Until Spring (13 page)

"I didn't know Duncan's wife very well," Mary Kate said one day as they sat together in Duncan's living room cutting pictures out of magazines for one of her school projects. "But Sigrid was pretty. When she went away, Duncan left to go find her, and after he came back, he never talked about her again."

"Never said anything at all?" Jane asked curiously. She had found a gift set of bath powder and cologne in the bathroom; it must have belonged to Duncan's ex-wife. It seemed odd to think of Duncan married.

"Nope, he never mentioned Sigrid again. What food group is chocolate cake in, Jane? Do you know?"

"I'm afraid not," Jane admitted.

"Well, anyhow, Sigrid didn't come back after she left even to get the things she didn't take with her. Duncan gave me her scarves and I play dress-up with them. Do you want to play dress-up sometime?"

"Sure," Jane said, pasting a picture of a stick of butter on a notebook page.

"Sigrid was a rotten cook," Mary Kate told her. "And she didn't love the llamas like the rest of us do. So I'm glad she left, mostly. Especially because you came. You know, cutting out pictures of all this food makes me hungry. Let's make some banana pudding, Jane. Duncan loves it."

So they made banana pudding, and Duncan did love it, and that was all Jane found out about the long-departed Sigrid.

She couldn't imagine a woman lucky enough to have Duncan for a husband leaving for any reason whatsoever. And if Sigrid had stayed, chances were that Jane wouldn't be here at all. She didn't think that Sigrid, or any woman for that matter, would have allowed Duncan to take her into his home the way he had.

Sigrid's loss. Jane's gain.

* * *

It wasn't long before Jane discovered soap operas on TV.

At first the stories seemed incomprehensible because she didn't know the plot lines, but as she began to feel better, she didn't nap in the afternoon anymore and began to watch TV after lunch. Soon it became clear to her that daytime serials were an educational vehicle that she couldn't ignore.

Man to woman, woman to woman, man to man—all relationships were covered in detail. Table manners and other points of etiquette were demonstrated. Relationships were discussed. She was fascinated because she knew so little about such things.

To sleep with a man on the first date or the third? This was a week-long issue on
Luck of the Irish.
Skullduggery in business? An endless discussion of that very thing went on in
Thunder's Echo.
Love offered, love denied? It was the stuff of
Restless Hearts.

Most people learned about such things over the period of a lifetime, but many of Jane's values had flown away with her real life. She had to laugh at the absurd melodrama of some of the plots on these TV shows, but nevertheless, they provided her with a way to set up a new system of values. They also allowed her to provoke interesting conversations with Duncan.

"What do I think about children moving back with their parents after they've grown?" he repeated in puzzlement, when she hit him with that question one night at dinner after watching a segment of
Luck of the Irish
where this dilemma was featured.

"A lot of kids do that," she answered.

"I'm not one to comment since I've always lived here at Placid Valley Ranch. I'm one who never left home," he said, and then he proceeded to tell her how he had taken over the operation of the ranch after his father was thrown by a bucking horse and subsequently died.

Another time she brought up the subject of a May-December marriage, currently being considered by two characters of widely divergent ages in
Restless Hearts.
This opened a spirited discussion in which Jane came out for and Duncan remained vehemently against, saying that his father had been much older than his mother and that it hadn't always worked for the best.

It was a way to get to know each other, Jane reflected, and when Duncan, curious, asked her at lunch one day where and how, considering her loss of memory, she'd formed such strong opinions, she innocently told him that she'd been watching soap operas.

He threw back his head and laughed. "Honest? No fooling?" he said when he stopped.

She was embarrassed but nodded.

He sobered instantly. "I'm not laughing at you," he said. "I'm pleased that you've found a way to learn about things you need to know." He knew how isolated they were out here on the ranch, but hadn't realized that Jane needed more human interaction. He supposed that he, Rooney and Mary Kate didn't contribute much to her development as a person.

He had been thinking about Jane a lot lately. After their serious talk, Duncan had figured that the pact between Jane and himself was an even exchange. He protected her from the world; she protected him from loneliness and introspection.

Loneliness hadn't become a habit, but introspection certainly had. It was one that he would like to break, one that was as counterproductive as—well, as the lying that Jane had confessed afflicted her.

But how could he have stopped looking within himself when there wasn't any other place to look? He hadn't known the answer to that question until Jane came.

Now, instead of endlessly inspecting his own feelings, he had a distraction and a pleasant one. Day by day she slowly lost the guarded air that made her seem slightly removed from him and took on a glow that might be the beginning of a more favorable outlook. Sometimes she hummed or sang around the house, which pleased him. His mother used to do that, and he'd always considered that her low lilting voice, rising and falling with tunes she'd picked up from the radio, had made this house a home when he was a kid. After she died, there was no more music, and his father had mourned her until the day he died. But now there was Jane to sing, and hearing her took him back to a happier time.

It would have been fun, he thought, to do everything for her. To give her everything. Or to shoulder her burdens for her so that she had nothing to do but lean against him. He didn't, because he knew it wouldn't work and she would only end up resenting it.

When she went away he would surely miss her, but at the moment that didn't bear thinking about.

For now he would enjoy.

Chapter 7

The next day Jane met the animals that Duncan prized so highly.

An unexpected warming trend sent temperatures soaring, and the sky was so blue and the sun so bright that Jane, who was feeling stronger every day, didn't want to stay indoors. She was pleased when Duncan called her from his cell phone while he was in the barn and invited her to pay him a visit.

When Mary Kate stopped by the house on her way home from school, Jane suggested that she walk to the barn with her. Mary Kate, acting her usual loquacious self as she skipped along, expressed delight that Jane was finally going to get a close-up look at the llamas.

"Before the snow came this winter, the female breeding llamas had their whole yard next to the barn to walk around in. Then it snowed and there were these huge drifts, but not so many on the east side of the yard, because Grandpa and Duncan built the barn so that it shelters the llamas from the weather when they're out in their pen. They shovel the snow out of the pen pretty often, so it's clear.

"Then there's the male llamas over in the stable in back of the barn. Llamas are used to cold weather, you know that? They come from some mountains called the Andes and it gets real cold there, Grandpa says. Oh, Jane, you'll finally get to meet Dearling. Aren't you excited? You should be. She's wonderful." Mary Kate gave a happy little hop so that her long ponytails bounced.

As they approached, the llamas inside the pen ambled over to the fence. One or two of them walked nervously forward, which made them look as though they were eager for this contact with humans.

"What's that noise they're making?" Jane asked, as soon as she realized that the strange sounds she was hearing came from the llamas.

"They hum. Listen, they're saying, 'Who's that lady with Mary Kate?'" She laughed and ran ahead to open the gate.

Mary Kate tugged at the gate until it opened and went inside, carelessly leaving it ajar. Once she herself was inside the pen, Jane struggled with the lock, which was so stiff that the bolt almost wouldn't slide home. When at last it was secure, she turned her attention to the llamas.

The first thing that struck her was that they all looked so different from one another. There seemed to be no one particular mold. This llama had a long neck and was tall enough to look her in the eye. That one was small, about the size of a large German shepherd. Some had ears that perked up, others' ears were slightly rounded. But all were graceful in a strangely elegant way. Jane was entranced with their looks.

Mary Kate's arms encircled the neck of the smallest llama in the pen. She rubbed her face against the curve of its neck, and the llama nuzzled her shoulder.

"This is my Dearling," she said proudly. "Isn't she beautiful?"

"She certainly is," Jane said warmly, moving closer as she spoke. Dearling didn't move, only looked slightly more alert. She seemed very tame.

"You can pet her," Mary Kate told her. "She won't bite or spit."

"Spit?" Jane asked, a little unnerved.

"Llamas spit, but hardly ever at us. They spit at each other, usually when they're having an argument over food or over who is going to stand where or something dumb like that."

"Oh," said Jane, nevertheless preparing herself to dodge llama spittle. But Dearling was standing quietly, blinking her expressive long-lashed eyes and chewing her cud. Jane reached out and tentatively stroked the silky wool. Dearling leaned toward her at her touch, and Jane became bolder. In a few seconds, Dearling was sniffing at her clothes, and when Jane bent closer, the llama lifted her head and blew gently into Jane's face.

"Is she getting ready to spit?" Jane blurted after jumping away.

Mary Kate giggled. "No, that's what she does when she wants you to know that she likes you," she said.

Jane moved closer to Dearling and, acting out of instinct, blew gently into the llama's face.

Mary Kate laughed delightedly. "You're friends now," the girl said with great certainty.

Jane loved watching Mary Kate with Dearling, but after a while she left the two together and walked around the muddy enclosure examining the other llamas. This was a pen for breeding females and their young, and several young llamas huddled close to their mothers. Some of the females were roundly pregnant. All seemed boundlessly curious about her, and none were oblivious of her presence.

Duncan came out of the barn and stood watching her, a smile playing across his features. She returned his smile. Today he looked so proud of the llamas, and his stance was one of lord and master. A couple of llamas ambled toward him as if going to pay their respects.

When they reached Duncan, they nosed against his sleeve and rubbed their heads on his shoulder.

"Easy, there, Pumpkin, and stop it, Stardust," he told them affectionately. To Jane he said, "I walked out here with a corn muffin in my hand this morning, and they would have gladly relieved me of it. I guess they're looking for more goodies."

"They're adorable," Jane said, "but I wasn't prepared for them all to look so different from one another."

"Come into my office in the barn," he said, holding the door open for her. "I'll show you some photos of llamas that we've raised."

Once inside, he opened a photo album on his desk. Jane sat on the edge of the desk and thumbed through it with interest.

"This one has such pointed ears. And some of their necks seem shorter than others," she observed as she turned the pages.

"There are a lot of individual differences. I suppose there's no real standard of llama beauty. A pretty llama is whatever you think it is. Some people like them to be a solid color, and others prefer spots. Some think small llamas are wonderful, others like big ones."

"I didn't expect them to be so tame."

"These in the pen are females, which tend to be more affectionate than males, although sometimes I have to remind visitors that these aren't cuddly stuffed animals. They aren't really meant to be fussed over or coddled, though I have to admit that I do my share of it."

"So does Mary Kate," Jane said. She gazed out of the window at the child, who was talking to Dearling as the llama followed her around the yard.