A Love for All Time (15 page)

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Authors: Dorothy Garlock

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #General

BOOK: A Love for All Time
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“Your aunt is a beekeeper?”

“Ironic, isn”t it? My aunt Bea, the beekeeper. She’s had bees for the last thirty years. Her yard is surrounded with hives and honey houses. She sells honey to all the local markets and to some stores in Portland. ‘Aunt Bea’s Honey.’ She’s even got her picture on the label.”

“You’re kidding.”

Dan laughed. “I’m not kidding. She had a picture of a honey bee drawn with her head on the body. Appropriate, don’t you think?”

“Well … uh, no doubt about that. Is she married?”

“Her husband died about twenty years ago. She has no children of her own, but she claims me. She’s anxious to meet you and will probably give you the third degree.”

“Why would she do that? And how does she know about me?” Casey suddenly was nervous and her words came out sharp and staccato.

“She’s anxious to know you because she loves me and will want to check you out to be sure you’re everything I told her you were.” He put his hand on the inside of her thigh and pressed her leg to his.

“Dan! You didn’t tell your family there was anything … ah … personal between us?” She practically groaned.

“Of course I did. I told them I wanted to marry
you. Why shouldn’t I tell them?” He sounded proud.

“Because … we haven’t decided anything for sure.”

“I have. If you turn me down you’ll embarrass me and I’ll lose credibility with my family.”

“I never know when you’re teasing. You
are
teasing?” She looked horrified. “I thought I was going to house-sit, not be put on display so your family can decide if I’m good enough.” Taut nerves had put an even sharper edge to her voice.

“I was teasing. You’ll love Aunt Bea and she’ll love you. The first thing she’ll do is bring you a cookbook that substitutes honey for sugar in all the recipes. Then she’ll give you a lecture on health food.” He chuckled. “I imagine you can tell her a thing or two about that.”

“Where do
you
live?” The thought had just occurred to her.

“There’s a cabin out at the mill. I stay there sometimes. Sometimes I stay at the house. My dog is at the house and I have to see her.” He braked to allow a car to pass and squeeze in ahead of them. “Damn fool! Sometimes I think they should give I.Q. and sanity tests before they give out driver’s licenses.”

“Who’s taking care of the house now?” Casey asked quietly. It was slowly dawning upon her that the house-sitting job was a ruse to get her to Bend.

“Aunt Bea, part of the time, and me, part of the
time. The rest of the time my sisters-in-law come out. Mom has a million plants in the house.”

“I love house plants,” she said lamely and lapsed into silence.

The country they passed through was beautiful. The highway went through Mt. Hood National Forest and across the Warm Springs Indian Reservation. They turned south at a town called Madras.

“It won’t be long now,” Dan said. “We have several wilderness areas near by. Some day we’ll go backpacking.” He seemed to sense her nervousness and talked on calmly about the landmarks they passed. “We’re not too far from Bachelor Mountain. A friend of mine has a year-round lodge up there. It’s a skier’s dream. The snow is dry and the temperature perfect. Do you ski?”

“A little. I’m not an expert, by any means.”

“They have runs for every ability level.” He was holding her hand tightly. It was as if he was trying to give her strength for something that would be difficult for her. They didn’t talk until they drove into Bend. “It’s not much compared to Portland.” He laughed, lightly. It was a proud laugh, in no way apologetic. “This is our main street.” Casey thought the town was charming. It looked like a small thriving community. Most of the parking places were full. They passed quickly through town and out onto the highway again. “We live out of town along the Deschutes River. We’re almost home, sweetheart.”

Casey gently tugged her hand loose from Dan’s and adjusted the scarf over her ears.

Nine

D
an turned the
car onto a narrow blacktopped road which cut a swath through tall, dark cedar trees. Eventually the woods thinned out and they drove past a fenced meadow where a bay mare and colt grazed. The colt came trotting inquisitively to the fence and watched them pass, then kicked up its heels and went back to its mother. They drove through another wooded area and the trees gave way suddenly to a view of lawns sweeping up to the front of a large brown-shingled house. Dan turned up a
narrow lane flanked with bushes and onto a wide flagged drive.

Casey felt a flutter of relief. Somehow she had imagined a flock of Dan’s relatives would be waiting outside the house and she would have to run the gamut of appraising eyes. The double-hatched front door, with strap hinges of a trefoil pattern, were closed. The hip-roofed house, sides and roof, was covered with weathered shingles and looked settled, completely at ease in its surroundings. There was a drive that circled around to garages attached to the side of the house, but Dan stopped the car near the front door.

Casey turned solemn eyes to him. “It’s lovely. It looks so calm and peaceful.”

Dan squeezed her hand. “Somehow I knew you’d like it. C’mon. The sun came out to welcome you to your new home.” He got out of the car and waited for her to slide under the wheel.

Inside the house he turned her toward the big living room, which ran across the entire front of the house, leading into a dining ell. It was a fireplace, leather, and chintz room, with large soft couches and chairs and colonial-type curtains. A stately grandfather clock presided by the staircase opposite the front door. The broad-planked floors that gleamed beneath braided wool rugs told her the house was old and rooms had probably been added from time to time. The house seemed exactly right for Dan now that she saw him here. It reflected comfort, taste, and warm serenity.

He led her into a large, windowed kitchen, scrupulously clean and shining. Plants lined wide window ledges and brass cookware hung over the island counter stove. A round oak table and high-backed chairs sat at one end with a view of the river beyond. The table was set with quilted print placemats and crockery. A fresh-baked pie sat on the counter. From the kitchen you stepped out on a screened porch, which looked as if it ran the length of the house.

Dan hadn’t spoken a word while he led her through the house. Now he came to her and put his arms around her and kissed her with an aching hunger. “I want to show you the upstairs.”

He took her hand and they went back to the entry and up half a dozen steps to a landing where the steps turned at right angles for the longer portion of the rise. The door to the first room stood invitingly open and sun shone onto the light tan carpet from the dormer windows. There was a large bed with heavy, carved walnut posts and a woven spread of muted blues, reds, and off-white. It was a masculine room, from the heavy dark furniture to the comfortable leather chairs. There were two doors on the right wall. One led to a walk-in closet and the other to a bathroom. The room looked and smelled like Dan.

“Yours?” Casey spoke for the first time since she entered the house.

“Ours?” It was a question.

Casey looked deeply into his quiet dark eyes and slowly shook her head.

“I’ll wear out the hall carpet,” he muttered menacingly.

Casey thought silence the best reproof, and allowed him to usher her, with his hand in the center of her back, down the hall to another room.

“There are four bedrooms up here and a small apartment over the garage. We used to have live-in help.” Dan indicated the door opposite his room. “That one’s my mother’s, although she’s seldom here. The next room is small, but I thought it might do for a sewing room,” he announced smoothly. “This room can be yours until we are married, as long as you won’t share mine.” He opened a door and stepped aside for her to enter.

The room was large and square and was set in the corner of the house. The walls were white, the carpet emerald green, the chairs and tables white wicker. The queen-sized bed had a bookcase headboard and was covered with an Indian-print spread in a pattern that matched the cushions on the chairs and the low couch. Large floor vases were filled with fragrant flowers. It was so different from the rest of the house that she had to keep her face from showing her surprise, especially since Dan was watching her and his eyes were dancing with mischief.

“Aunt Bea decided this room needed an overhaul a few years ago. She said it looked like a morgue. This is the result.”

“It’s lovely, and it certainly doesn’t resemble a morgue now.”

Casey smiled at him and he pulled her into his arms. She leaned compliantly against him and he stroked her face lovingly with his fingertips.

“I like seeing you in my house.”

“I thought it was your mother’s house.”

“Don’t get technical,” he scolded. His face was very stern, but his eyes were teasing and his fingers trailed down her neck, tracing the outline of her shoulder before moving, ever so delicately, to her breast.

“Dan Murdock, you’re a con artist, a lecher, an oversexed jerk, cad, louse … but I…”

“But you what, my Juliet?” His chuckle rumbled in his chest.

“But nothing, my Romeo. Kiss me so I can go forth to procure yon raiment and return thus to this gallery.”

He groaned. “You just blew it. You’d make a lousy Juliet.”

“Oh, you think so!” Her fingers dug into his ribs and she planted her feet on top his loafers. Holding both of her arms to her sides he lifted her off her feet.

“You know what you’re asking for?”

“You better not!” she gasped. “You know what’ll happen.”

“You’ll have an accident?”

“Right!”

“I’d rather do this anyway.” He set her on her
feet and lifted her arms to encircle his neck. “Mmmmm…” he said when he lifted his mouth from hers, “you taste like apple pie.”

“You’ve got your mind on what’s sitting on the counter downstairs,” she said softly against his lips.

“Wrong. My mind’s not on my stomach at all. It’s on yours.” He kissed her, softly at first, and then harder, his arms holding her close, his mouth clamped tightly to hers.

She melted into his kiss. She couldn’t have resisted if she had wanted to, but she didn’t want to. She just wanted to be there, next to him, feeling the warmth of his skin and the strength of his arms, and smelling the scent of him that was so familiar to her. He lifted his mouth. His eyes were very close. She could see her reflection in them.

“I love you, Cassandra. That’s all. I just love you. No demands, no promises asked.”

“It’s crazy. But I think I love you, too, Lancelot.” She said it with a soft smile and a mist in her eyes.
Think?
Forgive me, darling, for not saying it more convincingly, she told him silently. But I’ve got to leave some room to maneuver.

“Ya-hooo … Daniel. I’ve been waiting down here for a long time. Are you up there smooching with that girl?”

“Aunt Bea,” Dan whispered. “She’s very earthy. I’m surprised she didn’t come on up in hopes of catching us in bed.”

Casey smiled broadly. “I haven’t heard ‘smooching’ for ages.”

“She’s a very liberated woman.”

“The birds and the bees and all that?”

“She’s straitlaced about a lot of things. Her most endearing quality is that you always know where you stand with Aunt Bea. C’mon, and meet her.” Sensing her sudden anxiety about measuring up to someone he obviously cared for, he flung his arm around her shoulder. “She’s been after me for years to marry some ‘nice girl.’ She’ll have you involved with her honey business before you know it.”

The woman waiting at the bottom of the steps had short, gray hair, large, wide-spaced eyes, and a broad smile. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt that said AUNT BEA IS A HONEY.

Dan greeted her with a kiss on the cheek, bending low because her head barely came to his armpit. She made up for her lack of height with a generously rounded bosom and tummy.

“Hi, Aunt Bea. This is Cassandra Farrow, but call her Casey.”

“Hello, Casey.” She held out her hand. There was nothing but surprise and pleasure in her broad smile. Her grip was warm and strong and her dark eyes twinkled up at Dan. “My, my. Isn’t she nice and tall? And her hair and eyes are like … honey.”

“I knew you’d say that.” Dan’s voice was resigned, but amused.

“Why’d you wait so long to bring her home?”

“I was working on it as fast as I could, Aunt Honey Bea.”

Aunt Bea nodded with satisfaction. Casey
glanced at Dan and could tell that he was pleased with the warm reception his aunt had given her.

“Let’s have some coffee, Casey, and get acquainted. Daniel has a woman friend out back that’s having a fit because he hasn’t been out to see her.” Aunt Bea’s eyes took on the same gleam as Dan’s when he was teasing. “Her name’s Sadie and she’s got the most gorgeous blue eyes you ever saw.”

Casey walked beside the small woman. Dan followed.

“We don’t want to keep him from his adoring public,” Casey said confidentially to Aunt Bea and reached back to slap Dan’s hand away after his fingers nipped her buttock.

Minutes later Dan opened the porch door and a large, black and brown dog walked sedately into the kitchen. It stopped several feet from where Casey sat at the round table and tilted its head inquiringly. Aunt Bea was right about the eyes. They were a startling blue in the dog’s dark face.

“Sit and say hello to Casey, Sadie,” Dan commanded firmly.

Sadie backed up a few steps and sat down, lifted her nose to the ceiling, and let out a mournful howl. She looked at Dan, then repeated the greeting even louder and longer.

“And hello to you, too,” Casey said and patted her thigh. The dog came to her and laid her jowls on her lap, her eyes never leaving Casey’s face. “What kind of dog is she?” Casey lifted her hand and gently stroked the massive head.

“Siberian Husky. Her name is Sovetskaya, but we call her Sadie.”

“I can understand why.”

Aunt Bea brought the coffee pot to the table and set it on a tile trivit. “Are you having coffee with us, Daniel?”

“Sure, if I can have some pie to go with it. Then I’ll unload the car.”

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