You're Still the One (29 page)

She got out, grabbed a blanket from the trunk, and took a deep breath. The temperature seemed to have dropped ten degrees since she was at the ranch, and the spring air held a hint of honeysuckle. In the area along the bank, patches of purple thatch and Indian paintbrush provided splashes of color. This section of the creek wasn’t the most popular swimming hole—on the other side of town there was a wider spot with a more beachy area where teenagers liked to hang out. But this had always been her favorite place. A couple of flat gray boulders jutted out of the water like humps of a sea monster, providing a good place to sunbathe or just sit and meditate.

She didn’t see him at first when she entered the clearing. She’d kicked off her shoes, rolled up her jeans, and was in the water already. But when she did spot him, her heart lurched twice in her chest—first out of surprise, and then because it was Roy. Why hadn’t he told her he was back?

And why did she feel so absurdly happy to see him there?

He was lying on his back on the rock she’d intended for her own use, one arm flung over his eyes. He was wearing a T-shirt and baggy jean shorts, but he still managed to steal her breath. From the definition in those muscles, he hadn’t been spending his entire life behind a desk.

She was torn between creeping furtively back to her car or sneaking up on him when he jolted up to sitting. Startled, she shouted, and when his face broke out in a broad smile, she reached down and splashed him with water.

“Hey!” he yelled. “You’re getting my rock wet.”

“That’s
my
rock.”

“There’s room for two.” Even from several yards away, his eyes seemed bright. “Remember?”

Visions of their former selves came to mind, during summers when there always seemed to be time to spend a lazy afternoon hanging out at the creek. It’s where they had reunited after their one breakup during college. The miracle of the rock.

She bit her lip. “The prodigal slacker returneth—and I didn’t even get a text. What are you doing here?”

His head tilted. “What are
you
doing here? And why are you just standing there in the mud?” He scooted over to make room for her.

She stood, torn, her toes squishing on the creek bottom as she curled them in her indecision.

“I chased off the water moccasins for you,” he said.

At that reminder, she hopped gingerly toward the rock. It was spring, so the water was higher than she remembered. She nearly lost her balance when her foot hit a dip, but she managed to keep hold of the blanket. Roy offered a hand to help her scramble onto the rock. His grip was strong.

She spread the blanket out and sat on it, bending her knees so she didn’t get the blanket soggy. “I wish I’d brought a towel, too.”

Roy smiled at the fussy way she settled herself. “Where did you get that blanket?”

“I keep it in my trunk for emergencies.” It smelled vaguely of horses and WD-40.

“Like a good Girl Scout. Always prepared.”

“You’re thinking Boy Scouts.”

He lifted his shoulders sheepishly. “I was a Boy Scout dropout. Didn’t make it that far.”

She laughed. “As far as the part where they talked about the motto . . . wouldn’t that be the first meeting?”

“My dad forgot to show up for the orientation,” he explained. “I ended up having to be driven home by the troop leader, Mr. Bernie. Dad was at the bottom of the bottle then, I guess. Anyway, he ended up slugging poor Mr. Bernie. I never joined, obviously.”

The story didn’t surprise her. She and Roy might have grown up within a mile of each other, but their experiences had been worlds apart. When she was a girl, her every activity had been guided, monitored, and usually applauded. Roy had raised himself, to a certain extent.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to go down that path. Coming back always hits me in unexpected ways. It’s supposed to feel like home here, but it’s not always the good stuff that surfaces. It’s unsettling.”

“I understand.” She was feeling a little unsettled herself, just being in this place with him. The irritation she’d felt while he was gone seemed to melt away in his presence.

He studied her. “Can you? I would have guessed that you couldn’t believe anyone could have mixed feelings about Mesquite Creek.”

“Why? Do you think you’re the only person who can see two sides of a coin?”

His expression collapsed into something like contrition. “No, of course not. But come on, with the exception of college, you’ve spent your whole life here. I’ve had a decade now to work it out, and I think I understand. You were always happy here, and why not? Your family was respected, and you were a town darling. The good girl. Little Miss Blackberry, 1988. The town made a place for you.”

“Wow.” She took a moment to absorb his words. His misconceptions. “How many years did you say your brain’s been mulling this over? Because, first of all, you need to get your facts straight. I was never Little Miss Blackberry. I was second runner-up.”

“Excuse me,” he said.

“And yes, I always had a lot of support here that you didn’t, but do you think that didn’t have its drawbacks? You think this place felt claustrophobic for you? Try growing up as a school superintendant’s daughter. My folks put a lot of pressure on me to do well, and I put pressure on myself, worrying I would shame them. I hung my head for weeks over missing my final word in the regional spelling bee. I was ten years old and wanted to die because I couldn’t spell
vacillate
.”

Roy frowned. “I’m not sure I could spell it now.”

“One C, two L’s,” she said automatically. The word had featured prominently in her nightmares for twenty years. “I’m a naturally shy person, but all my life here I’ve felt like public property. And when I excelled at something, I always heard grumbles from kids who thought I was just a teacher’s pet because of who my dad was. That sucked, frankly.”

“But you never rebelled.” His gaze met hers. “Till me.”

“That wasn’t rebellion. That was just”—she ducked her head—“what I wanted. They didn’t come into it. So if all these years you’ve been thinking that I was only using you—”

“I haven’t. I just thought you were happier here. That’s why you came back, right? To be where it was safe?”

“You mean I fell back into my comfort zone instead of following you to the rough wilds of Seattle?”

“It is your comfort zone,” he insisted.

Her lip curled. “If it’s so comfy for me, why couldn’t I face going back there just now?”

He tilted his head. “You mean this isn’t part of your normal routine?”

She scooted forward and dipped her feet into the cool water. “I haven’t been back to this spot since you and I were here last.”

His eyes widened. “Seriously.”

“Seriously.”

“I knew it—kismet!”

She would have laughed except for the look in his eye—the conviction of a true believer. A true romantic. She hated to encourage him, but she had to be honest. “I pass this way all the time. I just happened to stop today because I needed time to think.”

“You noticed it because of us. Because the memories have been bubbling up. Am I right?”

“Maybe . . .”

He took her hand, which she snatched back. “Thank you for the flowers,” she said. Then she added, “Way to get tongues wagging.”

“Did you like them?”

“Of course. I just would have preferred a phone call. You know—something private.”

“I thought you might appreciate a little space to think over all that’s happened.”

“
Nothing’s
happened.” She looked into his face, felt a clamping sensation around her heart, then looked away. “A kiss. We’re two adults. There’s no reason to make a big deal out of such a little thing.”

“We’re not just any two adults. We were in love.”

“When we were seventeen to twenty-two. Practically children. People that age fall in and out of love all the time. They—”

“You didn’t,” he said. She couldn’t help looking in his eyes again. Couldn’t resist the way her body leaned toward his. He reached out for her arm again. “I didn’t,” he added, pulling her to him.

It would be so easy to throw herself into his arms, to lose herself there. Instead, she planted her hands against his chest. “But we drifted apart for a reason.”

“What was the reason?”

Before she could answer, he bent down and nuzzled her ear. A gasp escaped her lips, and her mind blanked for a moment before rational thought broke the surface again. “We went our separate ways,” she said.

“And now our paths have crossed again,” he murmured. “Happens all the time. It happened once before, remember?”

She remembered. Vividly. They’d split up briefly in college. But then, over the summer, she’d found him here. One thing led to another, and . . .

The memory of their bodies intertwined in this very spot on that hot July day was one part incendiary, one part dousing of cold water. That reunion hadn’t lasted but one more year.

Roy pulled her up against him. There was no mistaking that the memory had been all incendiary for him.

“Roy . . .” He kissed her temple, and it was all she could do not to turn her head toward him. “We’re on a rock in the middle of Mesquite Creek.”

“Our rock,” he said.

She laughed, looking up at him.

His answering smile faded and he dipped to brush his lips against hers. But once their mouths touched, pulling apart was impossible.
Think
had nothing to do with it. Her senses crowded out all thought—the taste of him, the definition of his muscles beneath his T-shirt, the light cedar scent of aftershave.

Their tongues intertwined as if they belonged together. It felt so familiar and so . . . different. Her hands explored his body, filled out but the same as ever. They roamed over pectorals that had been to a gym since the old days, then the scar where he’d fallen on a piece of broken glass, across shoulders that were as broad and firm as ever.

The kiss was too absorbing for just nostalgia. Reeling senses combated reason—she pushed away, hoping to take a last swing for rationality. The crazy thump of her heartbeat made it difficult to draw a breath. “We really shouldn’t . . .”

She couldn’t help but look into his eyes, eyes burning with hunger. They mesmerized her, battering her crumbling defenses.

When he took a breath, it seemed to take as much effort as her own had. “Jane.”

No one could make her name sound like he did. When he locked his gaze on her and spoke to her in that voice, she became some impossibly desirable creature, someone longed for and cherished.

“This is insane.”

A hint of a smile, a challenge, touched his lips a moment before he pulled her to him again. “That’s what makes it amazing. I’d given up hope I’d ever hold you like this again. That I’d ever have the chance to tell you that I love you.”

“But we’re . . . out here.”

“The best spot in Mesquite Creek. Besides, I can’t invite you back to my place—every real estate agent in town could barge in on us. And your place . . .”

Her mother could barge in. And often did.

But the rock wasn’t the problem. She closed her eyes and leaned against him, listening to his heavy heartbeat. With each thump, her reason crazed and cracked and fell to shards.
Unless you’re not sure
, Roy had said to her the first time they’d made love, back in high school. It had been so unlike him to allow for doubt, for turning back, but he’d been giving her that out in case she wasn’t ready. And what had she said?
Nothing’s ever sure, is it?

Wiser at seventeen than at thirty-one. Because at this moment she was so blinded by wanting Roy that she didn’t see any downside to lifting her head, drawing herself as close to him as humanly possible, and agreeing that there had never been a more perfect place to rip off their clothes and let one thing lead to another.

“You poor thing—it looks like you just fell off a cliff.”

It felt that way, too, especially when Jane had found her mother in her apartment when she came home. Throwback questions darted around her mind—
Did she find out? Am I in trouble?
Then she looked down at herself and noted that one of her pant legs was sodden with creek water . . . and her shirt was a dusty, dirty mess. Scrapes showed on her arms, and she hadn’t had a comb in the car, so no telling what her hair was doing. Olive landed on her shoulder, and Jane arranged her like a stole as she reached down to scratch dog ears and began to stammer out explanations. “I had the longest day, including the animal shelter, and then—”

“I know all about it,” her mom said.

The blood drained from Jane’s face. “You do?” Had she and Roy been spotted? They hadn’t seen anyone, or heard a car.

“I called the clinic,” her mother said. “They told me.”

Her forehead tightened. “Told you . . . ?”

“That you were out at Jack Lewis’s ranch. I called your cell but you didn’t pick up, so I figured you were busy.” Brenda huffed. “Jack! He was exasperating even as a child. Did I tell you I used to babysit him and his brothers? Worst. Behaved. Children. Ever. One time while I was tidying up after supper they brought their Shetland pony into the living room. Nearly screamed when I saw the thing in front of the television watching
Eight Is Enough
.”

Breathing again, Jane managed a chuckle. She dropped her purse on her Formica-topped table, then tilted her head in puzzlement. “What made you call the clinic?”

“I was worried about Buddy.”

Jane pivoted toward the dog. “What’s wrong?” He had seemed quiet when she walked in, not trying to nose through and steal attention from Squeak. But in truth, since her mom had taken him to the groomer’s earlier in the week, she hardly recognized him. The mats were gone, his fur shone, and he actually smelled good.

“He didn’t do his business at noon,” her mother said. “Seemed suspicious to me. Squeak’s like clockwork.”

Jane examined Buddy as his tail flicked in a nervous thump. “All dogs are different.” Still, she felt his abdomen and figured out the problem. “You should be a diagnostician, Mom.”

Her mother nodded, but her face was tensed. “What’s wrong? Is it a tumor?”

“No—I think this dog needs some Metamucil. Probably all the moving and change of diet has stressed him out.”

Brenda collapsed on the couch. “Thank God! I’ve been so worried.”

“About Buddy?”

“Well, of course. First losing his owner . . . then getting dumped with Ona for two months. And now living with his doctor—and you’re never home.”

Guilt pinched at Jane as she went and rummaged through the kitchen cabinets.

“Plus he has to go up and down those stairs,” her mother said, practically cooing at Buddy. “Poor thing.”

The big animal lifted his paw and placed it gently on Brenda’s leg, and she didn’t flick it away. And those were white pants.

“Buuuuuuddy,” Brenda drawled in a tone of voice that Jane couldn’t remember hearing since she was four years old. Maybe the universe was finally giving her mom the child of her dreams after all. In canine form.

“I don’t have any Metamucil here,” Jane said. “I’ll have to go to the store.”

“Never mind,” her mom answered. “I have some. Your father couldn’t survive without it.” She put her hands on her hips. “In fact, why don’t I just take Buddy with me? He’ll be closer to the yard that way, and I can keep a close eye on him for the next day or so.”

“Okay . . .” Jane frowned, especially when she saw that Buddy was ready to go. Eager, in fact. “But your floors—”

Her mother waved away that objection. “I’ve got a little bed set out for him in the living room. Confession time—I’ve been sneaking him over. He’s very well behaved.”

Jane would have thought Buddy’s former human connections would have overshadowed his behavior or purebred canine cred. “You know he’s Wanda McGillam’s dog.”

“I know. Poor woman.”

“Poor woman! You two hated each other.”

“I never did,” her mother said, as if shocked that Jane could even think such a thing. “Yes, Wanda was just a teensy bit jealous of me because Wade McGillam had a crush on me junior year. We only went out on two dates, but Wanda spent the rest of her life in a snit about it. As if I was always on the verge of stealing her man. Even after the man became a disgrace!”

“Wait.” Jane’s mind was spinning. “You went out with Roy’s dad?”

“Two dates,” her mother said. “A little youthful indiscretion. But if you could have seen him back then . . . he looked just like Robert Redford as the Sundance Kid.” She eyed Jane pityingly. “Much cuter than Roy.”

“Then why . . . ?”

“Why did I break it off after two dates? Because he was a devil, that’s why.” She sighed. “I guess every girl wants to have a fling like that. But then you snap out of it and grow up—like you did.” Her gaze cleared and homed in on Jane’s face, watching her closely. “You were just slower.”

Jane felt dazed. “Much slower.”

 

 

She drove over to Roy’s place after dark, when the chances of a prospective buyer wanting to look at the house, or Ona walking in on them, were slim to none. Not that she and Roy were sneaking around, she assured herself. They were just being gossip-conscious.

Jane hadn’t known she was going to bring up the subject of their parents, but as soon as she’d tossed her purse on the glass-topped table in the kitchen, the question popped out. “Do you know why our mothers really hated each other?”

His eyes widened in surprise. Probably not what he’d expected to hear first thing after their encounter this afternoon. Still, he was curious. “No. Do you?”

“It all went back to high school . . . when Mom
dated
your dad.”

For a moment, his jaw hung slack. “Your mother told you this?”

Admitted it
, he meant. No one had a lower opinion of his dad than Roy did.

“She said he was her wild fling.” Jane couldn’t help smiling. “She also said he was a lot better-looking than you.”

“I don’t doubt that.” He frowned. “There’s not a Greek tragedy buried in this, is there? My father and your mother . . . and then seventeen years later . . .”

She shook her head. “I wondered that, too. But they only dated twice, junior year.”

“Of course—they probably weren’t real dates, either. Did she sneak out to meet him? Your mother would never be seen actually going out with a lowlife like my dad.”

She looked down, wishing now she hadn’t brought it up. The subject of his father always rattled him. No matter how successful he became, while he was in Mesquite Creek a class war would always rage in his head. “Anyway, no worries. The math doesn’t work out. We were both born years after those two dates.”

“Good.” Roy sighed and took her in his arms. “Let’s stop thinking about the past for a while. You want something to drink?”

She shook her head and wrapped her arms around his middle, burying her head on his chest. He smelled so good. “Mom said I looked like I’d fallen off a cliff.”

His chest rumbled in a laugh.

She cricked her neck to look up at him. “Oh—and weird thing. Mom seems to have taken a shine to Buddy.”

He smiled, then said, “Are we ever going to stop talking about your mom?”

She was about to chuckle in agreement, then stopped herself. “I don’t know. She’s been my friend these past years. She’s my mom still, of course, but we’re next-door neighbors. She’s sort of my Kramer, my Millie Helper.”

He took this in, then nodded in understanding. “Your Tray.”

She shook her head. “My what?”

“Tray’s a guy who lives in the basement apartment of my building. He pops in for a lot of visits, especially during baseball season.”

“Baseball?” Since when did he like baseball? He’d been a hoops guy.

He shrugged. “I started watching it when I moved up there. We’ve got a great stadium. I can’t wait to show you Seattle—Pike Place Market, the neighborhoods, McG Studios . . . even with all the headaches of traveling, I love where we are. You’ll love it, too.”

She frowned. What was he talking about? “Love . . . ?”

“Seattle—everything.” He beamed at her. “When you come . . . for a visit. I’m hoping you will. Soon.” He cleared his throat. “A long visit.”

“That sounds so nice. I haven’t taken a vacation in . . .” Three years. That was too embarrassing to admit. “Well, the last time I was gone for any amount of time was when Carl and I went to a convention in San Antonio.”

“You and Carl?” Roy asked. “Together?”

She laughed. “Yes. We had separate hotel rooms. In fact, we weren’t even in the same hotel.”

He actually looked relieved.

“Roy, whatever you suspect about Carl is not true. There’s never been anything going on there.”

“He likes you. In fact, I could swear he thinks I’m a rival or something.”

“He might be worried that I’ll leave. But that’s just crazy.”

Roy’s eyes widened. “Is it?”

She laughed. “Well, yeah.” When he didn’t laugh with her, not even a chuckle, her own laughter died out. “Isn’t it?”

He pulled her to him. “I thought we were rekindling something here.”

“Well, yeah.”
Here
. “But there’s no rush, is there?” She put her arms around him again, playing with the soft fuzz at his nape.

He kissed her then, and it felt as if there was a rush. A rush of desire to be against him, naked. He broke apart only briefly, to take her hand and lead her upstairs.

 

 

The next day when she took off on her lunch hour to visit Roy, everything had changed at Wanda’s house. The furniture was all gone. Jane stood in the middle of the living room, stunned.

“The estate sale place picked it all up this morning,” Roy said as he showed her through several rooms. “Except for a couple of boxes for me and Ona in the garage.”

He said the words with satisfaction, but she couldn’t help thinking about Wanda, and how the treasures of an entire lifetime could be packed away in a couple of boxes.

“The cleaners are coming Friday,” he said. “I think the place will show better then. Although . . .”

“What?”

“Well, we’ve got an offer on the place now. It’s low, but Ona wants to take it.”

“And you don’t?”

“I don’t see why we have to be in a hurry to accept a lowball offer.”

Jane nodded and began to breathe normally again. She knew nothing about real estate transactions, but it had to be a good thing that Roy wasn’t chomping at the bit to get out of town. Although . . . “An empty house isn’t a great place to stay.”

“There’s still the box spring and mattress in the guest room upstairs. It’s like camping out, but comfortable.”

“You could stay at the garage apartment.”

He put his arms around her. “That sounds good.” They kissed, and for a moment she indulged herself in the fantasy of having Roy waiting for her at the end of the day. Greeting her at the door next to Buddy and Squeak.

He broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against hers, his hands still looped around her waist. “It also sounds crowded. Besides, I can’t come over tonight.” He gestured to the Mac set up on the kitchen counter. His workstation. “I need to figure out some kind of speech for the auditorium opening tomorrow. I’m so dreading it. I have to give speeches for work sometimes, but this . . .”

She knew from her dad that it was going to be a big to-do. Their congressman was going to be there. “You haven’t prepared anything?”

He shook his head. “I could wing it, but then I risk the chance of going into a Don Knotts nervous meltdown.”

She laughed. “I can’t imagine that.”

 

 

When she got back to the clinic that afternoon, everyone was buzzing about the new ultrasound machine that had been delivered at noon. Though Marcy told Jane that Erin was waiting for her, Carl whisked her into the other exam room, where they’d wheeled the machine, and went over all the new features as excitedly as a guy in a showroom demonstrating a new Mercedes.

“Do you like it?” he asked her.

Given his enthusiasm, it was hard not to catch the fever. “It’s great, Carl. Big improvement.” That wouldn’t have been difficult. Their older one had gone on the fritz several times. A couple of times they’d even had to send patients to a clinic in another town.

But his eager expression and the hopefulness in his voice suddenly made her remember her mother’s words.
Like a bowerbird.
Was this really a machine for taking sonograms, or another twig in his fastidious nest building?

She took a deep breath; the air still smelled of fresh paint. “I need to go look at Erin’s cat. But this is terrific, Carl. Excellent purchase.”

She hurried to the next room and greeted Erin, who was in the middle of blowing her nose. “Is something the matter with Smudge?” Jane asked.

The big white cat seemed perfectly calm—his green eyes were certainly clearer than Erin’s red-rimmed ones. “I came home for lunch and as I was about to leave, I found him like this.”

“Like what?”

“Covered in blood!”

Jane carefully turned the animal so she could see the angry red splotches underneath. At the sight, Erin began to quiver. She looked way more traumatized than Smudge did.

At least she wasn’t threatening to take him to the shelter anymore. The two must have bonded again a little bit.

Erin collapsed into the plastic chair and honked again into a Kleenex. “I don’t see how he could have cut himself. But he must have, even though there wasn’t a trail of blood around the house. Just a few”—her voice began to crack, and she barely wheezed out—“little red pawprints.”

The animal’s abdomen and two of his feet were red. Jane frowned. She put on gloves and then rubbed the area on his abdomen gently. Smudge purred and flopped over as if he were on a sunny windowsill instead of an exam table.