Whitehorse Part 8

"You look as if you'd like to say something."

She opened and closed her mouth, shrugged, bit her lip.

"Are you still seeing Sam?" Dana asked.

"We have a date tonight."

"Have you introduced him yet to Val?"

"No." She shook her head.

Sh.e.l.ley smiled. "Have you told Sam yet about Val?"

Leah lowered her eyes. "No," she replied more softly.

"Because...?"

"Because the last time I grew fond of a man, the moment I introduced him to Val he split."

"Then obviously you've grown fond of Sam or you wouldn't worry about him taking a hike," Sh.e.l.ley said.

"No. Not really. He's a nice guy. It's just that ... it's nice to be with a man sometimes. To go out. See a movie. Get dinner."

"Yes, but eventually you're going to want to commit yourself. To get serious."

"Not with Sam. He doesn't do that for me."

"Are you sure? Maybe you're simply afraid of falling for him too deeply. You're not going to allow yourself such freedom until you know exactly how he's going to respond to Val."

"Maybe." She shrugged. "I just think, at this stage, I haven't bothered introducing them because I don't see a future for us, regardless of Val."

Someone changed the subject, and with a sense of relief, Leah relaxed back in her chair, aware that she had refused to speak up and say what she'd come here to say. That a man she once loved with all her heart had stumbled back into her life, stirring up all the old yearnings of desire and fantasies, all the old anger and confusion over his feud with her father and how Johnny ripped her heart, not to mention her loyalties, in two and oh G.o.d she could so easily allow herself to fall for him again, despite her father, but there was Val, always Val, and while she could handle any other man turning his back on her and her son she could not handle Johnny doing it and because of that she wanted to hide Val, tuck him out of sight so for the first time in years she could grasp that fragile gla.s.s rope of happiness before she drowned drowned drowned in loneliness and self-pity.

The two hours flew by. Session over, the group met at a table cluttered with punch and cookies and brochures about coping with special-needs problems and products for special-needs children, including wheelchairs, walkers, and silverware that was crooked to facilitate eating. Leah picked up the pamphlet about the wheelchairs and studied the four-thousand-dollar price, frowning.

"Ridiculous, isn't it?" Sh.e.l.ley said, handing her a cookie. "When you're ready I have a friend who can get the same chair twenty percent cheaper. Will your insurance cover any of it?"

"There isn't any insurance."

Sh.e.l.ley rolled her eyes. "My G.o.d, how do you manage?"

"I don't." Leah smiled. "Val's outgrowing his chair like crazy. I simply can't afford four thousand dollars, not unless I take him out of physical therapy. And that's out of the question."

"There are a number of financial aid programs out there that could help."

"I've contacted them. Hopefully I'll hear something soon. But you know how it is; the waiting lists for these organizations are astronomical. It may take up to a year just to make our way onto the list."

"Would you like to talk about Sam?"

Leah broke the cookie apart, amazed and amused at Sh.e.l.ley's ability to read people's emotions. "It's not Sam I'm afraid of. Someone has come back into my life and I'm terrified of my feelings for him."

"The one who got away, huh?"

"My fault. I'm surprised he even speaks to me."

"Is he still in love with you?"

"I ... don't know. He kissed me. I'm not sure why. Maybe he was just all wrapped up in used-to-bes. used-to-bes. I'm afraid he thinks I'm still the same person I once was. That I'm the same girl who thumbed her nose at consequences, rebelled against the demands and expectations of my father. The free spirit who, in her love for him, would have defied the world to protect him." I'm afraid he thinks I'm still the same person I once was. That I'm the same girl who thumbed her nose at consequences, rebelled against the demands and expectations of my father. The free spirit who, in her love for him, would have defied the world to protect him."

"He sounds very special."

"He was. And is."

"Then if he's so special, he should have no problem with Val. Should he?"

Leah tossed the crumbling cookie onto the table and sighed. "I'm just too d.a.m.ned frightened of finding out."

Sam Clark bought his clothes straight out of the Sears catalog. He did not care for shopping malls at all, though he would break down at Christmastime and shop at J. C. Penney and Dillard's for his mother's and sister's presents. That way he could put them on his charge cards and pay them out over time. He always managed to make the last payment before the next Christmas rush, at which time he would start all over again.

Sam stood five-eight in his bare feet. Same as Leah. She was always careful to wear shoes with little or no heel because she felt uncomfortable looking down at her date. Shamika once pointed out that Nicole Kidman was several inches taller than Tom Cruise, and Leah had pointed out that she wasn't Nicole Kidman, and Sam sure as h.e.l.l wasn't Tom Cruise. Not even close. Sam outweighed gorgeous Tom by at least a hundred pounds. His scalp was showing through his thinning brown hair, and he had fingers like little Polish sausages. His breath always smelled like the wintergreen Certs he carried in his s.h.i.+rt pocket.

Leah waited for Sam on the front porch, sweater draped around her bare shoulders. She'd deliberated half an hour over what to wear. Not that she had a big choice. Her biggest decision had been over how much skin to reveal.

She'd finally opted for a halter-style sundress that exposed her shoulders and most of her back. This was the third date with Sam, after all. She was allowed to relax a little. She'd swept up her hair in a banana clip, dabbed a touch of an Elizabeth Taylor knock-off perfume behind each ear and borrowed Shamika's pearl drop earrings. She'd dragged out makeup she had not used since the last time she'd gone out with Sam. A spot of Pearlized Warm Copper on her eyelids, Mocha Mist on her cheeks, and Brun Rose on her lips-all from the clearance table at the local five-and-dime.

Sam pulled up to Leah's house at seven-thirty sharp, driving a 1980 El Dorado Cadillac sporting dealer tags. Last date he'd shown up in a maroon Lincoln Continental with an interior permeated by cigar smoke. The time before that an Olds Cutla.s.s boasting two hundred thousand miles and a crunched left b.u.mper that was to be banged out at the local body shop the following Monday-before the car was put on the lot for sale, of course.

He bounced from the car with his usual enthusiasm, hair slicked to one side to better cover the thin spot on top of his head. His coat was brown-and-gray plaid over an ochre-colored s.h.i.+rt and green trousers. His tie was red and blue pinstripes stamped with bucking horses.

Leah smiled as Shamika began laughing somewhere in the house behind her.

Randy's Bar and Grill on Cedar Creek Road served the best steaks in town. Sam could afford the best tonight, he informed Leah; he'd sold three cars that afternoon and was ready to celebrate. He'd called ahead for reservations, requesting a table outside on the patio overlooking the valley and the outdoor dance floor where a group specializing in '60s and '70s music were warming up their instruments.

As usual, the place was packed with tourists, most in town for the races. Texans in ostrich boots and cowboy hats flashed wads of money and ordered beer and margaritas by the pitcher. A group of New Yorkers took up a table for twenty, all having disembarked the chartered bus parked across the road. By the looks of them they had stripped the local souvenir shops of every tacky made-in-Taiwan Native American relic within a fifty-mile radius. One man wore a headdress of painted chicken feathers and wielded a rubber tomahawk, causing his companions to hoot in laughter every few minutes.

"Looks like the old place is rumbling tonight," Sam said, showing Leah to her chair. "We can go someplace else if you'd like."

"Wouldn't think of it. Besides, it's Friday night in Tourist Town. Every place will be packed."

Sam took his chair next to Leah, flas.h.i.+ng his This-car-has-never-been-driven-over-thirty-miles-an-hour-and-was-owned-by-a-little-old-octogenarian-who-only-drove-it-on-Sundays This-car-has-never-been-driven-over-thirty-miles-an-hour-and-was-owned-by-a-little-old-octogenarian-who-only-drove-it-on-Sundays smile at the teenage waitress dressed in a flamingo-pink can-can dress short enough to show off her frilly black petticoat. smile at the teenage waitress dressed in a flamingo-pink can-can dress short enough to show off her frilly black petticoat.

"I called in earlier," he told her. "Name's Sam Clark. You got an order back there for me."

Without a word she turned on her spiked heels and elbowed her way toward the kitchen.

Lacing his fingers on the table, Sam looked around the patio. The trees twinkled with firefly-sized white lights. Candles burned under globe chimneys on each table, giving the area a fairy-tale appearance.

"You're looking especially nice tonight," he told her. "I like your earrings."

"And I like your ... tie."

Sam looked pleased. "Good. It's got horses on it. See?" He flapped the thing at her. "I wore it just for you. Thought you'd appreciate the equestrian motif."

"Where on earth did you find it?" she asked, still smiling.

"Wal-Mart. They'd marked it down from seven dollars to three-fifty. Leftovers from their Easter sale, I think. Anyway, I found several I liked. Stocked up. Can't pa.s.s up a deal like that."

They nodded in unison.

"Hope you like this kinda music. I seen in the paper that this group was going to be here tonight. I saw them once before down at the convention center and thought, what the heck. Why not?"

"I like the oldies very much. They're my favorite."

"Yeah?" He fluttered his tie again. "Somehow you looked like the kinda gal who would enjoy a blast from the past. So who is your favorite?"

"Neil Diamond."

"Yeah." He nodded. "Ever seen him in concert? Puts on a h.e.l.luva show. Least he used to. Haven't seen him in oh, probably twenty years or so."

"I have every alb.u.m he ever did. His early ones are my favorites, though."

The waitress returned, wheeling an ice bucket stocked with a chilled bottle of champagne: Mums Extra Dry. Not Dom Perignon, certainly, but neither was it Andre' s. Sam's face lit up like a Christmas tree as he looked at Leah with an expression that made a knot form in her throat. Something was up, and she wasn't certain she was going to like it.

EIGHT.

After much cajoling on Dolores's part, Johnny finally agreed to a night out, despite his lack of sleep and the fact that he was supposed to fly his Cessna up to Boulder in the morning and catch a flight to D.C., where he was to speak first thing Monday morning before a congressional committee regarding the situation with the Indian Trust Fund.

With the top down on her Mercedes SL, Dolores's short black hair whipped freely in the night wind, as did Johnny's. The drive from Whitehorse Farm to Cedar Creek Road had been exhilarating, the mountain air biting their faces and taking their breath away. Johnny needed all the help he could get. His mind felt like mush. The idea of dancing away the next few hours was not high on his list of things he'd rather be doing. But, as usual, Dolores got her way. She always did. Which, he surmised, is what made her one of the finest reporters in the state. She simply did not know when to say no. Besides, she'd flogged him with enough guilt over his dalliance with Leah that he supposed he owed it to her.

And maybe a few beers and some light music would get his mind off the memory of Leah's mouth opening under his that morning, the way it had the very first time he'd kissed her. Timid. Hesitant. Experimenting with pa.s.sion.

The valet hurried from his perch near the restaurant door, obviously enthused over the prospect of driving Dolores's car. The young man recognized Johnny and Dolores immediately, thrust a pen and sc.r.a.p paper at them and pleaded for their autographs. Dolores glowed as he gushed over her reporting-she was the only reason he watched the news that early-she deserved a network spot-best-looking babe on television. Had she ever thought about acting? Posing for Playboy? Playboy?

And Johnny Whitehorse-who would have thought it. Saw Johnny's jeans billboard on the Las Vegas strip near the Mirage Hotel-Johnny standing three stories tall wearing unzipped jeans and no s.h.i.+rt-s.h.i.+t, man-awesome. My girlfriend gets turned on every time she sees it. Would Johnny sign the autograph to Karen, with l.u.s.t? No? With love, then. That would do. Oh, by the way, heard a rumor Johnny was going to do a movie up in Arizona with Robert Redford and Kevin Costner. Any truth to it? A sequel to Dances with Wolves! Dances with Wolves! No? Too bad. Was he really thinking about running for Senator Foster's seat in the next election? Wow, mind-blowing karma, huh? Get p.i.s.sed at the Senate and take a few scalps, huh? Just think of it-Indian dude finally gets even for all the injustices put on his people by the white populace. Far out! No? Too bad. Was he really thinking about running for Senator Foster's seat in the next election? Wow, mind-blowing karma, huh? Get p.i.s.sed at the Senate and take a few scalps, huh? Just think of it-Indian dude finally gets even for all the injustices put on his people by the white populace. Far out!

"h.e.l.lo, I'm Candy. I'm your hostess tonight and ... oh my G.o.d. You're Johnny Whitehorse, aren't you? Oh my G.o.d. Sarah! Sarah look who's here. Johnny Whitehorse!" Johnny Whitehorse!"

"Oh my G.o.d. Mr. Whitehorse, we were talking about you just this afternoon."

"I just bought your poster-"

"I've had it hanging up on my bedroom wall for the last three months-"

"I loved you in that ER ER episode. Oh, geez, you know, the one where you were shot during that demonstration-" episode. Oh, geez, you know, the one where you were shot during that demonstration-"

"Is it true you're dating Cher?"

"Doofus. He's with a date."

"Oops. Sorry. Hey, aren't you..."

"Doofus. That's Dolores Rainwater. G.o.d, don't you know anything? She does the morning news, on Channel 10."

"Sorry. I don't watch the news."

"Mr. Whitehorse, would you please please sign this menu? You will? Oh my G.o.d. I'm going to faint. Oh my G.o.d, I'm going to frame this and hang it over my bed so it's the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning." sign this menu? You will? Oh my G.o.d. I'm going to faint. Oh my G.o.d, I'm going to frame this and hang it over my bed so it's the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning."

"G.o.d, you're even more gorgeous in person than you are on your poster. And you're sooo sooo tall. Oh my G.o.d, Sarah, isn't he tall?" tall. Oh my G.o.d, Sarah, isn't he tall?"

"I made my boyfriend buy those jeans you wear in that commercial where you're walking down Fifth Avenue and traffic is cras.h.i.+ng all around you and the women are hanging out of the office windows and whistling? Duh. Not even. He looks like a dork in them compared to you."

"Someone told me at school they'd read in People People magazine that you've been offered a cola commercial, that they're going to use that same jeans commercial, only at the very end you're going to pop the tab off the cola and drink it-" magazine that you've been offered a cola commercial, that they're going to use that same jeans commercial, only at the very end you're going to pop the tab off the cola and drink it-"

"And all the drooling women rush to their soda machines to buy that drink-"

"Shhh. Randy is staring at us."

"Give them table eight on the veranda near the band. Oh my G.o.d, Judy, your waitress, is going to die when she sees you. Thank you so much for the autograph, Mr. Whitehorse. Oh my G.o.d, I can't believe I actually met him! Oh my G.o.d."

Sarah turned on her high heels and flounced away, menus tucked under her arm, blond ponytail swinging side to side like winds.h.i.+eld-wiper blades.

Dolores looked up at Johnny, her mouth curved in something just short of sarcasm. "I'm surprised they didn't have an o.r.g.a.s.m right there."

Johnny grinned. "You're just jealous because they didn't know who the h.e.l.l you are."

"Need I remind you that the valet thinks I should be in Playboy?" Playboy?"

"I'll give Hugh a call for you if you'd like."

"That's right. He tried to get you to do a layout with Miss October, didn't he?"

"No that was the publisher of Playgirl. Playgirl. Wanted me to Wanted me to be be Mr. Mr. October." October."

"And you turned his offer down. Johnny, Johnny, Johnny. What you could have done with two million dollars."

"You know what they say, sweetheart. It's better to leave 'em guessing. Fantasy is usually more satisfying than reality."

"You're joking, right? One could hardly say that about you."