Calthought Addie would have stopped by his place again. He'd bought margaritamix and tequila, fancy instant tea mix and fresh lemons. He went over Ed'snotebooks until his eyesight blurred, and he kept his place even cleaner thanhe usually did, just in case she knocked on the door and wanted to ask about cows.
But she didn't come by, and he blamed the painters for her absence. She waspreoccupied with singing strangers, men who might take advantage of a widowlady with a fat checkbook. So by lunchtime on Thursday,Calcouldn't help butwander over to the big house. Let those fancy painters see that a man waslooking out for Mrs. Larson. He gathered up Ed's books and his own notes and,in clean clothes, headed over to check things out for himself. It was hisduty, he told himself. He was the manager around here.
"Addie?" He knocked on the kitchen door, but doubted she could hear him.There was music playing somewhere, and the painters were still here, theirvans parked next to Addie's wagon on the east side of the house. He opened thescreen door and called to her again. "Addie? It'sCal."
He stopped once he'd entered. The room was different, with fresh, cream paintand fancy red-and-white curtains. The big table was still there, but a vase offlowers sat in its center and fancy, red placemats covered some of its scarred surface, which was now polished and smelling like lemons. After setting theaccount books at the end of the table,Calcrossed the room and peered into theliving area, once Ed's cluttered den, and realized that this, too, was freshlypainted and clean.
"Addie? You home?"
"We arrrh all uppa heayh!" It was a man's voice.Calheard laughter above themusic-some kind of opera, he figured-and he rounded the corner to the foyerand headed up the stairs. He hesitated at the top.
"Addie?"
"Inna heayh!" This time the male voice was followed by Addie's laughter. Heturned into her bedroom and saw her up on a ladder, her waist being held bythe large, hairy hands of a grinning painter.
"Ah," the man said. "You hava more company inna your bedroom,Adelaide."
Calfrowned.Adelaideperched on the top of that ladder and held a long piece ofgreen-flowered fabric as she looked down at him.
"Hi,Cal. I'm trying to decide on curtains."
"Maybe you'd better come down," he said. "Let the painter there hold thestuff while you look."
"I was trying to match the color," she said. "To see if it was really a mintgreen, or had more sea foam undertones."
"Mint," the black-haired painter said, his hands still on her waist anddropping perilously close to her hips. "Absolutely mint, my darling."
Calglared at him and the man's eyebrows rose. "You like the color?" heaskedCal.
"Yeah, it's fine."My darling, my ass. "Get down, Addie. You're making menervous."
"I'm fine," she told him, but she did move her legs and started the descent.The painter released her waist, andCalstationed himself at the bottom of theladder. He set his own hands on her waist and guided her, but he didn't stepback when she turned to face him. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her andhugged her, giving her a brief kiss on the cheek.
"Let's see, sweetheart," he drawled, as if they were alone together in herbedroom every day. "What color have you picked for us now?"
"Cal-" Her eyes narrowed. "What are you-"
"I'm sorry I'm late," he interrupted. "It won't happen again. Show me thecurtains and let the men get back to work. I'm sure they want to finish afterbeing here all week."
"They finished ten minutes ago. They're packing up now."
"Good."Calknew damn well what one of them was doing, and that was coming onto Addie. He bet the guy used that ladder move on all the women he painted for. He eyed the guy again, but the man just winked at him and calledsomething in another language to the rest of the workers. "Where are theyfrom?"
"New York. They're Italian. They got tired of the cold weather up north andmoved the whole business here," she explained. "Didn't they do a wonderfuljob?"
He kept his hands on her shoulders. "Took them long enough."
"It's a big house." She looked up at him and began to laugh, so he lifted herby the waist and swung her around gently, removing her from the ladder and thewatching painters. She went pale right before his eyes. He watched the colordrain out of her face, and she blinked twice and clung to his shoulders.
"Addie?"
"Put me down." Which he did, on the bed.
"Senora?"The largest painter approached the bed, and the other one hoverednearby.
"I'm fine," she assured them, but she dropped her head between her kneeswhileCalcrouched at her feet.
"I'll take care of her."Calnodded toward the men and they got the message:leave quickly and quietly and let me take care of my woman. The music stopped,and for a few minutesCalheard the noise of the men gathering their equipmentand carrying it downstairs and out the front door. "Addie? What's the matter?"
"I guess I'm not good at heights." Her voice shook slightly, enough so heknew that she was still not feeling well.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Nothing. It'll pass in a few minutes."
"This happens a lot?"
"Sometimes." She took a deep breath, but didn't lift her head.Calput hishands on her knees and waited for her to explain. "It's a, uh, female thing."
"Okay, so what can I do?"Female things were out of his area of expertise, allright.
"How about a cold washcloth?"
"Coming up." He hurried to the bathroom and found stacks of towels on a standby the sink. The room smelled like fresh paint, an odor that probably hadsomething to do with Addie's dizzy spell. But she'd looked pale at othertimes, too, which worried him. He wouldn't have thought of her as beingdelicate, but maybe keeping up with the twins was harder than he thought. Johnhad told him they went to kindergarten in town now, for a few hours a day,which must help. They would be there now, he realized, or he would have seenthem.
He ran cold water over the cloth, squeezed the extra water out and returnedto the bed. She looked up and smiled at him.
"Don't look so worried," she said. "I'm better now."
"The paint smell couldn't help." He gave her the washcloth and she put itover her forehead and eyes. "I'm going to open some more windows."
"Okay."
"Don't move, all right?"
"I have to get the boys at two-thirty."
"At school?" She nodded. "I'll get them. Can you lie down now?"
"Good idea." Her smile was wobbly, but when she lifted the cloth from herface, he saw that some color had returned to her cheeks. "What do you think ofthe house? Didn't they do a great job?"
"Yeah," he admitted, but when he thought of that laughing Italian's hands onAddie, he wasn't inclined to give compliments. "But I'm glad they're gone."
"Me, too," she said, leaning back against the pillows. She sighed withcontentment. "The rooms are beautiful, but it's been such anoisy week."
"Get some rest,"Calsaid, longing to smooth the hair away from her face. Buthe stood beside the bed and kept his hands to himself. "I'll get the boys. Theschool's onCedar Street, behind the Dairy Queen, right?"
"Yes. Thank you."
"Put the cloth back on your head." It was awkward, standing here looking downat Addie, who smiled as if he'd said something funny. "What?"
"Don't make me kiss you," she replied, laughing up at him. And then thelaughter stilled, as she seemed to realize what she had said.
"Making fun of me again?" But he bent over and kissed her anyway. And whatbegan as a brief gesture turned into all the words he couldn't say.I want you.I miss you. I wish I could hold you.
"Not really." She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck. He bracedhis arms on the side of her head and sat on the edge of the mattress, in thespace made by the curve of her waist. And the kiss continued, hot and needy,with the surprising familiarity of kissing Addie when she lay on a bed.
"You were acting all jealous and silly," she murmured against his mouth."Mario was only being nice."
"He had his hands all over you."Cal's own hands smoothed Addie's hair fromher face and repositioned the washcloth.
"What are you doing,Cal?"
"Taking care of you."
"That's not what I meant."
"I know." He brushed his mouth against hers, this time as briefly as he couldmanage. She'd gone pale again, and when she opened her eyes to gaze up at him,he saw that she looked frightened. Of what? Him? "Addie," he tried, hoping hesounded like he knew what he was talking about. "It'll be okay."
"I know. I'm fine," she whispered. "I don't like heights. Or the smell ofpaint."
"Yeah," he said."You just stay still for a while and get some rest." He knewshe was just trying to convince herself that she wasn't letting herself bekissed. That she wasn't enjoying it. What he was doing, of course, though shemight not want to see it, was falling in love with her. Making himself part ofher life. Taking care of her.
Calleft the bed, the room and the house. He found the keys to the stationwagon hanging on the back porch and he drove to town to get those boys. AddieLarson might not want to admit it, but she needed a man in her life.
In her bed and out of it, the man she needed was him.
And he figured she knew it, too. When Addie wasn't pretending otherwise.
It happened again, of course. Addie knew it would, because she remembered howit was when she'd been pregnant before. The queasy feelings began to settletoward the afternoon, although the dizziness still came at odd, unpredictabletimes. She needed to be careful that she didn't spend too much time outside inthe heat. And she'd arranged to have central air-conditioning installedMonday, so she'd have to make do with the ceiling fans for a few more days.The two air conditioners in the kitchen and the living room managed to keepthedownstairs comfortable enough for cooking and eating, though she wonderedhow her father had survived in the heat ofTexassummers.
She gathered up the stack of account books and the pages ofCal's meticulouslywritten notes-not that she could decipher much of his handwriting-and preparedto set out to find her number one ranch hand. She'd take the boys with her,two little whirlwinds designed to discourage intimate conversations betweenadults and guarantee any business discussions would be kept brief and to thepoint.
Unfortunately, the heat got to her before she got toCal.
"Mommy?" Ian peered into her face as she sat down in the dust under a spindlytree. "You okay?"
"Sure. Let's just sit here a minute." Matt plopped beside her and began todraw a road in the dirt, but Ian looked disappointed. He'd wanted to seeCalandmaybe get another ride in the truck.
"What aboutMr.Cal?"
"He's around somewhere. We'll find him." She closed her eyes, whichimmediately became a bad idea. So she opened them and focused on her fidgetyson, and hoped she wouldn't faint. This was getting ridiculous. She didn'tremember being this delicate with the twins. She'd been more like a tank thattime, big as a house and mowing down anything in her path. Here she was, noteven three months pregnant and unable to take ten steps without swooning.According to the doctor's calculations, she'd start feeling better in thesecond week of May, when her second trimester began. It couldn't start soonenough.
Though it would come with its own set of problems, like an expanding stomachthat would horrify those around her.
Addie forced herself to breathe through her mouth, but the black spots in hervision wouldn't recede. "Ian, honey, do you seeMr.Calanywhere?"
"Nope." He kicked a dried chunk of horse dung. "Mr. John's in the barn. Hewaved to me when he went in, and I waved back. Can I go see 'im?"
The barn. A place filled with more dangerous things than a medieval torturechamber, and ten times more appealing to small boys. Addie swallowed and knewshe didn't have any choice. If she fainted out here, the boys might not godirectly to John, and then who knows what awful things could happen? Beads ofsweat broke out on her forehead.
"Ian, I want you to go get Mr. John for me, please." She grabbed his pant legbefore he could run off. "Wait. Listen to me very carefully. Don't go near thehorses. Go right to Mr. John and call his name when you get to the barn so heknows you're coming."So he doesn't run over you with a tractor, she wanted toadd. "Tell him your mom needs a little help."
"Me, too?" Poor Matt looked so hopeful, Addie hated to refuse him, but shedidn't want both of them running off.They distracted each other.
"No, sweetheart. I need you to stay here in case I need you to findMr.Cal"she fibbed. She wasn't going to let her other small son go running off alonein the opposite direction, but the child's face lit up at the thought ofseeking out the ranch hand. The boys adored him. The fact that he had pickedthem up at kindergarten yesterday had been the highlight of their lives,according to the excitement at the dinner table that night. Addie had flushedwith guilt, not realizing that fathers picked up children from kindergartenand that little boys noticed such things.
"He drives with one hand," Matt announced. "He put gas in your car. We gotice cream."
"I know. You told me." She watched Ian trot toward the barn, his new sneakerskicking up clouds of brown dust as he swerved around cow manure. He held ametal truck in his hand and he waved at the barn door with the other, so hehad seen John, thank goodness. No piece of heavy equipment or snortingfour-legged animal burst from the darkopening before her small son disappearedinside, so Addie was free to close her eyes. "Come sit with me," she toldMatt. "Hold my hand."
"That's a baby thing," the boy grumbled, but he did as he was told.
"But it makes me feel better," she said, which was nothing if not true.
And the next thing she knew, strong arms lifted her from the ground and shewas tucked against a strong chest.Cal's chest.
"Addie," she heard, a rumble against her ear. "We're going to get you to thehospital. Hang on."
"I don't need the hospital," she protested, feeling silly and yet verycontent to be snuggled againstCal's body. The spots were already receding nowthat her feet were higher than her head and some blood was rushing into herbrain.
"It's the heat, Miss Addie. You're just not used to wanderin' around in thiskinda sun." John replaced her light wicker hat with his own Stetson. "We'regonna get you in the house and turn up the AC and get you a nice cold drink."He took the boys' hands. "Come on, fellas, let's go."
What she got was Cal McDonald guarding her bed for the rest of the day.
Touch of the flue, crackers, bad back, fainting.She could see the wheelsturning in her mother's head as Paula stared at her from across the table.Addie dropped her gaze and studied the chicken on her plate as if it was apiece of art.
"Really?" Paula drawled. "Mommy fainted today?"
"Yep." Ian, who would certainly grow up to be a television reporter,continued ratting on his mother. "She got all funny looking, and Mr. JohncalledMr.Cal."
"She just got a little too much sun," John declared. "She needs a better hat.
I told her, you need a better hat, gal, one that keeps the sun off your head."
"Yeah," Matt said. "That's what he said. A better hat."
Addie reached for her iced tea. "I'm sure that in this heat I should be drinking more liquids." To prove that she meant what she said, she took alarge swallow of iced tea.
"And then," Ian announced, determined to continue on with his little newsscoop, "Mr.Calhad to take Mom to bed."