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keeping her still. She ignored that. She could rest when they got back to
Bighorn, she informed him.
Antonia clung to his hand during the movie, and that night, she slept in
his arms. It was as if the past nine years had never happened. He still hadn't
said anything about love, but she knew that he wanted her. Perhaps in time,
love would come. Her real concern was how they were going to cope with
Maggie's resentment, especially if their passion for each other bore fruit. It
was too soon for a baby, but Powell's ardor had been too headlong to allow
for precautions, and his hunger for a child with her was all too obvious. He
wasn't thinking about Maggie. He was thinking about all those wasted years
and how quickly he could make up for them. But Antonia worried.
The wedding service was very small and sedate and dignified. Antonia wore a
cream-colored wool suit to be married in, and a hat with a small veil that
covered her face until the justice of the peace pronounced them man and wife.
Powell lifted the veil and looked at her face for a long moment before he bent
and kissed her. It was like no kiss he'd ever given her before. She looked into
his eyes and felt her legs melt under her. She'd never loved him so much.
Barrie had been one of their witnesses and a sheriff's deputy who was
prevailed upon by the justice of the peace was the other. The paperwork was
completed, the marriage license handed back with the date and time of the
wedding on it. They were married.
The next day they were on the way to Bighorn in Powell's Mercedes-Benz. He
was more tense than he'd been for three days and she knew it was probably
because her body was still reeling from its introduction to intimacy. She was
better, but any intimacy, even the smallest, brought discomfort. She hated
that. Powell had assured her that it was perfectly natural, and that time
would take care of the problem, but his hunger for her was in his eyes every
time he looked at her. At this stage of their new relationship, she hated
denying him what he craved. After all, it was the only thing they did have
right now.
"Stop looking so morose," he taunted when they neared the Wyoming
border hours later. "The world won't end because we can't enjoy each other in
bed again just yet."
"I was thinking of you, not me," she said absently.
He didn't reply. His eyes were straight ahead. "I thought you enjoyed it."
She glanced at him and realized that she'd unintentionally hurt his ego.
"Of course I did," she said. "But I think it must be more of a need for a man.
I mean..."
"Never mind," he mused, glancing at her. "You remembered what I said,
didn't you that I can't go for a long time without a woman? I was talking
about years, Antonia, not days."
"Oh."
He chuckled softly. "You little green girl. You're just as you were at
eighteen."
"Not anymore."
"Well, not quite." He reached out his hand and she put hers into it, feeling
its comforting strength. "We're on our way, honey," he said gently, and it was
the first time that he'd used an endearment to address her. "It will be all right.
Don't worry."
"What about Maggie?" she asked.
His face hardened. "Let me worry about Maggie."
Antonia didn't say anything else. But she had a bad feeling that they were
going to have trouble in that quarter.
They stopped by her father's house first, for a tearful reunion. Then they
dropped the bombshell.
"Married?" Ben burst out. "Without even telling me, or asking if I wanted
to be there?"
"It was my idea," Powell confessed, drawing Antonia close to his side. "I
didn't give her much choice."
Ben glared at him, but only for a minute. He couldn't forget that Powell
had been more than willing to take on responsibility for Antonia when he
thought she was dying. That took courage, and something more.
"Well, you're both old enough to know what you're doing," he said
grudgingly, and he smiled at his daughter, who was looking insecure. "And if
I get grandkids out of this, I'll shut up."
"You'll have grandchildren," she promised shyly. "Including a ready-made
one to start with."
Powell frowned slightly. She meant Maggie.Antonia looked up at him with a
quiet smile. "Speaking of whom, we'd better go, hadn't we?"
He nodded. He shook hands with Ben. "I'll take care of her," he promised.
Ben didn't say anything for a minute. But then he smiled. "Yes. I know you
will."
Powell drove them to his home, palatial and elegant, sitting on a rise
overlooking the distant mountains. There were several trees around the
house and long, rolling hills beyond where purebred cattle grazed. In the old
days, the house had been a little shack with a leaking roof and a porch that
sagged.
"What a long way you've come, Powell," she said.
He didn't look at her as he swung the car around to the side of the house
and pressed the button that opened the garage.
The door went up. He drove in and closed the door behind them. Even the
garage was spacious and clean.
He helped Antonia out. "I'll come back for your bags in a few minutes. You
remember Ida Bates, don't you? She keeps house for me."
"Ida?" She smiled. "She was one of my mother's friends. They sang together
in the choir at church."
"Ida still does."
They went in through the kitchen. Ida Bates, heavyset and harassed,
turned to stare at Antonia with a question in her eyes.
"We were married in Tucson," Powell announced. "Meet the new lady of the
house."
Ida dropped the spoon in the peas she was stirring and rushed to embrace
Antonia with genuine affection. "I can't tell you how happy I am for you! What
a surprise!"
It was to us, too," Antonia murmured with a shy glance at her new
husband, who smiled back warmly.
Ida let her go and cast a worried look at Powell. "She's up in her room,"
she said slowly. "Hasn't come out all day. Won't eat a bite."
Antonia felt somehow responsible for the child's torment. Powell noticed
that, and his jaw tautened. He took Antonia's hand.
"We'll go up and give her the news."
"Don't expect much," Ida muttered.
The door to Maggie's room was closed. Powell didn't even knock. He opened
it and drew Antonia in with him.
Maggie was sitting on the floor looking at a book. Her hair was dirty and
straggly and the clothes she was wearing looked as if they'd been slept in.
She looked at Antonia with real fear and scrambled to her feet, backing
until she could hold on to the bedpost.
"What's the matter with you?" Powell demanded coldly.
"Is she.. .real?" she asked, wide-eyed.
"Of course I'm real," Antonia said quietly.
"Oh." Maggie relaxed her grip on the bedpost. "Are you... real sick?"
"She doesn't have what we thought," Powell said without preamble. "It was
a mistake. She has something else, but she's going to be all right."
Maggie relaxed a little, but not much.
"We're married," Powell added bluntly. Maggie didn't react at all. Her blue
eyes lifted to Antonia and she didn't smile.
"Antonia is going to live with us," Powell continued. "I'll expect you to make
her feel welcome here." Maggie knew that. Antonia would certainly be
welcome, as Maggie never had been. She looked at her father with an
expression that made Antonia want to cry. Powell never even noticed the
anguish in it.
Pick her up, she wanted to tell him. Hold her. Tell her you still love her, that
it won't make any difference that you've remarried. But he didn't do that. He
stared at the child with an austerity that made terrible sense of what he'd said
to Antonia. He didn't know if Maggie was his, and he resented her. The child
certainly knew it. His attitude all but shouted it.
"I'll have to stay in bed for a while, Maggie," Antonia said. "It would be nice
if you'd read to me sometimes," she added, nodding toward the book on the
floor.
"You going to be my teacher, too?" Maggie asked. "No," Powell said firmly,
looking straight at Antonia. "She's going to have enough to do getting
well."
Antonia smiled ruefully. It looked as if she was going to have a war on her [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl exclamation.htw.pl
keeping her still. She ignored that. She could rest when they got back to
Bighorn, she informed him.
Antonia clung to his hand during the movie, and that night, she slept in
his arms. It was as if the past nine years had never happened. He still hadn't
said anything about love, but she knew that he wanted her. Perhaps in time,
love would come. Her real concern was how they were going to cope with
Maggie's resentment, especially if their passion for each other bore fruit. It
was too soon for a baby, but Powell's ardor had been too headlong to allow
for precautions, and his hunger for a child with her was all too obvious. He
wasn't thinking about Maggie. He was thinking about all those wasted years
and how quickly he could make up for them. But Antonia worried.
The wedding service was very small and sedate and dignified. Antonia wore a
cream-colored wool suit to be married in, and a hat with a small veil that
covered her face until the justice of the peace pronounced them man and wife.
Powell lifted the veil and looked at her face for a long moment before he bent
and kissed her. It was like no kiss he'd ever given her before. She looked into
his eyes and felt her legs melt under her. She'd never loved him so much.
Barrie had been one of their witnesses and a sheriff's deputy who was
prevailed upon by the justice of the peace was the other. The paperwork was
completed, the marriage license handed back with the date and time of the
wedding on it. They were married.
The next day they were on the way to Bighorn in Powell's Mercedes-Benz. He
was more tense than he'd been for three days and she knew it was probably
because her body was still reeling from its introduction to intimacy. She was
better, but any intimacy, even the smallest, brought discomfort. She hated
that. Powell had assured her that it was perfectly natural, and that time
would take care of the problem, but his hunger for her was in his eyes every
time he looked at her. At this stage of their new relationship, she hated
denying him what he craved. After all, it was the only thing they did have
right now.
"Stop looking so morose," he taunted when they neared the Wyoming
border hours later. "The world won't end because we can't enjoy each other in
bed again just yet."
"I was thinking of you, not me," she said absently.
He didn't reply. His eyes were straight ahead. "I thought you enjoyed it."
She glanced at him and realized that she'd unintentionally hurt his ego.
"Of course I did," she said. "But I think it must be more of a need for a man.
I mean..."
"Never mind," he mused, glancing at her. "You remembered what I said,
didn't you that I can't go for a long time without a woman? I was talking
about years, Antonia, not days."
"Oh."
He chuckled softly. "You little green girl. You're just as you were at
eighteen."
"Not anymore."
"Well, not quite." He reached out his hand and she put hers into it, feeling
its comforting strength. "We're on our way, honey," he said gently, and it was
the first time that he'd used an endearment to address her. "It will be all right.
Don't worry."
"What about Maggie?" she asked.
His face hardened. "Let me worry about Maggie."
Antonia didn't say anything else. But she had a bad feeling that they were
going to have trouble in that quarter.
They stopped by her father's house first, for a tearful reunion. Then they
dropped the bombshell.
"Married?" Ben burst out. "Without even telling me, or asking if I wanted
to be there?"
"It was my idea," Powell confessed, drawing Antonia close to his side. "I
didn't give her much choice."
Ben glared at him, but only for a minute. He couldn't forget that Powell
had been more than willing to take on responsibility for Antonia when he
thought she was dying. That took courage, and something more.
"Well, you're both old enough to know what you're doing," he said
grudgingly, and he smiled at his daughter, who was looking insecure. "And if
I get grandkids out of this, I'll shut up."
"You'll have grandchildren," she promised shyly. "Including a ready-made
one to start with."
Powell frowned slightly. She meant Maggie.Antonia looked up at him with a
quiet smile. "Speaking of whom, we'd better go, hadn't we?"
He nodded. He shook hands with Ben. "I'll take care of her," he promised.
Ben didn't say anything for a minute. But then he smiled. "Yes. I know you
will."
Powell drove them to his home, palatial and elegant, sitting on a rise
overlooking the distant mountains. There were several trees around the
house and long, rolling hills beyond where purebred cattle grazed. In the old
days, the house had been a little shack with a leaking roof and a porch that
sagged.
"What a long way you've come, Powell," she said.
He didn't look at her as he swung the car around to the side of the house
and pressed the button that opened the garage.
The door went up. He drove in and closed the door behind them. Even the
garage was spacious and clean.
He helped Antonia out. "I'll come back for your bags in a few minutes. You
remember Ida Bates, don't you? She keeps house for me."
"Ida?" She smiled. "She was one of my mother's friends. They sang together
in the choir at church."
"Ida still does."
They went in through the kitchen. Ida Bates, heavyset and harassed,
turned to stare at Antonia with a question in her eyes.
"We were married in Tucson," Powell announced. "Meet the new lady of the
house."
Ida dropped the spoon in the peas she was stirring and rushed to embrace
Antonia with genuine affection. "I can't tell you how happy I am for you! What
a surprise!"
It was to us, too," Antonia murmured with a shy glance at her new
husband, who smiled back warmly.
Ida let her go and cast a worried look at Powell. "She's up in her room,"
she said slowly. "Hasn't come out all day. Won't eat a bite."
Antonia felt somehow responsible for the child's torment. Powell noticed
that, and his jaw tautened. He took Antonia's hand.
"We'll go up and give her the news."
"Don't expect much," Ida muttered.
The door to Maggie's room was closed. Powell didn't even knock. He opened
it and drew Antonia in with him.
Maggie was sitting on the floor looking at a book. Her hair was dirty and
straggly and the clothes she was wearing looked as if they'd been slept in.
She looked at Antonia with real fear and scrambled to her feet, backing
until she could hold on to the bedpost.
"What's the matter with you?" Powell demanded coldly.
"Is she.. .real?" she asked, wide-eyed.
"Of course I'm real," Antonia said quietly.
"Oh." Maggie relaxed her grip on the bedpost. "Are you... real sick?"
"She doesn't have what we thought," Powell said without preamble. "It was
a mistake. She has something else, but she's going to be all right."
Maggie relaxed a little, but not much.
"We're married," Powell added bluntly. Maggie didn't react at all. Her blue
eyes lifted to Antonia and she didn't smile.
"Antonia is going to live with us," Powell continued. "I'll expect you to make
her feel welcome here." Maggie knew that. Antonia would certainly be
welcome, as Maggie never had been. She looked at her father with an
expression that made Antonia want to cry. Powell never even noticed the
anguish in it.
Pick her up, she wanted to tell him. Hold her. Tell her you still love her, that
it won't make any difference that you've remarried. But he didn't do that. He
stared at the child with an austerity that made terrible sense of what he'd said
to Antonia. He didn't know if Maggie was his, and he resented her. The child
certainly knew it. His attitude all but shouted it.
"I'll have to stay in bed for a while, Maggie," Antonia said. "It would be nice
if you'd read to me sometimes," she added, nodding toward the book on the
floor.
"You going to be my teacher, too?" Maggie asked. "No," Powell said firmly,
looking straight at Antonia. "She's going to have enough to do getting
well."
Antonia smiled ruefully. It looked as if she was going to have a war on her [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]