Dream 3 - Finding the Dream (21 page)

For a moment, he stared down at the hand on his arm. Delicate. He'd always found that delicacy appealing. The fact that there was steel under it had been both disconcerting and disappointing.

And perhaps if they cleared up this matter, she would stop her constant requests that he flex his schedule to meet her expectations.

"I'm not father material, Laura. I don't consider that a flaw, simply a fact."

"All right." Though her heart ached, she nodded. "I'll accept that. But, Peter, you are a father."

"Your definition of that term and mine are essentially different. My responsibilities are met," he said stiffly. "You receive the child support payments every month."

And they were banked, she thought, into the college funds that he had emptied before the divorce. "Is that it? A financial burden, an obligation. That's all there is for you?"

"I'm not a doting parent, and never have been. I thought once that I would do better with sons. That I wanted them." He spread his elegant hands. "The simple truth is that it doesn't matter now. We didn't have sons, and I don't want more children. Candy's are well tended, polite, and don't require my attention. I don't believe Allison and Kayla require it either. They're being raised well and comfortably in a good home."

Like poodles, she thought, as pity stirred. "The answer is, you don't love them."

"I don't feel the connection you'd like me to." He angled his head to look down at her. "Let's both be honest, Laura. They're more Templeton than Ridgeway. More yours than mine. That's always been true."

"It didn't have to be," she murmured. "They're so beautiful. Miracles. I'm so sorry you can't take what they would give you."

"And I would say that all of us are better off the way things stand. I was angry initially when you insisted on divorce. Angry that it cost me the position I had earned at Templeton. But over the past few months I've come to see that it was inevitable. I enjoy the challenge of running my own hotel, and frankly, Candace is more the kind of woman who suits my needs and my nature."

"Then I hope you're happy. Really." She shuddered out a breath. "Do you really want the girls at the wedding, Peter, or is it for form?"

"If they choose not to attend, it's a simple matter to make the proper excuses."

"All right. I'll talk to them, leave it up to them."

"I'll expect to hear from you by the end of the week. If we're done, I have an appointment shortly." He glanced back across the street. With the air somewhat cleared between them, he chose to be magnanimous. "Your shop is very impressive, Laura. I hope it's successful for you."

"Thank you. Peter," she said when he turned to leave her. People milled around them, but they didn't matter. She remembered a magical night, with moonglow drifting through the gazebo and the scent of flowers and the promise of a dream. "Did you ever love me? I have to know. I also have my life to think about."

He looked at her, standing with the sea at her back, the sun glinting off her hair, her skin pale and fragile. Until the words were out of his mouth he'd had no plans to tell her the truth.

"No. No, I didn't love you. But I wanted you."

A heart could break again, she realized as she nodded and turned back to the sea. It could break again, and again, and again.

The minute she walked back into the shop, Kate pounced. "Upstairs."

"What?" Dizzy with fatigue and grief, Laura let herself be hauled up the winding steps.

"Upstairs and into bed."

"But we're open. The boudoir—"

"Is closed for the rest of the day." In the boudoir, Kate pushed her onto the slippery satin quilt on the big bed and knelt to pry off her shoes. "You get in, turn it off. I don't want you thinking about anything. Anything. Especially whatever that creep said to upset you."

Odd, Laura mused, her vision was all gray at the edges, like a screen narrowing. "He never loved them, Kate. He told me. He never loved my babies. He never loved me."

"Don't think about it." In sympathy, Kate's eyes began to swim. "Don't worry. Go to sleep."

"I feel so sorry for him. So sorry for all of us. I'm so tired."

"I know. I know, honey. Lie down." Fussy as a mother hen over a sick chick, she smoothed the covers over her friend. "Sleep." She sat on the side of the bed, took Laura's hand.

"I used to dream about the way things would be. So perfect. So lovely."

"Shh," Kate murmured even as Laura's voice trailed off. "Dream about something else. Find a new dream."

"Is she out?" Margo said from the doorway.

"Yeah." Kate sniffled and wiped her cheek. And thought of the child inside her. Of the man she'd loved and married, who already cherished it, and her. "I hate Peter fucking Ridgeway."

"Stand in line." Margo stepped in to lay a hand on Kate's shoulder. "When she walked back in, she looked so… broken. I could kill him for putting that look in her eyes."

"Stand in line," Kate echoed. "She'll be all right. We'll make sure of it."

Laura's mind was still fuzzy with fatigue when she returned home. She thought briefly about a long, steaming bath, cool, smooth sheets, and oblivion. But she needed her children, and needed them badly.

She found them, as she'd expected to, at the stables. Bongo greeted her first, racing forward with his tongue lolling out in a grin. He skidded to a halt at her feet, promptly sat his rump down, and lifted a paw.

"What's this?" Charmed, she crouched down to shake.

"Trick dog. Michael's been playing with you. What else can you do, huh? Can you lie down?"

He flopped down into the prone position instantly, looking up for approval, and the expected biscuit.

"Can you roll over? Play dead?"

"We're still working on that." Michael strolled over and to Bongo's relief offered him a biscuit. "You've always got to pay for the show," he said to Laura.

"The girls must be thrilled."

"They're teaching him the rollover. He's making progress." But his eyes were on Laura's, and the shadows under them. "You just getting back?"

"Um. I came down to see the girls and to get a look at the foal. How's she doing?"

"She's doing great, which is more than I can say for you." The frustration and annoyance he'd pent up all day spewed out in rough words. "Are you crazy, going to work a full day on no sleep? You might have nodded off behind the wheel and killed yourself on Highway 1."

"I had meetings."

"That's bullshit, Laura. Just bullshit. What's going on around here? What's this crap about you letting Ridgeway walk with your money and you holding down two jobs to pay the bills?"

"Be quiet." She glanced anxiously over his shoulder, relieved that the girls weren't in sight or earshot. "I don't know who you've been talking to, but it's none of their business or yours. I don't want the girls hearing any of this."

"It's my business when you lose a night's sleep helping me out, then come out here looking as though I could knock you over with a careless breath." He yanked her to her feet. "I figured you were out playing all day at the shop, diddling at an office, and getting your hair done."

"Well, you were wrong, weren't you? And it isn't your concern one way or the other. Now, where are the girls?"

He vibrated with impotence, with the rage of not being able to help or hinder. With a shrug, he turned on his heel. "In the paddock."

"Alone?" Visions of calamities raced through her head even as she dashed toward the stables. When she saw them in the paddock, fear turned to shock.

Her daughters were happily riding in circles on a pair of patient quarter horses.

"I haven't got them jumping through flaming hoops yet or doing flips," Michael said dryly. The woman, he thought, was an open book. "That's next week."

"Aren't they great?" Annoyance with him vanished as she gripped his arm and watched. "Ali's trotting. She posts so well already."

"I told you she was a natural. Kayla," he called out, "heels down."

Her little boots adjusted immediately and, like the pup, she looked over for approval. "Mama! Look, Mama, I can ride!"

"You sure can!" Thrilled, Laura moved to the fence, hooked one foot on the bottom rung. "You both look fabulous."

Her head high, Ali trotted over and drew her mount to a polite stop. "This is Tess. She's three. Mr. Fury says she's a very good jumper, and that he'll teach me."

"She's beautiful, Ali. You look beautiful on her."

"That's why I want her. I can buy her with my own money. I can take it out of my savings." Her eyes tilted down in challenge. "It's my money."

Had been, Laura thought wearily. Peter had taken it, along with the college fund. And she hadn't nearly begun to replace the loss. "A horse is a very big responsibility, Ali. It's not just the buying, it's the keeping."

"We have the stables." She'd thought about this, dreamed about this for days. "I can feed her, and pay for the hay with my allowance. Please, Mama."

Now a headache brewed nastily in the fog of fatigue. "Ali, I can't think about this right now. Let's wait and—"

"Then I'll ask my father." Ali jerked her chin up even as her lips trembled. "I'll call him and ask him."

"You can certainly call him, but he doesn't have anything to do with this."

"You had a horse when you were a girl. You had anything you wanted, but you always tell me to wait. You never understand when something's important. You never understand."

"Fine. All right. I'm not going to fight with you now." Because she was going to break, could already feel the first fissures forming, Laura turned and walked away.

"Get off the horse, Ali." When her stormy eyes came to his, Michael reached over for the bridle. "Dismount. Now."

"I haven't finished my lesson."

"Yeah, you have. Now you're going to get another one." The minute she hit the ground, he wrapped the reins around the fence rail, then plucked the girl up and sat her beside them so his gaze was level with hers. "Do you think you have the right to talk to your mother that way?"

"She doesn't listen—"

"No—you don't listen, and you don't see. But I listened, and you want to know what I heard?" He jerked her chin up when it drooped. "I heard a spoiled, ungrateful brat sassing her mother."

Her teary eyes went wide with shock. "I'm not a brat."

"You just gave a damned good imitation. You think you can snap your fingers and get whatever you want or have a tantrum if it doesn't happen, or doesn't happen quick enough to suit you?''

"It's my money," Ali said hotly. "She doesn't have any right to—"

"Wrong. She's got all the rights. Your mother just came home from working her butt off so that you can have a nice home and food on the table. So you can have your lessons and your fancy school."

"I've always lived here. She doesn't have to work. She just goes away every day."

"Open your eyes." Something, he admitted, he should have done himself. "You're old enough and smart enough to see what she's going through."

Tears began to leak now. "She divorced him. She made him go away."

"I guess she did that just to make you miserable."

"You don't understand. Nobody understands."

"Bull. I understand just fine, which is why I'm not tanning your hide."

"You can't spank me."

He leaned closer. "Wanna bet?"

The very idea was so shocking, so unbelievable, that she closed her mouth tight. "Good choice," he said and nodded. "This horse isn't for sale to you."

"But, Mr. Fury—"

"And you're not welcome in the stables until you've apologized to your mother. If I ever see you sass her again, you will get your hide tanned." He lifted her off the fence and set her down.

On her feet again, Ali fisted her hands at her sides. "You can't make me do anything. You're just a tenant."

"Who's bigger?" Placidly, he stepped over the fence to tend the waiting horse. "And right now, Ms. Ridgeway, you're standing on my property."

"I hate you." It came out on a choked sob, but was nonetheless passionate. "I hate everyone."

She streaked away while Michael stroked the mare. "Yeah, I know how that feels too."

"You yelled at her."

Wincing, he looked over to see Kayla still astride, her eyes huge and fascinated. He'd forgotten he had an audience.

"Nobody ever yells at her. Mama has a couple of times, but she always says she's sorry after."

"I'm not sorry. She deserved it."

"Would you really spank her?" Gray eyes glittered. "Would you spank me if I was bad?"

There was such a poignant wistfulness to the question that Michael gave up. He plucked her out of the saddle, held her hard. "I'd whale the tar out of you." He gave her bottom a light pat. "You wouldn't sit down for a week."

She squeezed harder. "I love you, Mr. Fury."

Hell, what had he done? "I love you too." Which was, he realized with some amusement, the first time he'd said those words to a female in all of his life. "I was pretty hard on her," he murmured, as the picture of Ali's unhappy face swam into his mind. And guilt seeped into his heart.

"I know where she'll go. She always goes there when she's mad."

He should leave bad enough alone, he told himself. He should stay out of it. He should… shit. "Let's go see."