inside her.
Becca had moved out almost a year and a half ago. Their divorce had been final for six months. She wondered how much longer it would be before she stopped having this physical reaction to him—this burning sensation that swept up from her stomach to her throat and then her face. True, she was still attracted to him. What red-blooded woman wouldn’t be? But that wasn’t the reaction she was having now. It almost felt like embarrassment, but she had nothing to be embarrassed about. She had done what was best for herself and Jimmy, who was then barely five years old. She had moved the two of them back to her hometown of Tarrant, Colorado.
Clay had fought the divorce, as she had known he would, but she had held her ground until the final decree had been granted and she had been free to start life again, this time as a single mother. She had family in Tarrant; her stepmother and her half-sisters, aunts, uncles, and cousins. It was home, and it was safe and comfortable. She needed a secure routine and some emotional comfort after her years with Clay.
She had certainly achieved a secure routine, but little emotional comfort of any kind and she felt it anew every time she saw him now.
. There had been bitter words, hard feelings, and trouble in general between her and Clay ever since she had left him. However, when he had called a couple of weeks ago, Clay had asked for a truce. He was going to be leaving the country soon to take an engineering job in Venezuela and would be gone for several months. He wanted to have Jimmy during the youngster’s spring break from school. They were going skiing. Clay apologized for the hard time he’d given Becca since the divorce, saying that he now realized the whole situation would be much easier for Jimmy if he knew his parents were on friendly terms.
Becca had been so relieved by this overture of peace, that she had immediately agreed to the skiing trip. Now Clay was here, and she hoped she hadn’t made a terrible mistake.
She heard his boots on the front porch, then his knock on the door. Before she could prepare herself any further, or give herself a pep talk about seeing him face-to-face, a whirlwind in the form of her son whipped by her.
“I’ll get it. It’s Dad. I saw him from my window,” Jimmy shouted as if his mother had suddenly been struck with deafness.
Excitedly, he wrestled the door open, then leaped straight into the air and into his father’s outstretched arms, shouting, “Daddy, you came. I knew you’d come.”
“Hey, I wouldn’t let my guy down. You know that.” Clay’s deep voice was muffled as he buried his face against Jimmy’s neck.
Standing in her living room and watching the tender scene in the doorway, all Becca could see was the top of Clay’s black Stetson. It obscured Jimmy’s head, too, so that the only things visible were his little back and his short, jeans-clad legs. Clay’s arms were wrapped tightly around his waist.
Becca’s eyes filled with tears and she turned her head away as she blinked them back. Clay and Jimmy had always been close. Even though he’d never been around an infant before his son’s birth, Clay had never balked at the diaper-changing and floor-walking associated with a baby—and Jimmy had been a sick, fussy baby. She wanted to see that closeness continue even though it meant that she would have extended contact with Clay herself.
When Clay pulled away from Jimmy and lifted his head, Becca braced herself. In spite of his request for a truce, she expected to see censure in his eyes as she had for the past two years. Instead, they were cool and guarded, as was his smile.
“Hello, Becca. How are you?” he asked as his gaze traveled over her, taking her in, from her long chocolate-brown hair, which was pulled back into a neat French braid, to the steady look in her aquamarine eyes, to the set of her full lips and the angle of her narrow chin.
As he examined her, Becca was glad that she had foregone her usual loafers, jeans, and sweater for her dressy boots and a calf-length dress of soft sky-blue flannel. It helped to know that she looked her best.
“I’m fine, Clay,” she answered, and was quite pleased with the cool confidence in her tone. “Come on in,” she invited with a sweep of her hand. “Jimmy’s been up since the crack of dawn, watching for you.”
Clay’s right eyebrow rose a fraction. “I’m here exactly when I said I would be.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” she said hastily. “It’s just that he doesn’t tell time very well yet. He’s only in the first grade, you know.” She was not going to mention the number of times that work had made him break promises to Jimmy, or to her. Nor would she let him think that she had been speaking badly about him to his son. “I told him you would be on time, but he didn’t really understand when ten o’clock would arrive.” Becca stopped suddenly, realizing that she was babbling.
She stepped back and her hand fluttered out. “Why don’t you sit down for a few minutes? Jimmy just learned to read his first book on his own and his teacher let him keep it over spring break so he could read it to you.” She glanced down at her son, who was now clinging to his father’s leg. “Honey, why don’t you go get your book now? Since it belongs to the school library, you can’t take it on your trip with you, but you can read it to your dad before you go.”
Jimmy grinned up at her, showing a gap where his new front teeth were coming in. His hair and eyes were so much like Clay’s that sometimes it hurt. He occasionally had Clay’s stubbornness, too, but today he was all smiles. “I’ll bring my gear, too.”
Jimmy turned and ran off, taking with him the whirlwind of excitement that followed him everywhere.
Becca gestured for Clay to sit on the sofa. See? she told herself. This could be easy if they both worked at it. Their meetings didn’t have to degenerate into the hot words or cold silences of the past. Those silences had been her greatest frustration in their marriage. She came from a family that talked out, even yelled out, their problems. Except in moments of passion, Clay had never shown his deepest emotions.
Becca gave herself a mental shake. She didn’t know why she was thinking about Clay and moments of passion. In fact, she didn’t know why she was going over any of this now, except that every time she saw him, the unresolved feelings surfaced.
Becca forced a smile. “Jimmy’s packed and repacked his duffel bag six times,” she said. “There’s no telling what you’re going to find when you open it.”
“Just so he has his ski clothes and boots.”
“He does.”
Clay sat after he had removed his hat and placed it upside down on the coffee table. He stretched his long legs out, extended his arm along the back of the sofa, and relaxed. Becca perched nervously on the chair opposite, wishing she could be at ease the way he was. After all, this was her house, the kind she had always wanted when they were married. The living room was comfortable with its deep, overstuffed sofa and chairs upholstered in blue and cream checked fabric, the big window swagged with lace and muslin, and the touches of country charm that decorated the walls, bookcase, and tables. She’d had one of her cousins, a carpenter, build plate rails and shelves along the top of the wall in the dining room to display her collection of pre-Depression glassware.
Becca cleared her throat and gave him a bright smile. In spite of her best efforts she knew it looked as fake as a three dollar bill. “I’m quite pleased with Jimmy’s teacher this year. She puts a real emphasis on reading and math. He’s doing very well.”
Again, Clay gave her that steady look, which was beginning to unnerve her. “Yeah, I figured that out from the
