From Here to There (11 page)

 "The schedule got screwed," Helene countered, delving into the box to pick out two teabags, dropping one in each cup. "I haven’t given up on it someday. Just when it’s right.”

 "I've envied you ever since we were kids," Nancy admitted, pouring the hot water over the bags.

 "You have to be kidding!"

 "Why wouldn't I? You're beautiful, rich, smart. Just about everything I'm not." Nancy scrunched up her piquant face.

 "Oh yeah, if you're so dumb, how come you're the one having a baby in less than a month, whose father is a man you adore, and how come I'm the one still trying to figure out up from down? If you're so plain, how come Emile practically devours you with his eyes every time he looks at you? As for rich, well, you and Emile have this little ranch. If I had half what you've got, I'd be a happy woman."

 Nancy gaped, then shook her head with a giggle. "You're right. I am rich, beautiful and smart. How come it takes you to point it out to me?"

 "Sure it took me," Helene scoffed. "You go around your kitchen, humming and rubbing your tummy, looking out the window to see if your man's walking up the house ready for lunch, with a smile on your face that would put the Mona Lisa to shame. You don't need me to tell you anything."

 Nancy grinned at her and sipped her tea. "Okay, I agree. I do have it all, but you could too. It just takes falling in love with the right man."

 "I'm not sure I even know what love is. I certainly didn't love Phillip when I agreed to marry him, and I think all he wanted was the proper hostess to grace his table." The kisses of fire, the feeling of Phillip's hard, muscular body against hers popped into her mind. But that had all been too late, and it didn't change the basic type of man Phillip was, the things he wanted out of life. Mentally, she shook herself as a reminder that passion wasn't love.  

"What you need now is another man." Nancy's eyes narrowed a little with speculation. "How about Wes Carlson? He's quite the hunk, and he's always had a thing for you."

 "Wesley?" Helene repeated with amazement. "Wes Carlson has never said a word to me that would have indicated any interest. Besides, hasn't he been through just about every woman in the valley, one after another." She giggled. "Or sometimes several at the same time."

 Nancy chuckled. "Well, there is that, but he's said plenty to Emile, especially after he found out you were getting married. Emile thinks, and so do I, that where you're concerned, Wes has regrets."

 "I can't believe if he was interested he wouldn't have made it clear. He's certainly not the shy kind."

 "Maybe your brains and career intimidated him," Nancy suggested.

 Helene raised her eyebrows skeptically.

 "All right, maybe not, but you do have to admit he's tall, dark and handsome." Nancy levered herself from her chair and began sliding cookies from the cooling rack onto a plate.

 "I'll give him that."

 "Well, if it's not going to be Wes, how about Len Gibson? He's a nice guy."

 "Is he living around here again? I thought he'd moved to the West Coast."

 "He had, but you know how it is. People move away but when it comes time to settle down, they don't want to do it a thousand miles from Montana. He's taken over running his dad's hardware store in town. Now nobody could accuse him of being a womanizer."

 Helene laughed. "That's true. At least not if Len's anything like he was as a teen-ager. Maybe a bookworm or a geek or a nerd, but definitely not a womanizer."

 "I could invite him to dinner and..."

 Helene made a T with her hands. "Time out. I don't want another man just yet. This thing with Phillip was hard on me and him. I don't want to do that to someone else. And I still have to get the annulment before anything new can be on the table."

 Nancy set the plate of warm cookies before Helene, carefully settling herself back on the chair. "I say keep it simple. Find a hunk who appeals to you, snag him, haul him in and marry him, then have lot of babies." She grabbed a cookie and began to munch on it.

 "Is that what you did?” Helene asked. “You really think Wes Carlson is interested in me?"

 Nancy grinned. "Yeah, I do. He's a great looking guy."

 "I remember. Hmmm. No, I'm not ready to think about this! And don't you dare tempt me... and not with a warm, oatmeal cookie either." Helene gave a mock glare at Nancy before she reached for a warm cookie.

#

 Driving in the ranch yard at dusk, Helene noted the truck parked by the bunkhouse. She'd never seen it before, but she had no idea how many men her uncle employed now and then. Hobo was sitting watchfully but quietly on the porch; so obviously there were no unwelcome strangers on the land.

 "I'm back," she yelled as she slid her coat onto a hook beside the kitchen door. She heard her uncle's responding grunt from the room he used as a den.

 Stirring and tasting the simmering stew, she noted with satisfaction that it was tender and the herbs had added just the right zest to the meat and vegetables. She poured water into the coffee maker and using the grinder she'd recently purchased, quickly ground a measure of beans. The aroma of coffee blended with the stew to fill the room with the pleasurable scent of country kitchen. She picked up one of the loaves of bread and began slicing it.

 "How was your visit with Nancy?" her uncle asked as he walked through the swinging door between the kitchen and living room.

 "Great. The baby's nursery is adorable. I loved the teddy bear mobile she made for over the crib." She smiled as she shook her head. "Nancy is so creative, but she never seems to see her own abilities as being special."

 "Emile was a blessed man the day that little gal said yes," Amos agreed, nodding.

 "So, how was your day?"

 "Good... Uh, I guess there's something I better tell you though."

 Helene looked up expectantly, smiling faintly at the somber tone to his voice. "You couldn't find the cattle?"

 "Nope, we found them. Me and my new hand... Uh... about that new hand, Helene." He hesitated before he said, "It's Phil Drummond."

 Helene stared blankly at him. "You have a hand with the same name as the man I married."

 "Not exactly. My new hand
is
the man you married."

 She frowned at him. "Phillip Drummond would never be a hand on a ranch. Why should he?"

 Her uncle cleared his throat noisily and poured himself a cup of the still brewing coffee. "Well, he's got a lot to learn, that's for sure, but he is going to stay here for awhile learning it."

 "Phillip?" She couldn't believe it. The whole thing was too fantastic. She had come West to get her head together, to find some peace; and Phillip-- what exactly was her uncle telling her?

 "I offered it to him before I left Concord," her uncle said, a little warily now. "I didn't say nothing to you because I wasn't sure he'd come. No point in getting you looking forward to something that might not happen."

 "Looking forward?" Helene exploded. "Looking forward! What made you think I'd want Phillip here?"

 "I figured--"

 "Uncle Amos, I can't believe this," Helene interrupted. "How could you do this to me?"

 "You don't want him here?" her uncle asked. He smiled, but it didn’t look like the kind of smile that said he had regrets.

 "I definitely don't want him here. You'll have to tell him to leave. I can't believe you did this without discussing it with me first. He can't stay."

 Uncle Amos shook his head. "I'm not asking him to leave. I can use his help and maybe he's not very experienced yet, but he'll do fine once he is."

 "Why? Why would you urge him out here?" She glared at him, hands on hips, then scowled out the window at the new truck parked by the bunkhouse. "Is that where he is?"

 "Yep."

 "Then I'll tell him." She pursed her lips together. Grabbing her coat from the hook by the door, she tore out the door, not waiting for her uncle's response. She wouldn't have Phillip playing games with her or her uncle. He would leave--immediately or she'd know the reason why!

#

 Phillip felt the hot water beating against his sore muscles and knew there'd never be enough to take away the stiffness he felt. He'd had no idea what most of a day spent in the saddle of a willful horse would feel like. Every muscle in his body seemed to be aching. All he'd been able to think about as they'd ridden back to the ranch house was the hot shower waiting at the end of the road. He had listened to Amos talk about the ranch, about the peculiarity of cattle, but he'd carried only one thought in his own mind--hot water and lots of it.

 The irony of it was he'd thought he was in good physical shape. He guessed there was good shape and
good shape.
Push-ups and weight lifting were obviously no preparation for a day in the saddle, riding up and down slopes and being beaten by malicious branches from wayward trees which his horse had no interest in avoiding.

 When the water almost instantly turned from hot to cold, he groaned but quickly shut off the tap and reached out of the stall for a towel and remembered there hadn't been any. He'd see about that tomorrow.

 He threw open the bathroom door and strode across the chilly bunkhouse. The cold air against his wet flesh gave him impetus for quickly finding his clothing. He cursed when the bunkhouse door opened and a burst of cold air struck him with a shock. He looked up, instantly wishing he hadn't.

 "Phillip!"

 Helene stood in the door, wearing boots and jeans, her short hair windblown, a scowl on her beautiful face. A frigid breeze froze him in his place almost as surely as her irate expression. To be caught soaking wet and buck naked by Helene was not the way he'd visualized their first meeting. Retreat wasn't a possibility, not without a tremendous loss of dignity and he'd lost enough of that already.

 He met her eyes, keeping his own carefully expressionless. "Ever hear of knocking?" He heard the door slam as he walked to his suitcase. Although he didn't hear her in the room, he knew she hadn't gone.

 His suitcase was a mess. Everything had been packed in a hurry and trying to find clean underwear was an obstacle course. It didn't help any that his body was wet and his hands felt clumsy, oddly shaky. Seemingly hours passed before he'd pulled on briefs and jeans.

 "I... I did knock," she said, her voice unsteady. "You just didn't hear me." Her voice sounded as though she was talking to a wall, and she'd lost the angry tone. Clearly a little shock hadn't been such a bad idea, even if it hadn't been one of his. "I demand to know what you're doing here!" 

 "The last I heard, I was working for your uncle. Did anything happen to change that?"

 "This is preposterous." The anger was rising again in her voice.

 Phillip shrugged, then winced as he pulled on his shirt. "You're telling me." He grinned as he turned and looked at her back. "It's safe. I'm reasonably decent." When she turned around, her cheeks were flushed, the expression in her eyes one he wouldn't dare try to identify.

 "That's a matter of opinion," she countered, then repeated her question. "Why are you here?"

 "I don't have a reasonable answer to that question for you or myself, but I am here and so..." He let his voice drift off as he sat on his bunk to pull on socks. He couldn't believe how much his legs hurt as he bent forward.

 "You can't stay. The situation would be intolerable."