MM02 - Until Morning Comes (14 page)

She reached for her suitcase, but he was already across the room. Their hands met as he took the case from her. In that brief moment, time and place ceased to exist. There were only the two of them and a love so bright and shining it couldn't be denied.

She was the first to pull away.

“I have no regrets, Colter. But I do have a million obligations, and so do you.” She held out her hand. “Friends?”

“Always, Jo.”

He released her hand and started for the door with her suitcase. There was nothing else to say. He knew the time had come to let her go.

“I'll drive you into Phoenix.”

“I'd rather do this alone, Colter. Airports are too sterile for good-byes. I want to remember you in the mountains with the wind in your hair and the sun at your back.”

Together they walked to the rented truck. Colter loaded her bags and helped her settle Zar onto the front seat. When she got behind the wheel, he leaned into the open window and cupped her face. His thumbs circled her jaw and he looked deep into her eyes, as if he were trying to absorb her spirit.

“Good-bye, Yellow Bird.”

It was the first time he'd called her Yellow Bird since the mountain accident. And she knew it would be the last. She lifted her hand in salute, and put the truck in gear.

He stepped back and watched her leave his mountain, straining his eyes until the truck was a puff of dust in the distance.

Letting her go was one of the hardest things he'd ever done.

o0o

Jo Beth battled tears on the drive to Phoenix, and once she'd reached the city, having to tend to business matters kept her sane. She returned the rental truck, saw that Zar was properly prepared for the flight, then boarded the plane for home.

o0o

Back in Tupelo she crammed so many insignificant and unnecessary details into each day that she didn't have time to think, didn't have time to hurt. She lived each day for itself, not looking forward and never, never looking back.

o0o

“Jo, if I light all these candles, I'm liable to set the house on fire. How old are you anyway?”

“Light the candles, Andrew, and hush.”

October had brought many things to Mississippi—painted leaves, balmy weather, and another birthday for Jo Beth. The whole family had gathered at her parents' house for the celebration. The rest of the clan were gathered in the backyard, watching Rick's three boys fight over whose turn it was on the tire swing, while she and Andrew were in the kitchen getting the cake ready.

Andrew struck a match, then glanced at his sister and blew it out.

“Three weeks is a long time to mourn, Jo.”

“Who's mourning?” She set the dessert plates on the table, then went to get the forks.

“You are. Have been ever since you got back from Arizona. What happened out there?”

“I don't want to talk about it.” The forks rattled in the drawer.

If there was one thing Andrew McGill knew, it was when to shut up and when to keep talking. The time had come to keep talking.

He struck the match and held it to one of the pink candles. When the flame caught, he lit the second while the match was still burning far enough away from the stem not to singe his fingers. With the two candles glowing, he threw the burned match away and started toward his sister.

He put one hand on her shoulder, and she jumped as if she'd been bitten. She whirled around, holding on to three forks.

“What in the world? Andrew, you haven't finished lighting the candles.”

“The candles can wait.”

“The next thing you know, Rick's three boys will be in here howling for cake.”

“Let the little rascals howl. It would serve Rick right for fathering three little rogues just like himself.”

“I won't tell him you said that.” She punched him playfully on the shoulder. “Go finish with the cake.”

“Not until I know why you came back from Arizona looking like a wet chicken with all its tail feathers plucked.”

“It's over and done with. Forget about it.”

Andrew took her hand and led her to a kitchen chair. He hooked the chair with one foot, dragged it out, and gently pushed his sister onto the seat. Propping one foot on the chair's bottom rung, he grinned down at her.

“Jo, do you remember the time I got into that little trouble at school?”

“Andrew, setting the library on fire is not a
little
trouble.”

“Okay. So it was
big
trouble, but it was an accident.” He grinned. “The point is, you were the one who told me that if I didn't confess, it would turn me black inside, and a little bit of me would die.”

“I didn't say that...
turn you black inside.
Gracious, Andrew, you make me sound like some kind of nut.”

“We were only eight and ten at the time. I've always thought it was rather precocious of you.” He cupped her face. “What's turning you black inside, Jo?”

Jo felt the tears she'd held back for three weeks pushing against her eyelids. It had been three weeks since she'd left Colter, and she hadn't cried. Not once.

One tear trickled down her cheek, and then another and another, until the floodgates were open. Andrew squatted beside her, and she leaned on him and cried. Jo Beth had never cried in a ladylike manner. She whooped and wailed and bawled. Her eyes puffed up and her nose turned red. But when the jag was over, she felt cleansed.

She finally raised her head and looked at her brother. “I messed up your shirt.”

“Feel better?”

“Yes.”

“Want to talk now?”

“I didn't believe there was such a thing as falling in love until I met Colter Gray Wolf. Dad had captured him and tied him in the outhouse.”

Andrew laughed. “When I get ready to settle down with a woman, maybe Dad will do the same thing for me.”

She wiped her face with the back of her hand and sniffed. Then she smiled.

“For the first time in my life I felt honest-to-goodness sparks.”

“Then why aren't you out there in Arizona instead of here in Tupelo blowing out thirty-one birthday candles?”

“Twenty-nine.”

“Again?”

“Twenty-nine is a nice age. I'm going to stay that way a few more years.” Her face grew serious again. “Colter loves me, Andrew. I know he does. But there are some problems in his life that he wants to resolve on his own.”

“How long will that take?”

“He didn't say.”

“And you're just going to wait around here and find out? That's not like a McGill.”

Andrew was goading her. She could tell by that devilish twinkle in his eyes. Suddenly, she knew that a good challenge was exactly what she needed. She'd never been one to sit around and wait for something to happen. In the McGill tradition, she'd always gone out and
made
something happen.

She stood up and pushed aside her chair.

“Can you and Rick come by and check on Mom and Dad every few days?”

“Are you going somewhere, Jo?” His grin was as lazy and charming as his drawl.

“I'm going courting, Mississippi style.” She picked up the matchbox and began to light her birthday candles. “Remember this, little brother: Life without love is just a succession of birthdays.”

With the candles lit, she picked up the cake. “Let's take this out to Rick's darling little savages.”

“I won't tell him you said that. He thinks they're perfect.”

Jo Beth and Andrew stepped out the door with the cake and were immediately attacked by three little boys, laughing and yelling for cake. Rick McGill sat in the glider with his arm around his very pregnant wife and smiled indulgently.

“Careful with your auntie, boys. She's getting too old for that rough-and-tumble stuff.”

Martha Ann punched her husband playfully in the ribs. “Behave yourself, Rick McGill.”

“Have I ever, sweetheart?”

She patted her oversize stomach and smiled. “No, and I hope you never do.”

Andrew rolled his eyes heavenward.

“Love. It's enough to give a fellow a bellyache. Jo, are you sure you want to end up like those two?” He nodded toward his brother and sister-in-law.

“Positive.” Grinning, she put the cake on the picnic table and patted her flat stomach. “Except maybe not that part.”

Martha Ann rose from her seat on the glider and waddled majestically across the backyard, her stomach preceding her. “You’ll change your mind, Jo Beth. And I’ll be there to say
I told you
so.”

She caught Michael's hand right before he plunged it into the top of the cake.

Rick followed his wife and picked up Matthew, who was intent on feeding Zar two birthday candles.

“What's this about love, Jo? Who is this man and will I approve?”

Jo got a gleam in her eye. “You still keep in touch with the Donovan family, don't you, Rick?”

Without waiting for a reply, she plucked little Matthew out of his arms and deposited him on Sara McGill's lap. Sara began to coo over her grandson, while Silas, who had been dreaming about the time he'd been a cowpuncher down in Texas, looked at the little boy and wondered why nobody had told him he had a new son.

Jo Beth linked her arm through Rick's and led him back to the glider.

“Come on, big brother, you and I have work to do.”

“What kind of work?”

“We're going to lay battle plans.”

o0o

Colter sat on the deck of his houseboat and looked out across the bay. It felt good to be back. He propped his feet on the railing, leaned back in his deck chair, and closed his eyes. He was tired. It had been three weeks, four days, and seven hours since he'd last seen Jo Beth. And he'd filled every minute to cover the pain.

He had to stop thinking about her. There was too much to do. The clinic in the White Mountains was being rebuilt, and every day there was another problem that he had to handle via the telephone.

Then there was his practice. It seemed that everyone in San Francisco had waited until he came back to have a gall bladder attack. In addition, there was the problem of what to do once the clinic was finished. Would he go back and set up practice there? Could he ever be content with a small general practice after years of challenging work in a big hospital? On the other hand, could he live with himself if he didn't go back?

One thing he'd discovered in his lonely desert vigil: he was Apache, not just by birth but in spirit. And that would never change.

The jangling of the telephone interrupted his thoughts. For a second he thought about not answering it. One of the things he'd loved most about being in the desert was not having a telephone to disturb the peace. It jangled again, and he got up to answer it. In his profession the phone was a necessary inconvenience.

“Colter. What's up, buddy?”

It was Jim Roman, sounding as cheerful and perky as an eighteen-year-old going out on a Saturday night date.

“I'm not on call tonight, if that's what you're asking.”

“Good. I have two tickets to the National League playoffs. Just the thing to cure your blues.”

“Who said I have the blues?”

“For once in your life, your face gives you away. Since you've come back from that desert you've been lower than a toad in a hailstorm.”

Colter laughed. “All right. I have the blues and I'm missing Jo Beth like hell and if a baseball game is the cure, I'm willing to go.”

“Good. I’ll pick you up in thirty minutes. And Colter, take off those damned moccasins and put on jogging shoes like the rest of us ordinary people. I don't want you upstaging me.”

“How did you know I was wearing moccasins?”

“I knew. See you later.”

Colter hung up the phone, changed into jogging shoes, and started to go topside. On second thought, he grabbed his baseball cap and rammed it on his head, then climbed the ladder to wait for Jim.

o0o

When she saw him appear on deck wearing his baseball cap, Jo Beth laughed with wicked glee. She'd been peeping out the porthole of Jim Roman's houseboat for the last hour, watching Colter. She'd been in San Francisco only three hours, and already her plan was set in motion. When it was all over, she'd have to thank Jim and Hannah Donovan Roman property. She'd invite them to the wedding.

She let the curtain fall back over the porthole and sat on the bunk, hugging her knees. She'd give Jim and Colter time to get to Candlestick Park. There was no hurry. She knew her seat was directly in front of Colter's. Jim had seen to that.

She left her bunk and began to dress. She put on the snuggest jeans she had, then topped them off with a blue sweater that made her eyes look like a little bit of heaven and her hair look like fairies' wings, even if she did say so herself. Phase One of her plan was “Playing Hard to Get,” and she was dressed to thrill.

o0o

It was only the bottom of the second, and San Francisco was already two runs ahead. Colter clutched his hot dog in one hand and his beer in the other and leaned forward for a better view.

There was a small commotion at the end of the bleachers, and he glanced that way to see what was happening. A blond woman was inching her way through the crowded seats, and, just his luck, she was headed his way. She'd probably end up right in front of him, and more than likely she'd be the kind who would leave every few minutes to go to the bathroom and powder her nose.

He started to turn back to the ball game, and then he did a double take. The woman looked like Jo Beth.

Disgusted with himself, he turned his attention to the batter. That wasn't the first time he'd been startled. Nearly every slender, blond-haired woman he'd seen lately had reminded him of Jo Beth.

Colter settled back to watch the game. The count was ball three, strike two, and the hitter was San Francisco's secret weapon, a rookie the team had called up from the minor leagues. The pitcher was poised, the batter was ready... and Colter squeezed his hot dog in two. Ketchup ran down his fingers, and a glob of mustard plopped onto the knee of his pants. His pulse accelerated and his blood pressure rose.

The crowd was on its feet, yelling and screaming, but he had no idea what it was all about. Jo Beth McGill had taken the seat directly in front of him. Apparently she hadn't seen him, for she'd never even looked his way.