Chapter 5
Five
Shelly ran a hand over her weary eyes and blinked. “You’re right,” she murmured, forcing a smile. “The time has come.”
“Shelly—”
“Listen—”
“You first,” Slade said, and gestured toward her with his open hand.
Dropping her gaze, she shrugged one shoulder. “It’s nothing, really. I just wanted to wish you and Margaret every happiness.”
His gaze softened, and she wondered if he knew what it had cost her to murmur those few words. She did wish him happiness,
but she was convinced that he wouldn’t find it with a cold fish like Margaret. Forcefully she directed her gaze across the
room. For all her good intentions, she was doing it again—judging someone else. And she hadn’t even met Margaret.
When she turned back his eyes delved into hers. “Thank you.”
“You wanted to say something?” she prompted softly.
He hesitated. “Be happy, Shelly.”
A knot formed in her throat as she nodded. He was telling her goodbye, really goodbye. He wouldn’t see her again, because it would be too dangerous for them both. Their lives were already plotted, their
courses set. And whatever it was that they’d shared so briefly, it wasn’t meant to be anything more than a passing fancy.
The front door opened and her father entered, brushing the snow from his pant legs. A burst of frigid air accompanied him,
and she shivered.
“As far as I can see you shouldn’t have a problem,” Don said to Slade. “We’ve got maybe seven to ten inches of snow, but there’re
plenty of tire tracks on the road. Just follow those.”
Unable to listen anymore, she headed into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of hot black coffee. Clasping the mug with
both hands, she braced her hip against the counter and closed her eyes. Whatever Slade and her father were saying to each
other didn’t matter to her. She was safer in the kitchen, where she wouldn’t be forced to watch him leave. The only sound
that registered in her mind was the clicking of the front door opening and closing.
Slade had left. He was gone from the house.
Gone from her life. Gone forever. She refused to mope.
He’d touched her heart, and she should be glad.
For a long time she’d begun to wonder if there was something physically wrong with her because she couldn’t respond to a man.
Slade hadn’t so much as kissed her, but she’d experienced a closeness to him that she hadn’t felt with all the men she’d dated in San Francisco.
Without even realizing it, he had granted her the priceless gift of expectancy.
If he was capable of stirring her restless heart, then so would another.
Humming softly, she set a skillet on the burner and laid thick slices of bacon across it. This was the day before Christmas,
and it promised to be a full one. She couldn’t be sad or filled with regrets when she was surrounded by everything she held
dear.
The door opened again, and her father called cheerfully, “Well, he’s off.”
“Good.” She hoped her tone didn’t give away her feelings.
“He’s an interesting man. I wouldn’t mind having someone like him for a son-in-law.” He entered the kitchen and reached for
the coffeepot.
“He’s engaged.”
He sighed, and there was a hint of censure in his voice when he spoke. “That figures. The good ones always seem to be spoken
for.”
“It doesn’t matter. We’re about as different as any two people can be.”
“That’s not always bad, you know. Couples often complement each other that way. Your mother was the shy one, whereas I was
far more outgoing. Our lives would have been havoc if we’d had identical personalities.”
Silently Shelly agreed, but to admit as much would reveal more than she wanted to. “I suppose,” she murmured softly, and turned
over the sizzling slices of bacon.
A few minutes later she was sliding the eggs easily from the hot grease onto plates when there was a loud pounding on the
front door.
Her gaze rose instantly and met her father’s.
“Slade,” they said simultaneously.
Her father rushed to answer the door, and a breathless Slade stumbled into the house. She turned off the stove and hurried out to meet him.
“Are you all right?” Her voice was laced with concern. Heart pounding, she looked him over for any obvious signs of injury.
“I’m fine. I’m just out of breath. That was quite a hike.”
“How far’d you get?” Don asked.
“A mile at the most. I was gathering speed to make it to the top of an incline when the wheels skidded on a patch of ice.
The car, unfortunately, is in a ditch.”
“What about your meeting?” Now that she’d determined that he was unscathed, her first concern was the appointment that he
considered so important to his future.
“I don’t know.”
“Dad and I could take you into town,” she offered.
“No. If I couldn’t make it, you won’t be able to, either.”
“But you said this meeting is vital.”
“It’s not important enough to risk your getting hurt.”
“Not to mention my truck has been acting up, so I took it in for servicing,” her father said, then smiled. “But there’s always
the tractor.”
“Dad! You’ll be lucky if the old engine so much as coughs. You haven’t used that antique in years.” As far as she knew, it
was collecting dust in the back of the barn.
“It’s worth a try,” her father argued, looking to Slade. “At least we can pull your car out of the ditch.”
“I’ll contact the county road department and find out how long it’ll be before the plows come this way,” Shelly said. She
didn’t hold much hope for the tractor, but if she could convince the county how important it was to clear the roads near their
place, Slade might be able to make his meeting somehow.
Two hours later, Shelly was dressed in dark cords and a thick cable-knit sweater the color of winter wheat as she paced the living room carpet.
Every few minutes she paused to glance out the large front window for signs of either her father or Slade.
Through some miracle they’d managed to fire up the tractor, but how much they could accomplish with the old machine was pure conjecture.
If they were able to rescue Slade’s car from the ditch, then there was always the possibility of towing it up the incline so he could try again to make it into the city.
The sound of a car pulling into the driveway captured her attention, and she rushed onto the front porch just as Slade was
easing the Taurus to a stop. He climbed out of the vehicle.
“I called the county. The road crew will try to make it out this way before nightfall,” she told him, rubbing her palms together
to ward off the chill. “I’m sorry, Slade, it’s the best they could do.”
“Don’t worry.” His gaze caressed her. “It’s not your fault.”
“But I can’t help feeling that it is,” she said, following him into the house. “I was the one who insisted you bring me here.”
“Shelly.” He cupped her shoulder with a warm hand. “Stop blaming yourself. I’ll contact Walt Bauer, the man I was planning
to see. He’ll understand. It’s possible he didn’t make it to the office, either.”
Granting him the privacy he needed to make his call, she donned her coat and walked to the end of the driveway to see if she
could locate her father. Only a couple of minutes passed before she saw him proudly steering the tractor, his back and head
held regally, like a benevolent king surveying all he owned.
Laughing, she waved.
He pulled to a stop alongside her. “What’s so funny?”
“I can’t believe you, sitting on top of a 1948 Harvester like you own the world.”
“Don’t be silly, serf,” he teased.
“We’ve got a bit of a problem, you know.” She realized she shouldn’t feel guilty about Slade, but she did.
“If you mean Slade, we talked about this unexpected delay. It might not be as bad as it looks. To his way of thinking, it’s
best not to appear overeager with this business anyway. A delay may be just the thing to get the other company thinking.”
It would be just like Slade to say something like that, she thought. “Maybe.”
“At any rate, it won’t do him any good to stew about it now. He’s stuck with us until the snowplows clear the roads. No one’s
going to make it to the freeway unless they have a four-wheel drive. It’s impossible out there.”
“But, Dad, I feel terrible.”
“Don’t. If Slade’s not concerned, then you shouldn’t be. Besides, I’ve got a job for you two.”
Shelly didn’t like the sound of that. “What?”
“We aren’t going to be able to go out and buy a Christmas tree.”
She hadn’t thought of that. “We’ll survive without one.” But Christmas wouldn’t be the same.
“There’s no need to. Not when we’ve got a good ten acres of fir and pine. I want the two of you to go out and chop one down
like we used to do in the good old days.”
It didn’t take much to realize her father’s game. He was looking for excuses to get her together with Slade.
“What’s this, an extra Christmas present?” she teased.
“Nonsense. Being out in the cold would only irritate my rheumatism.”
“What rheumatism?”
“The one in my old bones.”
She hesitated. “What did Slade have to say about this?”
“He’s agreeable.”
“He is?”
“Think about it, Shortcake. He’s stuck here. He wants to make the best of the situation.”
It wasn’t until they were back at the house and Slade had changed into borrowed jeans and a flannel shirt, along with a pair
of heavy boots, that she truly believed he’d fallen in with her father’s scheme.
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” she told him on the way to the barn.
“Did you think I was going to let you traipse into the woods alone?”
“I could.”
“No doubt, but there isn’t any reason why you should. Not when I’m here.”
She brought out the old sled from a storage room in the rear of the barn, wiping away the thin layer of dust with her gloves.
He located a saw, and she eyed him warily.
“What’s wrong now?”
“The saw.”
“What’s the matter with it?” He tested the sharpness by carefully running his thumb over the jagged teeth and raised questioning
eyes to her.