The Art of Love (The Windswept Saga) (29 page)

“CJ?”  Cha
ndler shot him a sharp glance.  “My job.”

CJ lifted his hands in mock defeat and backed away.  “Have fun, you two.  I’ve got a few more mouths to feed before I’m done here.”

“Thank you,” Taylor said before he was out of earshot.

He grinned.  “You’re wel
come.”   Chandler guardedly watched him disappear before turning his focus to Taylor. 

“Not sure why he was being so fresh this morning.”

Taylor simply laughed.  “He was teasing you, of course.  Probably his second-favorite thing in the world to do.”

Chandle
r led the horses into the barnyard, nodding as he did so.  “Yeah, you’re right.  So you’ll mount, and I’ll follow, and we’ll ride side-by-side.”

“Sounds good,” she agreed nervously.  She stood alongside the horse, and he came up behind her.  In his shadow,
she felt the warmth of his body, heard the hitch in his breathing as he waited for her cue.

She raised the toe of her boot and waited for him to respond.  Instinct kicked in once her foot was in the stirrup, but she let Chandler help her into the saddle,
allowed his hands to guide her fingers onto the reins.  His touch was gentle and reassuring, his hands lingering just long enough at her waist to give the moment an added charge.  Once he was sure of her comfort, he made a circuit of his own animal and mounted at lightning speed.  She nodded that she was ready and her horse followed his on cue.

“What’s your horse’s name?” she asked, partly in curiosity and partly to fill the dead air.

“Midnight,” he said quietly.

“Appropriate name,” she observed, looking at
his coal-black skin. 

Chandler nodded.  “I’ve had him for years
.  He’s steady and reliable, but I worry about him.”  For a long time no other words were spoken; Taylor heard the click of horseshoes against the occasional rock, the dirt path well-worn.  She listened to the sounds of nature:  birds singing, trees rustling in the nearly unnoticeable wind.  Every few minutes Chandler made a noise with his cheek, urging the horse onward.  Her horse, named Windswept like so many that came before it, was as calm as CJ had promised.  He maintained a close enough distance to Midnight to not get spooked and Chandler kept a watchful eye on him.  He didn’t tell her where they were going, but he didn’t have to—they were headed to the top of the ridge, the one overlooking the main ranch house.  Its vantage point was so perfectly situated you could see all the way to the main road.  It was neither the highest ridge nor the most scenic, but it provided the illusion of being on top of the world.

“We’ll stop here a minute an
d let the horses rest,” Chandler stated.  “You feeling okay?”

“I’m fine,” she replied.  “I’ll be sore tomorrow, of course.”

His eyes slid over her body appreciatively.  “I’ll massage your legs later—and anything else that might need it.”

She smiled back at
him.  “I’m gonna hold you to that, cowboy.”

The horses grazed for a few minutes and they gathered up the reins and moved on.  Taylor had never been any good at judging distances, but when they reached the plateau and Chandler swung down off of his horse,
it seemed like only a few short minutes had passed since leaving the barn.  Or she was having a mild case of altitude sickness, which was unlikely.  She was simply enjoying herself too much and losing all track of time.  Chandler came up beside her and helped her onto the ground.  Before she had a chance to catch her breath he stole it completely, pulling her against him and burning her lips with the heat from his mouth.  It was a slow burn that warmed her through and through, and she gripped his shoulders to stay upright.

“Dammit,” he said, out of breath.  “You look great in the saddle.”
      

“You could’ve kissed me earlier.  You didn’t have to wait till we’d reached Lover’s Point to do it.”

He laughed, pushed a few strands of hair away from her face.  He grazed her earlobe with his thumb.  “I guess this is kind of a make-out spot, huh?”

“Kind of—but I didn’t hate you bringing me up here today.”

“Good.”  He kissed her again, mindful to be more tender this time. 

“We’ll have to do it more often.”

His eyes sparkled with happiness.  “Someday we’ll come up here at sunrise, when the sky is so beautiful that it hurts your eyes.”

“Okay,” she said with a quick nod.  “You didn’t have to work hard to sell me on that one.”

“I hope it’ll always be that easy.”

“W
hat?”  She gave him a puzzled look.

His hands flattened against her back; he could literally feel her breathing, her lungs expanding and contracting beneath the skin and layers of clothing.  “One of these days I’m going to ask you an important question, an
d I don’t want it to be hard for you to answer.”

Her face lifted in awareness but before she could utter another word, he’d torn himself away from her and gone to stare at the horizon.  She pressed herself to his back, pushing her arms beneath his and clas
ping her hands over his heart.  It was beating steadily, the rhythm of life easily detectable.  “I love you,” she said in a near-whisper.

He angled his head just enough for her to see the trace of a smile on his lips.  “I love you, too.  Always.”

The land rolled before them endlessly, like a series of waves in the ocean.  Each line of hills seemed to reflect a different color in the sunlight—some a bright, verdant green, others a misty blue, and a few that even looked to be the color of slate.  If she looked hard enough, Taylor also saw her future visible amongst the shadows and light.

“Ready to ride, ma’am?”

“Sure am, partner.”  They laughed, the sound vibrating from deep inside their chests.  He helped her back atop her horse and they rode down, taking the long way.  He pointed out the occasional landmark and she would follow his gaze, taking it all in.  It had absolutely been worth it, this trip.  She could get back into the habit of a daily ride, if it meant more of these quiet moments with Chandler. 

“Chandler?”

“Yeah?  Easy, boy.  Take it easy.”  Midnight veered from the path, nearly stumbling on a rock the size of a canteen.  He guided the horse’s reins with the calm and skill that was part inborn, part honed over years of study.  “Sorry about that, T.”

“No worries.  Anyway, there’s something I wanted to ask you.  Something I want you to do.”  He pulled his horse to a halt and she followed.  “I’ve been kind of anxious about it.”

He pushed up the brim of his hat and gave her an easy smile.  “I’d do anything for you.  You should know that by now.”

Taylor nodded, but the movement of her head was more tenuous than self-assured.  “I know.  Sometimes I forget that it’s not just me anymore.  There’s another person’s feelings to consider.”

He let the reins go slack and rested his elbows atop the saddle.  “I’m a pretty tough cowpoke.  I can handle it.”

He listened to her request without speaking,
and only nodded when he felt she expected it.  He could feel her pain in his chest, in his veins, all the way down to his bones.  No matter how much she tried to grit it out, there would always be a part of her missing, an empty place in her heart.  He told her what he knew she needed to hear, not sugar-coating or prevaricating in any way.  After a while they rode back to the barn, and she watched him put the horses and their tack away before he drove her back to town, to his apartment.  They didn’t make love, no matter how great the temptation might’ve been.  He held her in his arms, his chin rested atop her head, and watched the sun go down.

***
   

The crinkling of plastic was the only sound either of them made, and that was unintentional.
  He held the gate for her, its ancient hinges creaking, and followed her inside.  Her goal had been to get to the cemetery early that Memorial Day, and they’d succeeded.  The grass was still dewy, slicking up the toes of their boots.  There were markers of all shapes and sizes, varying ages and materials, reflective of a cemetery that had been well-used through the years but had yet to fill up.  Small American flags, placed to commemorate veterans, fluttered in the light breeze.  It was a place of great reverence, tinged with memories of sorrow.  Chandler’s recollections of this place were certainly not happy ones.

He followed in her fo
otsteps to the area where the Holts were buried.  Joseph was interred under a double stone, with space enough for Alice at a date, Taylor hoped, would come far in the future.  She unwrapped the pink carnations in her arms and placed them in a built-in vase, arranging the bulbs to please her own eye.  She stood up straight and sighed.

“Would you like to be alone?” Chandler asked quietly.

“No,” she answered quickly.  She took the other flowers from his arms, also pink carnations, and placed them atop Riley’s stone.  It was a flat marker, standing slightly proud of the ground and to the left of her parents’ stone.  Chandler swallowed hard—there was something so wrong, so unjust about the three short years separated by that chiseled dash.

Taylor went inside her own head for a few minutes, sending silent pleas to each of them, then asking God to continue His watch over everyone, that they might continue to understand and accept His will.  She glanced at Chandler briefly, saw the tears
that stained his cheeks, iridescent as they left his blue eyes.  She reached up and thumbed a few of them away.

“It’s weird,” he said, clearing away the thickness in his throat.  “I lived your father’s death right along with you.  It still stirs up a lot of emot
ion.”  He gave her a tense smile.  “I’m sorry I never had the chance to meet your son.”

She rested her hands atop his chest, the fabric of his shirt soft and warm to the touch.  “I’m sorry they never had a chance to meet, at least here on Earth.  I like to
think they’re together, you know.”

“I know.  We could all use a guardian angel here and there.”

She rose up and kissed him softly.  “Thank you for coming,” she said afterward.  “It meant a lot to me.”

Chandler nodded solemnly.  “Anytime you wanna come
back—anytime at all—don’t hesitate to ask.  I’ll be right here, by your side.” 

Chapter 20

The next morning started with a flurry of activity.  He’d asked Taylor to come in late, intuition telling him that she could use a little more time with Alice even if she tried to convince him otherwise.  He went to work early, taking down every canvas until the walls were blank.  Then he worked to rearrange the paintings, allowing light to catch on different images, highlighting some pieces for the very first time.  Even though he had years of experience with a paintbrush, he was reluctant to admit he was still a novice at staging his finished art.  He was washing the windows—over-washing, really—when Scott strode into the space.

“I didn’t know if you were open or
not, kid, so I took a chance.” 

Chandler dropped what he was doing, smiled, and shook Scott’s hand.  “My door is always open for you, sir.  How can I help you this fine morning?”

“Well,” he said, a little more cautiously than usual, “I have good news and bad news.  Good news is I’m headed to Texas for a lengthy assignment.  I may be gone up to a year, photographing this and that.  Bad news is I’m gonna miss all the good stuff around here—4
th
of July with your family, the annual campout, even the Labor Day Rodeo.”

Chandler laughed.  “I’d wager the bad news is worse than the good, but I know how much you love your work.”

“I do that,” he agreed.

“Do you have someone to take care of your ranch while you’re gone?”

Scott nodded.  “Sure do.  And I told your father already so I know I can count on all of you to check in from time to time.  Just do me a favor and check on Dad, too.  He’s no spring chicken and, well, I don’t have to tell you that I worry about him even though he’s more or less retired from the feed store.”

“You can count on me, Scott.”  They shook hands again.  “Take some shots for yourself while you’re down there.  Maybe I’ll hang them up here when you come back.”

He smiled at Chandler.  “I’m gonna hold you to that.”  Scott gave him a once-over.  “I can’t believe how fast all of you grew up.  It’s crazy.”

Chandler nodded in agreement.  “I still can’t believe I’m an uncle.  Now that’s crazy.”

“But in a good way,” Scott surmised.

“Definitely.”

Scott looked toward the door.  “My flight is leaving soon.  Listen, if you decide to get married before I come back…”

“I’ll find some way to let you know.”

“Thanks. Well, see you when I get back, and good luck with everything.”  He turned to go and Chandler watched with admiration.

“Have a safe flight, Scott,
and Godspeed.”  Scott waved him goodbye through the window, and Chandler sighed.  He found himself thinking about Scott’s solitary lifestyle, how he’d never gotten serious with a woman, passing into middle age unmarried and childless.  He hoped that wouldn’t happen to him, although he was still had his entire life ahead of him.  He turned from the completed window and went back to his work.  He was getting ready to rehang the final painting when his grandmother strolled into the shop.  She was moving slower these days but didn’t carry the outward appearance of anything less than good health.  He pulled her into a gentle hug and left a kiss on her cheek.  “What brings you in here today, ma’am?” he asked as though she was any other customer.