This Love Will Go On (12 page)

She leaned back and sank in to her shoulders. For several moments, she luxuriated in the wonderful, tingling warmth as it seeped into her toes, her feet, her legs. Unbidden, a vision of Jade drifted into her mind, Jade, sitting with his legs around her as he had on the sled, but gloriously naked, lounging in the tub behind her, sliding her into the hollow of his body with nothing between them but silky water.

She climbed out of the tub, snatched up a brown towel, and rubbed herself briskly. But she couldn't rub away the memory of Jade's experienced fingers playing over the sensitive tips of her breasts.

Clothed, calmer, and convinced she was back in control, Raine stepped out into the hall only to run headlong into Jade's broad chest.

He dropped Tate's hand and caught her arms to steady her.  “Easy,” he said softly, but the word had the exact opposite effect on her.  Disturbed by the sudden, hot memory of her bathtub fantasy, she shuddered and twisted away from him.

He frowned and let her go.

“Daddy, what's the matter?”

Jade looked down at his son.  Tate returned his gaze owlishly.  Jade said, “Nothing.  I was just catching your Aunt Raine so she wouldn’t fall down.” His eyes swung back to Raine and those green depths mocked.  She struggled for composure and glanced at Tate. "Are you going in for a nap, sport?"

Tate nodded.  “Daddy said if I slept now, he’d let me go out to the barn later and play with my puppy.”

Raine stooped down and brushed his cheek with her lips.  “Sounds like a plan.  You have a good sleep.”

From over her head, Jade said, “I'll tuck him in and be down to fix your lunch in a few minutes.”

“Take your time. I can fix my own.  I do know my way around Mi…around the kitchen.”

“Go for it.” His words lingered in her ears as he turned and went on down the hall with his small son in tow.

She walked down the stairs, only too aware that they would be eating together without the buffering presence of Tate.

She had prepared many meals in Jade's modern kitchen and the light, bright room done in yellow and white was as airy and clean as it had been then. On the round table in the eating area sat the remains of Tate's lunch, a half of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich along with a quarter of a glass of milk, eaten while she bathed. Jade had cut and pared an apple, but Tate barely touched it. Automatically, she opened the refrigerator and surveyed the contents. There were plenty of eggs and an added bonus, a half-dozen red peppers.  After she had chopped the peppers and had them sautéing in butter, she took out five eggs, broke them into a bowl and began to whip them vigorously. Outside the window, the snowy landscape glittered like a sea of diamonds. It was flat land that held no barriers for the eye, and it all belonged to Jade.  He'd acquired yet another section since Michele left.  There seemed to be no limit to the amount of range land he could absorb into his operation. He was expert at making money. She turned away from the window and went to the stove to pour the eggs over the browning peppers, remembering the spring she had stayed here with Michele. Weary of housework, she'd gone out and ridden the range with the men, helping to bring in the newborn calves from the range. She'd watched Jade, bare to the waist in the freaky sudden heat of that April, go into the temporary corral they'd rigged for the calves and mothers and snag the calf he wanted with one clean throw of his rope. She remembered the way his muscles moved under the skin of his back, and the way the perspiration made his skin gleam. She'd gone into the house after that and stayed there, safely away from the sight of him.

The omelet simmered in the pan. Restless, she turned back to the window again. In the distance, the cattle clustered around the long outdoor troughs, eating the hay Jade had harvested last summer from three hundred acres of land. Unlike some other ranchers, he grew enough hay of his own so he didn’t have to buy feed.  A partially completed lean-to protected the cattle from the north wind. Jade had begun to build cattle sheds scattered in strategic places over his ranch, but the winter weather had put a stop to his building projects. In another two months, he'd be back at work, or sooner, if the weather broke. They'd had several snow storms this winter, but nothing like the full-blown blizzard with the sixty-inch snow fall they had gotten the winter before Tate was born. It was during that blizzard that Michele forgot herself enough to become pregnant.

“Something smells good.” Jade's low voice came from behind her.  Raine turned.  He stood watching her with those dark green eyes, leaning against the edge of the table, lazily at ease.

She strove to dampen her reaction to his presence and braced herself to sound cool and impersonal.  “It's an omelet.  I’m just ready to dish it out.  How about setting the table?”

“My pleasure.”

After he had set out the plates and flatware, he made a pot of coffee and they sat down to eat in a companionable silence.

A few minutes later, Jade pushed his plate away.  “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.  That was delicious.  Nice to taste someone else’s cooking for a change.  Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

“You cooked, I'll clean up. You go in the living room and relax.”

"No, I think I’d better go home.  I have things to do.”

He gazed at her.  “Afraid you'll miss Martin's call?”

“No. of course not.”

“Then go sit down. I'll take care of things here.”

She hesitated, her protest hovering on her lips. Yet he was only asking her to wait a few more minutes.  Surely she could do that.  “All right.” She turned and walked out of the room, anxious to escape those lazily examining eyes.

A few minutes later, Jade came into the living room.  “I thought I told you to sit down and relax.” She was in the raised part of the living room, standing in front of the glass wall.

“I really can’t wait for Tate to wake up to have you take me back.  I’ll call Julia and…”

He took a step closer.  “Are you upset with me because I…took liberties I shouldn’t have?”

She stood in the sunlight that streamed in from the window and met his eyes, her own clear and expressive.  “Yes.”

He grimaced as if she had struck him.  “I wouldn’t have if I hadn’t been so damn sick of seeing you stand on the top of that hill and freeze to death, waiting for your lover.”

Her chin came up.  “Why should that bother you?”

He took another step.  “Why do you think?”

“You can’t be jealous of Doug.”

“Why not?”

“Jealousy implies caring.”

At this he was silent. She knew he couldn't deny the truth of her words, and the thought twisted inside her like a knife.

He read the look on her face and made a despairing gesture with his hands.  “What do you want from me? Empty words?
I love you, Raine.
  Is that what you want to hear?”

Yes oh, yes! But not in that bitter, acidic tone.

He shook his head, his eyes gleaming with desire.  “We don’t need love,” he said.  “We have something better.  Sexual attraction.  You’re attracted to me, Raine.  I know you are.”

“All right.  Yes.  I’m attracted to you.  But I’ll never be your lover, Jade.”  She turned away to look out the window again.

The slight brush of his chest on her back warned her that he was directly behind her, but the warning hadn't come soon enough.  She was trapped between his body and the glass window. Before she could twist away, he locked her to him, his arms circled in front of her.  She stood in shocked silence, fighting the pleasure of being pulled back against his chest until their bodies touched from shoulder to thigh.  “You shouldn’t have admitted you were attracted to me.  That’s the first good thing you’ve said to me since that night we stood out on that dock together.”  When she did not move in protest, his right hand slid lower and his fingers splayed over her abdomen.  The feel of his palm, even over her denims, sent a tingle of erotic pleasure coursing through her body.  His other hand glided under her sweater and began pushing it upward in an agonizingly slow path from navel to waist to rib cage. At last he found the treasure he sought, and when he cupped and supported her warm flesh, the contrast between the coolness of the air and the heat of his touch made her gasp.  He laughed softly, a sound of masculine amusement, and nuzzled her hair aside to nibble at the soft skin of her neck even while his hand on her abdomen began to make slow, sensuous circles.

“Jade, no.”  It was a token protest, unaccompanied by any attempt to push herself away.

“Shh,” he said softly.  “Relax, sweetness.  Take the pleasure I can give you.  We don’t need love when we have this.”  His mouth wandered deeper under the tunnel of her hair and his tongue flicked against a tiny, ultrasensitive spot at her nape, just above her backbone.  The intimate touch of his warm tongue sent raking shudders through her.  His hand cupping the underside of her breast registered the shiver.  “I wanted to hold you like this all morning.  Every time I sat down behind you on that sled, I kept thinking of the softness of your breasts and the pleasure I feel when I touch you.  And I'm not the only one who enjoys it, am l?  I can feel you absorbing my caresses as if you've been craving them.  Are you as hungry for me as I am for you?”

She didn’t answer.  She knew she should push him away, but she wanted his hands to continue that slow, circular teasing at the junction of her thighs until he took her to the ragged edge of a precipice where there would be no turning back.

“Come upstairs with me, Raine.”

She wanted to. Oh, she wanted to.  But he didn't love her. And he didn't want her love. She could take what he had to give, and pretend, just for a little while, that he was hers. But when it was over, he would know the depth of her love.  She wouldn’t be able to hide her feelings behind curt words.  He would know how much she loved him and he would pity her.  Out of that pity, he might feel compelled to marry her. 

She shook her head.  “And become what, Jade?  Your mistress?  The secret lover you have to keep hidden away from your son? 

A muscle moved on the side of his jaw and abruptly, he dropped his hands from her arms.  “I've let you go more times than I want to think about,” he said in a softly insolent tone.  In that same tone, he warned, “But you best keep your distance.  Because I won’t let you go again.  Now go call Julia.”

Toward the end of-March, when the streets were slushy with  melting snow, and Raine finally began to sleep a little better, Patty Harson came into the print shop, carrying a piece of paper. “I've written this,” she said anxiously, thrusting it toward Raine.  “Would you print it in next week's paper?”

Julia was running the press. She looked up curiously, but didn't move. The press had to be watched so that it didn't double over paper or tear it indiscriminately.   Raine glanced over the note, then raised her eyes back to Patty. “I hadn't heard a word about this.  They’re thinking of closing the school?”  Patty nodded.

Raine shook her head.  “I can't run this unless I know for sure that it isn't a rumor.  This will shake up the whole town.”

“Call Stephen Clark. He's the president of the school board. If you don't get a straight answer from him…”

“I’ll do that.”

“If you decide not to print it, call me, will you?”

“I will.” Patty went out, and Raine reached for the phone. Stephen was out in the field fixing fence, his wife said. After several tries, Raine did finally speak with him, but his answers were evasive.  She cradled the phone and read Patty’s article over again. It was a simple, straightforward plea for the truth. Patty suggested that the school board talk openly to the community and let them know whether there was any truth to the rumor that Verylon was in danger of losing its school.  Raine laid the sheet on the desk and sat back.  She thought of the article she had printed last fall about the cheerleaders.  She remembered the pride on their faces and their eager enthusiasm for their school team.  Her decision made, she stood up, carried the article over to her machine and began to set it in type.

The article generated a lot of discussion, but not much action from the school board. They still hid behind evasive answers and conciliatory statements.  Raine offered each of them equal space in print, but none of the board availed themselves of the privilege.

Throughout the spring, rumors flew. Toward the end of May, when the school year was finished, the truth came out. Verylon was, indeed, going to lose its school. After the coming school year was over, the children would be bussed into Canton and absorbed into the school system there. There was rage and dismay and loud protests, but there was nothing that could be done. It was a blow to the town, yes, but it sounded the death knell for
The Verylon Appeal
.

Toward the last of June, on a particularly hot day, Doug sat on the corner of Raine's desk and swung one leg. His summer shirt was open at the throat, and he looked cool and comfortable, even though the air was hot inside the print shop.

Raine sat in the swivel chair behind the desk, feeling the perspiration drip down her back and wishing she were home in a cool shower. Doug was well launched into one of his many stories and he showed no signs of stopping. He was telling her about a newspaper office his dad had supplied when he first started out in the business in the Pacific Northwest.

“They had a lady Linotype operator named Mabel Johnson.  Everybody called her Johnny.  Anyway, the roof leaked right over Johnny's Linotype machine.  She asked the boss to fix it repeatedly and he ignored her. One morning after a hard rain, she found a puddle of water under her swivel chair.  She stomped out into the back room, came back with a push broom and pushed the water all the way up to the nice new carpeting the boss had just laid around his front desk.”  Doug grinned.  “The repairmen were there to fix the roof the next morning.”

Raine smiled. “Who says women were subservient in the good old days?”

“Not me. My grandfather's sister homesteaded here in South Dakota.'”

Raine's interest was piqued.  “Alone?”

“You mean without a husband? You bet.  My grandfather was on the neighboring one hundred and sixty, so he was close by, but he wasn't much help. He had his own problems.”

“Did she stay long enough to claim the land?”

Doug shook his head. "But it wasn't the cold or the loneliness that drove her out. She’d settled in the dry part of Dakota, next to the Black Hills, and she didn't have a source of water and couldn't get a well.”

“How long did she stay?”

“She was there one summer and one winter, I think Dad said.”

“She must have been made of tough stuff.”

Doug grinned.  “I come from good prairie stock. Speaking of which,” he slid off the desk, “if I can't talk you into ordering more paper stock, I'd better be on my way to a newspaper where people appreciate my company's products.”

“I’m sorry I can't order more, Doug. Everything's on hold in this town right now. Our advertising has dropped off and so has our subscription list. We're going to lose our school and Matt says he's going to close the grocery store a year from next fall.”  She tipped her head and looked up at him.  “If he does that,” she shrugged and tried to look philosophical, “we’ll lose our biggest source of revenue.  The paper will fold.  We can’t survive in a town that’s drying up.”

Doug looked startled.  “When did all this come about?”

“Talk's been going around town since last winter, but I haven't said anything, because I thought that’s all it was.  Now we know it’s official.”

“If the paper folds, what will you do?”

“Drive to Canton and look for a job, I guess.”

“You wouldn't leave?”

“Where would I go? Besides, I can't leave Julia…or Tate.”

“You really love that little guy, don't you?”  He watched her, his face sobering as she nodded.  He gazed at her for a moment more and then picked up his satchel.  “Look, if there's anything I can do…”

“If you hear of a job opening anywhere around, you might let me know,” she said wryly.

He nodded.  “Will do.”

He was at the door when she remembered.  “Doug.” Her voice stopped him as he was reaching for the door. “Yes?”

"The Commercial Club is having a Fourth of July picnic here in the town park to bolster people’s interest and pride in Verylon.  Would you like to come as my guest?”

She'd thought about asking him for a long time, almost a month. The Fourth of July picnic was the first time she would be seeing Jade in quite a while and she needed Doug as a buffer. She knew it wasn't fair to him, but she had to ask.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully with his free hand.  “Does that mean you're providing the food?”

She laughed.  “No, it means the Commercial Club is providing the food.  I'm buying your ticket.

“Sounds like an offer too good to refuse. What time?”

“How does eleven sound?  Dinner will be served around twelve, I guess.”

Doug rolled his eyes.  “Of course. The people of South Dakota expire if they don't eat at noon.”

“There are races and games in the afternoon and fireworks at night.”

Doug grinned.  “I suppose there will be such a big crowd in town I won’t be able to find a parking place.”

“Don't we all wish.”

“It doesn't hurt to wish, honey.” He smiled, gave her a friendly salute and went out the door.

His words plucked at her conscience. She shouldn't have asked him to the picnic. They had gone out together a few times since that winter day he had promised to go sledding with her and hadn't shown up. He'd explained he’d had car trouble and he'd taken her out to dinner to apologize. There were movie dates after that, but Raine was determined to keep things on a friendly basis.  Doug seemed to understand. But Raine sensed that he was waiting with a calm determination that arose out of a stronger feeling than friendship.

She was wrong to encourage him, she knew. Yet he made her life a little more tolerable.  When she was with Doug, she forgot Jade, at least for a few hours. But when she returned to her room with Doug's light goodnight kiss on her lips, thoughts of Jade haunted her. She lived on a roller coaster of emotion that peaked each Saturday morning when Jade brought Tate to the house and slid downward that evening when the vision of his lean body and his firm mouth rose up to taunt her. She would lie in bed and try to shut out the memory of his hands on her breasts, but she couldn't. She could remember exactly how it felt to have him touch her, and how much she ached to have him touch her again.

The picnic gods were with them.  The blue prairie sky was cloudless and there was a light breeze. Raine arrived at the park at eight o’clock in the morning.  As a member of the Commercial Club, she was one of a crew of a dozen people who were faced with the task of organizing the feeding and entertaining of a crowd they hoped would number close to five hundred.

On a grassy area under the shade of tall oaks, one of the men had set up a huge tent.  But they needed the folding tables moved and set up. John Rossow, the president of the club, delegated Raine to solve the problem. She cajoled other members of the club to work in groups of four. Together, her improvised crew dragged the tables over the grass to form squares facing the tent opening.

Harry from the Bar and Grill had volunteered to cook five hundred hot dogs and hamburgers. He also provided, for a fee, five hundred single-portion bags of potato chips and the five hundred cans of soft drink that were cooling on ice.  Potato salad and fruit salad and greens were to be brought by several families in the area.  There were treats for the children, bags of salted peanuts and helium-filled balloons, to be distributed by one of the men in clown costume, a guy who hadn’t arrived yet.

The children began to come, clustering around the activity like bees to a hive. Tow-headed boys of ten tried to check out the grill, while girls who were a little older showed their sophistication by standing back and giggling. To distract the curious ones from the fire, Raine suggested they begin blowing up the balloons and handing them out.

John made an exasperated gesture and told her to go ahead. Tom Dugan had rented a bottle of helium gas, and after a few minutes of instruction, Raine learned how to use it. Soon baubles of colorful balloons bounced from strings tied to the arms of the younger children.

One of the older, more mischievous boys in town approached Raine.  Todd Anderson often ran free in the streets and one day he had come bursting into the print shop and frightened Julia.  Raine had very firmly asked him to leave and not come back again.

“Can I have a balloon?”

She resisted the urge to correct his grammar and filled one.  “Here,” she said, handing him the string and the balloon.  “You're old enough to tie this yourself.”

He took the balloon but something in his eyes bothered her.  They held a sly furtiveness that was far too cynical for a boy his age.  She told herself not to be so unforgiving and was getting ready to fasten another balloon to the machine when he said, “I don't think I can do it.  Will you help me?” He held out the balloon and pointed to the string which was now tangled around his arm.  She stepped around the gas container and said, “Here, you just…”

In one quick move, he grabbed her by the nape, shoved the balloon in her face and released the neck.  Helium shot into her mouth and nose.  Too startled to have the presence of mind to strike his hand away, she raised her head, but not before she inhaled a substantial dose of the gas.

Todd turned to run and was snagged in mid-flight by the back of his collar.

“What's going on here?” Jade's voice was rough with anger.

“Nothing.  I didn't do nothing.”

“Don't lie to me.  I saw.  Apologize to Miss Taylor.”

“I didn't do nothing.”

“Apologize,” Jade said in an even softer tone, “or you’ll be doing ‘nothing’ in a jail cell.”

Todd looked at Raine and mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

“Louder,” Jade ordered.

“I’m sorry,” the boy cried out with belligerent resentment.

“Come near this woman again,” Jade said with soft emphasis, “and I'll see to it that you're very sorry while you sit in that jail cell.”

“You’re not a copper.  You don't scare me.”

“You're all kinds of courageous, aren’t you, pulling tricks on young women.   Do you frighten small children and old women, too?  Or are you just a little punk who likes to pick on someone you think is too kind to come after you.”

The boy flushed scarlet.

“A real man doesn't have to prove he is one.” Jade released his hold on the miscreant's shirt.  “Remember that.” Todd pulled at his shirt in a silent protest at Jade's indignity.  “I don't need a big macho man like you telling me what to do.”

“You obviously need someone.”

“I don't need nobody.” The boy said something more under his breath and turned to walk away.  Jade made no move toward him and the boy melted into the crowd.

“You didn't need…” Startled, she stopped talking. Her voice sounded like a squeaky mouse.

“You got a good dose of that stuff.  It's affected your voice.” He grabbed her hand and hauled her away from the bottle of gas and toward the tent. Inside, John Rossow stood behind a table yelling at Harry about something. Jade cut him off in mid-sentence.  “Get somebody else to blow up the damn balloons. Raine got an overdose of helium, thanks to that Anderson whelp.”

John stopped yelling at Harry and turned to stare at Jade.  “She’s the one who wanted to do it in the first place.”