This Love Will Go On Page 9

  Raine watched as Tate got ready to return home. He stuffed his things in his suitcase, his teddy bear he said he didn’t really need but had brought along because he didn’t want Teddy to be lonesome, the red pajamas with the rubber feet worn thin, and two sets of tee shirts and jeans. His mouth held in serious concentration, Tate worked at folding his shirts. His pale gold hair shone in the light as he bent over the bed. His features, still round with baby softness, had the symmetry that would make him a handsome man one day. A man who looked like Jade. He would resemble his father and have the added attraction of those midnight-blue, searching eyes that her sister had bequeathed him.

  Dully, she felt the stab of pain. She had been in a curious limbo all day, not thinking, not feeling. She knew when the hurt wore off, the residual pain would linger like a bad taste in her mouth. What had she expected? Not that, surely. He’ll never tell you he loves you. Yet…when he took her in his arms, it felt so right, so good. Memories arose of that summer night in the arbor…and that time in the print shop when she’d nearly succumbed. She shut them away, knowing they would bring nothing but pain.

  “I’m done, Aunt Raine.” Tate looked at her with little boy satisfaction.

  Raine forced her mouth to smile. “Want me to help you close the case?”

  “Yes, please.” Even after only eight months of Michele's absence, his constant exposure to Jade had made him gravely serious, far too polite for a boy of five. Raine snapped the suitcase closed and knew that no matter what happened, she wasn't going to lose contact with Tate.

  The waiting seemed endless. Tate ran to the door a dozen times, looking for Jade. Raine tried to interest him in the television program Julia was watching, but he wouldn't sit still long enough to get interested in the show. She was almost ready to go into the kitchen and pop some popcorn just to give Tate something else to think about, when she heard the car pull up. Tate heard it too, and bounded to the door. Raine remained where she was, standing in the arched doorway that led to the kitchen.

  Seeing him, tall, infinitely male, his amber gold hair dusted with snowflakes, beaming down at Tate and then swinging the boy up into his arms was like looking into a store window at a gleaming gem she wanted but could never have.

  “Did Aunt Raine take good care of you, son?”

  Tate nodded. “We went to see Tom Cannon's puppies. Can I have a puppy, Dad?”

  Jade shot an amused, mocking glance at Raine. "I have the feeling I'm being set up,” he said softly, smiling.

  She couldn't answer his smile. “Maybe you are. Tate could use a diversion right now.”

  “He isn't the only one,” he said softly, smiling, thinking she would understand.

  To his utter amazement, she went pale and her body stiffened. He was ready to make her his diversion, an affair without love.

  “Jade.” Julia came out of the living room, smiling. “I didn't know you were here. Did you have a nice trip? You must be exhausted. I’ll get you a cup of coffee.”

  Grappling with seeing Raine's reaction to him, and mystified about the reason for her animosity, he forced himself to appear natural and friendly in front of Julia. “No, thanks, Julia, not this time. I'd better get Tiger here home to bed. Tomorrow's a school day.” His eyes flickered over Raine and the anguish he saw in hers alarmed him. Now, just as he was on the verge of clearing the tangled mess of his life, she stood looking at him with this expression on her face that was not the pleasant smile he’d hoped for on his homecoming. He had to be careful not to say the wrong thing, but it was hard to think when his head ached with travel fatigue. His best defense was retreat. “Thank you for taking such good care of Tate,” he said wearily.

  “He was no trouble.” Raine’s cool tone told him nothing. “Any time you want to go…away, I'll be glad to keep him for you.”

  He met her eyes, his own guarded. “I don't think I'll be going anywhere again soon.” And with that, he turned and left, knowing he would have to wait to talk to her until he could catch her alone.

  It was two o'clock the next afternoon, just after Julia had gone home, when the bell on the door of the print shop began its familiar jangle. Had she been unconsciously waiting to hear that sound all day? She must have. She forced her eyes up from the press. It was Jade, wearing his heavy sheepskin jacket and jeans and a dark green sweater that matched his eyes. His cheeks were red with cold but his eyes glowed with determination. Knowing he wouldn't be put off, she shut down the press and self-consciously wiped her inky hands on a rag she kept near the press for that purpose.

  “Did you want something?”

  He came into the room, closer to her, and she instinctively leaned against the bookcase at her back.

  “Several things actually,” he said softly. “But an explanation would do for a start.”

  “There's nothing to explain.” She turned away and started for the desk, hoping to put the broad oak surface between them but before she could reach safety, he stepped in front of her, all six-foot-two of his lean body barring her from her desk.

  “I think there is. I'd like to know what was wrong with you yesterday.”

  She lifted her head and faced him, her eyes blazing. “There was nothing wrong with me.”

  He reached out to grab her arms, but when her eyes filled with revulsion and she shrank away, he stopped his hands in midair, clenched them and thrust them in the pockets of his jacket. A low sound of pain escaped his throat. “What’s going on, Raine?”

  “Nothing’s going on.”

  “Well, sure as hell something is.”

  She knew he wouldn’t let it rest. She might as well tell him now as later. “I had a call from Michele.”

  He looked surprised and then irritated. “What did she want? And don’t tell me she called to ask about Tate because I know she doesn’t give a rat’s ass about her son.”

  Raine almost flinched at the harshness of his words. But she knew they were true. “She said you never told her you loved her. Is that true?”

  He made a sound of disgust deep in his throat. “She’s right, Raine. I never said the damn words. I gave her the lavish wedding she wanted, I built the house she wanted, I gave her the jewelry she wanted. I never chided her when she was petulant or unreasonable. I was at her bedside when she gave birth. I took our son in my arms and fell in love with him instantly. That’s what love is. It’s being a man, standing up to the obligations of a husband. It isn’t three little words that don’t mean a damn thing if there aren’t any actions behind them. So, no, she’s right, I never said I loved her. I thought actions spoke louder than words. I thought the things I did showed her how much I loved her. Is that what this is about? That I want to take you to bed without saying I love you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I’ll be go to hell. You’re just like Michele, after all.” He swung around and strode to the door, yanking it so fiercely that the twine looped over the nail broke and the bell came loose from the door. Clinging and clanging, it dropped to the floor and rolled in front of his booted feet. While she watched in frozen silence, he picked it up with great care and put it on her desk. “I’ll bring some rope in from the ranch and fix it tomorrow.”

  “Don't bother,” she said huskily. “We have lots of twine around.”

  “I’ll be back to fix it. Because a man fixes what he breaks…if he can. Some things aren’t fixable.”

  He stared at her for another long moment and then he said, “Now that I think about it…maybe I never told Michele I loved her…because I didn’t. Maybe the same applies to you.” He went out, going through a door that opened and closed silently.

  Chapter 6

  The following week a merciless Dakota winter settled in. The frigid wind, blowing directly from Canada, poured unimpeded over the bleak prairie. Crusted, glittering snow collapsed under Raine's feet as she walked back and forth between Julia's house and the print shop. She hardly noticed the weather. An even colder chill settled around her heart. She moved through her days in a
numbed state, holding at bay thoughts of Jade’s soul-destroying words. She worked on the paper and talked to Julia as if nothing had happened, but something had. A very deep and private part of her, unable to stand the pain, had gone into hiding.

  Her only consolation was Tate. She had made arrangements to take him sledding on their next Saturday together, and knowing she would be seeing him again was the only thing that made the week tolerable. But when Saturday morning came and Jade brought Tate into Julia's little house, she ignored the sudden thrust of agony at seeing Jade again and stared at Tate. His small face was downcast, his mouth turned down, and he looked everywhere but at Raine.

  The glossy material of her ski coat whispered as she squatted to bring his face on eye level with hers. She lifted his small, pointed chin up with her finger. “Hey, sport. Why so unhappy?”

  He only stared at her with those large, dark eyes. Disturbed, she lifted her head to Jade. “What's wrong?”

  “He didn't want to come today,” Jade said in a bland tone.

  She straightened, a cold chill feathering down her spine, her hand lingering on Tate's shoulder. “Why not?”

  “Actually,” Jade thrust his hand into the pocket of his jeans, pushing back the corner of his open sheepskin jacket, “it's your fault.”

  Her eyes darkened. “What did I do?”

  “You took him to see Tom Cannon's puppies.” Jade shrugged. “We went back Tuesday night and brought one home.” He glanced down at his small son's upturned face. “Tate didn't want to leave the dog.”

  Raine's face tightened. “Why didn't you call me? We could have put off the sledding expedition until next week.”

  Jade stood and looked at her, his eyes probing, his mouth drawn up in a cynical smile. He didn't say anything, but his eyes spoke volumes. “You wouldn't have believed me.”

  A hard jolt shook her. His acceptance of her mistrust rocked her to the core. It was wrong, somehow.

  Shaking inside, more disturbed than she dared show, she thrust the thought to the back of her mind and stooped down to look again into Tate’s face. “Honey, I don't blame you for not wanting to leave your new friend home alone. Let's go and get your dog and take him along with us, shall we?”

  Tate's face brightened with a blazing smile. “Can we?”

  “Of course. He'll have fun out in the snow, too.”

  Tate sparkled with happiness. "I wanted to bring him. But Daddy said you might not like having to watch out for a dog as well as a boy.”

  To be fair, she supposed Jade was right in being cautious about foisting a strange animal on her along with his son. “I think I can handle it.”

  Tate shot a triumphant glance at his father. “See, Daddy? She says she can handle it,” he parroted, obviously enjoying his childish version of I-told-you-so.

  "Your Aunt Raine has courage,” he murmured.

  Her name in his smoky voice rippled down her spine. She fought against her instinctive reaction.

  “But since you're going to take the dog,” he went on, “I think I’ll go along to lend an extra hand.”

  She hadn't expected that. She straightened and met his eyes. “That isn't necessary. Doug is meeting us out there.” Disturbed, far more susceptible to him than she had thought she would be, she said the words bluntly and stood waiting for him to withdraw his offer to go with her. His face kept its smooth, expressionless look. “If you've made arrangements with Martin, I'll take Tate home. He can go sledding another day.”

  That was a low blow, and he knew it. Tate's protest came immediately. “Daddy, I don't want to go home. I want to go with Aunt Raine.”

  She saw the quicksilver gleam of satisfaction in Jade's eyes and was angrier than ever. He had used Tate and neatly boxed her in. The slight, mocking smile on his lips told her he had done it purposely. For what reason? “If we stand here arguing all day, we’ll never get any sledding done. Why don't you and your dad go home and get the puppy and meet us out at Willow Hill?”

  “Will you, Daddy? Will you please?”

  “If that's what your Aunt Raine wants.” The words were silky.

  “Tate can go back with you and hold the dog. I'll meet you there.”

  “Why don't you ride along?” Jade countered, tightening the net and watching her while he did it, his lips curved in that disturbingly mocking smile. “There's no reason to take two cars.”

  “Ride with us, Aunt Raine, please.” Tate jumped up and down, his boots clumping on the polished wood of Julia's entryway.

  Knowing full well that Jade had maneuvered her once again into an untenable position, she thought about giving him a curt no, and knew she couldn't do it. Tate was sensitive to rejection since Michele had gone and he wouldn't understand. She gave in, and regretted it the minute she climbed into the pickup. Jade lifted Tate onto the middle of the seat, but he immediately begged to sit by the window. If she refused, Jade would guess the reason. She steeled herself, smiled at Tate, and let him squeeze by her knees to the other side of her. Wriggling like the boy he was, Tate bounced up and down on the seat and looked out the window at the frosty landscape. Every bounce seemed to force her a little closer to Jade.

  Jade hadn't bothered to fasten his jacket and it rasped over his denim pants as he turned the wheel and drove away from the house. His hands were bare, strong and brown with a shadowing of tan from last summer under the light golden hairs. Fur-lined gloves protruded from his pocket and brushed the side of her hip. Even in her warm outdoor clothing, she was so overwhelmingly aware of him her skin burned. How could she still feel this way after the things he’d said to her?

  She turned her head and looked out the window, away from him. The winter sun shimmered off the snow and spangled it with a sequin brightness that made her blink. They drove along Jade's land and a calf broke away from the rest of the herd and nosed through the gray rail fence to give them a large, brown-eyed stare. His coat was a winter-thick red, a rusty contrast to the white snow. Beyond the calf, a typical South Dakota sky stretched in a vivid blue that had no beginning or end.

  “Beautiful morning,” Jade murmured softly.

  “Yes. Yes, it is.”

  “Are you warm enough?”

  Afraid to trust her voice the second time, she nodded.

  “Are we keeping Martin waiting?”

  She shook her head. “He had something to do first. He planned to join us a little bit later.”

  “That's good,” Jade murmured. "I wouldn't want him to be waiting for you out in the cold.”

  Angered, she said coolly, “He isn’t. He’ll be here in an hour or so”

  Jade's mouth tightened and he said nothing more for the rest of the trip. At the ranch, she stayed in the pickup while Jade and Tate went inside and got the dog, a collie puppy. A fluff of sable and white, the dog squirmed in Tate's arms. A thump at the rear of the truck told her that Jade had thrown an extra sled in the back. He came round and climbed in under the wheel beside her, and now there were two wriggling bodies to push her closer to Jade. The puppy leaped and struggled to get a better aim at Tate's face and lavish him with pink-tongued kisses. Tate closed his eyes and squealed, loving every minute of it.

  Willow Hill was a long, sloping mound of land that rose out of the prairie and swept down to a narrow rivulet of water gurgling over a stony bed. The hill took its name from the fountain-shaped willows whose roots drank the water from underneath the creek bed. Green, arching branches shaded the winding stream in the summertime but now the willows were bare. The town of Verylon had long ago bought the land from the harried farmer who grew weary of trying to keep people away from the only hill for miles around.

  Jade pulled the pickup into an improvised parking area at the top of the hill. Tate was out in a flash, but before he could bound away to the crest of the hill, Raine scrambled out of the pickup and snatched him inelegantly by the collar of his snowsuit. “Not so fast, sport. You know the rules.”

  Tate protested with an affronted-male look in his eyes that reminded
Raine strongly of Jade. “Let me go.”

  “Everybody takes his own sled,” Raine said implacably. “It won’t hurt you to grab yours.”

  Tate stared up at her for a moment, as if he were studying her to see if she meant what she said. “I have to watch my puppy.”

  “Not till you get your sled.”

  Tate's ‘sled’ was a bright blue plastic dish with a rope attached. Jade looped the rope over his son's shoulder and Raine knew that would be the end of Tate's protest. Tate cast a rueful look at his father, hitched the rope to a more secure place on his shoulder in acceptance of his burden and turned his eyes back to Raine. “Now can I go?”

  Raine looked at him. “Wait for us at the top of the hill.” Tate hurried away, his boots clomping over the snow, his dish sled bumping behind him, the puppy scrambling alongside. And suddenly, in that frigid cold that had her cheeks tingling, she was left alone with Jade.

  He had gotten the sleds out of the pickup and he turned and put a rope in her mittened hand. “Everybody takes his own sled,” he murmured, his mouth tilting.

  She took it, glad that her ski jacket and gloves prevented her from feeling the brush of his hand. “Do you object to my teaching your son responsibility?”

  “Not at all,” he murmured. “Tm just surprised.”

  “Why?” She turned away from him and began to walk toward the hill where Tate danced around the puppy as the dog made rushing dives at his boots.

  “I would think you'd indulge him in order to assure his continuing devotion.”

  “I don't have to do that,” she shot back, annoyed. “Tate's too young and too honest to put a price tag on his affection.”

  “Is he?” Jade murmured.

  Raine's eyes flashed. “He couldn't be bought any more than you could.”

  “Nice to know you think so highly of me.”

  “I didn't say I think highly of you. I said you couldn't be bought.”

  “I'll spare you the obvious answer to that.” His smile mocked her.

  She shook her head. “Which is?”