Читать книгу The Return Of David Mckay - Ann Evans - Страница 8

CHAPTER THREE

LATE THAT EVENING, IN her guest bedroom at Lightning River Lodge, Geneva sat on the side of the bed and looked down at the box containing her late husband’s ashes. She didn’t really believe Herbert was there. In fact, she was quite sure he watched over her from heaven. But when she spoke to him—and she often did—she liked to have this touchstone close. She supposed she was getting old, acting so foolishly sentimental.

“Now don’t fret, Herbert,” she said. “What I told David was only a tiny, harmless bit of deception. He needs this so much. Ulcers and headaches and wrinkles on his forehead at his young age—why, our boy’s a walking medical journal.”

She wiped a minuscule bit of lint out of a crevice on the lid. In the early years of their marriage, back before arthritis had played such havoc with his fingers, Herbert had carved this notions box for her. No one knew that—not even David.

“I miss you so much,” she said softly, then shook her head, refocusing her thoughts. “He’s not happy, Herbert. All that success, and he’s miserable, I tell you. I know you never liked me to meddle, but I just couldn’t let it go on without trying to do something. I have a good feeling about this trip.”

There was a light tap on her bedroom door. She’d been expecting it and she went quickly to answer, pulling the sash of her robe tighter.

“Come in,” she said softly. She glanced up and down the hallway. “Did anyone see you?”

“Not a soul,” Sam D’Angelo answered with a conspiratorial grin.

SAM HAD SETTLED INTO one of two chairs by the window. He smiled again at Geneva, feeling like a guilty child. He had always been the kind of man who loved intrigue, and lately there had been so little of it in his life. He felt revitalized and excited by the plot he and Geneva had hatched.

“Everyone’s asleep,” he told Geneva as she took the other chair.

“What about Rose?”

He waved away that concern. “Rosa knows I like to make one last check of the downstairs before I go to bed. She won’t suspect a thing.”

That was crucial, because if there was one person who could put the brakes on this whole scheme, it was his wife. Sam loved Rosa dearly, but the woman had no sense of adventure and thought people ought to mind their own business. A first-class spoilsport.

A few months ago, Sam had gone to Geneva in secret with the idea of hiring her to paint his wife’s portrait. In her younger years, his friend had been Geneva St. John, a fairly well-known artist, and it seemed the perfect gift for Rosa’s upcoming birthday.

But as they’d talked, the conversation had stretched into memories of the past, when her grand-son, David, and his only daughter, Adriana, had been so close. They knew that a major argument had taken place, harsh words had been exchanged. But wasn’t it a shame that the two families hadn’t been connected through marriage after all?

Before the afternoon had gone, they’d agreed that maybe something could be done to change that. Surely enough time had passed. Both their children were unattached. Perhaps because they still cared for one another. Wouldn’t it be lovely if that spark between them could be fanned to life again?

Nothing came of that idea until Addy had dropped her bomb about checking out a sperm bank in Denver. It was then that Sam knew it was time to fly into action.

In the end, it had been much easier than they’d expected. A legitimate excuse to hire Addy. A well-timed telephone call to David. The right incentive.

And…here they were.

“How did it go at your place?” Sam asked.

“Tense,” Geneva admitted. “I felt like a referee. David was frustrated with both of us. Addy was trying to pretend she wasn’t shocked. And did you see how uncomfortable she was tonight whenever David’s name came up? You can’t tell me they don’t feel something for each other anymore.”

“I just hope what they feel is enough,” Sam said with a shake of his head. He was Italian. He believed in the power of true love. But his daughter could be a stubborn woman sometimes. If her mind was made up about artificial insemination, this could all be wasted effort.

No. He refused to believe that.

Geneva sighed, and Sam knew she agreed. “I do wish David had gotten off to a better start with her. I don’t want them to get on each other’s nerves so much that they can’t see they’re still in love. I’ll just have to ask Herbert to put a bug in his ear to behave.”

Sam rubbed his hands together. “Dio! I wish I could make this trip with you.”

“Me, too. Can it be a conspiracy if only one person’s there to do all the plotting?”

“I’m counting on you,” Sam said with a wink. “Addy said she has stops planned along the way to replenish supplies. Think you can slip away once in a while to give me an update on how it’s going?”

“I’ll certainly try. I just hope we’re doing the right thing.”

Sam pounded his fist on his thigh. “Damn it! I refuse to see my daughter continue to sit on the shelf like some Victorian spinster or run off to make a baby with a petri dish. D’Angelos are not created in chemistry labs.”

“But what if her mind’s made up?”

“Impossible! She’s confused, conflicted about what she’s doing with her life. But once she remembers what it’s like with that grandson of yours…” He stood, slipping into his metal crutches. “Well, good luck, G. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“I suspect you’d do almost anything.”

“True,” Sam admitted. “Now I’d better get back to Rosa before she comes looking for me.”

“It wouldn’t do for her to find you in my room,” Geneva said with a light laugh.

“Ha!” Sam said. “Rosa knows the only woman who’s a threat to her is Sophia Loren.” He leaned over to hug Geneva. “Be careful out there.”

Sam made his way back to his own bedroom. The lights were off, but he didn’t need them. After all these years of sleeping beside the same woman, he knew where everything was, what obstacles to watch out for.

As he slipped quietly into bed, Rosa turned toward him. “What took you so long?” she asked in a sleepy tone.

“Just making my last check of the evening.”

“I thought you did that while I took my shower,” she said, a frown in her voice. She rubbed her hand along his chest. “It was nice spending time with Geneva tonight, wasn’t it? We should invite her to come up more often.”

“Definitely.”

“I do think the two of you were a little insensitive to Addy’s feelings about David. I suppose you just got carried away, but it was hard for her to hear so much about him and how he’s been doing.”

“Well, maybe there’s a good reason for that,” Sam said. “Maybe she ought to think about giving David another chance.”

Rosa came up on one elbow, and if there had been enough light in the room, Sam guessed he’d have seen a frown creasing her brow. “Do you know something I don’t?”

“Of course not. Go back to sleep, Rosie.” He turned back to snuggle against the only woman he had ever loved. The kind of love his daughter should have in her life. If it was a baby she wanted, why couldn’t it be made with a loving husband?

“I’m glad to see you’ve stopped badgering her about her decision to have a baby alone if she chooses. Have you accepted that it’s really none of our business?”

“No. When your child is about to take a leap off a steep cliff, as a parent, don’t you have a responsibility to at least try to grab their coattail?” Then, thinking that he’d revealed too much, he flipped on his side in an effort to halt the conversation. His wife could read him like a book sometimes. “Never mind that now,” Sam said. “I’m tired. Good night, Rosa.”

AT DAYBREAK THE NEXT morning a cab delivered David and his things to Lightning River Lodge’s front door.

The place looked just the way he remembered it. Maybe a little timeworn, but that only enhanced its rustic elegance and the way it seemed to fit in with its surroundings.

He considered going inside, since he wouldn’t have minded paying a visit to the D’Angelos. He thought of Sam and Rose as nice people with big hearts. They reminded David of his own parents.

A quick glance at his watch told him there was no time for that now. He was close to being late. That wouldn’t do for trail-boss Addy, he’d bet.

The pile of supplies at his feet had been pulled together by a miraculous feat of determination on his part. For the first time in years he’d had to hustle to make things happen, because he didn’t have his flock of well-paid flunkies traipsing after him. But he’d decided to treat it as a challenge. One of many he’d probably have to face before this trip was over.

All in all, he felt pretty pleased with himself.

Of course, given the size and selection of Broken Yoke’s shopping district, he hadn’t been able to be too particular in his choice of suitable clothing. He knew he resembled a tinhorn tourist: new designer jeans, expensive boots and a Stetson that hadn’t had the chance to shape a personality of its own yet.

As for the demands of business…well, he was still working out the kinks on that front. He hadn’t taken a real vacation in years, and when he’d told his assistant Rob just what he had planned for the next two weeks, the man had been practically speechless. It might be days before all the bases were covered back in his Los Angeles office, but he’d manage. He always did.

Quickly David strapped everything to his body so he could make the walk down to the stable. He felt like a damned pack mule and he knew he looked ridiculous.

As he approached the corral, Addy D’Angelo glanced up from her clipboard. Seeing him, she scowled. It didn’t take much imagination to guess her thoughts. She’d been hoping he wouldn’t show up.

Too bad, trail boss. You’re stuck with me.

She was dressed much as she had been yesterday, practical and trim in jeans and a thin blouse. Today her hair was captured in a ponytail, yanked low at the back of her head. Disappointing. It was one of her best assets, that hair. If he really had to go on this foolhardy outing, it wouldn’t have hurt to have something nice to look at.

“You’re late,” she remarked, then turned her attention back to her list.

“Hey, cut me some slack,” David complained as he plopped his duffel bag on the ground. “I was up until two this morning getting everything ready.”

His grandmother came out of the stable with a nice-looking guy dressed like the Marlboro Man. David bent to brush a kiss against her cheek. “Morning, Gran. Haven’t changed your mind by any chance, have you?”

“Oh, heavens no,” she exclaimed. “I’m itchin’to make tracks. That’s cowboy lingo,” she confided in a mischievous tone. “Brandon taught me.” She touched the sleeve of the man by her side. “This is Brandon O’Dell, David. He runs the front desk, but lately he’s been helping out here at the stable. Brandon, my overprotective grandson David.”

The two men shook hands. The guy fit the cowboy profile. Strong, silent type. He excused himself quickly to check one of the horse’s saddles.

Gran straightened as if for inspection. “How do I look?”

David slid his sunglasses down his nose. She wore pink polyester slacks, a gaily colored blouse with lace at the collar and cuffs and an enormous sun hat held on by a lavender ribbon tied under her chin. Like an explosion in a flower garden, he thought. God help us.

He smiled his approval. “Just like Annie Oakley.”

Looking pleased, Gran went to a spotted horse that was tied to the corral railing and fed the animal a few carrots. Beside it, a fine-boned mare with a blaze down its face stamped impatiently. A little way off, Addy began to work on the pack of a mule that looked as if it could think of better things to do so early in the morning.

“Cut it out, Bounder,” Addy commanded, kneeing the mule in the belly so that the animal grunted and sucked air. David watched Addy retighten the cinch with quick, efficient movements.

“Need any help?” he asked, feeling that he should at least make the offer even though he knew she didn’t need it with O’Dell there. Coming from him, she probably wouldn’t have accepted it anyway.

“Nope.” She squinted down at the little mountain of luggage he’d brought. “Too much stuff.”

“Only the necessities.’

“Did you keep to my list?”

“Pretty much.”

She jerked her head toward the black canvas tote that sat on top of his duffel bag. “What’s in there?”

“My laptop.”

She turned an astounded look his way. “A computer.” She shook her head. “No way.”

He’d expected her objection and prepared for it. “I have obligations. I can work in the evening after we’ve camped and communicate with my office by cellular modem. None of it will interfere with your plans on this trip.”

She gave the mule’s cinch a final yank, then turned toward David. Those lovely dark eyes sparked with hot, piercing lights. “My mule isn’t a four-legged secretary who’s going to fetch and carry your office equipment.”

“Fine. Loan me a backpack and I’ll carry it myself.”

“It stays here.”

“It goes,” he countered in the same dead-level tone.

“David, I’m not just being stubborn about this. We pack light by necessity.”

“You’ve allowed Gran to bring her flower press and sketch book.”

Color flew up her cheeks, and he felt the solid power of her antagonism. She gave him a serpentine smile. “You want to bring your flower press? Feel free.”

He sighed and shook his head, then pulled the brochure she’d given him yesterday out of his jeans pocket. He held it up in front of her and removed his sunglasses. “It says here, ‘Guests participating in overnight pack trips may bring items of personal entertainment such as paperback books, personal stereos and games as long as said items do not disrupt the enjoyment of other campers or exceed five pounds per person.”

“Yes, but—”

David rammed the brochure back into his pocket and with the tip of his fingers lifted the computer satchel. “Even with the extra batteries I brought, this weighs only three and a half. I checked.”

He heard O’Dell chuckle behind him. “He’s got you there, Ad,” the man said as he came around them to tie off one of the mule lines.

Addy made a face at the man. “Whose side are you on?”

“The customer is always right.”

I like this guy, David thought. Why can’t he be the one to take Gran out on this trip?

With a frown, Addy yanked on one of the reins tied to the hitching post. “Let’s go. We’re burning daylight.”

They mounted and settled into their saddles with the usual last-minute adjustments for stirrups and reins. And then a strange thing happened. Brandon O’Dell put his hand on Addy’s jeans-clad leg to catch her attention.

“Take it easy out there,” he told her.

She nodded, and he pulled her down to his level for a quick kiss.

Whoa, cowboy. It was almost over before it happened, but David caught it. It confused the heck out of him.

They all turned into the trail that led away from the corral. Day one of a two-week journey into folly. And all David could think was, What kind of ranch hand gets to kiss the trail boss goodbye?

ADDY SET THE PACE ON Sheba and tugged a lazy Bounder behind her by a guide rope tied to her saddle. Geneva, appearing to be a surprisingly capable rider, had fallen in after her on Clover, and David brought up the rear on Injun Joe, leading Little Legs, the second pack mule.

The laptop computer had been slipped into a spare backpack, and, giving her a look that indicated its weight was insignificant, David had fit it onto his shoulders.

We’ll see, she thought. After a few days on the trail, that pack will feel like it’s filled with bricks.

She wondered what kind of trip this would turn out to be. She should have insisted Brandon come along. But he’d said the lodge was too busy right now to be short even one person.

Since they’d added overnight camping trips to the lodge’s amenities, she’d dealt with all kinds of guests—weekend warriors eager to play cowboy, know-it-alls who bored everyone, male chauvinists who didn’t want to take direction from a woman and even an occasional letch who pinched her rear end as she saddled the horses.

But not one of them had ever been an ex-lover. How did you make innocent small talk around the campfire when you shared that kind of history?

Last night Dani had convinced Addy that she could handle whatever happened in the next two weeks. She was tough. Resilient. She didn’t have to worry about being around David McKay. She could take whatever he wanted to dish out.

Swearing Dani to secrecy about the miscarriage, Addy had pulled herself together. This morning she just hoped that her determination could stick.

Under the pretense of checking Bounder’s lead, Addy swung around in the saddle. Geneva sat, brightly observant of everything around her. Behind the old woman, David had coaxed Joe into an easy walk.

She had to admit he still had his riding seat. He didn’t slump or hold the reins high and loose. His extremely broad, masculine chest, with its glimpse of dark hair above the sharply pressed blue shirtfront, remained perfectly still as his hips swayed slightly to match Joe’s gait.

He looked bored. It was hard to tell because the sunglasses were back in place. When he realized that Addy was watching him, he lifted his hand in a wave and smiled a smile too wide for sincerity.

In that moment there was a little trill of sound, like a songbird’s call. In astonishment Addy watched as David pulled a cellular phone out of his shirt pocket and proceeded to carry on a conversation with someone named Rob.

She was speechless.

Geneva had turned in her saddle, as well. Spying the telephone, she said, “Oh, David. I should have known….”

Refusing to allow her own exasperation to show, Addy faced the trail again.

What had she been worried about? This wasn’t a guy she couldn’t resist. This David McKay was someone she didn’t know—an obnoxious, arrogant toad.

The next two weeks were going to be a snap.