Dreamkeepers (30 page)

“I didn’t invite you to join us.”

“That’s what I mean! It was obvious to him and to me that I wasn’t to be included.” For a few seconds he stood glaring at her, breathing heavily, his nostrils curiously flared. “And . . . as for that”—he nodded at the pile of cut hair on her dresser—“I should spank you!”

She looked unflinchingly back at him. “I entered into this arrangement with you against the advice of my friends and I have only myself to blame if I now have regrets. My only excuse is that I wanted to stay in my home. This is my home and you may share any part of it except my bedroom. I’ll cook your meals, but I don’t want your company. Do you understand?”

“And if I don’t,” he drawled insolently.

“If you don’t, I’ll call Jim and ask him to take me to Herb Belsile. I’ll work in town. Tim-Two will take care of the place until I can come back home.”

“You’re stubborn and foolish enough to do just that! You would have your father’s work destroyed,” he said ironically.

“If it was that or my self-respect, Dad would want me to.” Her voice shook as she said the last.

Tall and taunting, he continued to lean against the door, his grin mocking her as he sensed her agitation.

“Don’t worry, little virgin,” he jeered. “I won’t seduce you! God . . . I can’t believe you! You’re twenty-five years old and know no more about life than a ten-year-old.”

Their eyes met for moments. The calm violet ones and the mocking black ones. She turned her back on him and stood silently looking out her window. She didn’t hear him leave, but she heard the door to his room close and knew he was gone.

CHAPTER SEVEN

F
OUR NIGHTS LATER
the first snow fell. By morning the ground was covered with a foot of the fluffy white stuff. Molly stood by the kitchen window watching Tim-Two come toward the house to stoke up the morning fires. She was up earlier than usual. Worn and disturbed, she had slept fitfully, waking repeatedly, her mind refusing to rest. She had been awake for some time before she dressed in her dark room, relieved that another day had come.

Tim-Two came into the kitchen after stamping the snow from his feet. Silent, as always, he checked the range, the stove in Molly’s room, the big fireplace. Without a word to her he went out again.

She was sipping her second cup of coffee when she heard Adam’s door open. This interrupted the quiet of the room so much that she looked at him in dismay. She had become so nervous and jumpy that she felt a sudden springing up of tears which she could not shed. His eyes were on the window and she sat quivering in relief because they were not on her.

“We must have a foot of snow,” he said matter-of-factly.

“At least that,” she answered.

“Are you not having breakfast?” He eyed the coffee cup in her hand.

“Not now. I’ll have some later.”

He took a mug from the shelf and poured his coffee. He brought it to the table, sat opposite her, and looked at her pale face. The shadows beneath her eyes made them appear more violet than ever.

She averted her eyes and refused to look at him. She was not sulking or even unfriendly, rather utterly and deliberately indifferent to him. This was harder for him to bear than either rage or enduring anger.

“I’ll make your breakfast,” she said quietly, getting to her feet.

“Don’t bother. I’ll have some later, too.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I think I’ll go out then.”

“Wait and I’ll go with you,” he said, but she was heading for her room as if she hadn’t heard.

Dressed in her warm parka and snow boots Molly walked through the snow. The air was fresh and invigorating, and she couldn’t help but feel better just being out in it. Before she realized it she was walking the letters of her name, stamping out the letters as she used to do for Jim to see as he flew over. Laughing to herself as she jumped from one letter to another, she failed to see Adam standing on the porch watching her. He came toward her and as she turned she saw him.

“Stop,” she shouted, “you’ll ruin my message to Jim.”

“I want to help,” he called back.

He jumped to a position under the letters Molly was stamping out and laughingly asked what message she was writing.

“Just my name,” she told him.

“Okay,” he said cheerfully. “I’ll add my name to yours.”

He started stamping out the word “AND” under Molly’s name. She had finished the “Y” and stood watching him.

“I’ll lift you over and you can start my name.” Before he finished speaking he had reached for her and swung her over. “You’ll have to write my name backwards—you’re on the wrong end.”

He finished the word he was stamping out and jumped to the letters she was making, then on to start the next word. Molly watched him with somber eyes.

They had written “Molly and Adam,” and he was adding the word “ARE.”

Now he looked at her with a questioning smile. “Molly and Adam are . . . ?”

Molly felt the heaviness that had been in her heart for days suddenly lift.

“Are fine,” she added. He smiled and jumped to make the final word.

The strain of the last few days was eased, if not completely, enough so they could be comfortable in each other’s company. The next hour they walked in the snow stopping at the lake so Adam could check the plane before they turned toward the house. Dog spotted them and came out of the woods where he had been pestering small animals in their burrows. The three of them frolicked and played in the snow until Molly was flushed and out of breath.

The morning set a new tone to their relationship. The tension of the last few days had been broken and a tolerance toward each other was adopted. It was not the friendly companionship of the first week, but an acceptance of the fact they were living in close proximity in the house, and relaxed atmosphere was preferable to a tense one.

Molly was hungry when they came in out of the cold and set about making eggs and hotcakes. Adam sat at the table with the small transistor radio turned to the weather broadcast.

“How many pancakes?” she asked him.

“Do I have to commit myself now?” he answered with a grin. “I’m pretty hungry. Neither of us has enjoyed our meals for the last few days.”

She nodded in acknowledgment, but didn’t look at him.

“I think I should get the floatplane out of the lake today,” he said later between mouthfuls of hotcakes. “Sounds as if it’s going to be colder and the lake will freeze any time.”

“Maybe you should.” She looked at him for the first time since they sat down. “The temperature can drop fast this time of year.”

He stopped eating and looked at her intently. “Will you go with me, Molly?” he surprised her by asking.

“No . . . no.” She shook her head.

He reached over and laid his hand on hers as it rested on the table and as badly as she wanted to jerk her hand away, to do so would be childish so she let him hold it. It was cold and trembling. His fingers were warm and firm.

“Can we talk about it, Molly?” he asked softly. His words fell into a pool of silence.

Any minute I’m going to cry,
she thought,
and I’d rather die than have him see me. What is the matter with me anyway? Last night I knew I hated him and now I’m not so sure.

“Things are never quite so bad if they’re talked about,” he persisted gently.

She raised her head and looked into the warm black eyes. She was surprised at the kindness and sympathy that she saw there and her heart settled peacefully as she felt his fingers increase the pressure on her hand.
He wants to make things right between us,
she thought. The relief that she felt showed itself in the small smile she exchanged with him.

“Okay.” Rapidly her brain rehearsed what she wanted to say to him.

“First may I say that the last four days haven’t been very pleasant ones for me and I’m sure not for you either.” Then he added with a grin, “If we can’t be lovers, we can be friends, can’t we?”

“I’d like to be friends.” She looked him directly in the eye, which was her way when she was serious, and said firmly, “I won’t be used, you know. It’s insulting . . . humiliating.”

“Molly, we’re married! I meant no insult to you!” He said it earnestly. “I know you wanted me as much as I wanted you. It’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

The red flush that came up from her neck and flooded her face caused her to turn her face away until she could regain her composure. Her thoughts were so distasteful, she let an exclamation escape her.

“Don’t look so distressed. It’s a perfectly natural urge.”

“But,” she whispered, “I want to be loved before . . .”

“There are many different kinds of love, Molly.” He searched her anguished face, his brows drawing together. “The true, deep love between a man and a woman can be very painful. Seldom do they love equally. My father was a slave to the love he had for my mother. He stood back and worshiped her from afar and when she died, a part of him died, too. I don’t want that, Molly. I want to own my own soul.”

“Is that why you were never going to marry?”

“That’s part of it. The other part is that I want to be free to go when and where I please.” Then taking her other hand, he shook them gently. “What about you, Molly? What do you want?”

She gave a shaky laugh. “To keep from going to Aunt Dora!”

He grinned. “Molly, I swear that you’ll never have to go to Aunt Dora.” Still holding her hands, he said seriously, “Let me say one more thing. You’re sweet, beautiful, and charmingly innocent. Many men will desire you for these traits and the one you give yourself to will be a very lucky man.”

“Thank you.” She had never thought she would hear him say such things after their angry exchange of words.

“I’ll take the plane into Anchorage and have the helicopter bring me back. After the lake freezes we can mount the skis on the plane.”

“Will you see your father while you’re there?”

“Yes, I’ll see him. Sure you don’t want to go?”

“Not this time. I think I’ll wash my hair. I’ll have the bathroom all to myself.”

“You’ve got a spanking coming, my girl, for that haircut. Don’t you forget it!” he told her sternly.

“It will grow. And it’s a relief not having all that hair to dry each week.” Her heart gave a frightened little leap at the thought of the threat.

His eyes traveled over her face and came to rest on the small blue spot on her throat. Her cheeks turned slowly pink and she looked away from the knowing glint in his eyes.

Suddenly he exploded in laughter and grabbed her hands to pull her to her feet.

“Molly, you’re priceless!”

Her back stiffened and her chin went up in resentment of his ridicule.

“You adorable little kitten, don’t get your back up.” He gathered her into his arms in a big bear hug. He looked down at her, his black eyes full of devilry and his usually grim mouth tilted in a wide grin. Molly smiled reluctantly and put her finger over his lips.

“Kittens can scratch, you know.” It was difficult to believe she was standing here this close to him.

He laughed again. Lowering his head, he kissed her parted lips.

“I was going to spank you, but you’re too big to spank. I’ll kiss you instead!”

He looked down into her startled, resentful face and put both his hands on each side of her head. He shook it gently.

“You’re a very kissable girl, Molly Reneau!” His black eyes danced with amusement. “I could learn to like your kisses too much!”

Molly laughed in spite of herself and turned to cross to the window. She looked out without really seeing the view. Her whole body yearned to go back to him, but her pride kept her voice light when she finally spoke. “Where will the helicopter set down when it brings you back?”

“I think the best place is over to the north. I’ll bring my snowmobile back so we’ll both have one. Do you like to ride?” He was getting out his big parka and heavy boots.

“Yes, I love to ride. Dad got all the equipment for me. We had great times on the snowmobile.”

“And so will we!” he said firmly.

Molly felt immeasurably older as she stood by the window while Adam was preparing to leave. She welcomed the time she would be alone so she could sort out her jumbled feelings.

“Don’t forget about the radio,” he was saying, “and don’t be attempting to lift those heavy logs. Tim-Two will be in. I’ll tell him I’m leaving for a few hours. And another thing, leave the bedroom doors open so the heat can circulate and cook something good for my dinner. I’ll be starving.”

Molly turned, her eyes sparkling and her laughter ringing out. “Anything else, boss?” she asked in a little girl voice.

Coming close to her, he looked down, an exaggerated stern look on his face.

“Yes, there is something else,” he said softly. “Leave the volume up on that radio and don’t you forget it!”

After he was gone Molly mulled over everything that was said between them from the first words that morning until he went out the door. He was a man of changing moods. So fierce and cruel when he was mad, but so sweet and gentle when he was pleased. She loved him. Her anger was the result of disappointment that he would want to take her to bed without any words of love or permanent commitment. She had to admit that he was honest with her. He was leaving at the end of the year. He could have had his pleasure of her and left her as he had planned.
We’re married,
she thought,
but I don’t feel married. Oh, God, what misery have I let myself in for?

She spent more than two hours in a frenzy of cleaning. First the bedrooms, then on through the house until it was spotless. She had a dull throbbing headache by the time she was finished, and a splitting one when she had finished preparing a pot of stew for their dinner.

Although she didn’t feel well she was determined to wash and dry her hair before Adam came back. She washed it in the bathroom and came back to the big fireplace with a towel to rub it dry. Her muscles were sore and her head throbbed viciously. Lord, how she ached! Her head felt thick and full. She rubbed her hand over her forehead and felt uneasy at the warmness of her skin. Wobbling a little in her pain, she went to the kitchen for aspirins, then came back to sink down on the couch.
I’ll not be sick! I’ll feel better if I lay down for a while,
she reasoned. She covered herself with the afghan from the back of the couch and drifted off to sleep only to waken shaking with chills.