When Dreams Collide (22 page)

“Hello. This is Catherine.”

“It’s me. I just heard the sad news. Ruby’s family must be devastated.”

“She’d been diagnosed with terminal cancer a few months ago. Her family knew this day would come.” Catherine sighed. “I know the reason for your call—the vacant seat on the board. You’re interested in it, aren’t you?”

“Years pass before a position opens on the board. Should I submit my name as a possible candidate?” Susan bit the tip of her artificial nail, torn between whether or not to throw her name in the running.

“I couldn’t say anything, Susan. But the seat on the board is almost a done deal.”

Susan straightened in her chair and her heart leapt into her throat. She couldn’t speak for a minute.

“Are you still there, Susan?” inquired Catherine. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t say anything. I was sworn to secrecy.”

“Who got the seat?” blurted Susan.

“Apparently, Ruby nominated her own replacement a month ago, and the board approved the nomination. The board will announce the newest member later this week after the funeral. The only reason I know about any of this…the new board member is my father-in-law, Arthur Branigan.”

“Oh, my, God,” exclaimed Susan, feeling like someone had punched her in the stomach. All of her dreams withered like a dying rose. At least she’d concede this loss graciously. Surely, someday it would be her turn. “Arthur is the perfect choice. Good job, Ruby. He has maturity, life experience, and business acumen backing him up. Not to mention he has a gazillion dollars deposited in the Ellis Bank. There’s no way I could compete with that.”

“Our family is thrilled, of course, but Arthur has all of us sworn to secrecy.” Catherine chuckled. “I know you’re disappointed, but your time will come.”

“Thanks, Catherine. My first reaction was ‘poor Ruby’, and then in the very next second I was composing my application in my head.” Susan grimaced. “Isn’t that shameful?”

“Maybe a little, but you’ve made no secret of your dream of becoming a member of the board. Be patient. It will happen.”

Susan sighed. “Let’s see. Gray hair, maturity, several hundred thousand more dollars on deposit in the bank, and I’ll be a shoo-in.”

“For sure. Get working on that,” laughed Catherine.

“With all that Dusty has put me through these last few months, I think the man has given me several gray hairs.” Susan gasped. “Oh, my, God! I’ve got to hang up and call the hospital and see how Dusty is.”

Susan spent another few minutes updating Catherine on Dusty’s fall and then she hung up.

“Screw this.” Susan grabbed her purse and headed out the door to return to the hospital. She intended to see Dusty in person and see if there was any change in his condition.

****

Susan returned to the hospital, prepared to face Dusty’s wrath. Again, he just turned his back to her and either fell asleep or pretended to sleep. She stormed out to the waiting room and extended her goodbyes to Brock and Linda Walters.

“I’ll talk to you guys, soon,” she mumbled and headed to the elevator.

Fifteen minutes later, Susan crawled into her BMW in the hospital parking lot and dug her cell phone out of her purse. She punched in the number and waited for the call to connect.

“Hello,” whispered a familiar voice.

“Amanda, is that you?” Susan frowned. “Why are you whispering?”

“My cell is set on ‘vibrate’ because I’m in the nursery watching J.J. sleep,” she admitted. “I can’t believe this precious little person is mine.”

“Oh, stop that, or you’ll have me all teary-eyed.” Susan smiled. “You’re a wonderful mother, and you totally deserve that little guy.”

“Thank you.”

Susan heard a door closing and boots moving across a hardwood floor.

“Why are you calling? Is everything okay with you?” asked Amanda, her voice returned to a normal volume.

“I can sum it up in one word. Dusty,” said Susan. “I’m so mad at him, I should be screaming or crying or something. But I’m just so frustrated. I’m at my wit’s end.”

“What has Dusty done now?”

Susan sighed. “He tipped out of the wheelchair while attempting to move from his chair to the loveseat in the living room. He cracked his skull on the corner of the coffee table, ended up back in the hospital. Too bad the thump on the noggin didn’t knock some sense into him,” she added, then felt remorseful for saying such a thing. Dusty’s spine could have been badly damaged again, perhaps even worse than before.

“Is he okay?”

“Mild concussion. He has to stay in the hospital overnight. I believe he’ll be released tomorrow. But he’s refusing to talk to me again.”

“Dusty is probably embarrassed that he fell, frustrated that he’s back in the hospital, and he’s taking out his disappointment on you.”

“Maybe you’re right. But I’m to the point of asking myself, why am I hanging onto this relationship? Why am I still dreaming of being his wife some day? Why am I putting up with all the verbal crap he keeps slinging my way? I don’t deserve to be treated like this, Amanda,” stated Susan, emphatically.

“No, you don’t. But Susan, you have no idea what he’s going through. Having survived cancer, I can relate. I spent so much time just wondering what my life was going to be like when I came out the other end of the surgery and the treatments. Would I be alive? How long did I have? Would I be dead by age forty? Sooner? Was the cancer really gone? Would it return some day? It nearly drove me crazy thinking about it all.”

“So, you’re saying Dusty is going through the same thing?” Susan shifted her cell to her other ear.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Amanda blew out her breath. “Dusty doesn’t know what his future holds. He’s making progress, but how long will it be until he can walk again? Or will he ever walk again? Are there complications that will flare up in his future? What if he does walk again, but then something happens to cause him to backslide? Can he go through it all again? He’s thinking all these thoughts, and he probably believes he’s sparing you the drama of it all by removing you from the equation. If you aren’t a part of his life, then it’s one less thing he has to think about or worry about.”

“But that’s crazy. I don’t care if it takes a month, a year, whatever, for him to walk again. If ever. I just want to be a part of his life, be there for him.” Susan heard the annoyance in her voice.

“Men have enormous egos. What they consider perfectly logical leaves a woman shaking her head. Women are nurturers. It’s what we do. Men think that they’re being a nuisance, or that a woman wouldn’t want to be bothered by their problems.”

“Yeah, if it’s a total stranger, but I thought we’d be together forever. He’s treating our relationship like it’s all totally expendable. How often do you find the perfect person for you? He isn’t taking that into account at all. Unless he doesn’t love me as much as I love him.”

“That’s not it. Dusty is nuts about you. Once he works this all out physically and in his head, he’ll get it together again and welcome you back into his life.”

“Can I get that in writing?” teased Susan.

“Trust me.” Amanda laughed. “You guys are perfect for each other.”

“I just don’t think he’s ever going to propose. Maybe I should just cut my losses and move on.”

“Really?” Amanda sounded skeptical.

“Yes. No. I don’t think I could do it,” admitted Susan, truthfully. “He may be a pain in the butt, but he’s also my Mr. Right. I know that, but I’ve got to get him to realize it.”

“Exactly. Don’t give up on Dusty. He loves you, and when the time is right, he’ll make his move. He’s a smart guy, and he won’t let you get away.”

 “Thanks. I’ll let you go and check on that little fellow who stole your heart.” Susan hoped Amanda wouldn’t pick up on the envy she felt. “I’ll just leave Dusty be, and wait until he realizes he needs me in his life.”

“Wise choice. Don’t give up on him, Susan. Thanks for calling.” Amanda hung up.

****

Dusty returned home two days later with assistance from Ms. Walters. She never berated him for foolishly not waiting for her before he attempted to climb out of his wheelchair. He’d asked himself a hundred times why he’d attempted it. Cockiness? Impatience? Stupidity?

The next day, the therapist arrived and made up for Ms. Walters not mentioning the incident by chewing out his ass. And then he worked him so hard he thought his muscles would bleed all over the living room floor.

His therapy regime continued day after day and intensified as the weeks went by. Soon, Brian allowed him to use a cane. His movements seemed awkward and slow, but his therapist assured him he was making remarkable progress. He wanted to walk outside, but by now it was early December and snow had fallen. Trying to walk in the slushy mess seemed too risky.

Dusty resisted the temptation to call Susan, invite her to dinner, and show her how well he could manage with his cane. Something was holding him back. Guilt?  Probably.

What had he been thinking?

Susan Sanders was the best thing that ever happened to him. He smiled as he recalled the day he met her with her dress around her waist in a hotel cloakroom, flashing him a glimpse of those lacy pink panties.

God, he missed her. Her mind. Her laugh. Her body. Especially her body. It seemed ages since they’d been together that way. His body’s reaction to the frequent uncensored thoughts he’d had of her recently proved his most important parts still worked fine. If only his big mouth worked better, it would keep him out of trouble.

He constantly thought about how he’d word the invitation, if he did work up the courage to phone her.
Please come to dinner
. Too simple.
Hello. This is your friendly neighborhood jackass calling to invite you to dinner
. True, but sounded too flippant.
I’d like to invite you to dinner so I can apologize for being so unfair to you
. Better.

Would she even listen to him?

Would she read her caller ID and ignore the call?

He couldn’t blame her if she did.

And then he realized Susan would be moving in soon, and he had probably wasted the opportunity to make amends for his shoddy treatment of her. Of course, with Susan living under the same roof for the next month or so, he’d have plenty of opportunities to demonstrate how sincerely sorry he was.

Chapter 17

Two weeks ago, Susan moved to Dusty’s ranch when Linda Walters left for her wedding. Every night, as she drove up the long driveway leading to the house, she was awed by the multi-colored beams illuminating the night sky, created by thousands of Christmas lights.

Dusty had arranged all the decorations one day when she was at work. There hadn’t been a single outdoor light or any evidence of holiday decoration outside or inside the house when she’d left for work that morning. The transformation had been absolutely breathtaking.

There wasn’t a spot on the front lawn that didn’t have something on it—inflatable snowmen, lighted reindeer, spotlights on an enormous life-sized manger scene, evergreen trees lit with white lights. The wonderful old farmhouse was covered in multi-colored lights, and a giant Santa Claus and six reindeer occupied the roof.

The magical transformation had brought tears to her eyes. Children should live in this house, she’d thought, knowing they would absolutely love it. And then she’d silently scolded herself for her wishful thinking. Until recently, Dusty hadn’t talked to her, refused to even see her, and essentially banned her from his life. Sure, they patched up the friendship somewhat since she moved in.

But marriage?

Children?

Yeah, right.

Now, arriving home from the bank at five o’clock on Christmas Eve, she admired the outdoor decorations, spellbound again. Since she was helping out at the ranch with meals and housework, she would be sharing the holidays with Dusty. She’d booked off the entire week.

Susan planned to enjoy every minute of it.

She grabbed her purse and briefcase and clambered out of her BMW.

“Merry Christmas!” Dusty greeted her from the veranda, leaning on a new three-legged cane providing greater stability in the snow and the uneven ground outside. He wore a sheepskin-lined jacket and the familiar Stetson, and she supposed he must have ventured down to the barns.

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” she called as she carefully made her way through the ankle-deep fresh snow up the steps leading to the front door.

She recalled teasing him about climbing up on the roof with Brock right behind him to decorate the house. He’d laughed and explained that he’d offered some of the ranch hands a huge bonus to set it all up. The Santa Claus and reindeer as well as the manger scene were Brock’s, and they’d seen many years service. But Dusty admitted to spending a fortune on the rest of it.

“I never tire from coming home to this magnificent sight.”

“I hope you enjoy it. I’ll probably suffer cardiac arrest when I receive the power bill in January. But the place looks so good the final result justifies the cost.”

“And the upside is you can reuse everything for years and years.” Susan grinned as she stared into the brightly lit skies. “I hope you’ve stocked up on eggnog to serve all the unexpected holiday guests.”

“What guests?”

“UFOs could spot the place from light years away. They might drop by unexpectedly.”

Dusty laughed heartily, and Susan realized it was the first time in months she heard him laugh.

Susan and Dusty made their way inside the ranch house. “Brock is joining us for dinner to toast the season, and then he and Buster are heading back to his cabin.”

“I remembered. I’ll put my feet up for a few minutes and then I’ll start dinner.”

“No you won’t. It’s Christmas Eve, and dinner is taken care of.” Dusty headed into the living room.

The nine foot Christmas tree stood in between the twin front windows, with hundreds of tiny white lights totally covering the branches. Assorted blue and silver glass balls reflected the lights’ glow. Dusty bought it already decorated by donating a thousand dollars to a charity, delivery and set up in the house included. Susan thought the tree was worth every penny.