Promises to Keep (11 page)

Julie was cocooned in a delicious warmth that would have been utterly delightful if it weren't for the leaden weight around her middle. She straightened one leg fractionally, reaching with her toes for the end of the bed. When she encountered Garth's ankle, she froze and awoke fully. Her eyes flew open but except for this she didn't move. She seemed not even to breathe.

She was lying on her side near the edge of the bed and Garth lay so close behind her that his quiet respirations stirred the hair at the nape of her neck. Their bodies were spooned together, with his knees tucked into the hollow made by her drawn-up ones. The heaviness around her waist was his arm. Thank God it was outside the blankets! She could feel his hand partially covering hers and by the dead weight of it she knew that Garth was still asleep.

Moving only her eyes, she looked down. His hand was very big compared to hers. His fingers were long, brown, blunt-tipped. It was an extremely capable hand, very masterful-looking even though it was relaxed with sleep. Even his fingernails looked strong. The soft contours of her mouth turned upward at the fancifulness of this notion.

Her eyes strayed over his wrist and forearm, studying them as intently as if she were a sculptor preparing to model them; measuring the substance of bone, the hardness of muscle, the agility of sinew, the suppleness of skin. If she really were a sculptor—or was it sculptress? she wondered—what material would she use for such a project?

She discarded the possibilities of clay, but asked herself, Should Garth's hand and forearm be cast in bronze in an attempt to duplicate his skin tones, or should they be chiseled from stone for firmness? No, she thought, neither of these was the right choice.

Perhaps they should be carved from wood. Something tough enough to have endured and flourished in spite of adversity would more nearly approximate the masculine vitality of such a subject. But what variety? Though the color wasn't right, it should be oak. She was sure about that.

And the wristwatch. It was only six thirty and the dial was barely visible in the dusky half-light. She looked at it closely and saw that it was a gold quartz model of an exclusive brand. She had no doubt it was as valuable as it was handsome, but it would definitely have to go.

She was distracted by the soft, dark hairs on his wrist, a few of which were caught up in the watch-band. She thought he had just the right amount to be virile and sexy without looking brutish. Her fingers itched to touch it and she made herself look away. Her eyes roamed back to his hand.

Aside from the watch, he wore no jewelry, not even a wedding ring. She realized she was twisting the gold band on her own finger. In a number of ways she'd surprised herself this morning. The first surprise was that she'd slept at all the night before, the second was that she hadn't stolen out of bed as soon as she'd awakened, and the third was that she was wishing Garth would wake up too. And do what? she asked herself. The answer sprang into her mind, fullblown. If he were to move his hand just a little bit in either direction… The final surprise was the steaminess of the thoughts she was entertaining at this very minute.

Applying a brake to her wayward fancies, Julie said to herself, "I'll stay here for just a few more seconds and then I'll get up." She closed her eyes and snuggled her cheek into a more restful angle on the pillow. She was no longer bothered by the weight of Garth's arm around her waist; she welcomed it.

Maybe maple would be a better choice than oak, she mused, or maybe it should be walnut. And should Garth's hand be sculpted open or closed in a fist? She was still pondering this when she drifted off to sleep once again.

The next time Julie awoke, she cautiously opened one eye and determined that it was full daylight. She stretched out one arm and found that she was alone in the bed. Rolling to Garth's side of the mattress, she buried her face in the depression made in the pillow by his head.

She smiled when she heard him singing in the shower that adjoined their room. Who was he this morning? The walls in the house were sturdier than those in the motel, but she thought he sounded very much like Billy Joel.

For some reason this filled her with optimism, and she threw the covers back and jumped out of bed, grinning at her energetic start to the day. In the hospital she'd been prone to making a slower return to full power. Usually she tested the climate of the morning a little at a time, as if she were a swimmer trying to accustom herself to the coldness of the water by dipping a toe into it.

She went to the window, intending to have only a brief look outside, but the view of the mountains from this perspective deserved more than a cursory glance. They demanded more even than awe; they were worthy of veneration.

"My God," she breathed softly. How could she have forgotten about the Tetons? This morning their glacier-ravaged faces were concealed from the earth-bound valley at their feet by the clouds they had captured in their craggy peaks, but in spite of this they dominated the landscape, vaulting toward the sky as if they would lay siege to the gates of heaven itself.

When she saw the Tetons, Julie forgot that she was wearing only Garth's pajama top. She was still at the window when he came out of the bathroom.

"There's a sight that makes my trip worthwhile," he said.

She started, for she had been unaware of his return, and when she saw that he was looking at her instead of the Tetons, she became terribly conscious of her state of undress.

Garth wore only jeans belted low on his hips. There was a towel draped around his neck and he was using one corner of it to wipe away the traces of shaving lather that dotted his chin. Its whiteness made his smoothly tanned skin seem even darker. She'd been right about his build. He was lean-waisted and slim-hipped, and his belly was taut and flat, without an ounce of excess flesh. The muscles of his chest and shoulders were whipcord hard and they rippled with his slightest movement as he dried his face.

Julie realized she was staring and when she lifted her gaze, he raised one eyebrow as if to inquire whether she'd seen enough. Her cheeks stung hotly and she mumbled, "If you're through in the shower, I'll take my turn now." She didn't wait for his answer before she bolted for the bathroom:

Once there, she turned the water on and stepped under the spray without testing it. It was so cold, it took her breath away, and although she knew that it might be just the thing to cool her inflamed senses, she adjusted the taps until the water was comfortably warm. She'd forgotten her showercap, and when her hair got wet, she decided she might as well shampoo it. By the time she'd toweled it dry enough to secure it in twin ponytails and was dressed in jeans and yet another plaid shirt, Garth had come back upstairs to see how she was progressing.

"Jessie wants to know if you're about ready for breakfast," he said.

"I will be as soon as I finish making the bed," she replied as she pulled the bottom sheet tight and tucked the excess material under the mattress. Garth leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb and stood with his hands in his pockets, watching with more interest than her actions called for as she smoothed the top sheet over the mattress and mitered the corners at the foot.

"You could bounce a dime off that bottom sheet," he commented idly. "I haven't seen a bed made that way since boot camp. Did you learn to do that in the hospital?"

Without thinking, Julie replied, "No, I—" Her brows knitted in a frown. "I'm not sure where I learned it."

Garth pushed away from the door and came to the bed to help her with the spread. "Dan told me there's a trail to the Snake River on the other side of the highway," he said. He handed her one of the pillows. "Would you care to go for a walk after breakfast?"

"I'd like that."

She smiled at him and was disappointed when he only inclined his head in response. But when they left the room, he put his arm around her shoulders and he kept it there all the way downstairs until they reached the kitchen.

Dan advised them not to take the dog with them on their walk. "You won't see any game if Buck's along," he said. "Not that it's any fault of his. He's a gentleman; besides which, he's too old to go chasing after moose or elk, but they're just poor dumb critters and they don't know that."

Although they left the shepherd at home, they didn't see any sign of bigger game, but in one swampy area the trail skirted a beaver pond and when they'd reached the river, they saw some Canada geese and trumpeter swans.

An inflatable raft drifted by. One of the men in it was paddling desultorily and the other was casting for trout. They greeted them with smiles and silent waves of their hands.

Throughout their hike Julie had known that Garth was observing her expectantly, and when she caught him studying her as they sat on the riverbank, she exclaimed irritably, "I do wish you wouldn't keep watching me like that. If I recognize anything, you'll be the first to know!"

Garth grinned and reached out to tweak one of her ponytails. "That seems fair enough," he said. "It's just that there have been occasions when you haven't been particularly open with me."

"You're not exactly the town crier yourself," she returned lightly, grateful for the opening he'd given her. "For instance, don't you think it's time you told me why you were so positive I was in love with Dan?"

Garth nodded. "I felt like the worst kind of fool when I first saw him. I'd like to thank you for not rubbing it in."

She shrugged dismissively, but her eyes were troubled. "Am I the kind of person who gloats and says 'I told you so'?"

"Not usually, but I honestly couldn't blame you if you'd gloated a bit about this. I gave you a rough enough time over it." He sighed. "I'm not sure it's the wisest course, but I agree that you deserve an explanation."

Garth got to his feet and moved down the bank. He stood with his back to her, looking toward the cloud-obscured ridges of the Tetons.

"When we were dating, you spoke of Dan and Jessie with a great deal of affection, but you neglected to mention their common-law marriage and you never gave any indication of their ages."

"I can understand why I might not have," Julie offered defensively. "There's something ageless about them."

"At any rate you did make it obvious that you and Dan were much more than casual acquaintances and you were forever quoting him on one thing or another. In the light of subsequent events it seemed to me that you idolized him, and even before we were married, I thought the two of you had had an affair that had gone sour. But after you'd accepted my proposal, it never occurred to me that you might still be in love with him until after the wedding."

"But why? Was I—was I cold to you or something like that?"

"I never had the opportunity to find out."

"I thought—"

"I know what you thought," Garth interrupted sharply, "but the incident you dreamed about—the one on the beach—that happened on our wedding day. We were married in the morning and that same afternoon—" He stopped abruptly in midsentence.

The wind tore some leaves from the trees and sent them scuttling in dry, rattling cartwheels along the ground. Julie found she was shivering. Hugging her arms tightly to her sides, she wound them about her waist and slid her hands inside the cuffs of her sweater, trying ineffectually to dispel the chill.

"At the outset," Garth continued, "you seemed quite happy. You were a little edgy, but I attributed that to bridal jitters." He paused and shook his head.

"You didn't impress me as being frigid. We were in a little grottolike place back among the rocks and I wanted to make love to you. At first you acted as if you wanted it, too, but at the last minute you called a halt. You said you were afraid someone might come by."

"It seemed private enough to me but it was a plausible excuse, given what I thought I knew about you. There had been times when you'd let yourself go and when that happened, you were incredibly responsive, yet you'd always retained a certain degree of… I don't know. Modesty, shyness, reserve—
something that
held you back. It was only afterward that I became convinced the real reason for your restraint was that you were still in love with Dan Leeds."

Julie moistened her lips. "Why?" she asked. "What happened?" She felt so cold now that her teeth began to chatter, and she had to clench her jaw to stop them.

"I went for a swim to cool off," Garth said. He was speaking rapidly. "You went back to our hotel room. By the time I returned, you'd left. You couldn't have had more than an hour's start, but you managed to throw me off the scent. You left most of your things behind along with a note that you were going for a walk. We'd been arguing on the beach, so I saw nothing out of the ordinary in that. It was typical."

On the last words his voice had grown bitterly abrasive, and she was struck by the rigidity of his spine, by the proud set of his shoulders. It made him seem strangely vulnerable, like a young boy who would not admit to feeling pain no matter how deep the hurt. This time, instead of being frightened by his pride, she wanted to go to him and take him in her arms. She wanted to offer him comfort, but she sensed that he would repulse such an attempt on her part.

His self-mastery was truly phenomenal, however. Within the space of a few seconds, he regained control and she could see the stiffness leave his back.

When he resumed speaking, his voice held no hint of censure, no anger. It was as impersonal as if he were discussing two strangers.

"It was another hour before I began to suspect you weren't coming back. I went out to look for you on the hotel grounds, and it was probably half an hour later before I questioned the desk clerk and some of the staff. Finally I got around to talking to the switchboard operator, and she told me you'd tried to make a telephone call to a party named Daniel Leeds in Jackson, Wyoming, but that she hadn't been able to put the call through for you."

"That's when I called Dan. He was concerned. Hell, he was frantic, really. And his voice conjured up the image of the matinee-idol type. What it all seemed to add up to was that you'd gotten cold feet and run back to your lover."