"C'mon, Currick, no stalling."
"I didn't think you even heard me say that, you were so involved in telling me what came easy to me and that you had to work for."
"Oh, no you don't–you do that all the time, changing the subject like that. You're not going to lead me off the subject by baiting me this time. I challenged you to name one thing that didn't come easy for you. And you said you could, but then you–"
"You."
"–got me started on... What?"
"I said you."
"Me? Me what?"
"You didn't come easy for me, Matty."
He'd stunned her. Even if it hadn't shown in her wide eyes and open mouth, the fact that she had no retort said it all.
"Never," he said quietly. "Not even when we were kids. I never understood the restlessness in you, that energy that pushed you into leaping into things. I had a lot of time to think about it, and I think we were on different schedules, I guess you could say."
She was still goggling at him, but he could see the quick, smooth wheels of her mind taking in what he was saying.
"While you were off exploring the world and finding yourself like a normal person, in college and beyond, I stayed at home and wondered what was wrong with me that I didn't want to." He tried for a grin, and got about halfway. "People that age are supposed to be finding themselves. Supposed to be struggling to find an identity. Not me." This grin was better, maybe it even qualified as wry. "I had to face it–I lack the emotional imagination for an identity crisis."
"You? You were always so damned perfect–"
"No, don't try to make me feel better about this, Matty." He said dryly. Her tone had been disgusted, not complimentary. "I accepted it a while back that I'm that sort of person. Boring, bland and settled. All along, I knew where I wanted to be, and I'm here. I knew what I wanted to do, and I'm doing it. I knew how I wanted to fit into the world, and I'm comfortable as I am. Multiple choice just isn't my style, I suppose. But you–"
"Now wait a minute, Currick. That's going too far. I'd say you had plenty of multiple choice with all the women I hear you've dated."
"You ever hear of safety in numbers?"
"Afraid one of 'em would catch you, and then you wouldn't be the swinging bachelor of the Slash-C?"
He let out a deep, weary sigh. "I know I'm going to pay for this in gettin' the rough side of your tongue about my ego, but it was their safety, not mine I was thinking of. I didn't want any of them to think I was going to give more than I knew I could. Maybe I had the feeling the best I'd ever have was already given out, and I hadn't gotten it back. Careless of me, maybe, but that's how it was."
Looking at each other in the murky shadows, he could see the question of whether he was saying what she thought he might be saying–worried he might be saying?–spark across her eyes.
The question never came. Instead, she abruptly straightened, and the spark in her eyes changed to a different kind of heat.
"Oh, of course, chivalrous Dave Currick, protector of womankind wasn't looking out for himself. Just safeguarding the hearts of all the foolish females who threw themselves at him. I should have realized."
She spun on one bare heel, and marched back to the bedroom. She didn't slam the door, but the sound of it still echoed in his ears as, once more in the dark, he pushed his hands through his hair in frustration.
* * * *
Matty was nearer the phone when it rang just after breakfast so she automatically picked up the receiver.
"Slash-C."
"Matty! Oh, Matty, dear, it's Donna Currick."
The first sound of that warm voice and memories flooded through Matty.
Grams had raised her, had been her anchor and her support from the time a drunken driver left her as the only survivor in a car accident that made her an orphan when she was still a toddler. But it was Donna Currick who had helped ease her through so many of the terrors of growing from a child to a woman, from her first bra and heels, to hairstyles and hormone swings.
Tears pricked at the back of her eyes in an instant, unexpected and completely inconvenient–just the way they used to during those unsettling times when she'd so often relied on Dave's mother for understanding. Dave's mother, now her mother-in-law. Oh, Lord...
"Mrs. Currick," she managed to say through numb lips as she flashed Dave a look. She hoped it didn't show outright panic, especially since things had been polite but cool between them this morning.
That's the way she intended to keep it. It would be much safer that way. She'd been all too ready last night to not only accept what he said, but to read all sorts of meanings into it. It was too easy to fall back into old, bad habits with Dave. She'd let herself say too much, telling him that she couldn't come back. And then, when she'd gone back to the living room and tried to be more in control of the conversation, she'd nearly fallen to pieces over that outrageous statement of his that she hadn't come easy for him. If there was one thing she'd been in her entire life it was easy for Dave Currick.
Not that it did her pride any good to admit it, but even uncomfortable truths were still the truth.
And now, pride or no pride, she couldn't regret it if her look across the kitchen to him resembled an SOS sign, because he immediately came to her side.
"My mother?"
She nodded, even as she said into the mouthpiece, "Where are you and Mr. Currick now?"
Dave mouthed the word "office," placed one large hand on her shoulder and patted it twice in a gesture of encouragement that warmed her skin, then he headed down the hall.
"Bangkok. We just returned, back from the most wonderful expedition into the backcountry. You wouldn't believe how different it is from Wyoming! I rode an elephant. And–What? Oh, yes, Ed says I shouldn't get sidetracked when it's your news that–"
A click sounded, then Dave's voice came on, sounding amplified and loud to Matty. "Mom? It's Dave. I'm on the speakerphone in the office. Matty? Why don't you hang up there and come back here with me so we can talk to them together?"
He emphasized the word "together" enough to indicate it was also so they could exchange visual signals. Dave Currick was no dummy.
"Good idea."
As she hung up the kitchen receiver, she heard Dave asking where his parents were and Mrs. Currick starting on the same answer.
When she realized she was dawdling down the hall like a chicken-hearted coward, she forced herself to pick up her pace. As she headed for a chair near the door to the back porch that gave the office direct access to outdoors, Dave motioned her to come over to where he was sitting behind the desk, not far from the phone, set on speaker.
Ed Currick was talking. "We came back to our hotel from this excursion to a garbled message from Lisa–interference on the phone lines I suppose. Although we're paying an arm and a leg for a hotel that's supposed to have all the modern conveniences."
Matty pushed a pile of papers back, preparing to lean against the edge of the desk, even though that would leave her staring at the bearskin on the wall. But Dave wrapped his hand around her arm and drew her toward the big leather chair he was seated in. For one mind-emptying second she thought he was going to pull her down to his lap. Instead, he patted the padded arm and steered her toward it. When she didn't immediately comply, he touched her lips with one hand and his with the other, then drew imaginary lines in the air that converged at the speaker phone. For good measure, he cupped his hands behind his ears and flapped them.
She got it. His parents would be able to tell how far apart they were sitting by their voices, and they would read a great deal into that. Especially his mother.
She perched sidesaddle on the chair arm, balancing precariously, and turned more away from Dave than toward him.
"All we could make out was something about you, Dave, and a judge. Wouldn't have known what was going on at all if I hadn't received an e-mail from Herm Halloran. Could have knocked me over with a feather."
"I'm sorry if our getting married surprised
you, Dad–"
Mr. Currick gave a bark of laughter. "Oh, it's no surprise about you two–I meant Herm knowing how to e-mail. No, only thing about you two getting married is, we wish we could have been there to see it."
Hot, moist pressure filled Matty's eyes. She bobbled on her narrow seat and Dave gripped her arm, steadying her and also sliding her around so she straddled the arm, a much more secure seat, and one that let them look at each other.
"I didn't think..." she said to him. She felt stricken at the sudden recognition of what their son's wedding might have meant to his parents.
"We didn't think," he amended firmly, but also giving a slight shrug, dismissing her worry.
A mellower chuckle came from halfway around the world this time. "No, I don't suppose you two did think much about that sort of thing. Not after all the time you waited to get married."
After a faint shuffling sound, Donna Currick came back on. "Oh, yes, I do wish we could have been there to see you two finally get married. And to give you a beautiful wedding. Getting married in the courthouse–oh, Dave, how could you do that?"
Dave rolled his eyes in amusement, but Matty felt an obligation to come to his defense. Only from a sense of fairness, of course, because she'd gotten him into this.
"It was my idea, Mrs. Currick. I thought–"
"Oh, Matty, dear, Mrs. sounds so formal. I think you should call me Mom Currick now, don't you? Or Donna if you're not comfortable yet with Mom."
Matty couldn't speak. She feared that if she tried to form words the lump in her throat would dissolve into tears. Was this what guilt tasted like?
Dave obviously didn't share her guilt. He quirked a grin at her as he diverted his mother's attention. "We had a very nice reception."
"That's what Lisa said in her message. And something about it being a surprise?"
"Yeah, it was a surprise–practically knocked the bride right off her feet," he added with a slow smile that had Matty reliving the sensation of being swung up into his arms and carried into the church.
A muffled sound came across the wire. "I don't know what your father was talking about, that Lisa's message was garbled. I understood it perfectly." Her voice faded a bit as she apparently faced her husband, "You just couldn't believe your ears, Ed." Then came back in full force. "And she said she'd never seen a couple better suited to each other. I wish I could have seen you." The sniffle reached them loud and clear. "I always dreamed of the day I'd see you two walk down the aisle together."
Matty stared at Dave and saw her disbelief mirrored back to her. Well before Dave broke up with her six years ago, Donna Currick had made it quite plain that, while she loved Matty as a daughter and didn't mind their dating, she'd thoroughly disapproved of their becoming what she considered too serious.
"You could've fooled me," Dave murmured.
"Don't be disrespectful, David. I thought you were too young back then, but now... Oh, this is wonderful! We'll have to give you a real reception when we get home. We can be back in a week–"
"No!"
Matty and Dave were in perfect unison–for once.
Then he started silently laughing, showing no sign of taking matters in hand.
"That's so nice of you Mrs.–uh, Donna. But, please, don't even think about cutting your trip short. I mean, I know–we both know how long you've dreamed about this trip and how much planning it took. That's the reason we didn't tell you ahead of time," she added with a flash of brilliance. "In fact, that's the reason we tried to keep the whole thing quiet. We didn't want to wait, but we didn't want to interrupt your trip, so we thought if we went and quietly got married by the judge, we could be married and you could continue your trip."
"That's right," Dave said, and Matty smiled at him in appreciation of his support. "In fact, Matty didn't want to have a reception at all. So two would be terrible."
Her smile plummeted to a frown as she swatted his arm.
"Ouch!" he yelped for effect, and pretended to cower into the chair, all the while grinning at her.
"Dave, stop that," Donna said automatically.
"Me? I didn't do a thing." An evil chuckle badly dented his protest of innocence.
But his mother wasn't listening anyway. "Oh, but, Matty, dear, you must do all the lovely wedding things. I know you don't think so now, but you'll regret it later if you don't."
"But we did have a reception," she reminded the older woman. "And truly, it was great. They decorated, and had music and dancing and a cake and–"
"We did the cake-cutting tradition of feeding each other a piece," Dave inserted.
His expression was bland, but his eyes radiated heat. A heat that ignited a sensory memory of the taste of his fingers against her tongue. A heat that must have been contagious because it centered low in her belly.
"–And everything," she finished lamely.
But it seemed to satisfy Donna. "Well, I'm glad to hear that. And to hear that you enjoyed it so much. Lisa said folks took lots of pictures."
"Hundreds," Matty confirmed.
"So at least we'll get to see those when we get back. And I suppose it wouldn't make much sense to have a second reception so soon after the first."
"Right," Dave finally contributed. "Besides, we have a lot to do right now–we're awfully busy."
"I'm sure you are," Donna said with a little chuckle. Her voice grew slightly fainter as if she'd turned away from the mouthpiece again. "They say they're awfully busy right now, Ed. Apparently they don't want a couple of old fogies around to cramp their style."
"Mother." Dave used the long-suffering tone of children–adult and otherwise–but with a smile lurking in his eyes.
Only then did Matty realize what Donna Currick thought was keeping the newlyweds busy.
"Around the ranches," she blurted out. "You know, spring work."
"Of course, of course, dear," soothed Donna. "And I know those early days of marriage can take a lot of adjustment. Be patient with each other. And don't be fooled into thinking that because you knew each other so long growing up that you know everything about each other now. Not only will there be changes from these past six years, but there will be changes all along, each day of your married life–if you're lucky. And, Matty?"
"Yes–I'm here."
Dave winked at her, easing some of her renewed guilt at receiving these words of wisdom under false pretenses.
"One more thing, and I mean this very seriously. Don't let Dave browbeat you, dear. He's gotten too accustomed to running everything and everyone."
"Hey!" Dave protested, no longer looking quite so amused.
Matty smirked at him. "No, I won't let him browbeat me, Donna."
"I know you won't. You're such a strong woman now. That's why you two are so good for each other. What? Oh, your father says we should let you two young people go now so you can start your day."
A flurry of good wishes and goodbyes followed before Dave leaned forward and punched the speaker phone button to disconnect.
"Well, I think that went pretty well."
"Do you?" Matty rose from the chair arm, wrapping her arms around her waist, hands cupping her elbows, and moving across the room to the battered leather couch under the windows. She sank into the cushions with her chin dropped down.
Dave watched her warily. He wasn't big on body language, but that message came through loud and clear.
"Don't you?" he finally asked.
Her only answer was a gesture consisting of half a head-shake and half a shrug.
"I don't think they saw through our pose at all," he pursued, "so what's worrying you?"
She looked up at him and her eyes were pained. "Maybe it's because they didn't see through it. They took it all as truth and they were so happy. What's going to happen when we...when it ends? How're they going to feel then?"
He came around the desk and sat on the couch beside her, propping one foot up on the scarred wooden table. "They'll get over it. We'll make sure it's a friendly divorce. Giv
e 'em visiting rights to their ex-daughter-in-law." He grinned wickedly. "And give you visiting rights to Juno's foal."
"You can't shrug and say They'll get over it. They'll be hurt."
"Well, they will get over it. People do get over things. Even being hurt."
She looked at him for a long, serious moment. "You were right, Dave."
"I was?"
"I didn't think this through. I was so intent on what's good for the Flying W, I didn't think about the other people who might be hurt by this. Not only the people who gave us presents, but people who are emotionally involved. People like your parents and Lisa. Your mother and father were always so good to me... I didn't think about how they'd feel about this. If I had thought about it, I never would have put them in the position they're going to be in when this ends."
Dave stared at her.
And don't be fooled into thinking that because you knew each other so long growing up that you know everything about each other now.
He slid back on the couch, and took it in. Sometimes his mother was downright spooky.
He'd accused Matty of not thinking it through? How about him? He was always supposed to be the sensible one of the pair of them, but when it came right down to it, Matty–whom he had accused more than once of being selfish and shortsighted–had seen farther and more sympathetically into the hearts of his mother and father than he had.
"Maybe I should stop this now," she said while she chewed on her thumbnail. "Before I do any more damage."
She was ready to call it off, no matter what the cost to her or her ranch. He could see it in her eyes, in the decided line of her jaw. End the whole charade now. Give up a near-certain shot at the grant money. Give up the renewed hope of turning around the Flying W. Give up living here at the Slash-C. Give up being his wife.
In that instant, Dave knew that if he'd been selfish in plunging into this escapade with Matty, he was prepared to be a damned sight more selfish.
He slid his hand around hers, and drew it into the space between them.
"You're not doing this alone, Matty. It's we–"
She was shaking her head "This is no time for that one for all and all for one motto from our childhood. I was the one who came up with the scheme, and–"
"And I was the one who went along with it. We made the same vows in front of Judge Halloran, remember? We signed the same marriage certificate."