look on her face—her teasing smile, her eyes wide open, eyebrows raised.
“When will you get here? I’ll put out the welcome mat.” Despite everything, he couldn’t keep the eagerness from his voice.
“I can’t say,” she murmured.
“You need help?”
“What kind of help?”
“I could send you money.” Buffalo Bob realized the minute he said the words that he’d made a mistake. Like him, Merrily had an abundance of pride, and he’d already stepped on it once, earlier in their relationship, by offering her a loan. In fact, she’d come to him that day, wanting to help him without stepping on his pride. Her generosity had touched his heart and it was then that he’d recognized something profound. He loved her.
Buffalo Bob wasn’t a man who loved easily. Over the years he’d had plenty of women, and sex had always been available. He hadn’t been looking for emotional engagements. Women passed in and out of his life; he barely noticed. Merrily was different, had always been different.
“I don’t need your money,” she said curtly.
“Okay, okay. But if you ever do—”
“I gotta go.”
“Merrily,” he shouted, stopping her, “don’t hang up!”
“What?” she snapped.
“You didn’t say where you were.”
“So what?” She sounded bored.
“What’s the weather like?” It was a silly question and without purpose, other than keeping her on the line.
“I don’t know. Gotta go outside and look.”
“It was over eighty here last Tuesday.”
“In Buffalo Valley?” Her voice was skeptical. “I thought you’d have had your first snowfall by now.”
“We could get snow this month, but more likely it’ll come in November.” He grimaced; he was beginning to sound like a television weatherman.
“Gotta go,” Merrily insisted.
“Call me again, all right?” He tried not to plead.
“I… I don’t know if I can.”
“Why not?” he demanded. A hundred scenarios raced through his mind and he didn’t like any of them. “You’re with someone else, aren’t you?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snarled back.
“Yeah, well it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out. Every time you’re not with me, you’re with him.”
“Believe what you want.” The second’s delay in her response told him he’d guessed right. Merrily was with someone else. His gut contracted in a hard, painful knot.
“You can’t have us both,” he said angrily.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she repeated. She seemed to be forcing the words from between clenched teeth.
“Don’t call again.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t.” With that, she slammed the phone in his ear.
Buffalo Bob banged the receiver down with such fury it was amazing the telephone remained in one piece.
That settled that. It was over.
After tonight, Merrily would never come back. He stalked away from the phone, and then turned abruptly. He could punch in two numbers that would automatically redial the number of the last person who’d called.
Buffalo Bob couldn’t let the relationship end. Not like this, not in anger. He shouldn’t have said anything, shouldn’t have asked about there being another man. If there was—although he prayed it wasn’t true—he wanted the chance to fight for Merrily. Wanted the opportunity to prove himself.
He punched in the numbers and waited. Barely a second passed before he heard the phone ring. A deep sigh of relief eased the tension between his shoulder blades.
Three rings, and no answer.
“Come on, baby,” he urged, “pick up the phone. Let’s talk this out, you and me.”
Five rings, no answer.
“Merrily, dammit, don’t end it like this,” he said to himself.
Seven rings, no answer.
Eight.
Nine.
He issued an expletive that would’ve made his mother wash out his mouth with soap if she’d been alive to hear it.
“Hello.”
Buffalo Bob was so stunned he didn’t know what to say. “Is Merrily Benson available?” he asked, polite as a preacher.
“Who?”
“Merrily Benson.”
“Listen, buddy, this is a pay phone outside a restroom.”
“Where?” Buffalo Bob demanded.
“A bowling alley.”
“I meant what city,” he said, losing patience.
“Santa Cruz.”
“Where?” he said again, louder this time.
“California.” Then the man hung up.
Four
Dennis Urlacher had given a lot of thought to making peace with Sarah’s daughter. He just didn’t know how to do it. He’d made numerous attempts to be her friend, to gain her confidence. Each effort had backfired. Their relationship was worse now than it had ever been. Calla was belligerent, disdainful and downright rude to him. Because he loved Sarah, Dennis had taken everything the little brat dished out. No more.
Sarah never had told him why she’d come to his house a week earlier, but Dennis had pretty much figured it out. She’d had a fight with Calla. He’d held her, made love to her and let her sleep in his arms while he watched her, treasuring every minute they could be together.
Close to midnight, she’d awakened, flustered and upset that he’d let her sleep. He stood by silently while she’d hurriedly dressed, then he got dressed, too, and drove her home. They’d kissed, and she’d sneaked inside, almost as if they were both teenagers, fearing a parental confrontation.
Dennis hadn’t seen or talked to Sarah since. That was her usual pattern. They’d make love and afterward she’d avoid him. He didn’t like it, but didn’t know how to break the destructive habit
