Perfect Family (8 page)

She'd made him go over the members of the family again, telling her about what each of them did. She remembered the congressman, of course, and after a few hours at the Quest felt she knew something of Cullen, the man who had built the hotel. She'd learned more about his children—twins. One apparently managed the resort. The other was a city councilman in a nearby town.

She had tried to inventory the others, but the one that intrigued her was Ross, possibly because of the way Alex avoided talking about him. She wondered if he would be present tonight. Jitters intensified inside her.

She asked questions as Alex drove from Sedona. He drove a luxurious sports vehicle, and she noticed that it was only one of many on the road. Nearly everyone, it seemed, drove either a sports vehicle, a Jeep, or a pickup truck. She turned her attention from the road to the land around them, searching for cattle but not finding any. The dry land appeared hostile to any type of life.

“Are there no cattle?” she asked.

“They've been taken up to higher pastures,” he said. “In the fall, Ross will bring them down.”

She found herself speaking to keep her nervousness from roiling too violently. “It doesn't look like it would feed very many.”

“It doesn't. It takes twenty acres to feed a unit.”

“A unit?”

“A cow and calf,” he said.

Twenty acres for one cow and calf
. She could barely imagine it. “But a ranch would require so much land.”

“It does, but most of it is leased from the government. The Clementses have the original homestead claim of three hundred twenty acres, then bought out other ranchers. They own a total of nine hundred acres and lease thousands more from the government.”

She mentally tried to total up the number of cattle that would support, but without success.

They started climbing, the road twisting and changing, bordered on each side by strands of wire. She wondered how wise she'd been to come with him as the sun started to fall and she still saw no sign of human habitation.

Alex turned off the main road onto a dirt road. After approximately five minutes, they rode over a rise and she saw a cluster of buildings sitting amid a clump of trees. A sprawling house of rock and wood was surrounded by several outbuildings, including a newly painted barn that was fronted by a riding ring. To its side was a smaller house. Then there were several sheds.

Horses grazed in a pasture just beyond the barn; even from here she recognized quality. Her father had taught her that.

Her gaze went back to what was obviously the main house. The building itself had little grace but looked as if it had been built in haphazard fashion, a new wing here, a new room there. Part of the structure was rock, part frame. A rocking-chair porch wrapped around the front and sides. Rosebushes brimming with coral and crimson blooms framed the house in well-tended beds.

The Sunset didn't have the grandeur of Southfork from
Dallas
, but it had a warm charm about it. She looked around. The sun was descending in an apricot sky and its rays hit the red rock cliff behind the house. She didn't even try to stifle an exclamation of delight as shafts of light turned the rock into flaming gold.

Jessie saw several figures around the corral and three more on the porch. They disappeared inside as the car drew up, perhaps to announce a new presence. Alex had already stopped the vehicle and gone around to her side. He gave her his hand, and she slipped out. He held on to it, as if he knew she needed this support.

She tightened her fingers around his for a moment, then let them go. She said a brief prayer as they approached the door, and it opened.

An older woman appeared at the doorway. Her hair was short and gray, and her skin was dark and weathered. She wore denim trousers, a tan shirt, and a suede vest decorated with what looked like turquoise. Lively hazel eyes, the same color as Jessie's, searched her face, then the woman's lips spread into a warm smile.

“Jessica,” she said, reaching out with both hands. “Welcome to the Sunset. I'm Sarah Macleod,” she said, without giving Alex a chance to introduce them. The older woman took her hand. “You don't mind, do you, Jessica?” she'd asked.

Jessie realized immediately she did not. She instantly liked the older woman, who looked as if she were in her mid-seventies but moved like a much younger person. Warmth exuded from her, but Jessie saw a flash of uncertainty in her eyes, and that made her clasp the woman's hand. They had something in common, both of them. Neither was as assured as she'd wanted to be. That realization made her like Sarah Macleod far more than certainty would.

The evening became a blur of names and faces.

Sarah was memorable, as was Halden. He was obviously the patriarch of the family and sat in what looked like the most comfortable chair in the room. He looked to be in his eighties or so, and he had a thatch of white hair over a face inlaid with wrinkled trails. Calm hazel eyes, like those of Sarah and her own, peered at her with interest. “You have the look of a Clements,” he said in a surprisingly strong voice, though he didn't try to stand.

She wasn't sure whether the comment called for an answer or not, so she just stood straight under his searching gaze.

“That's a compliment, girl,” he added, a slight twinkle in his eyes.

“Thank you,” she replied.

“You have doubts?”

“I've never believed in fairy tales,” she said honestly.

“Good for you. I never did, either. A good, healthy doubt now and then won't hurt anyone. Some in this family would be better off it they didn't count their chickens before they hatched.” His gaze left her face to wander about the room, leaving her to puzzle over the remark.

She turned to look at Sarah, and was surprised at the expression that flitted across her face. Fear? But it disappeared quickly. Sarah tugged slightly on her hand. “Let me show you some photos.”

But before they had moved two feet, they were stopped by a tall, distinguished man. That he was related to Halden was obvious, except he had spectacular eyes as blue as a summer's sky. Clear. Bright. Probing. “I'm Marc Clements,” he said easily, taking her free hand and holding it as if it were a treasure of some sort.

The congressman. She would have known it instantly, even if he hadn't mentioned his name.

He'd given her a smile even more charming than Alex's, and the room seemed to still with his magnetism. Jessie guessed his age at early fifties, but she couldn't be sure. She only knew that he made her feel like the most important person in the room.

“My cousin,” he said as the lines around his eyes creased with warmth. His smile widened.

She was surprised at the depth of pleasure filling her. She'd felt at ease with Sarah and now with this man. It was odd because she generally was reserved, even shy, with strangers. Alex's easy manner had torn down some of her wariness, and now she felt caught in a glow of belonging.

“I'm … not sure,” she said, almost stuttering. She had tried so hard to stay objective, but she found herself melting under all the acceptance she felt.
A family
. A family that seemed absolutely perfect.

“You look just like the pictures of Sarah when she was young,” Marc Clements said. “She pulled them out before you arrived.”

“I was just going to show them to her,” Sarah said. Jessie thought she heard irritation in her voice. Or was it merely impatience?

If it was there, Marc Clements ignored it. “We've been hoping you would stay longer than this weekend. Family is important to us all.” A very pretty blond woman came over to him, and the congressman put his arm around her. “This is Samantha, my wife and best political asset.”

“Jessica,” Samantha acknowledged, but her eyes didn't warm as her husband's had. Jessie had the sudden, unpleasant impression of being under a microscope, and the viewer was looking for a particularly obnoxious bug. But then Samantha smiled, and Jessie could see why the congressman had said what he had about her being a political asset. She also wondered whether she had been mistaken, whether she'd read something into a moment's hesitation that didn't belong there.

“Please call me Jessie,” she said. “Everyone does.”

“But Jessica is such a pretty name,” Samantha said.

“Only my father called me that,” she said in a voice tighter than she intended.

The silence was deafening. It was the first time, she suddenly realized, that he had been mentioned. He was, however, like a ghost in the room. She hadn't realized it until this moment.

“Don't you all monopolize her.” The booming voice belonged to a tall, commanding figure of a man standing next to a tiny woman. He had blue eyes like the congressman, but they were a paler shade, almost gray.

Marc smiled wryly and turned to him. “Jessie, this is my brother, Cullen, and his wife, Sondra. Those identical images in the corner are his twin sons.”

“She sure is as pretty as a Clements,” Cullen said. “She looks just like Sarah …”

Marc had charisma, but this man was like a bounding Labrador retriever. He had an exuberance that made his brother look reticent and reserved.

He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, making her feel indeed like the long-lost prodigal daughter.

Jessie felt almost inconsequential between the force of these two men, both of whom seemed determined to make her feel as if she belonged. She tried to reclaim part of herself. “You're the one who built the Quest,” she said. “It's wonderful. Thank you for letting me stay there.”

“Delighted, cousin.” He looked at Marc. “I told you she would like it.”

Marc glanced at Sarah, whose face tightened. Jessie felt a sudden chill as she noted the exchange. She was aware of a tension between the three, almost as if the brothers were claiming some kind of subtle triumph.

She felt a tug on her arm. “I am going to steal her away,” Sarah said.

Jessie allowed herself to be led from the room, grateful for a moment's reprieve from that momentary discomfiture from the many faces, from the expectation she saw in them. Suddenly, she felt overwhelmed, caught in the eye of a storm she didn't really understand.

She was aware of eyes following her. Friendly eyes, mostly, she thought, but something else hovered in the air. She felt an edge, a watchfulness.

Sarah led her down the hall to a large bedroom. The hardwood floor was covered by a colorful woven rug, the walls by western paintings. A fireplace was framed by two large windows that looked out over the mountain she'd seen on the approach.

But she had little time to study the room. Sarah led her to a dresser and took from it a large framed photo of a man and woman seated in two chairs. Behind them were five young men and a girl.

“This was taken in nineteen-forty. I was sixteen. Halden, whom you met tonight, was thirty-two, and this is Harding.” She pointed to a handsome young boy of around seventeen and handed the photo to Jessie, who looked at it wonderingly. “Is this your father?”

Jessie couldn't answer for a moment. Harding Clements had a wide grin on his face as if he'd just stolen cookies from a cookie jar or committed some other mischief. She couldn't remember ever seeing her father smile like that.

And yet she knew that her father and this man were the same. She'd recognized him immediately. The set of his eyes, the heavy brows, the tall, rangy form. She had never seen a photo of him as a young man, had never even been able to imagine him as one. He'd always been so much older than other fathers, so … severe, distant, forbidding. Her fingers went over the photo as if she were trying to capture his image. Maybe she was.

Her breath caught in her throat. She could barely breathe. And her heart thumped faster. Her father! She knew. She
knew
.

Then she looked at the girl standing next to Harding Clements. Her hair was caught in the wind, long and blond. A smile lit her face. The girl, frozen in time,
did
look much as Jessie had a few years ago.

She stood, stunned. The picture mesmerized her. Six siblings.

Why had the one brother left a group that looked so … pleased with each other?

She felt Sarah's arm go around her. “He was my favorite brother,” she said. “He was a year younger, and we always looked after each other.”

“Why … would he leave?” Jessie finally asked the question that wouldn't go away.

“I don't know,” Sarah said, but Jessie instantly sensed that she did indeed know. Or suspected.

Jessie looked from her father's photo to the two young men next to him. They were identical.

“Hugh and Heath,” Sarah said. “They were identical twins, just like Cullen's twins. Hugh was killed in Europe in World War II. They were together when … Hugh stepped on a mine.”

“What happened to Heath?”

“He died a few years later,” Sarah said shortly.

Jessie tried to recall exactly what Alex had said about the man they believed was her father.
Your father disappeared the same day his wife and brother were apparently caught in a forest fire. They were both killed. We think he heard about it and just … wanted to get away
.

“Heath? Was he the one caught in the forest fire?”

Sarah looked startled. “How did you know about that?”

“Alex.”

The startled look disappeared, but Jessie saw something unsettling in the woman's eyes before she spoke again. “I didn't know Alex had mentioned that, but yes, it was Heath.”

“And Harding's wife?” She could not let herself say
father
. Not yet.

“Yes.” It was a flat answer,

Sarah then reached over and pointed to the second man to the right. “This was Harry, another brother. He ran the ranch until he died and my husband took over. Now Ross is in charge.” It was obvious she was trying to change the subject.

“I haven't met Ross yet, have I?”