On Ice (28 page)

“
We’re pretty old-fashioned around here. Love leads to marriage and happily ever after. Honestly, Rene!” He raised his hand to gesture, but stopped short when she flinched. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice.” He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed deeply. “If I ever catch up with the bastard who made you so afraid of men, I won’t be responsible for my actions.” Draining his wineglass, he refilled it quickly. He stared into the flickering fire a moment before turning back to Rene. “Are you so adverse to marriage, then?”

“
That’s not it. It’s just so soon.” Rene glanced down at her trembling hands and clasped them together in her lap to still them. “We’ve only known each other a short time. You really don’t know me at all.”

“
I know all I need to know. The rest, we can discover over a lifetime together.” He traced one finger over the back of her hand. “You can’t deny that you love me.”

“
No, I can’t.” She met his gaze. “I love you and I’m sure you’ll make a wonderful husband and father. It’s just too soon. Can’t we enjoy what we have now and see how things work out?”

“
Sure. I won’t push. I want you to be comfortable with me. We’ll go along day-by-day until you’re ready. In the meantime you can fix the house to your liking. Seth and Sara seem to be pleased with their rooms, but you can help them decorate. Maybe the role of mistress of the house will grow on you.” He dropped a light kiss on her lips.

“
This house already has a mistress and it’s not me.”

“
Mrs. Jolly? She works for me. You would be her boss.”

Rene had to laugh. “Believe me, that will never happen. I just want to get well enough to go back to my cabin--that is, the cabin you’re letting us live in. It gives me great pleasure to be there. I’m the mistress of that house.”

“
Why the cabin?”

“
Because, I can grow there. Maybe someday I’ll be the woman you deserve.”

~*~

Startled by noises coming from behind the cabin, Rene struggled to rise from the sofa. The pain in her mid-section was still a little tender. Brett had reluctantly brought her home the day before. She insisted that she could care for herself, but Brett and Mrs. Jolly promised to drop in often. She looked out the window to see Ben carrying something to the pottery shed. Pulling on a jacket, she stepped onto the back porch and called his name. The first snow had melted into the thirsty earth leaving it a bit soggier and lending a crisp bite to the air.

“
Oh, hi, Miz Reeny!” Ben stood grinning at her from the doorway. “Whacha’ doin’?”

“
Wondering what you’re doing, Ben.” Rene went down the steps toward him. Only a few twinges and bruises reminded her of her accident, but Brett had insisted she take time to recover before returning to school. The volunteers were carrying on in her absence.

“
I dug some clay from tha river bank, ‘n I thought I’d get it ready to work. How’re ya feelin’?”

“
I’m a little sore, but I’m getting around. Can I watch you?”

“
Sure. It’s not real interestin’ though. I’m just gettin’ the clay ready.” He waved her inside.

The shed smelled like damp earth. A light coating of dust covered every surface. Ben dumped the clay out of an old rusted bucket, spreading it onto a wooden table. He pounded it into a slab with his fists.

“
That’s it!” Ben said. “It has to dry now. Whyn’cha sit down, Miz Reeny?” He wiped off a stool with a red rag.

“
You don’t make it into pots?” Rene climbed carefully onto the stool. She had no idea what the process entailed.

“
No, Miz Reeny. The clay’s gotta dry out. Then I break it up with a hammer ‘n pound it into dust.”

“
But don’t you work with it when it’s wet to make the pottery?” Reaching out to touch the clay, Rene found it pleasantly cool.

“
Yes’m, but I hafta mix it with some other dry clays to make it stronger.”

“
Where do you get the other clays? Do you dig them up, too?”

“
No, Miz Reeny.” Ben laughed. “I order from a catalog. I put crushed river clay through this wire screen to get the junk out of it. When it’s fine as flour, I mix it with other clays. I have my own recipe.” He seemed proud of this fact.

“
Your work is beautiful, Ben.” She moved around the small studio, examining some of the pieces that had apparently been drying on the shelves for some time. “I hadn’t noticed you working out here before.”

“
I run out o’ clay,” Ben said. “I can’t get it when the water’s rushin’ so fast in the spring or the winter when it’s froze over. From June through September I dig a lot o’ the river clay ‘n get it ready to work.”

“
When do you make the pottery?” Rene stopped her exploring and turned to look at him.

“
September ‘n October, mebbe November afore the freeze-up. It’s hard to get the kiln hot enough after that.”

“
Oh, yes,” Rene said. “I’ve heard about that. It’s when most of the rivers and lakes ice over, right?”

“
That’s right, Miz Reeny,” Ben said. “Means that winter’s here.”

“
It’s cold now, but pleasant enough,” Rene said. “It’s hard to believe this will all be frozen in a short time. How do people get used to it?”

“
I’ve never known anythin’ else, Miz Reeny,” he said. “It just seems like the way it should be, somehow.”

“
I hope we can survive,” Rene said. “I’ve never liked being cold.”

“
You gotta get some warm clothes ‘n I mean some really warm clothes. You put on lots o’ layers ‘n stay inside when it’s terrible cold.”

“
How cold is terrible cold, Ben?” Rene wrapped her arms around herself as though already chilled.

“
I guess January and February are the coldest. It gets down to more ‘n thirty below sometimes. But folks ‘round here try to get ready for it when the weather’s good. I been choppin’ some wood for you, Miz Reeny.”

“
Thanks, Ben. I don’t know how to prepare for the cold weather. What should I do to make sure the kids and I live through the winter?” She shivered as the meaning of her words registered.

“
Just be sure you have lots of food and warm clothes,” he said. “Oh, ‘n be sure you have somethin’ to do.”

“
Like what?” Rene asked.

“
What do you like to do, Miz Reeny?”

“
I don’t know, Ben,” Rene said. “I don’t guess I have any hobbies.”

“
You have a little while to get one,” he said with a laugh. “I always get some books and save ‘em to read in the winter. An’ I like to look at the stars through my telescope an’ I feed the wild animals, ‘cause it’s hard for them to find food then.”

“
Guess I better get busy, hmmm?” she said.

“
Yes’m, that’s a fact.”

~*~

“
Maddy, are you all right?” Ted peered at her over his glasses.

Propped on their bed with pillows that had been fluffed by every hand in the house, Maddy tossed her fashion magazine aside. She heaved several pitiful sighs to bring Ted out from behind the newspaper.

“
Yes, dear, I’m fine,” she said. She flashed him a brave little smile as she flipped the fringe on the afghan back and forth.

“
Uh-oh,” Ted said as he folded his paper. “What gives?”

“
Gives? Why, whatever do you mean?”

“
Come on. You have something on your mind. Just tell me,” Ted urged.

“
As a matter of fact, I have been thinking about our situation with Mark.”

“
And--?”

“
I don’t understand why the police can’t arrest him. They don’t seem to consider this simple little matter of sister-in-law abuse a priority.”

“
True. No one’s dead yet so they’re not interested.” Ted’s mouth tightened as he considered the problem.

“
I was wondering--”

“
Yes?”

“
I was wondering if we could hire someone to help us.” She stopped flipping the fringe, looking anxiously at Ted. “You know? A private detective.”

Ted considered the matter for a moment. “Not a bad idea. Let me make a few calls.”

Maddy handed him the cordless phone, but he shook his head. “I’ll go to my study. You try to rest.”

“
But--”

“
No buts. You rest.” He turned off the lamp on the bedside table, giving her a fond, but firm kiss on the forehead.

~*~

Rene gritted her teeth and issued a series of wordless mental curses against Mark for keeping her isolated on a technical island during their marriage. His home office and computer had been off limits.

She struggled to retrieve her limited computer knowledge from college, much to the amusement of the local computer wizards.

“
Just chill, Mrs. Nichols,” Glen said. “You’re stressing too much over this.” He and Gunnar had undertaken the task of setting up the new computer and providing Rene’s electronic education. Both boys were totally engrossed in their work this Saturday morning.

“
Okay,” Gunnar said. “We installed the new programs. Come and sit down. We’ll show you how to access them.” He whirled out of the chair and held it for her. Their delighted expressions encouraged her to master the confusing directions and tame the demonic machine which seemed intent on humiliating her.

“
Oh, why did it do that?” she asked as the image disappeared from the monitor, replaced by a screen full of chastising directions.

“
It didn’t do anything, Mrs. Nichols,” Glen said. “You hit the wrong key. It just does what you tell it to do.”

“
I’ll never learn this,” Rene growled. She massaged her rib, hoping they would get the hint. “Mrs. Nichols,” Gunnar chided. “You always tell us to stick with it and not to give up.”

“
Okay! Okay! Just try to be gentle. My brain is bruised from the beating it’s been taking.” She thought the young men were more than a little pleased to find the shoe on the other foot.

After another hour passed, Rene had enough. “Calf rope!” she said, pleased by their blank expressions. “That’s how Texans throw in the towel. You know, cry uncle?”

Gunnar rolled his eyes. Glen shook his head.

“
Do you remember how to shut it down?” Glen asked.

“
Actually, I do.” Rene demonstrated her new found ability. “Absence of pain is pleasure.”

Another blank stare.

She breathed a sigh of relief as the two took their noisy leave. The energy in the cabin seemed to have suddenly been swept out the door with them. Casting a glance back at the offending computer, she pulled on a jacket and stepped out onto the back porch. The cool wind played around her ears, causing her to pull her collar up. She thrust her ungloved hands deep in her pockets. Leaning against the side of the cabin, she listened to her children’s laughter as they played around the pottery shed. Ben volunteered to safeguard them while she received her tutorial.

As she watched, a strange sense of longing constricted her throat. She wanted so much for them to be able to run and play happily in the dappled sunlight, no dangers hovering over them.
If I could give them this forever...
The only way to improve the picture would be for Brett to be in it. That was impossible, of course. Mark would not give them up willingly. She sighed and put on a determined smile as Sara spotted her.

“
Mommy!”

“
Hey, Miz Reeny,” Ben called and waved.

“
Do you know the computer now, Mom?” Seth asked.

“
No, Honey. It knows me, though,” she said. “It figured me out, real fast.”

~*~

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

After Rene’s accident, fatigue was still a major complaint. She was in the habit of taking a nap in the afternoons with Sara. They both lay on her bed, but only Sara slept. Seth was watching a nature program on their new television with the sound turned down low. Rene felt drowsy, but couldn’t drop off to sleep. She fingered the bear fetish on the narrow leather thong. It felt warm and smooth. Rubbing it over her lower lip, she recalled her feelings when the bear rose up on her back legs and let out a deep growl.
I should learn to growl.

Rene started as a vehicle entered the clearing. She looked out through the curtain, recognizing Honeybee’s truck. Honeybee climbed out and crunched through the light frosting of snow. Rene hurriedly ran her fingers through her fluff of untamed hair and opened the door. They stared at each other for a moment. Rene gestured Honeybee inside.

“
How are you feeling?” Honeybee asked. She hung her jacket on a peg behind the door, revealing a bulky cardigan sweater in autumn shades to compliment her warm coloring.

“
I’m a little sore and I tire easily, but I’ll live.” Rene offered Honeybee a seat on the sofa.

“
You were lucky.”

“
People keep telling me that,” Rene said. She offered refreshments, but Honeybee declined. She seemed ill at ease, rubbing her hands together as though chilled. It occurred to Rene that her hands were very shapely with long, tapering fingers.
Botticelli could have painted these hands.