The You I Never Knew Part 4

"What would you have said?"

She laughed humorlessly into the crystal highball gla.s.s. "I'd have told you to p.i.s.s off."

"That's what I figured."

They finished their drinks, and somewhere in the house a case clock struck eleven. All the things they weren't saying to each other-about Cody, about the transplant, and now about the surprise cameo appearance of Sam McPhee-hung like cobwebs in the air between them. Why hadn't Gavin told her the father of her child was in Crystal City?

The prospect of an explosive, accusatory conversation held no appeal at this late hour. Without even speaking a word, they made a tacit agreement to avoid touchy subjects-for now.

Gavin looked tired. Frighteningly tired. And she could see, hidden in the folds of his robe... something.

"It's a sac of dialysis fluid," he said.

Her cheeks heated. "I didn't mean to stare."

"Not to worry. I don't have much dignity left since I got sick." He smiled, but there was a hardness in his face that gave away his fury and frustration. "The stuff in the sac flows through an abdominal shunt. Want to see?"

"Dad, please."

"Okay, I apologize. I stare at it too, sometimes, like it belongs to someone else. Can't believe my own body's turned traitor on me."

They sat for long moments, sipping their drinks and watching the fire, not speaking. The silence swelled. Only in the mountains in winter, Mich.e.l.le reflected, did the quiet have this all-pervasive quality.

Suddenly she realized what she and Gavin were doing. Another battle of wills. Who would admit to being tired first? Who would make the first move?

No more games. She yawned elaborately, stretching her arms behind her head. "The Booker's did the trick."

"Guess I'll hit the hay, too." Gavin got to his feet. He was too good an actor to look relieved, but she figured he was. "You sleep in, now, Mich.e.l.le. Since I didn't expect you until tomorrow, I didn't make any plans."

"Plans?"

He cleared his throat. "You know... appointments."

"Oh." The impending procedure was becoming more grimly real to her with each pa.s.sing moment. "We can talk about that tomorrow."

"You got everything you need in the guesthouse?"

"It's fine." She stood, feeling awkward. "Thanks for stocking the fridge." She wondered if she should kiss him good night. Self-consciously, she lifted up on tiptoe, gave him a peck on the cheek, and let herself out the front door.

As she crossed the silent, starlit compound, she knew she wouldn't be sleeping in tomorrow. She had to take Cody to work at Sam's place. She had to figure out how to tell her son who Sam was without destroying him, without destroying them all.

Sunday

Chapter 6.

At 8:45, Sam heard the growl of a motor and the grind of tires over snow. Out in the yard, Scout, the Border collie who ruled the ranch, launched into a barking frenzy.

Sam had taken Loretta Sweeney home early last night. He'd been up since six, and felt all jumpy in his gut; didn't even want his morning coffee. d.a.m.n it, he was a grown man. The last thing in the world he should be doing was getting nervous over seeing an old girlfriend.

Except that the words "old" and "girlfriend" didn't seem to apply to Mich.e.l.le. Though their love affair had burned like a forest fire half a lifetime ago, she didn't seem old at all. Just... different. He remembered a girl with yellow hair and a quicksilver smile. Now she seemed far away and sort of fragile. But still so d.a.m.ned beautiful. And as for the girlfriend part-you didn't call your first grand pa.s.sion a "girlfriend." The term was too inadequate to cover the delirium, the ecstasy, the sweaty palms and fevered dreams of that lost, intense season.

The sound of car doors slamming made him wince. s.h.i.+t. He was nervous.

Going to the window, he expected to see Mich.e.l.le's Range Rover. Instead, he spied Ruby and Molly Lightning getting out of their old Apache pickup. Scout's "who-the-h.e.l.l-are-you" barking changed to "I'm-all-yours" whimpers of ecstatic greeting.

Sam gritted his teeth and tried to smile. Ordinarily he'd be glad to see Ruby and her daughter. But it wasn't an ordinary day. He was expecting Mich.e.l.le, and he didn't look forward to entertaining her, the kid, and now these two.

He went out onto the porch. Sunlight glinted off the snow in the yard and driveway. A row of icicles dripped from the eaves. The Border collie nuzzled Molly's hand.

"Hey, ladies," he said. "You're out bright and early this morning."

Ruby propped an elbow on the battered hood of the pickup. She had a broad, pleasant face, one gold tooth, and an ease around people that made her a popular teacher at the high school. "Hey, Sam," she said.

"Hiya, Sam." Molly scratched the dog behind the ears. "Nice ride last night."

"You, too," he said.

Ruby opened the door of the truck and started rummaging around. "I heard you wanted to buy a blanket."

"Ma'am, I wanted to buy them all."

Molly rolled her eyes.

"I did," Sam said. "It gets mighty cold up here in the winter."

"Well, I brought you one." She held out a folded blanket.

At that moment, another car turned off the highway and started up the drive. The Range Rover. Scout launched into her watchdog routine.

Sam took the blanket from Ruby. The thick wool felt warm against his hands. Plenty warm. "Hey, thanks." He reached into his back pocket for his wallet.

Ruby reached around behind him and grabbed his wrist, holding it firmly. "Sam McPhee, don't you dare. It's a gift because you never let me pay you for delivering Glenda's babies."

He laughed. "Glenda's an Irish setter. She didn't need much help."

"Whatever. The blanket's to say thanks."

Mich.e.l.le parked and got out of her car. And there stood Sam with Ruby's arm halfway around him, her hand pressed against his hip pocket.

He stepped back. "Morning, Mich.e.l.le."

She inclined her head politely. Distantly. "h.e.l.lo, Sam." The collie hung back, head tilted to one side, waiting to see how friendly this one would turn out to be.

"This here's Ruby Lightning and that's her daughter Molly over there."

"Pleased to meet you." Although Mich.e.l.le smiled readily, the temperature seemed to drop a few degrees. "Look, if this is a bad time-"

"Not at all. You ladies want to come in for coffee?"

Ruby shook her head, winking at him. "I better get going. We've got church this morning."

Molly walked over from the paddock adjacent to the barn. A few of the horses, their coats thick with inch-long hair, stood at the fence waiting for their morning feed. "I could stay and help out with the horses," she called out.

Then Mich.e.l.le's son got out of the Range Rover, looking as sulky and undernourished as a Calvin Klein ad. Interest sparked in his eyes when he spotted Molly, but he was quick to hide it with a squint that reminded Sam eerily of Gavin Slade. The kid would probably love having her around all day.

"Not today, Molly, but thanks for the offer," Sam said. He didn't want her to have to put up with the little hoodlum.

"My son's name is Cody," Mich.e.l.le said, motioning him over.

It occurred to Sam that he didn't know the boy's last name, or if Mich.e.l.le had a married name now. The kid shook his hair back. Stuck his thumb in the top of his belt. "Hiya."

"Hi," Molly said, transparent in her interest. She regarded the kid with the same fascination Red Riding Hood had for the Big Bad Wolf.

Ruby climbed into her truck. "See you around. Nice meeting you both."

Molly took her time getting in. " 'Bye, Sam. 'Bye, Mich.e.l.le and... Cody." The smile she sent him was way more than the kid deserved.

As the truck pulled away, a sense of amazement crept over Sam. Mich.e.l.le had been dead to him. For seventeen years she had been gone, as permanently and irrevocably as if she had been buried six feet under. Now here she was, back again in all her beauty and all her strangeness, and he found himself vacillating between elation and rage. He found himself with a hard-on that made him glad his jacket was zipped.

"Cody's ready to get to work," Mich.e.l.le said.

"Is that right?" Sam asked Cody.

The kid shrugged, slouching in the time-honored fas.h.i.+on of teens with att.i.tude. "Guess so."

Sam flicked his gaze over him from head to toe. s.h.i.+ning light-colored hair cut too long in some places, too short in others. A leather jacket that would get him knifed in certain neighborhoods. Black jeans and designer combat boots.

The humane thing to do would be to give the kid one of the Filson coveralls from the stable lockers, but Sam wasn't feeling too humane about this guy.

"Let's go to the barn," he said, putting on his John Deere cap. "I'll introduce you to Edward and he can get you started."

"Started on what?"

Sam thought of the heap of manure Diego had left unshoveled. "Oh, I've got a real treat for you, Cody."

He turned to Mich.e.l.le, flas.h.i.+ng her a grin. She blinked at him as if his smile startled her. "Go on inside, Mich.e.l.le. Make yourself comfortable. There's coffee in the kitchen."

She opened her mouth to say something, then seemed to think better of it and went toward the house. He stopped for a second and looked at her on his porch, and their gazes caught and held.

Though he made no move, a part of him stepped back, and he caught his breath. Mich.e.l.le, here at his house. Looking as pure and brittle as the sun-shot icicles that lined the eaves above her, a dripping frame of cold and light. Sam felt as if he was in the middle of a dream. This wasn't real. She wasn't real.

Just then, the sun won its battle with the ice, and the row of icicles crackled and fell, coming away in slow motion and then falling all at once, stabbing into the snow-covered hedge in front of the porch. The sudden, glittering tumult seemed to startle her into action. She gave a brief, taut smile and disappeared into the house.

Sam started toward the horse barn, the collie leaping at his side. He didn't look back to see if the kid was following.

Situated inside the barn door was an office with papers, certificates, and permits plastered all over the wall, a cluttered kitchenette and coffee bar, and a refrigerator with a keg tap on the door. A pellet stove heated the room.

Edward Bliss sat with his feet up on a battered metal desk, a phone cradled between his shoulder and his ear, and a beatific smile on his face.

"Morning, Romeo," Sam said.

"I'll call you later, darlin'," Edward crooned into the receiver. He hesitated, listening, and his grin widened as he hung up. "You took the purse last night, boss, but I was the one who celebrated."

"So what else is new?"

"That biff on the back of your trailer. Did you see that? Looks like some idiot nailed you last night."

"As a matter of fact..." Sam stepped out of the doorway and motioned the kid into the office. "This is Cody. He's going to be helping out around the place. Cody, this is my partner, Edward Bliss."

Edward glanced up distractedly. Then he did a double take, looking from Sam to Cody and back again, his eyes wide. "Jesus H. Geronimo Christ-"

"Something wrong?" Sam knew Edward didn't care for punks, but he'd never known his partner to make such a snap judgment. So the kid had hit the trailer, so he'd made a mistake. It wasn't the end of the world.

Edward stood up, gathering the papers on the desk into a stack. "Nope, not at all. Cody's going to take Diego's place, then?"

"That's what I figure. For a while, at least." Sam hadn't even had time to ask Mich.e.l.le how long she'd be visiting.

Scout lost interest in the entire situation and trotted out to the yard. Edward kept staring at the kid as if to drill a hole through him. Cody stared back, eyes narrowed.

"All right." Edward snapped his suspenders and reached for his battered plaid coat, flecked with hayseed and oat grains. "Let's get started."

Most of the stalls were empty, the horses turned out for the day since it promised to be sunny. The barn had the feel of a cathedral. Daylight streamed through high windows under the eaves, and the echo of footsteps sounded loud in the hush.

"So what do I do?" Cody asked, dubiously eyeing the area. Mild suspicion tinged his voice.

Edward opened the door to one of the stalls. "Simple. You move the manure out and the cedar shavings in."

The kid swallowed, staring at the floor of the stall. "Just this one?"

"Nope." Sam gestured down the length of the barn. "What've we got here, twenty jugs?" Sam told himself not to enjoy this, but he couldn't help it.

"Great," said Cody.

"Don't go into this one without Edward or me present." Sam showed him a roomy stall in the middle. "That's Sylvia. She's expecting, and she's getting kind of cranky."

Cody peered over the top of the half door. The roan mare flared her nostrils at him and laid her ears back in warning. Her sides fanned in and out like a set of bellows.

"Yeah?" Cody asked with the first spark of interest he'd exhibited since seeing Molly.

"The foal could come tonight," Sam said. "Sylvia's showing signs of her labor. We'll be bathing her today and getting the birthing stall ready."

The mare glared white-eyed at the stranger. The boy glared back. Sam added, "Just relax, act a little friendly, and she'll warm up to you." He made a clucking sound in his throat. The mare's ears eased up, and she stuck her head out of the stall. Cody hung back a moment, then put out his hand. The mare sniffed his shoulder. He rubbed her nose and cheek, hesitantly at first and then with more force.