Addie had been astounded by the Warner family's lack of surprise at the situation. They had all taken it for granted that Caroline had no need to be intimate with a man unless it was for the purpose of conceiving children. But Addie knew about Caro's affair with Raif Colton. Caroline was a woman of flesh and blood, not marble, and she had a need to give and receive love.
Addie felt sorry for Caroline. Was that all her sister intended to have for the rest of her life, a lifeless marriage and a few memories of passion? Addie had the feeling that inside Caro there still burned a love for the hot -tempered cowboy who had been her lover, the father of her firstborn, a man who'd been killed as violently as he had lived. As she sat there sewing placidly, did Caro ever think about him and what they'd shared? Maybe she couldn't let herself.
I could never make the kind of mistake she did, Addie thought in wonder. I could never give Ben up for someone else, no matter how right or wrong it seemed. I guess I don't have the strength.
Addie had never been so conscious of the differences between herself and the other two women as she was at this moment. Long ago they had accepted the role that women were supposed to assume. Sacrifice, submit, put your own needs behind everyone else's. Tolerate the things that bring you pain, bend like a reed in the wind. That took a different kind of strength from what Addie had. She had been raised to respect her own needs just as men respected theirs. She wouldn't last long as a martyr. She didn't have the quiet, steely patience it took to suffer uncomplaining day after day.
The days of her childhood were gone, but they were still a part of her. Living with Leah during those years after the war, she had learned to work and scratch for pennies, had discovered she could carry the weight of many burdens on her shoulders, just as long as she had the freedom to make her own decisions. That freedom of making choices must never be taken away.
And I'll never go through life without feeling and belonging, never again. I won't spend my days hoping they'll go by quickly, feeling numb about everything.
She jumped slightly as she felt the sting of her own needle. "Ouch!"
"Stuck yourself?" May inquired.
"Yes, Mama. I just can't concentrate on this."
"Why don't you find a book to read?"
Addie didn't feel like reading, but she nodded halfheartedly, setting her work aside. She grimaced as she saw she'd left a little spot of blood on the cloth, one that would have to be camouflaged with more embroidery. Then she heard the light, seductive plucking of guitar strings drifting in from outside, and her pulse quickened. Ben was playing his guitar on the steps of the small two-room ranch building he lived in, as was his habit when dinner was finished early. The melody was soft and coaxing.
"What a pretty song," Caroline commented, and Addie stood up hastily. It was impossible to resist the lure of that music.
"I'm going for a walk," she muttered, and left the room. They all knew where she was headed.
May called out after her, her voice low and compressed, "Don't be long, you hear me?"
Then Caro's voice, softer, cajoling, as she spoke to May. "Mama, you know whatever you say against him will only make her more determined. It might be wiser to say nothing."
"Good old Caro," Addie whispered, grinning to herself. Why had so many of the friends she had once known complained about their older sisters?
She went outside and skipped down the steps like a child, suddenly lighthearted. Her heart seemed to expand with gladness as she saw Ben. The moonlight cast silvery-blue highlights in his dark hair and illuminated the long stretch of his legs as he sat in the doorway of the little building. One of his feet was propped on a step, the other resting on the ground, while the guitar was saddled on his bent knee.
He smiled as he saw her and continued picking out a melody, his eyes never leaving her slender form. Addie hooked her fingers into a handful of material on either side of her skirt and swished it with each step she took, feigning nonchalance.
Their gazes met as she came nearer, exchanging wordless promises.
"Do they know you're out here?" Ben asked, nodding toward the house.
"I told Mama and Caro I was taking a walk."
"That's all? You didn't mention me?"
"They knew I was coming out here to see you." Ben grinned. "Then it's a little coy to say you're just taking a walk, isn't it?"
She pretended to pout, turning to go back where she'd come from, pausing to throw him a glance over her shoulder. "If you don't want my company, just say so."
"I'd never say that, darlin"." He moved over a few' inches and indicated the space next to him with the neck of the guitar. "Have a seat."
"It's too narrow. I wouldn't be able to fit in there." His smile was devilish. "Give it a try."
Addie managed to squeeze next to him and fill the remaining space in the narrow doorway. "Oh, I can't even breathe-"
"I'm not complaining." He leaned over and slanted his mouth over hers. Her tongue met his, warmth against warmth, offering and tasting, until Ben's blood stirred with increasing vigor. He made a deeply appreciative sound before pulling his mouth away, mindful of the need to keep up appearances. Clumsily he reset his fingers on the strings and regarded the guitar as if he'd never seen it before.
"Did I used to know how to play one of these things?"
She chuckled and then nuzzled deeper into his neck, loving the scent of his skin. "Yes. Play something beautiful for me, Ben."
He bent his head to the guitar and obliged. The haunting melody she had heard so many nights while alone in her bed seemed to curl around them. She pressed her cheek against his shoulder, her eyes halfclosing with bliss. "That sounds so sad."
"Does it?" He continued playing, looking down at her thoughtfully. "It reminds me of you a little."
"I'm not sad."
"But not quite happy."
His perception was unnerving, and Addie couldn't deny it. She would be happy if she weren't afraid for Russell, and if there weren't such animosity between Sunrise and the Double Bar, and if her relationship with Ben wouldn't cause May such distress, and if her worries about her own past could be resolved… well, there was a list of such things to be taken care of.
"No, I'm not completely happy," she admitted. "Are you?"
"Sometimes."
She made a disgruntled face. "It's easier for men to be happy than women."
Ben laughed outright. "I've never heard that before. What makes you think it's easier for us?"
"You can do anything you want to do. And your needs are so simple. A good meal, an occasional night of drinking with the boys, a woman to share your bed, and you're in ecstasy."
"Hold on," he said, his eyes gleaming with wicked amusement as he set the guitar down and turned to face her, his hands coming to rest at her hips. They were surrounded by night music, the sound of the crickets and the rustling of the breeze through the hay. "There are a few points you've neglected."
"Oh? What do you need beyond the things I just mentioned?”
"A family, for one thing."
"Big or small?"
"Big, of course."
"Of course," she echoed wryly. "You wouldn't say that if you were the woman who had to bear the children."
"Probably not," he conceded, and smiled. "But speaking as a man, I like the idea of at least half a dozen."
It was difficult to picture him as a father. He was too well suited to the role of amorous bachelor. "Somehow I can't see you tolerating a house swarming with children, a baby spitting up on your shirt and another tugging at your pants leg."
"I happen to like children."
"Even messy ones?"
"Didn't know there was another kind."
"How do you know you like them?" she demanded.