Perfect Family (38 page)

“I didn't want anything from you,” he said.

“Your mother …”

“She's not my mother,” he said abruptly, and she knew he was angry. White-hot angry.

“She thinks she is.”

He turned to her. “My mother was an alcoholic who slept with a married man. Among others. I'm not even sure David Macleod was my father.” His voice was flat. But despite the lack of emotion, he seemed alone and exposed.

“Blood isn't the only thing that makes a mother,” she said. “Mine left me when I was still a baby. She didn't want to be burdened with a child.”

“Is that what your father told you?”

“No, but then I never heard another explanation, either.”

Ross didn't say anything.

“Sarah said to tell you that we would be taking out Daisy and Carefree. Or do you think it's okay for Sarah to ride? She looks … a little tired.”

“Neither you or I can keep her off a horse. She's been riding since she was four. She won't stop now.”

“That's what I thought,” she said as she continued to watch his face. The reserve was still there, gathered around him like a cloak.

She started to go, then hesitated. “You're angry.”

He stared right through her. “I'm just the hired help, ma'am.”

“You're anything but just the hired help.”

“Ah, but not good enough to call when you were hurt.”

“I didn't want you bothered. Everyone else was awake and …”

“And you'd told me about the letter.” He hesitated, then continued bitterly, “Elizabeth told me that you thought someone had hit you. Is that why you didn't want Sarah to get me? Did you think I would ever hurt you?”

He'd figured it all out. And she saw the pain in his eyes. The pain that went hand-in-hand with his anger.

“No,” she said. “I
don't
think so. I was confused yesterday morning. I hurt and I was scared, and I didn't know what was going on. But whoever did it was a coward. And the one thing you're not is a coward.”

He stood absolutely still for a moment, then slowly seemed to relax.

“I had better get back,” she said. “Sarah's making breakfast.”

He nodded.

She found herself reluctant to leave, unwilling—or unable—to flee those searching dark eyes. The barn suddenly seemed very close. She shivered inside her skin but she couldn't seem to move.

Ben barked, and both grateful and resentful for the interruption, she looked down. Although he stayed at her feet, his body wriggled frantically. He'd just seen Timber, who had come out of one of the stalls and stood next to Ross.

“I'll miss him,” she said. She really meant she would miss both of them.

“Then don't go.”

His words stunned her. And obviously from the look on his face they stunned him, too.

He turned his back as if to deny his words.

Left speechless and confused for a moment, she didn't know how to answer. So she didn't. She escaped instead into something easier. “We … we'll be here in about a half hour,” she said.

“I'll have the horses ready,” he said curtly.

She left while she could. He always sent her senses spiraling in storm-tossed confusion.

Breakfast was ready when she got back. Orange juice, berries, and a Southwestern omelet. But her appetite was gone, lost in that maelstrom of emotions Ross always stirred in her. Why couldn't her heart beat faster when she was with Alex? He seemed so simple compared to Ross's complexity. Yet never once had her heart jumped at just seeing him.

But neither had it felt fear.

She forced down some food. She knew it was good, but it still tasted like cardboard. Her enthusiasm for a ride had dimmed, also. Sarah, however, filled the silence with stories about the peoples who once lived here, and the pictographs they would see. “I hope Ross will go with us,” she said. “He knows far more about them than I do.”

That didn't surprise Jessie. She remembered the intensity with which he'd talked about the kachina dolls, the rare enthusiasm she'd caught in his voice. But she doubted whether he would accompany them—though she suspected he was more concerned about Sarah's health than he'd indicated.

Her heart pounded harder with expectation even as she helped Sarah clean up the dishes. Then she put Ben in her room and fed him. She'd told Sarah she would meet her at the barn.

When she arrived there, Ross was holding the reins of three saddled horses and she knew he intended to accompany them. “I don't think you two should be out there alone,” he said simply as he handed her the reins to Carefree and watched as she lifted herself into the saddle. Sarah appeared then, refusing Ross's offer of help. She mounted with the ease of someone who'd done it for a lifetime.

The morning was already warm. Heat radiated off the high desert. Jessie felt a denser heat, though, as Ross fell into an easy pace between Sarah and her. Timber ran behind them. Sarah, Jessie noted, wore a satisfied smile. Jessie suddenly wondered whether she'd planned this trip very carefully, using her health as a spur to both her and Ross.

Jessie reminded herself that she would be gone tomorrow, away from the manipulations, the emotional uncertainties and the dangers—real and imagined—of the Clementses. She shouldn't feel so desolate about the prospect. She should feel relieved. Happy that she would receive some pittance over the years, and knowing that she had helped preserve this small piece of God's garden.

They rode past the Saddle, the rock formation she'd visited before, and on toward a mountain. The sun crept higher into the sky as the horses passed several roads. Sarah explained that they were on federal land now, and Jessie saw Jeeps full of tourists heading up one steep road.

The three of them rode another fifteen minutes or so before stopping at the foot of a twisting trail. Sarah stopped. “I'm going to wait here,” she said, pointing to a large rock under a large pine tree.

Ross's brows furrowed in concern. “Do you feel all right?”

“Yes indeed,” she said, “but that is a long ride up, and I think I would like to just sit in the shade.”

“We should go back,” Jessie said.

“No,” Sarah said sharply. “I want you to see this. Your father used to prowl all over these cliffs. I like to think that a little of him is still here. I'm fine, really I am. I love this spot.”

Jessie looked at Ross, who was regarding his adoptive mother with affectionate bemusement, but not worry. Jessie realized that she had planned the trip exactly this way.

“Jess?” he asked. “It's a rough ride.”

It was a challenge. One she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of refusing.

She nodded.

“Follow me, then. Call out if you have any problem. The trail will take only one horse at a time.” His weighed her with his gaze.

“What about Timber?”

“Oh, he'll do some exploring of his own. He won't go too far away.”

She simply nodded again. Sarah, a satisfied look on her face, slid down from the horse and went to sit on the rock. Jessie had a momentary pause, wondering whether they should really leave her, then she saw Sarah's wink. She turned her horse and started to follow Ross up the steep trail.

They seemed to climb forever. She had to focus all her attention on the trail ahead, though she let the horse do all the work. Ross rode in front of her, his body easily adapting to the sharp incline. It was far different from racing a horse around a level track. When they finally reached the top, he stopped until she reached his side. They rode around a rim, skirting prickly pear cactus, yucca, and bladelike needle-pointed agave plants. There was odorous evidence that elk and other wildlife were frequent visitors. From here, there was no sign of civilization, only a heavily wooded canyon framed by mountains. The land was wild and untouched, and the view was breathtaking.

“It's beautiful,” she said.

“This is all national forest land,” he said. He slid from the saddle, then went over to her and held out his arms. She slid naturally into them, and their faces were inches apart. “You know Sarah planned all this,” he said.

“I do now.”

“You could have refused to come.”

“And miss all this? I want to see as much as I can while I'm here.” She wanted to say something else, that she relished the time spent with him. That she wanted to be with him. But the words went unsaid, exchanged only through the exquisite bond that always seemed to connect them. Exquisite and painful.

There was a sudden uncertainty in his face. He bent over, his lips touching hers very, very softly.

Her lips parted. She knew it wasn't wise, but his mouth was searching, hesitant, almost achingly desperate. All the feelings she'd tried to subdue came tumbling out, the wreckage crashing around her. All she cared about was how much she wanted his touch. Her feelings were as intense and fiery and raw as they ever had been.

The almost fragile, hesitant quality of the kiss deepened, became something fierce and needy. His very touch singed her to the core. It always would, she knew. Just as she thought he would never be comfortable with it. She saw that knowledge in his eyes, in the desperation of his lips.

He held on to her as if she were his last link with life. He released her lips but cradled her body as if she were a butterfly that would escape once freed. Then he let her go. Physically. Emotionally he had her tied in knots.

He took her hand and led her carefully to the edge of what looked like a cliff. She looked down. The bottom was a long way. He let go, took several steps down, then held out his hand to help her. She tried not to look as she gingerly followed him. A few more feet, then they crawled over a tree and edged along a narrow ledge. For a moment her throat seemed to close. One false step could send her tumbling down the cliff. If Ross had ever meant her any harm, then this would be the place. But all she felt in his hand was confidence, power, and security. Finally, they stopped at a sheer piece of red rock.

His fingers were tight around hers as he showed her a series of pictures on the wall. Stick men and animal figures.

“They could be as much as three thousand years old,” he said. “This one was just recently discovered. We think it tells of an antelope hunt. Mind-boggling, isn't it?”

“We?”

“I belong to an archeology group.” Yet another side to him, this man who seemed such a loner.

“You're full of surprises,” she said.

“So are you,” he said. “I never thought …” He stopped.

“That I would vote to keep the ranch.”

“Yes.”

“Easy come, easy go,” she said lightly.

“It's much more than that,” he said in a husky voice.

“I just don't feel that any of the Clements money should be mine,” she said. “The others … they were born here, grew up here, worked on the ranch. They had a stake in it. I don't think I do.”

“Your father gave up more than anyone else for this ranch,” he said, surprising her. Another little tidbit dropped. But never enough. Would there ever be enough?

“We had better go back,” he said.

She nodded. “I know Sarah will be ready, and I have to go into Sedona.”

“I think Sarah is prepared to wait,” he replied.

“You knew she was planning to disappear,” she accused him.

“I suspected, but if I hadn't come, she would have brought you here herself and that would be far too dangerous for both of you. She's not always steady on her feet but no one can tell her that. I try to keep an eye on her.”

She heard the affection in his voice. It seemed to contrast with his flat statement earlier.
She's not my mother
. Whatever she was to Ross, it was important. She recalled the bitterness in his voice when he talked about his blood mother, and she wanted to know more about the boy in that picture in Sarah's room. The thin, rebellious boy with a cowlick.

They moved along the ledge again, and she felt a moment of fear again. It faded quickly as she felt his reassuring presence, the way he placed himself between her and the emptiness below. It took them another thirty minutes or so to get back to the top of the rim. She'd squirmed over trees and scrambled across rocks and she wondered how Sarah could ever had made it.
She
almost didn't.

But then she had seen Sarah ride, racing breakneck across the valley. Her aunt. And Halden, her uncle, who was still going strong in his nineties. At least she apparently had good genes.

A sense of pride filled her. She'd always been afraid of heights, and now she'd triumphed over several fears.

Ross took her hand as they walked to the horses. His dark eyes showed approval, as well as a glittering swell of passion. His lips curved into a slight smile. There was warmth in it that almost made her giddy. Her fingers curled around his larger ones, and everything seemed sharper, more intense, more alive. The sky was bluer, the sun brighter, the breeze more sensuous, the mountains around them more magnificent.

Already the land was pulling at her heart. It always would.

Just as she knew that Ross would always pull at her heart, that it would always make that funny little skip when he was near, and that the air would always be close between them, close and heavy and electrifying like the prelude to a storm.

He hesitated, then said, “Sarah said you plan to leave tomorrow.”

“If I get my business finished with Alex and I can get a flight.”

“Sarah was hoping you could stay longer.”

She noticed that he didn't say
he
was hoping she would stay longer. “I can't stay away from the bookstore. My partner has been covering for me, but he's trying to write a book, and it's not fair for me to be gone, and …” She was rambling on again. She never rambled like that. Except when she was with him. Except when she couldn't tell the whole truth.

His dark eyes seemed to know that.