The Invitation (20 page)

She'd been able to survive Charley's death because she had always kept her independence. She had always kept her own identity, always been with him but separate from him at the same time. She'd loved Charley, but they had been two people. With William she didn't feel separate. She felt as though they were one, as though they blended together, like two colors of paint being mixed. She was yellow, the color of the sun, an exciting color, while William was blue, the color of peace and tranquillity. Together they blended to make green, the color of the earth, the color of home.

She looked down at the ragged invitation in her hand, and after a moment a slow smile came to her lips. Raising her eyes skyward, she felt the warmth of the sun on her face. “I don't care,” she whispered. Her smile grew broader and her voice louder. “I don't care what happens in the future. All I want is
now.
I love him. I just plain love him, and that's all that matters. Not what anyone else thinks matters. Nor does the future matter. I love him. Do you hear that?”

Her voice rose to a shout. “Do you hear that, world? I love him.”

Still smiling, she began to tear the invitation, first in half, then into quarters, again and again, until it lay in tiny bits in the palm of her hand. Then, raising her hand toward the sun, she lifted it palm upward and let the wind catch the bits. Like a flurry of tiny white butterflies, the pieces caught in the air, playing in the drafts, before sailing away down the canyon.

When the last piece was no longer in sight, she turned and started down the mountain.

They were there, waiting for her, Charley's friends who had been flying since dawn looking for her. Many people from Chandler were there, too, curious, wanting something to break the monotony of life. There was Arnold, still apologizing for putting his foot in his mouth about her and William, explaining that he meant he didn't know that
Charley
had any grown children. This time Jackie heard the truth in his voice, so she told him it was all right, then kept going, her eyes searching the crowd for any sign of William. But he wasn't there. And it was right that he shouldn't be. It was her time to go after him.

Jace Montgomery was standing at the bottom of the mountain, looking at her, his face searching hers, wanting an answer. Abruptly, it hit Jackie that everyone in town knew how much she and William loved each other, had always loved each other. Perhaps they had always been a couple in the eyes of the townspeople.

When Jace saw her expression, he smiled and a dozen years seemed to fall away from his handsome face. He didn't say a word, but just pointed to a car parked nearby, and Jackie strode toward it. What was it William had said about her? That she walked “with long strides that eat up the earth.”

Within minutes she was in the car and heading toward town, and it wasn't until she was nearly there that she suddenly knew where William was. He was waiting for her by the little pond where she'd taught him how to swing on a rope and later pushed him into the water and said, “Swim or die.”

He was sitting there patiently, waiting for her. Her rock, she thought, pausing a moment to look at him, the sunlight glinting off his precious head. No, not her rock, her diamond. Her diamond that had no flaw.

“Hello,” she said when she was standing less than two feet from him.

He didn't look up, nor did he say anything, so she sat down in front of him. Still, he avoided her eyes.

“I've been behaving pretty badly the last few days,” she said.

“Yes, you have.”

She smiled. “You could say something nice.”

“I don't feel very nice.”

“I think you do,” she answered, trying to put some humor in the situation, but he didn't laugh.

For several moments she sat in silence, trying to figure out what to say, but could think of nothing. “Damn it, William! What am I supposed to say? That you were right and I was wrong? Is that what you want to hear?”

Slowly he turned to look at her. “That might make for a start.”

She opened her mouth to tell him what she thought of him, but then she laughed. And the next minute she launched herself on top of him, kissing his face and neck with vigor.

William was holding his chin up. “I want more than one apology, Jackie. I want about a thousand of them.”

“Ha!” she said, beginning to unbutton his shirt and kiss her way down his chest.

William took her shoulders and held her away from him to look into her eyes. “I'm not going to start this again unless I have some assurance that you aren't going to leave me again. I can't stand any more days like the last few. Jackie, I'm serious. Either you're mine completely or not at all. No half measures.”

“I love you,” she said. “And if you want me I'm yours.”

“Permanently? Marriage and all that?”

“Marriage and everything.”

Still he held her away from him, looking into her eyes as though to ascertain if she was telling the truth. “What made you see reason? What made you see what an idiot you've been?”

She smiled. “I talked to an expert on love.”

“Oh? A clergyman or a psychiatrist or an exotic dancer?”

“None of those. I talked to someone who has given and received enormous amounts of love, and she made me realize that nothing else in life matters.” Jackie's head came up. “William, I love you more than I love airplanes.”

William blinked at her a moment, then pulled her into his arms and nearly crushed her to him. “Now I know you're serious.”

Jackie giggled and began to fiddle with his belt buckle.

“No you don't,” he said, standing and pulling her up with him. “There may be a Beasley lurking in the bushes. We're going right now to get married.”

“Now? But, William, I need a bath and—”

“I'll give you one later.”

“Oh?” she said, with a great deal of interest in her voice. “And what else do I get if I marry you?”

He pulled her into his arms. “A lifetime of love,” he answered softly.

She caressed his temple with her fingertips. “And that's all I want.”

She started to kiss him, but he turned his head away.

“Nope. You get nothing until you've made an honest man of me.” Taking her hand, he began to lead her back toward the road so fast she was tripping over plants and rocks. “Did you know that if you're married to the sponsor, you don't have to pay a fee to enter the Taggie?”

“Is that so?”

“So maybe you'd like to enter the race.”

“No,” she said happily.

“You want to tell me why not?”

“William, I have a confession to make. I am
terrified
of heights. Can't bear them.”

He opened the door of the car she had driven and helped her into the seat. “Jackie, you are going to be the death of me.”

“No, William, my darling, I am going to be the
life
of you,” she said softly.

He bent forward to kiss her but drew back. “No. I'm not kissing you until you have Montgomery attached to your name.”

“Along with everyone else in town,” she said, leaning back in the seat and smiling as she watched him walk around the car to get into the driver's seat. For a moment she closed her eyes, and in that instant she could see the joy that was their future. Nellie had said that only love mattered, and she was right. Nothing in her life had given so much deep satisfaction as had knowing that this man loved her and she loved him.

William shut the door, released the brake, and started driving. They didn't say anything, but he picked up her hand and kissed it, and that kiss said everything.

She had made the right decision.

T
erri's husband ran off with a traveling stripper, taking their eldest son with him. Edward Browne consoled her for her loss, and they were married a few months after Terri's divorce. Edward decided that the challenge of straightening out Terri's remaining sons was more interesting than spending months aboard a cruise ship, so he dedicated himself to them. The younger boys turned out not to be as stupid as they seemed and, when encouraged, found that they rather liked using their heads instead of their fists. Both of them graduated from college and led productive lives. As for Edward and Terri, they thanked heaven every day of their lives for having found each other.

Jackie and William had two children and lived happily ever after.

T
here was a console telephone on Kane Taggert's desk with six buttons on it, every one of which was lit up, but when his private line rang, he put line number six on hold and answered it. His private line was for his family and anyone who had anything to do with his two young sons.

“Mom,” he said, turning in his chair and looking at the New York skyline, “what an unexpected pleasure.” He didn't ask, but he knew his mother wanted or needed something, because she didn't call him while the stock exchange was open if she just wanted to chat.

“I have a favor to ask of you.”

Kane didn't groan, but he wanted to. Five months ago his twin brother had gotten married, and since then his mother had been relentless in her attempts to get Kane, her widower son, married.

“I think you need a vacation.”

At that Kane did groan. Looking at his switchboard, he saw line number four start to blink, meaning Tokyo was about to hang up. “Out with it, Mom,” he said. “What torture have you planned for me now?”

“Your father isn't feeling well and—”

“I'll be there—”

“No, no, it's nothing like that. It's just that his soft heart has put him in a bit of a pickle and I've promised to get him out of it.”

This was a common occurrence in his parents' household. His father often volunteered to help people, and volunteered so generously that he took on too much, did too much. In her attempt to protect him, his wife often had to play the bad guy and unvolunteer him.

“What's he done now?” Kane said as light number four went off.

“You know how our neighbor Clem”—she was explaining who Clem was to emphasize that it had been so long since Kane had been home that he might have forgotten a man he'd known all his life—“often takes easterners on camping trips? Well, last month he took six men and, well, it was a bit rough on him. Clem's getting on in years now, and those climbs are hard on him.”

Kane didn't say a word. Clem was as strong and as wiry as a mustang, and Kane well knew that Clem's health had nothing whatever to do with what his mother wanted her son to do.

“Anyway, your father said he'd take the next group of easterners.”

Clem was also part con man so if he'd conned Ian Taggert into taking the next group, there was a reason. “That bad, huh?” Kane asked. “A real bunch of jerks, were they?”

Pat Taggert sighed. “The worst. Complainers. Afraid of the horses. The boss had ‘requested' that they go, and they didn't want to be there.”

“The worst kind. So what's Clem conned Dad into this time?”

Kane heard some anger in Pat's voice when she spoke. “It seems that Clem knew his next group of tourists was from this same company, only, Kane…”

“What's the bad news?”

“They're
women!
Clem knew this, and he's asked your father to spend two weeks leading four reluctant New York women on a trail ride. Can you imagine! Oh, Kane, you can't—”

At that Kane began to laugh. “Mom, you are never going to win an Academy Award for acting, so you can cut it out. So you want me, your widower son—your poor, lonely widower son—to spend two weeks alone with four nubile young women and maybe find a mother for his sons.”

“In a word, yes,” Pat said, annoyed. “How do you expect to meet anyone if you spend all your time working? All four of these women live in New York City where both you and Mike have chosen to live and—”

Unspoken words were sizzling through the telephone lines about how Kane and his brother had left the family home and taken grandbabies away from their grandparents.

“The answer is an unequivocal no,” Kane said.
“No!
That's it, Mom. I can find my own women without any matchmaking on your part.”

“All right,” Pat said, sighing. “Go answer your telephones.” At that she hung up, and for a moment Kane stared at the phone, frowning. He'd have to send her flowers and maybe a piece of jewelry. Even as he thought that, he knew that flowers and jewelry were a poor substitute for grandchildren.

 

He didn't get home until eight that evening, and by then his sister-in-law, Samantha, had his twin sons neatly tucked away in their beds. His brother Mike was at the gym, so he and Sam were alone, and after Kane had returned from kissing his sleepy sons, he met her in the living room. She was hugely pregnant, her hand seeming to be permanently attached to her lower back as she ambled about the town house taking care of two men and two active five-year-olds. Kane had his own apartment in New York, a barren place that for the most part was filled with kids' toys, and he had a place in his parents' house in Colorado, but after his brother had introduced him to Samantha, Kane and his sons had gradually moved into Mike's town house. That was Sam's doing, Kane thought. Sam had wanted a family, and if that was what Sam wanted, then Mike was going to give it to her.

Without asking, Sam brought Kane a beer in a cold mug and handed it to him. A thousand times he'd told her that she shouldn't wait on him, but Sam had a very hard head. Setting the beer down, he got up and went to lower her into one of Mike's fat leather chairs. She wasn't heavy, but she was as unwieldy as a dirigible.

“Thanks,” she said, then nodded toward his beer. “Defeats the purpose of my waiting on you if you have to get up to help me, doesn't it?”

Smiling at her, he sat down and drank half the beer in one gulp. Sometimes he wanted what his brother had so badly that it was like a flame that threatened to burn him up. He wanted a wife who loved him and his sons, wanted a home of his own; he wanted to stop living vicariously through his brother.

“Out with it,” Sam said.

“Out with what?”

“You can't lie any better than Mike can. What's bothering you?”

You, he wanted to say. Loving my sister-in-law, beginning to hate my brother.

“Kane,” Sam said, “stop looking at me like that and talk to me. Tell me what's bothering you.”

He couldn't tell her the truth, so he told her about his mother's call.

“What are you going to do?” Sam asked.

Kane hadn't considered accepting his mother's invitation, but suddenly the thought of two weeks alone in the high mountain desert with four women appealed to him. If they were New York women, they'd be afraid of the open space, of the noises in the night, and they always fell in love with their cowboy guide. Show a New York woman a man in a denim shirt, tight Levi's, and a worn pair of cowboy boots and you had her. Throw your leg over a horse and she'd probably swoon.

As he finished his beer, he smiled. It might be nice to have a woman look at him with stars in her eyes. Samantha looked at Mike as though he were an Olympic god, and his sons looked at Sam as though she were the only mother they'd ever had.

“Thinking you might go?”

“Maybe,” Kane said, getting up. “I'm going to have another beer. Can I get you anything?”

“On the countertop in the kitchen is a fax from Pat. It tells all about the four women who are going on the trip.”

With a face filled with astonishment, Kane looked back at her, but Sam just shrugged. “She called and said she hoped you'd change your mind. Kane, one of the women is a widow. Three years ago she was in a car crash that killed her husband and made her miscarry her child.”

When he went to the kitchen, Kane picked up the fax and read it. Ruth Edwards was the widow's name, and his mother had even found a photo of her. Even in the bad reproduction he could tell she was beautiful, as tall, as long-legged, as dark-haired as his beloved wife had been.

Quickly, Kane read about the other three women. One was a hairdresser's assistant, another ran a metaphysical shop in the Village, and the fourth was a short, pretty blonde whose name seemed vaguely familiar.

“She writes murder mysteries,” Sam said from over his shoulder. She was standing so close her belly was touching his side, but the distance from the front of her belly to her head made her face seem nearly a yard away.

“Read any of them?”

“All of them. I buy them the minute they hit the stands.”

“Speaking of writers, how's Mike's book coming?”

“Our
book,” she said with emphasis, knowing Kane was teasing her, “will be out in six months.” She was speaking of the biography she and Mike had written,
The Surgeon
by Elliot Taggert, the pen name combining her maiden name with Mike's surname. “Well?” she said impatiently. “Are you going?”

“Will you keep the boys?”

It was a rhetorical question and they both knew it. “I'd keep them forever.”

“Which is exactly why I think I'll go check out Mom's ladies.”

Sam's eyes twinkled. “Pat's sending the family jet to pick you up at eight tomorrow morning. It's already left Denver.”

Kane wasn't sure whether to laugh or groan. In the end he did both, then put his arm around Sam's shoulders and kissed her cheek. “Do I seem as lonely as you women think I am?”

More, Sam thought, but she didn't answer him. She was glad he was going to be around people.