the unexpected lump that had formed in her throat.

“Do you like that one?” Carla returned with her arms laden with large bound books. They appeared to be albums or scrapbooks.

“Yes, it’s like I’m standing right beside the stream.”

“It’s one of Jon’s favorite places on the ranch.”

Max glanced at the artist’s signature and drew in a breath when she saw Jon’s name in the corner. She turned around, gazing at all the beautiful paintings. “They’re all Jon’s.”

“Yes,” Carla said, a note of pride in her voice. “He’s got some talent, that boy. I don’t know why he doesn’t use it. Come sit down.” She led Max to a wide leather sofa and spread the volumes between them.

Carla showed her several photo albums. She couldn’t help but smile as she poured over pages showing Jon as a baby, as a toddler and as a schoolboy. She saw photos of him showing his animals as 4-H projects and later in FFA.

“So Jon wanted to be a rancher?”

“We always thought he’d take over the ranch someday. We still have hopes that he’ll settle here eventually.”

“Perhaps he will,” Max said. But not with me. Maybe he’ll get lucky with some honest woman.

She realized that Carla was gazing at her with a rapt expression. It was the same way Willa stared at Merrick. Or shoes. As though she wanted to possess them.

“Let me show you my garden.” Carla closed the album. She led Max down the same path she and Jon had trod the night before.

In the daylight, she recognized a pleasing design in the way the flowers and vegetables were laid out. Dwarf fruit trees were interspersed among the beds lending a smattering of light shade that filtered through their flowering branches.

Carla bent, randomly pulling weeds and picking herbs. She tucked the sprigs she’d gathered into her apron pocket. Bees buzzed among the flowers.

Max heard a sound like a squeak toy intermittently being squeezed. A pair of cardinals called to each other and helped themselves to seed from a bird feeder.

“Jon loves the cardinals, too,” Carla said. “He put that feeder up when he was a boy and I’ve kept it filled since then. It makes me feel like he’s still here.”

Max watched the bright red male and his golden brown mate feeding and chirping to each other. She thought about the bird feeder Jon had given to her. An ache in her throat made it hard to swallow. It was something more meaningful than she’s realized.

Jon and J.C. returned just after one in the afternoon. They washed up before sitting down to the lunch Carla laid out for them with Max’s help.

She’d learned to make a pasta salad under Carla’s direction and it was quite tasty. Slices of cold brisket were fanned out on a plate with sides of beans and the pasta salad. She sat beside Jon and found herself smiling at him. He kept glancing at her with a questioning expression.

“What are you smiling about?” he whispered.

“You. I love your paintings. Why didn’t you tell me you could paint like that?”

“My paintings are crap. My parents are my only fans and they’re not exactly unbiased.”

“You’re wrong. I especially love the one over the fireplace. I wanted to step right into the scene. You have real talent.”

“Sez you.” He laughed. “Let me show you the place in the painting. You’ll fall in love with it.”

He took her to the stables and saddled a paint mare. The horse swished her tail and gazed at Max through her pretty brown eyes framed by long white lashes.

She gulped back her fear. “It looks so high up there.”

He tightened the cinch under the horse’s belly. “Dixie is a sweetheart. She’s so gentle, we let children ride her.”

She nodded, tried to squelch the fear rising from the pit of her stomach, and let him place her hand on the saddle horn.

He helped her mount the mare and climbed back on the big appaloosa he’d ridden earlier. “Don’t worry. Dixie’s the gentlest horse on the ranch.”

Max gripped the reins with both hands.

“Relax. She’ll follow me. Don’t pull the reins too tight and hold on to the saddle horn if you need to steady yourself.” He led off at a walking pace and the paint horse followed behind, daintily picking her way through the rock and stubble.

“How’re you doing?” he called to her.

The fist clenching her gut loosened its death grip. “Better than I thought.”

“Don’t forget to look around. This is God’s country.”

She gazed out over the hills, seeing a palette of colors. She’d love to paint this scenery. She followed Jon down into a shallow creek bed, winding their way upstream. Young saplings lined the bank. The rocks had been worn smooth by the constant friction of the moving water.

Jon drew up in the shade and reached for her reins. He dismounted and helped her down. His touch warmed her, reminding her of his tenderness. They walked into the woods a short distance, to a clearing among the trees. He gestured toward a wide, flat rock and they sat down together.

“What a beautiful place.” Max closed her eyes, leaning back on both elbows to allow the dappled sunlight to caress her face.

He brushed her hair away from her forehead. “Don’t you like what you see?”

She opened her eyes, gazing up at him. “Yes, I like what I see.”

“I used to think I’d build a house on this spot. I claimed it when I was a kid.”

“Really,” she breathed. It wasn’t a question. “Did you bring me here so I’d fall in love with you?”

Jon brushed a kiss onto her lips. “I invited you here because I couldn’t bear to be separated from you for the entire weekend.” He leaned closer for another kiss and Max curled her arms around his neck. He pulled her into his lap and kissed her, pressing her against his chest.

Max felt the muscle in his arms and in his rock hard chest. The kiss made her lightheaded. When she tried to pull away he stopped her, holding her close and gazing into her eyes.

His voice was thick with emotion when he spoke. “Are you falling in love with me?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I’ve never been in love before.”

“That’s okay,” he said. “No experience is necessary. This is a new feeling for me, too.”

He held her for a while, his lips pressed against her temple.

She heard the breeze rustling through the tree tops and bird songs offered from all around her. This was a place apart. A moment in time, where she and Jon could exist together. No lies, no deception to stand between them.

Silently, she embraced him, waiting for the spell to be broken, but he didn’t seem to be anxious to leave either.

When they finally returned to the house, Jon’s parents were relaxing on the patio. There was something in the glance they exchanged that telegraphed a message to Max’s brain. They were annexing her into the family. They were counting their grandchildren.

As she was preparing to leave, Carla gave her a big hug while her husband stood nearby grinning at the two of them, as though she’d passed some kind of test. J.C. Donnell shook Jon’s hand. You brought home a prize heifer, son.

Max shook off the image. She was imagining things. There was no way she could be a part of this family. They had no idea who she was or what she was capable of. They could never know what kind of deceiver their son had brought into their midst. That she might cause him serious heartache just because she wanted to further her own career goals.

By the time they reached Houston later that evening, the horizon was smeared with reds and purples behind the dark skyline. As they drew nearer, the bright lights of the city contrasted to the starry darkness they’d enjoyed the previous night.

Jon walked Max up to her loft. They’d just entered the building when Sherman screeched his old beater to a halt close to the entrance and swung the door open with enthusiasm.

“Hey, babe,” he said. “I knocked on your door earlier. I thought we might get a bite.”

“Sorry, Sherman. We’ve eaten.” She introduced Jon to Sherman, hoping he didn’t call her by name. He left them in the stairwell of the second floor.

“I’ll see you at the opening,” he called.

“He’s coming?” Jon asked.

“Sherman is an actor and a fantastic metal sculptor. He’s one of Max’s friends.”

“I’ll have to see Sherman’s work one day.” Jon carried her tote bag with the clothing she’d worn.

At the door, she took it from him and set it at her feet. “I’m really tired,” she said. “I’m ready to crash.”

“I get the hint.” Jon pulled her close, kissing her cheeks and eyelids.

She clung to him, exhausted but unwilling to let him go. Max buried her face against his neck.

He took the key from her and unlocked the metal door. Jon kicked her bag inside and lifted her over the threshold.

“Go get comfortable and I’ll make up your bed.”

She headed for her bathroom area to wash her face and brush her teeth. She dropped her jeans and shirt, pulling on one of her favorite extra-large tees over her panties. She groped her way into the baby blue robe. When she returned, she found that Jon had flattened the futon and spread her duvet over it. And he’d removed his boots.

Max swallowed hard when he took off his shirt. He removed his belt and watch, setting them on the stool beside the futon. He stepped out of his pants and stripped off his socks. “C’mon,” he said.

She felt like her heart was being carried on feathers. “I can’t...”

“Sure you can. I’m not ready to leave you and I don’t think you want me to leave.” He opened her robe and let it fall to the floor. “I’m as tired as you are but I want to hold you.”

He slid to the center of the duvet and made a place for her beside him. His smile made it seem reasonable that she was curling up beside an almost naked man; make that, big hunky almost naked man. He pulled her closer, nestling her in the curve of his body. His arm made a great pillow as he settled the duvet around her.

Max was acutely aware of his skin touching hers and his arm curled over her. She was sure she would never be able to fall asleep like that, but she did.