Sweet Water (33 page)

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Terry’s failure to appear in the café the next day caused a niggling worry within Marisa. The hours of lovemaking in the apartment bedroom burned in her memory and would every time she saw him from now on. As she left the café, disappointed, she peered toward the back corner of the RV park, but her view of his mobile was blocked by several campers.

Ben came in after lunch and she fed him coffee. He was drunk, but not as far gone as she had seen him before. He was irritable and restless to the point of pacing. She tried to talk to him, but he smoked and drank his coffee and responded to her attempts with growls and sharp remarks. He had a burr under his saddle, but she couldn’t guess the reason.

Later, she spent a restless night wondering why Terry hadn’t come to the café or even called her. The next day at noon he brought her a bouquet of flowers from the grocery store in Odessa and she reacted like a silly kid. He told her the trip to Albuquerque was all arranged. They kept a discreet distance. She appreciated that. She even put the flowers in the kitchen out of sight. No sense arousing the busybodies in Agua Dulce. She suspected something was going on with his plans for Pecos Belle’s, but didn’t ask, not wanting to taint the fun she was having or the happiness that filled her heart for the first time in years.

Marisa was in the café when Aunt Radonna arrived Tuesday, her fifty-seven-year-old body covered by tight red capris and a black T-shirt that declared in glittering rhinestones across her ample chest, I’M HERE FOR THE PARTY. She had red spike heels on her feet, bands of clicking bracelets on her wrists and a cloud of fragrance surrounding her. To Marisa’s astonishment, when they left the café and walked back to the singlewide, Mama called Aunt Radonna by name and asked her who she was dating now. Instantly Marisa had a better feeling about leaving Mama in her sister’s care.

In the evening, Marisa walked through getting Mama ready for bed with her aunt. Afterward, when she went to her room to pack, her aunt followed.

As Marisa stuffed toiletries in a small duffel, Aunt Radonna rummaged through the closet. “Honey, you don’t have any clothes. All I see is jeans.” She held up one of Marisa’s cowgirl shirts and scowled at it. “And these tacky shirts.”

“In the café, I dress Western, you know.” Marisa glanced down at her aunt’s long, sculpted nails. “Are you sure you’re going to be able to get along in the café?”

“Hamburgers in the microwave. Frozen pizza in the toaster oven. If I haven’t learned anything else in the bar business, I’ve learned that much.” Radonna rehung the shirt and plucked a plain black dress from the closet. “Well, at least you’ve got a little black dress.”

“I don’t think this is going to be a dress-up trip,” Marisa said, suddenly intimidated by her lack of wardrobe.

“You’ll go out to dinner, won’t you?” Aunt Radonna bobbed her eyebrows and gave Marisa a conspiratorial look. “You’ll need food for energy, you know.”

Marisa had forgotten how much fun her aunt was. No doubt Terry would plan a dinner, and maybe at a fancy place. He struck Marisa as being that kind of guy.

“Now, your mama used to have some nice turquoise jewelry. Put that with this little black dress and—” Aunt Radonna leveled a hard look at her. “Raylene still has that turquoise squash blossom, doesn’t she? The one I wanted for myself for about twenty years? As old as it is, it must be worth a fortune by now.”

Marisa had sold the coveted handmade Zuni piece long ago—along with Mama’s old Dodge pickup and numerous other personal treasures—to pay for Mama’s medicine. She sank to the edge of the bed and shook her head.

“My God, Marisa. That was a one-of-a-kind. And the Indian who made it’s dead.”

A rush of tears flew to Marisa’s eyes. “It’s been hard, Aunt Donna. We needed the money.”

On a sigh, her aunt came and sat down beside her and embraced her, nearly smothering her in cloying fragrance. “Well, you had to do what you had to do. I hope you got what it was worth. I wish I could help you more.”

Marisa quelled the sarcasm that flitted through her mind.

Her aunts could help more. If nothing else, they could put in an appearance every once in a while and give Marisa a few hours’ respite. “Mama had an appraisal. A big shot from Midland bought it for his wife.”

“It doesn’t matter. It was just a bunch of blue rocks.” She released Marisa and returned to the closet, came up with a plain red knit top. “Darlin’, this is pathetic. You have no clothes. ...So who’s this guy? Somebody just passing through town? Or something more permanent? I hope he’s not a cowboy.”

“He’s half permanent. He’s the one who bought Agua Dulce and the XO.”

Aunt Radonna’s eyes flared and she gasped. “Why, my God, Rissy. He’s rich.” Her manicured fingers wrapped around Marisa’s wrists, her blue eyes wide with a fierce intensity. “This calls for a whole new strategy.”

She whisked out of the room and returned with a handful of clothing. Bracelets clicking, she flapped out a hot orange low-cut top with spaghetti straps and a diagonal ruffle across the front. Why her aunt had brought something like that to wear in Agua Dulce, Marisa couldn’t guess.

“Now this is sexy,” Aunt Radonna said. “If you’re going off with a guy, especially a rich guy, you want to look sexy. And it shows just a little cleavage. Not too much, just enough to tease.”

Marisa fondled the top’s fabric. It felt soft and slithery.

“Silk knit,” Aunt Radonna said, then clasped the top close to her breast, closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. “Heavenly.”

She pulled Marisa to her feet and pushed her to the dresser mirror. “On you this color will be great.” She wrapped her arms around her and held the top in front of her. “See?”

Marisa tilted her head and studied her reflection. The orange color did look pretty good.

Radonna stuffed the garment into Marisa’s hands, turned away and picked up a drapey skirt that would strike Marisa above the knee. “You wear that top to dinner with this little black skirt. Take my word for it, he’ll have his eyes on your boobs all through dinner. He won’t even notice what he’s eating.” She gave a giggle. “Or the prices on the menu.”

Marisa laughed. Mama had always called her younger sister a glamourpuss who spent all her money on clothes and considered herself an expert on men. And maybe she was. No telling how many lived in her past. Marisa had to agree about the outfit. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll be careful with it.”

Aunt Radonna flopped a wrist, her bracelets jangling. “Don’t worry about it. You won’t have any fun being careful.” She began to sort through other pieces of clothing she had brought into the room. She held up a plain emerald green knit dress that Marisa could tell fit like a glove. “Deep colors, baby doll. With your coloring, deep colors for you. I wore this to a party at the Midland Country Club once.” A dreamy expression passed over Aunt Radonna’s face.

Marisa had expected her aunt’s clothes to be on the trashy side, but while her taste in colors was bold, the styles were subdued, which suited Marisa. The green dress was beautiful and Marisa found herself wanting to wear it.

“Try it on,” Aunt Radonna said, a gleam in her eye.

Reluctantly Marisa disrobed and wriggled into the green knit. Radonna was right. The dress looked great. Finally Marisa had to ask. “Aunt Donna, this is Agua Dulce and we’re talking a couple of days. Where did you think you were going to wear clothes like these?”

Radonna tilted back her head and gave a deep, rich laugh. “Baby doll, my motto is be prepared, like a damn Girl Scout. You never know what”—she winked--“or who will pop up. Sean Connery might pass through.”

Marisa laughed again. “Haven’t seen Sean in ages.” She looked down at the clothing scattered on the bed. “I can’t wear this stuff. I don’t have shoes—”

“What’s your size?”

“Nine.”

Aunt Radonna darted from the room and returned with a pair of black patent high-heeled sandals with ankle straps. Fuck-me shoes if Marisa had ever seen a pair.

“These are eight and a half, but since they’re sandals, you can get by with them.”

Marisa slipped one foot into a shoe and found the fit passable. “I’ll borrow the skirt and the top and the shoes, but I don’t think I’ll need the green dress.”

“Oh, nonsense. Take it anyway. Now, nightclothes. What are you sleeping in?”

“Shorts and a T-shirt.”

Aunt Radonna’s lips twisted into a sneer. “Yuck. And I didn’t bring a thing with me.” She shook her head and stared at the floor. “Oh, well, don’t wear anything. Naked works better anyway. That way, when things heat up, nothing gets in the way.”

Marisa felt her face flush. “Aunt Donna...”

Her aunt came to her. Her hands gripped Marisa’s upper arms,
 
her eyes held a serious expression. “Rissy, look at me.”

Marisa couldn’t keep from looking at her.

“I know you’re thirty something,” her aunt said, “but you’ve never been married. You do know what it’s all about, don’t you? I mean, what happens?”

Good Lord. Was Aunt Radonna intending to deliver a lecture about the birds and the bees? “I’m afraid I do, Auntie.”

Aunt Radonona scrunched up her shoulders. “This is so exciting. My little niece sleeping with a millionaire. Now, take my advice and don’t be shy. Don’t hold back. You’re not a kid. He’ll expect you to know a little something about...well, you know, about...things. I know you read a lot. I don’t suppose you’ve got a good book on sex.”

Chapter 24

And wouldn’t it be so Terry Ledger to rent a whole airplane? Having traveled on any kind of aircraft only three times in her life, Marisa had been giddy with excitement when she saw the small jet he had chartered. As she boarded carrying a duffel that held her borrowed dresses and shoes, Marisa felt like Cinderella boarding a pumpkin carriage.

They flew off, leaving behind pages of lists and instructions for Aunt Radonna on how to take care of Mama and how to run the café and flea market. Marisa hoped for the best, but she had her concerns.

Terry held her hand as they climbed into the clouds and the barren landscape beneath them telescoped. She glanced at his strong profile, admitting to herself that her knowledge of him was as scarce as trees in the desert. Doubt, as if it had been waiting in hiding behind a vast cloud, slithered in, filling the plane with its hot breath of mistrust and disbelief.

Don’t forget he’s only temporary
, the protector inside her head reminded her.
Don’t imagine common ground where none exists.

I won’t
, she promised with conviction.

But no matter what she promised herself, there was no forgetting how sure of him she had been a few nights ago, sharing the bed in the Pecos Belle’s apartment. When he told her he hadn’t felt like this since he was seventeen, she had believed him.

A pre-arranged rental car waited for them at the airport. Terry drove them to Tamaya Resort and from Marisa’s perspective, into another world. The hotel’s architecture harked back centuries to the pueblo-style buildings and courtyards of old New Mexico, possibly to her own ancestors. The luxurious appointments reflected the colors and décor of the Santa Ana Pueblo. When Marisa opened the heavy draperies on the window wall of their room, she discovered a private balcony and a breathtaking view of the mountains. The aroma of bread baking in ovens reproduced from those of ancient Indians wafted through the air and she made a mental note to investigate later.

The ambience captivated her. At her disposal were hiking trails and a museum, swimming pools and a full-service spa—more amenities than she could possibly take advantage of in two or three days. She didn’t tell Terry she couldn’t swim. She hadn’t learned as a child because the only body of water in Agua Dulce large enough for swimming was the Starlight Inn’s bedroom-size swimming pool.

She could get used to this life, she dared let herself think. That is, if she didn’t worry about the cost.

And the cost had nothing to do with money.

All I know is I want to see where we can go.

And that was the million-dollar question, the protector in her head put forth. Her protector was such a punster.

Except for holding hands on the plane, somehow, she and Terry hadn’t touched since making love in the apartment bedroom. The tension of mutual desire simmered between them like a kettle of delicious stew. They didn’t even unpack before they fell into the king sized bed and stayed there the rest of the day.

Oh, the luxury. There must have been a time when she’d spent an entire afternoon in bed with a man who was all male and attuned to her every need, but she couldn’t recall it. This must be what honeymoons were made of, she couldn’t keep from thinking. Lord, she was drunk on happiness.

“Do you like kids?” The question came from out of nowhere, his rumbly baritone voice low in the room’s dim silence.

Spent and sated, in the gauzy afternoon light filtering through the draperies, they lay spoon like. His hand caressed her breast and he kissed her shoulder.

She smiled and wriggled for a better fit, savoring his warm, skin and his crisp chest hair against her back. “If they’re in cages,” she answered and tempered the sarcasm with a two-syllable chuckle.