Never the Twain (17 page)

Could she?

Did she want to?

Right now, right this minute, she wanted nothing more. Owyhee Country was beginning to
feel like home. Rock's embrace was beginning to feel like where she belonged.

"I really have to go," she said, her voice sounding weak and strained.

"Your place or mine?" His eyes were asking more than if they would share a bed
tonight.

"Both." Before he could explode, she laid a hand on his arm. "I've got to be alert
tomorrow, Rock. You know if you come to my place, we won't get much sleep. Let me do my job
this week. I'll drive out to the ranch Friday, after work. We'll have the whole weekend."

He gave in, grudgingly.

* * * *

It was an awful week. The trip to Baker ended up taking two days. She and Dan pulled in
about three Thursday afternoon to discover that Frank Ainsworth had radioed a request for some
special equipment he needed immediately, if not sooner. So early Friday she hitched a ride with
Chuck in the BLM helicopter, then waited for him to pick her up on his way back from Jordan
Valley. She had planned to call New Hampshire before she went to work this morning and ask her
mother if she'd heard from Sophie, but she completely forgot. When she finally remembered, she
was halfway to Skeleton Gulch. She might as well wait until she talked to Rock. Maybe he'd
heard.

To make matters worse, she'd arrived home from Baker to discover Marmalade had
knocked her answering machine to the floor. It held one message, from a cemetery plot salesman. If
Rock had tried to reach her--or worse, if Sophie had--they hadn't been able to. The only consolation
was that there hadn't been any messages for her at work. She supposed that meant no emergencies
had occurred. She hoped.

She was going to be terribly late. One thing and another--a gregarious neighbor, an empty
gas tank, another telephone solicitation--conspired to keep her in Vale until nearly six o'clock. And
when she tried to call Rock to tell him she was running late, she discovered his phone was out of
order.

To make matters worse, she broke a fingernail opening the sliding door on her van.

The big log house was blazing with light when she pulled into the driveway, but there were
no vehicles in the driveway. It couldn't be a party.

"Where the hell have you been?" Rock demanded when he pulled the door open. His face
was set in grim lines, angry lines.

"Hello, Genny. I missed you, Genny. Did you have a safe trip, Genny?" She handed him
her overnight bag and slipped past him into the wide front hall. "You really make a person feel
welcome, Rock."

"I expected you hours ago." He slammed the door and stalked past her, heading for the
kitchen. As she followed, Genny looked into the brightly-lit living room. Empty. So was the dining
room. The door to Rock's study, across the hall, was closed, but a line of light showed under the
door. He must be trying to support Idaho Power all by himself.

She didn't really have time in her life for a bossy, temperamental, spoiled man. Could she
live without him? This past week had gone a long way towards showing her she couldn't. She'd
missed him as she would if part of herself were absent.

She followed Rock into the kitchen and stopped short. "Sophie? Where have--?"

"Hello, dear. Rock said you were concerned about me." Astonished, Genny stood stiff
while her aunt embraced her. "I told you in my note not to worry."

"Where have you been? Why haven't you called? If you only knew...."

"Genille, dear, I have been taking care of myself for many years."

"And now I'll be taking care of her," Pancho said, coming from the back porch and
slipping an arm around Sophie's waist.

Genny goggled. She'd never known her aunt to date. And she certainly had
never--never--seen her lean into a man's embrace as if she belonged there.

"Wish us well, Genille. Pancho and I were married last Sunday." She looked up at Rock's
cook with a sweet smile and stars in her eyes. Genny had never seen Sophie so beautiful. Or so
apparently happy.

"I think I'd better sit down," she said, feeling her knees weaken.

Stumbling across the kitchen, she dropped into a chair. "Why, Sophie? How could you...?"
She shook her head. "To just go off like that, and not let anyone know...."

"It was my fault, Miss Forsythe," Pancho said, never relinquishing his hold on her aunt. "I
was afraid that if I gave her time to consider, she might change her mind. I regret if our impetuosity
caused you grief."

"Don't believe him, Genille. I was as eager as he was." Again Sophie aimed an enchanted
smile at Pancho. "I've never been swept off my feet before, and I wanted to enjoy the experience."
She patted the hand resting on her waist. "Besides, at my age, one daren't let a moment of happiness
escape."

Taking a deep breath, Genny smiled at the older couple. "I'm very happy for you both.
This is...is wonderful news." She had to stop and swallow the tears that hovered just behind her eyes.
"Have you told the family?" Sophie was her mother's oldest sister, and Mom's only remaining blood
relative. The extended Forsythe family considered her one of theirs. "What about your job?"

"We're going to call tomorrow," Sophie replied. "It was too late when we arrived this
evening, what with the time difference and all." Slipping free of her bridegroom's embrace, she
pulled a chair close to Genny's. "I faxed my resignation from Reno, before the wedding. I'd intended
to call you from there, but, well, I just never got around to it."

From the lecherous smirk on Pancho's face, Genny could imagine why. Anger rose within
her.

"Don't you think you're a little old for such...such thoughtless behavior, Sophie? An
elopement? How romantic! How inconsiderate! If you only knew how I worried. You've been gone
almost a week and you didn't even have the good manners to call...."

"That's quite enough, Genille!"

"Put a lid on it, Genny!"

"Miss Forsythe, I protest!"

Genny felt her mouth drop open at the assault from all sides. She immediately regretted
her outburst, but she didn't think it deserved the glares she was being impaled with. "I'm sorry,
Sophie. It's none of my business what you do. But you were my guest, and I think I had a right to be
concerned."

"I left you a note, Genille. Your responsibility ended there." Her beloved aunt had never
been so cool to her before. Genny felt abandoned.

"I told you she'd be all right," Rock reminded her. "And I said she was probably with
Pancho. You wouldn't believe me."

If there was anything Genny hated more than a bossy man, it was one who was also right
and told her so. "Oh, shut up," she snarled. "Since you're safe, Sophie, I think I'll go home. I've been
neglecting Marmalade." She picked up her overnight bag from the floor where Rock had dropped it
and headed for the front door.

"You're not going anywhere," Rock said, grabbing her above the elbow.

She tried to jerk her arm free. "Oh, yes I am. I'm going home."

Immediately she felt her feet leave the floor as Rock swept her into his arms. "You're going
to bed," he said, his voice hard. "With me."

"Let me go!" She kicked and struggled but was held in an unbreakable embrace. Her futile
struggles only made her angrier, as Rock carried her up the stairs and along the upper hall. When he
shouldered his bedroom door open, she started pounding on his chest with her free hand. "Let me
go, damn you! Let me go!"

"Why, Genille Enderby Forsythe! Was that a cuss word sullyin' your pretty lips? Shame on
you."

He tossed her to the bed, and before she could roll away, fell on top of her. "Now, if you'll
just calm down, we'll talk about this. Believe me, darlin', you aren't any happier about this whole
shebang than I am."

His words stopped her struggles. She stared at him, seeing the dark anger still in his face.
"You don't approve?"

"Hell no! That pretty, sweet smellin' lady is gonna break Pancho's heart. And there isn't a
damn thing I can do about it."

"Sophie is going to break Pancho's heart? Haven't you got it backwards?" Genny couldn't
believe Rock. Didn't he see that her gentle, sophisticated aunt was totally out of her element as
Pancho's wife? "Rock, he's a
cook!
"

That hadn't come out quite like she meant it, but before she could say anything else, Rock
reared back, glaring.

"Yeah, Pancho's a cook. And I'm a cowboy. Does that make us dirt under your pretty little
feet, City Girl?" Rolling off the bed, he stalked across the bedroom, to stand silhouetted before the
sliding glass doors that looked out at the Owyhee Mountains. The night was black, and the
curtainless window reflected everything in the room. Her image stared back at her, hair disheveled,
face mottled from unshed tears, eyes pleading.

No, darn it! She wasn't going to plead for anything from Rock. Not even
understanding.

"Don't twist my words!" she said, rolling off the bed and to her feet. In three strides, she
was standing behind him, close enough to make her point but far enough that he couldn't
misinterpret it. "I'm not a snob and neither is Sophie. And I'm not a city girl; our farm may not be
bigger than Rhode Island, but it's a long way from a city. Sophie does live in a city, I admit. She has
for years. You've got to agree that a lifetime in Boston hasn't prepared her to live out in some
godforsaken covered wagon like your grandmother did."

"Pancho lives here." He gestured, to indicate the ranch house. His voice was soft, his
words were clipped. The line of his shoulders was unyielding.

"So? Do you expect Sophie to move in? To take over Pancho's chores, picking up after
you and washing your dirty socks?" The more she said, the angrier she got. "My aunt is a successful
businesswoman, Rock. Not some domestic servant moving in for your convenience. She didn't get
to be an executive secretary because she can type and make decent coffee. She has an MBA, for
Pete's sake. She makes three times as much a year as I do"

"Good. She can help me with my taxes." He whipped around to face her. She took a step
backwards when his glare struck her. "Can she use a computer?"

"Of course she...darn it Rock! You're confusing the issue! The point I'm trying to make is
that it won't just be Pancho who'll suffer from this marriage." Rock had glared at her as much as
he'd smiled in the month they'd known each other, but never with the hostility she saw in his eyes
now. Genny took a deep breath, hoping to make him understand.

"Can we sit down?" She gestured at the two tapestry-covered chairs in the seating area of
Rock's huge bedroom. "I'd like to tell you about Sophie, so you'll understand why I'm so
concerned."

The tenseness in his jaw remained and his eyes were no less narrowed, but he did move
away from the window. She seated herself, while Rock leaned, his long arms propping him on the
back of the other chair. "I'm listenin'."

"Sophie's heart was broken when she was young," Genny told Rock, remembering how
she'd thought the story was so wonderfully romantic when she was a child. "She was just seventeen
when she fell in love, and he was five years older. He was a senior in college. He loved her as much
as she loved him." She heard her voice go soft and dreamy, and wasn't surprised. Sophie's story had
always seemed incredibly romantic. Like an especially poignant novel.

"Stewart's major was Eastern Philosophy. He was in R.O.T.C because that was the only
way he could afford college; he was the youngest of nine children and his parents weren't
wealthy."

Rock made an indeterminate sound that she interpreted as impatience. She decided he
wouldn't want to hear about the poems Stewart wrote, or how happy and carefree he and Sophie
were.

"They were going to wait until he got his military obligation out of the way. Stewart didn't
want Sophie to be tied down while she was still in college, and he wouldn't hear of her quitting to
marry him."

Another restless sound. She left out all her favorite parts, afraid Rock would walk out in
the middle of the story. "Stewart was in Military Intelligence, a...a spy, I think. He was sent to Viet
Nam. Within a month he disappeared. No one ever knew what happened to him. He was just gone."
As usual, she choked up. Her voice shook and her eyes burned as she finished Sophie's story.
"Sophie was pregnant. But she lost the baby. She was left with nothing but beautiful memories. And
she never loved again."

"That's the biggest pile of crap I've ever heard."

"Rock!"

"If you think Sophie has spent her life pinin' for lost love, you've got another think comin'.
That's one foxy old gal, Genny, and she could teach you a trick or two."

Her jaw dropped. The very idea!

"Ask her if she spent the last twenty-five or thirty years mourning for Stewart." His tone
challenged her.

"I...I can't. It's none of my business."

But now that Rock had put the idea in her head, she couldn't help but wonder if her aunt
had indeed been celibate for so many years.

"Neither's her marriage to Pancho." Rock's eyes narrowed. She could almost see the wheels
turning behind them.

After a long moment of silence, she said, "What is it Rock? What are you thinking?"

"That I'm as big a fool as you." He sounded embarrassed.

She bristled. Romantic she might be, but believing in the poignancy of Stewart's and
Sophie's tragic love didn't make her a fool.

"Pancho and Sophie aren't any of my business either." His mouth twisted, and she could
tell it wasn't easy for him to admit error. "Here you and me have been goin' round and round about
something we can't change, and wouldn't have any right to if we could."

"We love 'em. They're married." The slight inflection in his voice made his words a
question, as if he needed her agreement.

She nodded.

"It's up to us to do what we can to show 'em we're okay with it. I surely don't wish Pancho
any misery, or Sophie neither."