Lone Star (6 page)

Mitch thought back and started to laugh.

“What?” Web asked, smiling.

“I dreamed a reindeer was standing on my feet.” In fact, he could still feel the weight of it on his legs, but he now knew that heft was the heavy old quilt across the foot of the bed.

Web’s chest jumped as he as he started to laugh. “What the hell is it with you and reindeer?”

“I don’t know.” Mitch was still chuckling, keeping his eyes closed, still hoping he could fall asleep because he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this warm and relaxed. For the first time in years, he really did feel like he was home.

Web continued to stroke him in that lazy, soothing way. How long had he been awake? A while, for sure.

“You sleep okay?” Mitch mumbled.

“I slept great.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah, it is.”

Mitch drowsed awhile, but he began to wonder how long before Web had to leave, and once the idea came to him, sleep fled.

Web said softly, almost inaudibly, “If you want I’ll take you out to see your daddy’s grave.”

Mitch opened his eyes, but he didn’t see the old, worn wooden furniture of the bedroom.

“No?”

“I don’t know.”

Web smoothed the hair back from his forehead. It felt good to be touched like that, petted. To be appreciated with nothing asked in return. Nothing he wouldn’t be willing to give in a heartbeat if it was asked.

Getting someone to ask. That was the hard part.

“Mitch?”

“Hm?”

“What happened that night?”

Unexpectedly, the old hurt and bitterness came flooding back. Mitch closed his eyes. “You were there. I wanted to come out. I wanted everybody to know we were together. I wanted us to start planning a life together.” He expelled a long breath. “You said no.”

Silence.

Web’s voice was very low. “What happened when you got home that night?”

Mitch closed his eyes again. “I told my father I was gay. He…told me to get out. I did. Turned out you were right all along.”

“Why didn’t you come to me?”

Why didn’t you come to me in Austin?
“I guess you don’t remember the things you said.”

“I remember. I never said I didn’t love you. I never said I didn’t want us to be together. How could you just leave like that? Without a word?”

Mitch sat up, pulling away from Web. He impatiently combed the tangle of hair out of his eyes. “You said it would be a mistake. You said it would ruin everything. That we’d destroy both our futures. You said people would hate us. That we’d be lucky if we didn’t get run out of town.”

“I was afraid,” Web admitted. “But I—”

“And it turned out you had good reason to be. You were right, Web. For you. It worked out okay in the end. You got everything you wanted. I got everything I wanted.”

“Did you?”

“Sure. Of course.” Mitch sprang off the mattress and headed for the bathroom and the shower. “I smell like a horse. Are you stayin’ for breakfast?”

The mattress squeaked loudly. Web got to the doorway first, blocking it. His hands closed on Mitch’s shoulders. “You always were too goddamned hotheaded for your own good, Mitch. You were wrong to run away all those years ago. I was comin’ around to your view of things. You didn’t give me a chance to tell you.”

Mitch stared up into Web’s face. Twelve years was a long time. A lot of things had changed. Twelve years ago Web couldn’t have belonged to the Texas Rangers and been out in any way, shape or form. Web had forgotten how adamant he’d been that they keep their secret, but the fact that he sincerely believed he’d have stood by Mitch did, in a funny way, go a ways toward healing that old hurt.

After all, Web had only been twenty-two. Not so very old, though he had seemed the epitome of confident, tough maturity to eighteen-year-old Mitch.

So Mitch smiled. “I guess we’re both older and wiser now.” He raised his face for Web’s kiss.

After Mitch’s shower he wandered into the kitchen to find Web had made breakfast.
Arroz con leche.
Sweetened condensed milk, rice, and raisins. It was usually served for dessert, but Mitch had always loved it for breakfast and it touched him that Web remembered.

But then, why not? Mitch remembered what Web used to like for breakfast. Ham steak and fried eggs and buttermilk biscuits with gravy, though hopefully he wasn’t clogging his adult arteries up with that on a regular basis.

“I’ll be lucky if I can walk, let alone perform a
grand jete
by the time I go back to New York.” Mitch spooned in a mouthful and closed his eyes at the sweet mix of cinnamon and sugar.

Web spoke over his coffee cup. “You probably don’t weigh one-seventy soppin’ wet.”

“I weigh a lot more than you think. And I’m very strong.” You had to be very strong to leap nearly six feet off the ground or rehearse for six or seven hours a day.

“When are you flying back?” Web’s smile was crooked. “For real?”

“I haven’t bought my return ticket yet,” he admitted.

“No?” The instant pleasure on Web’s face was almost painful to see.

Mitch didn’t want to think about that, but it was hard to think of anything else. Through the window overlooking the back garden he watched tumbleweeds rolling past the water trough. The landscape looked as dry and barren as the moon. And just about that different from New York City.

“It…wasn’t just the thing with Innis,” he tried to explain.

Web kept that steady, blue gaze fastened on his face. “No?”

“I was up for a role—the kind of role that can make your career, can change your life. But I didn’t get it. I was…pretty disappointed. The thing happened with Innis the same afternoon, and I guess it was too much. I couldn’t figure out what to do. This was still hanging over me.” Mitch risked a look at Web. Unshaved, sleep-ruffled, Web still looked unfairly handsome on the other side of the breakfast table.

Web said, “You weren’t plannin’ on movin’ back to Texas. I know that.”

“I wasn’t planning anything. I just needed something to take my mind off everything else, and I sure as hell didn’t want to stay in town for the holidays. So I grabbed the first flight out.”

It probably sounded neurotic to someone as practical and well-grounded as Web, but to Mitch it had seemed like the right time for a complete break from everything and everyone he knew. It had been a risk taking flight like that, though. The ballet world was small and people would talk.

“So when
are
you headin’ back?”

“I have to be back for rehearsal January second.” Mitch said slowly, “I guess I could fly back New Year’s Day.”

Web smiled. “Sounds good to me.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” Web said softly.

Given the happy little spring his heart gave, it was probably a mistake to pursue this. Those eighteen hundred miles weren’t getting any shorter, but Mitch pushed the thought aside.

He kept it bundled safely in the wings while Web took his turn showering and dressing. After he washed the breakfast dishes, he sat at the table drinking the rest of his coffee and watching the clouds rolling across the blue sky until he heard Web’s boots moving down the hall.

“You got plans tonight?” Web asked. His damp hair gleamed pale gold against the brown of his skin.

Mitch rose. “It’s Christmas Eve. Do I?”

“I’ve got Erik’s get-together this afternoon. You’re welcome to come to that, by the way.”

Mitch shook his head. “I don’t think I’m feeling that sociable.”

“Then come by the folks’ tonight and we’ll make our plans from there.”

“What’d you have in mind?”

“I guess we’ll figure somethin’ out.” Web kissed him. It was probably meant to be a brief kiss, but they sort of got lost in it. Finally Web pulled away and looked at the clock over the fridge. “Holy hell, I’m late.”

Mitch followed him out to the front porch.

Web said suddenly, “
Do
you ever think about movin’ back here?”

“
Here?
”

“I guess not.” Web’s smile was twisted.

Mitch tried for lightness. “It’d be one hell of a commute.”

“There are ballet companies in Texas, right?”

“Sure. They’re not the ABT.”

“No. I guess not. But you can’t dance forever. It’s like playin’ professional football or tennis or any other sport.”

Mitch said irritably, “Ballet isn’t a sport. And I’ve still got a good twelve to fifteen years left, thanks.” In fact, he was in excellent shape, having managed so far to avoid any serious injuries or illnesses that had felled a number of his contemporaries.

Web gave him an unreadable look. “I guess what I’m sayin’ is, you ever think about the future?”

“You mean have I saved my pennies for a rainy day? Sure. What would I spend them on? I work all the time.”

“No, that’s not what I mean,” Web said. “I mean, have you thought about what you want to do with the rest of your life?”

“Do I have to decide before we can have dinner together?”

He really didn’t want to have this conversation. Not when so many things in his life were up in the air. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing to Web and kill this delicate new connection, but he didn’t want to plant false expectations either.

Assuming Web wasn’t just making idle conversation.

Web said, “You were askin’ what made someone like Miss Nesou stay in a little town like Llano. I can’t answer that, but what do you think it meant to her findin’ someone like you? To help someone like you?”

Mitch rubbed his forehead. “Web, I’ve thought about teaching and I’ve thought about opening my own studio and I’ve even thought about running my own dance company or opening a theater. But that’s all somewhere down the line. I’m at the peak of my dancing career. I
love
dancing.”

“Couldn’t you do both?”

“No. How could I?”

Web was silent. He stared out at the prairie. “It was just a thought.”

Mitch said cautiously, uncertainly, “Are you
asking
me to stay?”

Web turned to him. “Well? What if I was?”

“
Are
you?” Out of the corner of his eye Mitch noticed a cloud of white dust drifting over the brush. A car was coming down the road.

Seeing his expression, Web turned. They silently watched a silver rental car pull into the empty yard and park before the hitching post.

“Were you expectin’ company?” Web asked.

“No.” Mitch’s lips felt stiff. He had already recognized the blond hair and sharp features of Innis.

Innis got out of the car and waved his hand in greeting.

The first thing that struck Mitch was how much, from a distance, Innis looked like Web. He was several inches shorter, of course, and stockier—though in fairness it was all muscle. He wasn’t as handsome as Web, but there was something familiar in the shape of his face, and he had that same white-gold hair and those midnight-blue eyes.

“Mitchell, baby!”

“
Baby,
” drawled Web softly.

Mitch ignored him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Behold I bring you tidings of great news.”

“Ever hear of the phone?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing since you seem to have stopped answering yours.”

“I guess I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.”

He really did not want to have this conversation in front of Web. Though Web hadn’t said anything else after that single derisive comment, his disapproval was loud and clear. The funny thing was, Mitch had never liked being called “baby,” but Web’s derision put his back up. He shot Web a narrow-eyed look that Web met without any particular emotion.

“Don’t shoot the messenger till you hear what he has to say.” Innis reached the bottom of the stairs. He threw one quick, assessing look at Web and dismissed him as a human stage prop. “That’s quite a shiner,” he told Mitch. “Did you walk into a door?”

Mitch said wearily, “Why are you here, Innis?”

Innis was instantly serious. “
Les Grands Ballets Canadiens de Montréal
is performing Bourne’s
Swan Lake
this season. Frank Martineau was dancing the Swan but he’s sidelined with a torn hamstring and you’ve been invited to appear as a guest artist in the role.”

“Is that true?”

Innis nodded.

Web looked from Mitch to Innis. Mitch was conscious of the startling wish that Innis had driven into this yard four minutes later. Just four minutes and Mitch would have heard what Web had to say. And he would have answered. But now the moment was past because this was the role he had been waiting for, waiting
years
for. The role that could make him, establish him as a star once and for all. It had to be fate. He had just been discussing this with Web.

“Good news, I’m guessin’?” Web’s voice was dryer than the desert wind kicking up dust devils at the edge of the corral.

“The best,” Innis said cheerfully. “Right, Mitchell?”

“Good news,” agreed Mitch automatically.

Innis started in on the long drive and the terrible plane flight. “…and they call this a civilized country!”

Mitch turned to Web. “Web, about tonight—”

“Uh-huh.” Web was already walking away, going down the porch steps. He said without glancing back, “Give me a holler when you work out what it is you want, Mitch.”

“Where’d you pick up Walker, Texas Ranger?” Innis remarked as the dust settled behind Web’s SUV. “The nearest cattle drive?”

“He’s an old friend.” Mitch was still struggling with anger and disbelief at Web for walking away when he had. Web had just taken it for granted that Mitch was canceling their evening. That Mitch was…what? Going back to Innis? Going back to New York? Making a beeline for Canada? He hadn’t given Mitch a chance to explain. He had barely let Mitch get a word out.

“He is at that. For a second I thought maybe he was your pa come back to life.” Innis, at twenty-nine, was age-obsessed. Well, they all were in Mitch’s world. And Innis was not the most tactful guy in the world.

“You’ll wish you looked as good as him when you hit thirty-four.”

“Meee-ow.” Innis kissed him. “Anyway, I didn’t just come to tell you about
Les Grands Ballets
. It’s Christmas. Of course I want to spend it with you.”

“You came a long way for nothing.” Mitch went into the house, letting the porch door swing back. Innis caught it, still cheerfully babbling all the while about what a great opportunity it was for Mitch as he followed him inside.

It was as though Innis had completely forgotten the circumstances that had sent Mitch flying across the country. Maybe he had. Maybe that’s how common his screwing around had been.

Mitch listened with half an ear. His mind was still on Web driving away. Had that been an ultimatum? Where the fuck did Web get off giving Mitch ultimatums? He was so riled with Web he was having trouble considering what this unexpected offer from
Les Grands Ballets Canadiens de Montréal
might mean. The most important offer of his life. Barring the one Web hadn’t bothered to make.

“This is cozy.” Innis trailed Mitch into the kitchen. He studied the dishes drying on the rack on the counter, the coffee still warming in the pot. “Cowboy slumber party, I take it?”

“Innis, I’m not in the mood for this.”

Innis was instantly contrite. “I’m sorry, baby. I guess I deserve whatever it is you’ve been up to.” He tried to wrap his arms around Mitch. “What
have
you been up to, by the way?”

Mitch shoved him back. “None of your business. Why are you
here
? It’s over. I told you it was over.”

“You can’t be serious.” Innis’s face was all wounded innocence. “We’re going to break up because I let one of the girls by the fountain give me a blow job?”

Where the hell did he start? Mitch spluttered, “First of all, she’s a guest performer, not someone from the back row of the
corps de ballet
. She’s Natalie Dies, for God’s sake.”

Innis’s gaze was curious. “Does that make a difference?”

“Not to me. It might to you. You can’t treat a performer like Natalie like she’s just another…another cog in the wheel.”

“Natalie and I are fine.
You’re
the one everyone is worried about. The rumor going around is you’ve had a breakdown.”

“I don’t care what the rumor is.” But a ripple of unease went through Mitch all the same.

“You better care. You know the theater.” Innis poured himself a cup of coffee. “Look, baby. I know you’re angry but it meant nothing.
We’re
together. The rest of it is just blowing off steam. Or, in the case of someone like Natalie, you could look at it as networking. Because that’s how I look at it.”

“Fucking as networking? That’s a new one for the business manuals.”

“Don’t think that’s not the way the world works.”

“Give it a rest, Innis. It wasn’t the first time. And it wouldn’t be the last time. We both know it.”

“Oh my God!” Innis snapped. “Don’t be so fucking puritanical. It’s
sex
. Pure and simple. It’s letting off a little steam. Call it R&R. Or have you suddenly forgotten how it works in our world?”

No. Mitch hadn’t forgotten that casual sex was pretty much the rule in their world.
Friends with benefits
described the majority of relationships for ambitious young professionals who put their dance careers above everything else, including their mental and physical health.

But that wasn’t how he had viewed his relationship with Innis. Although he felt foolish and unsophisticated admitting that now.

Innis said coaxingly, “If you’ve got a thing about it, I won’t do it anymore. Okay? Please? What we have together is too good to lose.”

Mitch continued to eye him bleakly. For years he’d taken it for granted that he loved Innis, yet within the space of a couple of days his old feelings for Web seemed to have reignited. Either he’d never stopped loving Web or he was as fickle as Innis. Either way, it didn’t change the fact that the offer from
Les Grands Ballets
was a game changer.

He felt another flare of anger at Web. Damn him for walking away like that. This wasn’t a decision Mitch could make on the spur of the moment. And if they were going to—well, that was the question, wasn’t it? Mitch had no idea what they were because Web had only hinted. He hadn’t come right out and said anything that would help Mitch make his decision now. He’d just thrown out that ultimatum and ridden off into the sunset. Sunrise. Whatever.

Turnabout is fair play.
Was that it?

“I have to go get my car. Can you give me a lift?”

Innis blinked at the sudden change of topic. “Uh, sure. Where’s your car?”

“Just up the road. A couple of minutes away.”

“Okay. Let’s go get your car.”

Mitch fetched his keys, shrugged into his jacket and led the way outside.

Once in the rental car, he reserved his comments to giving Innis directions. Innis gave him occasional doubtful glances.

It wasn’t until they were pulling into the Eisley place that Innis ventured, “Okay, baby?”

Mitch nodded. “You can park right there next to my car.”

Innis parked. He turned to Mitch, who had one hand on the door handle. “I’m very sorry, Mitch. I apologize. I’ll never do it again. Are we okay now? Can we get back to business? Because we’ve got a lot of things to consider.”

Mitch, in the process of getting out of the car, paused. “Such as?”

Innis smiled. “I’ve got it on the best authority that if we go, there’s a guest artist role for me in one of the summer productions.”

“I see.” And he did. ABT was one of the hardest companies for male soloists to advance to principal dancers. The way things stood now, he’d have to wait for Mitch or someone else to retire or leave the company. Innis was talented and ambitious. Naturally he was going to look for other opportunities.

Innis was watching and reading him. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but if I get the role it’ll be on my own merits. This doesn’t have anything to do with your role as the Swan.”

“I know. You’re an excellent dancer. You deserve a break.” Mitch braced himself. He hated scenes and he especially dreaded the thought of a scene in the Eisleys’ front yard, but this needed to be faced. He still owed Innis honesty. “But whether I take the guest artist slot in Canada or not…it’s over.”

“Over?” Innis looked blank. “What’s over?”

“Us. We’re finished.”

“
Finished
.” Innis gave a disbelieving laugh. “That’s pretty dramatic. We can’t try and work through it?”

Mitch shook his head.

“But why?”

“Because…do you
really
have to ask?”

Innis’s sharp features twisted with scorn. “I get it. Why don’t you quit pretending that I broke your heart, Mitch? The only thing I hurt was your pride. Your pride and your ego. You don’t love me. You never loved me. You’re not capable of love. The only thing you care about, the only thing you’ve ever cared about, is dancing. Because that’s the only thing you can control, and you’re a
total
control freak.”

Mitch climbed the rest of the way out of the car, and leaned down. “You’re right. I’m a total control freak. But you’re wrong about dance being the only thing I can control. So turn this car around and start driving.”

Innis gaped at him. “Start driving? Where the hell do you think I’m going? It’s Christmas Eve!”

“I don’t care where you go. I guess maybe you’ll be spending the night in an airport lounge if you don’t want to spring for a hotel. It’s not my problem. I didn’t ask you to come here. I came here to get away from you.” Mitch slammed the door shut.

He walked across to his own car. Behind him, he could hear the angry rev of the rental car engine as Innis backed and then tore off down the dirt road toward the main highway.

The white truck Web had driven Mitch home in was parked beneath the trees, but the SUV with the Texas Ranger insignia was gone. If he’d subconsciously hoped for a chance to talk to Web, it was going to have to wait. In any case, Mitch wasn’t sure what he could say. The real issue between himself and Web was not Innis. It never had been.

Mitch got in his car and drove back to the ranch, the occasional jackrabbit fleeing from beneath his tires.

He spent the rest of the afternoon sorting through the paperwork in his father’s office. In the bottom drawer of the old-fashioned roll-up desk was a large yellow Whitman’s Sampler candy box that Mitch remembered from his childhood. As he recalled, it had contained a couple of photos of his mother and the newspaper clipping of her obituary.

He lifted the box out of the drawer. It was heavier than he remembered. He slipped the lid off and gazed down at his own face.

He was looking at a five-year-old
New York Times
review of his first performance as a principal dancer.

Mitchell Evans’s debut as Romeo on Saturday night at the Metropolitan Opera House opposite Christa Merill’s Juliet in Kenneth MacMillan’s choreography of Prokofiev’s most famous ballet score was carefully thought out and extremely well danced.

As a rising star of American Ballet Theater, Mr. Evans has recently and sensationally developed the bravura he already showed in his performances as a soloist. That he can modulate this power to suitable dramatic effect was obvious in his youthful Romeo. The no-man’s-land between passion and tenderness was delicately traversed in Mr. Evans’s intense and moving portrayal.

The box was stuffed with clippings. He sifted through them while his throat grew tighter and tighter. An earlier review read:

Soloist Evans is an astonishing virtuoso with the classical line and demeanor of the noble-prince type that ballet favors. Not emotionally communicative enough at this time to register as a partner, he seems isolated by his gifts. In performance he seems to be aloof, proud, courageous and poignant
.

His hands were shaking when he slid the lid back on the box. What did it mean? Dane Evans had despised ballet. He had despised his son for wanting to dance. For years, Mitch had believed himself to be dead in his father’s eyes. Yet all the time…

When he had himself under control, he phoned the Eisley ranch and asked for Aunt Mamie.

“Now what’s all this hogwash Web’s givin’ us about you not bein’ sure you’re comin’ to Christmas dinner?” Mamie greeted him.

Mitch barely registered her words. “There’s a box of press clippings here. He never collected these himself.”

There was a little pause. “That’s right, honey.” Aunt Mamie sounded just like always, in fact, she sounded as though she’d been expecting his phone call. He didn’t even have to explain who “he” was. “Miss Nesou brought your daddy the first one. After that he asked me to keep an eye out for news stories about you.”

“
Why?
” His voice cracked on the protest.

“Why, I guess he wanted to know how you were gettin’ along.”

When he didn’t—couldn’t—continue, Aunt Mamie said, “Your daddy was a complicated man, honey, but he always loved you.”

Mitch pinched the bridge of his nose hard. “He had a funny way of showing it.”

“Maybe so. I guess he did the best he could. I guess we all do.”

“Why didn’t he ever—” Once again, Mitch had to stop.

Aunt Mamie said, “Words didn’t come any easier to him than they do to you, Mitch. You two were always alike in that way.”

Was that the truth? If so it was the only thing they’d had in common.

“It would have meant a lot to me to know.” He broke off. That was more than he was willing to admit to anyone, even Aunt Mamie, who apparently knew more of the story than Mitch himself.

“I know.” Aunt Mamie’s voice was warm and regretful. “It would have meant a lot to him too, but he never could find the words.”

Now the words would never be spoken on either side.

“Did he change his mind about my dancing?”

“No,” Aunt Mamie said gently. “He never was happy about that. He never did understand it or want that for you. But that didn’t change the fact that he loved you more than anything in this world. He hoped you’d see the light and come home one day, but mostly he just wanted to know you were well and happy. That’s why he kept those clippings.”

Mitch managed a gruff, “Thank you.”

“No thanks needed.” Aunt Mamie changed the subject briskly, “What’s all this about you not comin’ to Christmas dinner?”

Mitch said awkwardly, “I didn’t want to assume I was invited.”

“Since when do you need a formal invitation, Mitchell Evans?”

“I guess I wasn’t sure if everybody felt that way.” It was the closest he could get to bringing up the subject of Web.

“That’s plain silly. You’re family, honey. Of course you’re invited. We’ll see you tomorrow at three. And don’t you be late!”

When he’d said goodbye, Mitch walked outside for a breath of fresh air. The winter sunlight gilded the buildings and turned the rich golden-flax winter tones of buffalo grass white. A whit and black warbler swooped overhead and disappeared, twittering, beneath the eaves of the silvered barn.

Across the corrals he could see a deer grazing the stubby ground. Just an ordinary deer. He smiled faintly remembering the night before, but his smile faded at the memory of Web walking away that morning.

Mitch strode toward the tall, gray water tower. This time of year, the landscape was pretty barren, but in the spring and summer there would be an abundance of wildlife and flowers. Honeysuckle and purple salvia and cardinal flower would attract hummingbirds. Songbirds like the color-splashed painted buntings would arrive to feast on agarita, beautyberry or the black cherry trees that grew behind the house. It was pretty here in the spring. Hot as hell in the summer, but even then there was a raw, rugged beauty to the land.