First Time, Forever, page 8
“Is there a plan for me?” she whispered to the night sky. “Everything seems to be such a mess.”
She could have sworn a star winked at her, reassuringly. It made her want to memorize the Saskatchewan sky, to hold it in her heart forever, that moment when she felt so sure that, despite all the evidence stacking up to the contrary, everything was going to be all right.
The truck pulled up with a throaty rumble, and she ran lightly down the walk. She could hear Jesse before she had covered half the distance between her house and the truck.
Evan reached over and popped open the door for her, the sound intensifying almost unbearably when he did so.
She climbed in. “I don’t know how you stand it. How did you not have an accident on the way here?”
Evan was wearing a jean jacket that fit snugly over the broadness of his shoulders and made him look like a cowboy—compelling, tough, mysterious. Then she noticed his hair was standing up in the front, as if he had run his hand through it once too often, and the cowboy image faded, replaced by one of a young dad, exhausted and frustrated.
No answer. She looked back at Jesse. His face was purple, his arms and legs flailing wildly. She knelt on her seat and reached into the back. She found herself undoing his car seat buckles and gathering him in her arms. “It’s going to be okay,” she said. “Jesse, we’re on our way to the store to get you a soother.”
She turned back around, held him tight against her and rocked, talking soothingly, even though there was not a chance he could hear her. At least the flailing stopped. He wrapped a hand in her shirt, and yelled against her breast.
She looked out the truck window at the stars. They were so beautiful. Somehow if felt just right to be sitting next to this gorgeous man in his pickup in the middle of the night. She didn’t even mind Jesse’s noise, the damp spot growing on her sweater where his tears were falling. Jesse had brought her to this moment, where she could admire the stars. She had not been up at this time of night since she was a teenager.
She felt a boldness she would not have felt in the light of day—as if each of those stars beckoned for her to say what was in her heart. Or maybe it was a boldness brought on by knowing her time her was already ticking away.
And so she said, “Isn’t it a gorgeous night?”
Evan didn’t say anything.
“The kind of night,” she said as softly as Jesse’s yelling would allow, “when a person could believe in all kinds of things they never ever believed in before?”
No answer. Evan put the truck in gear and pulled out.
“The kind of night,” she continued, “that could make a person believe in a prince and a glass slipper and a midnight kiss.”
She ducked her head, hardly believing she had said that, mortified. A child was screaming, practically bursting blood veins, and she was trying out as the queen of romance? Romance, something she had sworn off!
When Evan remained coolly silent, she looked at her toes, debated opening the truck door and leaping out to save her dignity. Jesse in her arms stopped her.
Evan nudged her shoulder.
He had his hand outstretched to her. In it were two small cylinders. She took them. Foam. She rolled them around in her free hand, then looked askance at him. He pointed to his ears.
“Can’t hear a damn thing,” he bellowed.
She put the earplugs in, not sure if she was happy to have been saved from herself or not.
Evan got them to the Outpost in five seconds flat.
“Give me the key,” he said.
“I’ll go in.”
“After what I told you about loaded shotguns behind doors in this town? I’ll go.”
She handed him the key. “The baby things are—”
“I’ve practically lived in the baby aisle for the last three months. I’ll leave a couple of bucks on the counter.”
“I’m sure you can be trusted for it.” She ran her hand through the sweat-dampened curls on Jesse’s head. He was making less noise, sneaking little looks at her.
Evan hopped out of the truck, put the key in the door and was back out within minutes. He couldn’t get the soother out of the package fast enough. He turned and plopped it into Jesse’s mouth.
The silence was so sudden and blessed that she could hear herself breathing.
Evan leaned his head against the steering wheel. “I knocked something over in there. I hope I didn’t wake up Ma.”
“You probably would have had a backside full of lead if you had.”
Jesse watched her with big eyes, sucking frantically, as if to make up for lost time. Then his eyes closed, opened, and closed again.
“He’s going to sleep,” Evan said. He tugged the earplugs out of his ears.
She took hers out, too, gazing down at Jesse. He was still sucking frantically, but his eyes were closed and his head nodding against her.
“Look at those stars tonight,” Evan said, as if he was seeing them for the first time.
She said nothing.
“It’s enough to make a man believe in things bigger than himself.”
The silence stretched between them. He made no move to turn on the truck.
“You know how I said I’d never ask you for anything else?” Evan said.
“Yes?”
“I lied.”
“And?” she said, amused. “What else are you going to ask me for? If it’s disposable diapers, let’s do it now, before I go back to sleep.”
“It’s not that.”
“Well?”
He shook his head. “I should go home and get to sleep. I’ve been up nearly twenty-four hours. I should feel like I’m about to die.”
“But you don’t?”
“No, ma’am.”
“If you call me ma’am again, I’m going to call you—” she thought for a second “—Buster!”
He laughed. “I’ve been called a little worse than that on the odd occasion. Is that the best you can do in the name-calling department?”
“At this time of night!”
He took a deep breath. Go home, he told himself, think about this. Don’t just go blurting it out, and then regret it later.
As if that wasn’t the story of his life.
But it felt so magical right now. The stars. The silence. Her beside him, her hair down, a little pajama bow showing at the V of her sweater. His son in her arms, looking so relaxed now and at peace, and the look of unguarded tenderness as she looked at his son made her look like a Madonna.
She smelled good.
He bet he didn’t. Which was a good thing. It would keep him on his side of the truck, where he damn well belonged.
“You should wear your hair like that more often,” he said. Back off, Evan. But it was easy to override that voice when he was so tired. His guard wasn’t just down. It was dead.
“Is that what you’re going to ask me? To wear my hair like this?”
Say yes. “No.” He started the truck. His heart was beating fast. He’d never ever felt like this about this particular task. He’d never cared, particularly, if someone said no before. There were lots of fish, after all.
He contemplated caring so much. Another good reason to make up a question, then drop her off and drive away.
“I want to see you. Just you. No Mac and no Jesse.” Maybe it wasn’t a question, after all. A statement. His guard dead, and the feelings running free. “I want to see you. Not as Mac’s aunt, and not as Jesse’s daddy. Am I making any sense?”
“I think so.”
“As a man,” he said gruffly, “and a woman.”
She looked terrified, liked he proposed they jump out of an airplane together with no parachutes.
“I’m way older than you,” she said, after a while, looking deliberately away.
“I know you’re a bit older than me.”
“And I don’t date.”
“I know that, too.”
“Then why are you asking me this?”
“Because I’m dead tired, and the stars are out, and you just saved my life.”
“Oh,” she said relieved, “because you owe me one.”
Say yes. “No,” he said.
She turned her eyes to him wide and filled with starlight, her hair hanging in a curtain of silk over her shoulder, her face filled with tenderness and uncertainty.
“Because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
He couldn’t believe that had popped out. She turned rapidly from him. He thought she might be blinking back tears. He leaned over, touched her chin with his finger, forced her to look back at him.
“You are,” he said. Sure enough, little diamond tears sparkled at the corners of her eyes.
“You know I’m not. And I don’t. Can’t. Date.”
“Make an exception. I know you won’t be here much longer.”
“And what will we do with the boys?”
He noted that looking for an excuse was a bit different than an out-and-out no. “Tie them up and feed them to rattlers?” he said hopefully.
“Have you got a Plan B?”
“For the date, or the boys?”
“The boys.”
This was looking very hopeful. “Ma Watson?”
She took a deep, shuddering breath, as if she was standing on a high diving board, looking down. “I’ll ask her tomorrow.”
“Play on her guilt.”
“Evan, this isn’t the distinctly upsetting part starting is it?”
“I don’t think so. I sure as hell hope not. Just two people who need a break from their kids. When’s the last time you had a break from your kid?”
“Not for a while.”
“Ask her about tomorrow night.”
“All right. You know,” she said, “for a woman who doesn’t date, I’ve capitulated with a disgraceful lack of fight.”
“Thank God. I’m too tired to arm wrestle you for it tonight. I mean, if I had to I would, but I’m feeling fairly thankful I don’t have to.”
“You’d arm wrestle me for a date?”
“Best out of three.”
“I wouldn’t have a chance.”
“That’s the basic idea.”
“Evan.” She was suddenly serious, her eyes huge and frightened. “No. I can’t. I’ve changed my mind. I mean I’m too old to be lying awake tonight wondering if I’ll have to kiss you good-night after.”
“If you kiss me good-night after, it won’t be because you have to.”
Her mouth fell open. She plunked Jesse in his arms, and wrestled with the door, practically falling out backwards. She hesitated for a moment.
He gave her a slow salute. “See you tomorrow night.” She slammed the door and bolted. He put the truck in gear and drove into the night.
There. He’d gone and done it. Weakened by Jesse screaming for three solid hours, nearly out of his mind with it.
But really, he’d thought of nothing else since the moment Ma had called him and told him Kathleen’s job was over.
That she was leaving. What would the harm be in trying to alleviate her anxiety a bit? Get her mind off her troubles, which seemed to be multiplying?
That was all. He was trying on a new role, late in life. Altruism. He’d take her for a nice dinner, out to a movie. Something like that. He was a man aiming for knighthood, after all.
What was this singing inside of him? What was it?
Kathleen looked in the mirror yet again. She had heard his truck pull up, but she was afraid to go out. She was wearing a beautiful white silk tailored shirt and gray slacks, the tenth outfit she had put on.
It made her look old and boring and ready for the office.
She wanted to be able to carry off one of those cute tops that showed the belly button, but those days were over for her. And she’d never even had a baby to blame it on.
There was a loud knock on the door. She made no move to answer it. She had left her hair down, but now, studying herself, she thought it looked awful. As if she was trying to look younger than she was.
Hastily she hung her head upside down, gathered up her hair and straightened. She began shoving pins in.
He knocked again.
With any luck he would go away.
She was just too old for this. The excitement felt as if it was too much. No wonder she had hidden behind her responsibility to Mac all these years.
Mac who had gone to Ma Watson’s half an hour ago in a fit of disgust.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
She hastily wiped the bright red lipstick off, then sat on the edge of her bed. She closed her eyes and willed him to go away. When that didn’t work, she tried desperately to remember her positive-thinking book. She tried to visualize something positive.
She could picture his beautiful smile, directed at her, full of the most heady tenderness.
“Kathleen?”
She started, opened her eyes and let out a little squeak of shock and dismay. He was standing in her bedroom door, looking at her.
“How did you get in?”
“I opened the door and walked. I thought maybe you didn’t hear me knocking. Or were in the basement, dying of snakebite.”
She glared at him.
He came and sat down beside her on the bed, too close, his rock-hard thigh touching hers. She scooted away.
“You’re sorry you said yes, aren’t you?” he asked quietly.
“How did you know?”
He reached up and touched her forehead. “It’s running across here in big black letters.”
“Are you sorry you asked?”
“No.”
“Evan, I just don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to wear or what to say. I can’t even put my lipstick on. I hate this. It’s like I don’t know who I am, I’m so nervous.”
“I’m not so scary.”
“Yes, you are!”
“In what way?”
She was stubbornly silent.
“In what way?” he asked again.
“You’re very good-looking,” she finally said.
He hooted. “And you aren’t?”
“Not in the same league. At all.”
“That’s completely untrue.”
“Well, you are very good-looking,” she said, stubbornly, as if that was a legitimate thing to hold against him.
“It’s not as if I can help it. An accident of birth.”
“And you’re too young for me.”
“Didn’t we cover this territory once before?”
She said nothing.
“Can I tell you something?” he said quietly, that stern note running through his voice that she’d heard him use on Mac.
“If you must.”
“You aren’t exactly acting your age at the moment.”
“And what age am I acting? If you say thirteen, I’m going to lock myself in the bathroom.”
“How about sixteen?”
“Do you see why this can’t work?” she demanded. “You’re younger, but you’re not acting sixteen.”
“You don’t know what I’m feeling.”
“You are not feeling sixteen.”
“Seventeen, then. All scared inside. I don’t know what to say, either. I’m worried you’ll think I’m a dumb country boy who thinks a bull market is about bulls and stock is about those things that go moo in my backyard.”
She smiled, despite herself.
“I’m worried I’ll slip up and use the wrong fork at dinner,” he said, his hand finding hers, and taking it. “And that you’ll think I’m not dressed right.”
She let him keep her hand and slid a look at his pressed jeans, and the nice Western shirt, buttoned high, the shining boots, the neatly combed hair.
“Oh, Evan, you look wonderful, as if you couldn’t.”
“I’m worried,” he said, his voice low, “that I’ll order something with garlic in it, and you won’t, and then I’ll be scared to death to kiss you good-night, even if I can tell you want to.”
She laughed a little. She liked him. Maybe that was why she was so scared.
“So can we go now? Now that we’ve established that we’re both scared witless?”
She took a deep breath. “All right. Where are we going?”
“A little place in Medicine Hat. Medium fancy. Can you coach me which fork to use?”
“What makes you think I know?”
He slid her a look. “You know.”
“What are we going to talk about?”
“You’re going to tell me all about Vancouver. You can tell me about your favorite season and your favorite holiday and your favorite flavor of ice cream.”
“That should take five or ten seconds.”
“Then you can tell me about what you think you’re going to do in a month.”
“Another ten seconds. What are you going to talk about?”
“I’ll dispel the romantic myth surrounding the rodeo cowboy by sharing the highlights of my brief bull riding career with you. That will be good for another ten seconds.”
“You were a rodeo cowboy? A bull rider? Really?”
“Really. Maybe I’ll take my ten seconds now.” Without releasing her hand, he stood and tugged her up behind him. Talking gently the whole time, describing a big, wicked Brahma bull with mean red eyes, he led her to the door, fished her sweater out of her closet, tucked it around her shoulders and opened the door for her.
“I do not believe the bull’s name was Mr. Stinky Pants. What do you take me for? A city girl?”
“It was. Well, maybe Mr. Stinky. And he deserved it, too. Killed maybe three or four cowboys before I rode him.”
“He did not.” He held open the truck door for her, and she climbed in, noting Jesse, too had already been delivered to Ma.
He went around his side, got in, started the truck and then patted the seat next to him. Slowly she slid over, until her shoulder was just about touching his, and her hip was, too.
“He did. Gored one. Danced on the other. Fell on one. Other one died of plain fear.”
The truck moved forward.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“For what?”
“For making me be more than I am.”
“Kathleen Miles, a simple cowboy like me couldn’t do that.”
“You’re not a simple cowboy, Evan.”
“No?”
“I think you’re more like a knight.”
