Phantom Waltz Page 7

  Chapter Five

  Anight hawk cawed somewhere along the lakeshore, the sound lonely on the icy wind that blew in off the water. Sitting with his back braced against a lone pine that grew on a slight knoll, Ryan hunched his shoulders inside the lined denim of his jacket. He smelled a storm moving in, though he guessed it might be a couple of days yet in arriving, and his instincts told him it would bring snow. Typical. Officially, it was spring, but that meant diddlee squat at this elevation.

  He sighed, not really caring if old man winter dumped more white stuff. In Crystal Falls, the occasional late blizzard was expected. The crops were in, but this early on, even a hard freeze wouldn’t do that much damage.

  The sound of pounding hooves drew his attention. He turned and peered through the moon-silvery darkness. After a moment he made out the silhouette of a horse and rider. Glancing at the luminescent dial of his watch, he saw that it was ten after eleven, late enough to make him wonder who was out riding.

  “Howdy-ho!” a feminine voice called.

  “Mom? What the Sam Hill are you doing out here?”

  Her mare, Sugarplum, decreased speed and fell into a trot, throwing up sandy lake soil with her shod hooves. “When I looked out my kitchen window and saw you under your thinking tree at this time of night, I figured something was up. I thought maybe you needed to talk.”

  Ryan sometimes wondered if his mother had some sort of maternal telepathy. “What did you do, scan the lakefront with an infrared scope? It’s dark. You couldn’t have seen me from your window.”

  “The outside lights are all on up at your place. I could see your silhouette. A man in a Stetson casts an unmistakable outline.”

  Ryan knew that the ranch foreman, Sly, had been stopping in every hour all evening to check on Rosebud. “How’d you know it was me and not Sly or one of the hired hands?”

  “Process of elimination. No one else would be fool enough to sit out here in the freezing cold.”

  She drew up in front of him and swung off her horse. Leaving the reins to dangle, a method referred to as ground tying in their neck of the woods, she stepped to her saddle-bag. Ryan heard glass clink. He narrowed his gaze. As his mother came up the incline, he saw that she was carrying a half-gallon bottle of wine and two goblets.

  “Want to share a nip or two with me?”

  He ran a thoughtful gaze over her slender figure. Petite and blond, she was still a beautiful woman, even at sixty. “You and Dad fighting?”

  She laughed as she sat beside him. Moonlight played over her face, the gentle glow concealing her few facial wrinkles. The gray of her eyes shimmered and shifted like quicksilver. “Your dad gave up fighting with me years ago.” She handed him the wine bottle and a corkscrew. “He never wins.”

  Ryan chuckled as he set himself to the task of opening the bottle. “Only because he pulls his punches, and you don’t.”

  “He also has difficulty articulating when he’s furious, which I’ve learned to use to my advantage. In answer to your question, no, all is fine on my home front.”

  She braced her forearms on her upraised knees, a waiting goblet clutched loosely in each hand. Ryan popped the cork and filled the glasses she extended.

  “That bottle is going to be a dead soldier before I leave,” she announced.

  “Uh-oh. You feeling a need to tie one on?”

  “No, but I think you are. You’ve been a bit distracted the last few days.”

  “Distracted?”

  “As in staring off at nothing and not answering when we yell your name three times. Tell your mother what’s eating you.”

  Ryan knew he had been preoccupied. Since first meeting Bethany, he’d been unable to get her off his mind. “Nothing’s eating me. What makes you think that?” He took a sip of wine, swallowed, and nearly choked. “Jesus! What is this shit?”

  Ann took a taste and grimaced. “It’s Hazel Turk’s homemade plum wine. Dad says it’s got the kick of a sawed-off double-barrel shotgun.” She thrust a hand toward him, palm up. “That’s twenty you owe to the college fund.”

  “Ah, Mom, come on. Jaimie’s at home in bed asleep.”

  “Pay up. Two cusswords, ten apiece. Those are the rules. If you don’t follow them when he’s not around, you’ll slip when he is. My grandson is not going to be expelled from preschool for using bad language. Only ‘damn’ and ‘hell’ and a few other bywords are allowed, end of subject.”

  Ryan handed her his wine while he dug in his pocket for his money clip. He peeled off a hundred-dollar bill and traded it for the return of his goblet.

  She squinted to see. “This is way too much.”

  “I’m not finished yet. That gives me eight on account.”

  “That bad?” Ann laughed and stuffed the bill in the pocket of her Wranglers jacket. “Okay, spit it out. I knew you were upset about something.”

  Ryan took another sip of wine, shuddering as he swallowed. “This stuff tastes like cough syrup.”

  “I understand that Hazel’s wine can give you such a case of the squirts, you don’t dare cough. I suppose it could do double duty as a cough remedy.”

  He gritted his teeth, curled a lip, and stared at the dark liquid.

  Ann took a big gulp. “Be brave. Hazel’s a dear. Sunday night at the ranchers’ association dinner, I want to tell her I drank this and enjoyed it.”

  Ryan groaned at the reminder of the dinner. He was required to go as well. He’d meant to line up a date, had become distracted by a certain brunette, and completely forgotten. “How drunk do you plan to get? That’s what it’ll take to enjoy this crap. Besides, if you tell Hazel you like it, she may give you more.”

  “Oh, my, I hadn’t thought of that. Ah, well, I’ll just come visit you.”

  “Thanks.” He took another sip. “It tastes better after the first shock.”

  They both fell to gazing across the lake. While they sipped the wine, they talked about the weather, decided they both smelled snow on the air, and then chatted about Rafe’s family.

  Ryan was on his second glass and started to feel the tension flow from his body when he finally said, “I met her this week, Mom.”

  “Ah,” Ann said knowingly. Then, “Her, who?”

  “Her. Miss Right. The girl of my dreams, the one I’ve been waiting for. I took her out on a date tonight.”

  “Oh, Ryan, that’s wonderful. I told you it would happen, sooner or later.” She twirled her goblet, watching the crystal sparkle. Then, frowning, she said, “If you just took her out, and she’s Miss Right, why on earth the long face?”

  “I kissed her, and everything went wrong. She got upset and told me to leave.”

  “What happened to make her upset?”

  Ryan rubbed a hand over his face. “Well, now, there’s a question. I was just going to kiss her good night, an old-fashioned, first-date kiss, the kind of thing a guy does on the doorstep. Only things got a little out of hand.” He felt a flush creeping up his neck. He and his mother were close, but even so, there were some subjects he felt uncomfortable discussing with her. The particulars about his love life ranked near the top of that list.

  Ann’s eyes widened. “Wow. It must have been some kiss.”

  “Yeah, wow. I lost it, she lost it.” He clenched his jaw, shook his head. “After all the women I’ve dated, I ask you, what were the chances that I’d run across a half-pint girl with big blue eyes who kisses with her mouth closed, and she’d blow my socks off?”

  “One in a thousand, maybe?” Ann studied him, her expression thoughtful. “She kisses with her mouth closed? How old is she?”

  “Twenty-six.”

  “Is she religious or something?”

  “No, Mom, not fanatically or anything.” Ryan propped his elbows on his knees. “She’s just—it’s been a while for her, and I suppose you could say she’s also a little green.”

  “At twenty-six?”

  “Yeah. I should have handled the situation with more finesse.” He drained his glass of wine,
then refilled both their goblets. “I sensed that she was wary.”

  “Wary of you?”

  “Yeah, sweet and friendly, but a little standoffish. I think she’s been through a bad relationship, gotten hurt. That’s my guess, anyway.”

  “Hmm.” Ann shook her head, her expression bemused.

  “I think she’s as attracted to me as I am to her,” Ryan added, “but she’s afraid of getting hurt again.”

  “Ah,” Ann said knowingly. “How’d you come up with that?”

  “Because when I kissed her, she was right there with me until I pulled away, and then, bang, she looked at me like I’d punched her.” He sighed. “Sometimes I think men and women come from different universes. I don’t suppose you have any insight to share on the female psyche?”

  Ann smiled. “Sweetie, we aren’t all designed by the same blueprint.” She raised the toes of her boots and slowly lowered them to point downhill again. “Is your bewildering puzzle pretty?”

  “Beautiful,” he whispered. “She’s got the prettiest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. I swear, they’re the biggest thing about her—so brilliant a blue, they put me in mind of Johnny-jump-ups.”

  “Uh-oh. That’s as close to poetic as I’ve ever heard you get. A bad case, huh?”

  He sighed and said, “I just—yeah, a bad case. The first time I saw her, I felt thunderstruck. And it’s not just her looks. Pretty women aren’t scarce in a town as large as Crystal Falls. It was something else—almost a sense of recognition, like I’d been waiting to find her all my life, and there she was. I can’t explain it.”

  Ann smiled sympathetically. “Honey, no one can explain the mystery of love.” She grew thoughtful again as she sipped her wine. “You say you think she’s been through a bad relationship? How on earth did she manage that without learning how to kiss?”

  Ryan’s jaw muscle knotted. He stared sightlessly across the lake. “I didn’t say she doesn’t know how, but that she’s out of practice and a little green. I’m only guessing, but I think she was very young at the time she had the relationship and probably a bit of a tomboy. Seventeen, maybe eighteen years old. The sort of thing that never went much farther than handholding and clumsy kissing with a boy who had little more experience than she did.”

  “And she’s never been involved with anyone else since?” Ann asked incredulously.

  “She’s a cripple.”

  “A what?”

  “A cripple.” The word came hard, catching at the back of Ryan’s throat. “Not the politically correct term, I’m sure. Paralyzed, Mom, a paraplegic. She was injured eight years ago in a barrel-racing accident.”

  Silence.

  A bitter taste washed over Ryan’s tongue. “I don’t think men have been standing in line to date her since then. A wheelchair has a way of dampening the male ardor. I don’t know who the guy was that hurt her, but he was probably some immature little jackass she knew in high school.”

  “Oh, Ryan.” Ann’s eyes darkened in the moonlight, looking like splotches of charcoal in her suddenly pale face. She frowned thoughtfully and gazed across the lake for several seconds. “Not saying you aren’t right,” she said softly, “but having worked in a rehab center, I’d say it’s just as likely that she has faced so many rejections and restrictions since her accident that she’s become wary and distrustful. When a woman is found to be lacking countless times by the opposite sex, she protects herself in any way she can, and that might make her seem wary.”

  “Could be,” Ryan conceded. “Going by things she said, I got the feeling that most men run the other direction when they realize she’s in a wheelchair.” He shrugged. “Hell, to be honest, when I first realized she was a paraplegic, I wanted to run myself, only I’d already asked her out, and I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. If I’d started crawfishing, it would have been obvious why.” He swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment. “So I took her on a date, thinking it’d only be for an evening, and that afterward I could do a graceful fade-out.”

  Ann said nothing, which prompted him to continue.

  “I got to her house late,” he said gruffly. “Rosebud went into labor, and when I tried to call her to explain, her phone was off the hook, and I couldn’t get through. She thought I’d stood her up, and I could tell she’d been crying. I felt like a skunk. When I told her I’d been held up by a horse, I expected her to be pissed. Instead, she was a real sweetheart about it.”

  “That’s a nice switch,” Ann said with a smile. “Most times, don’t your dates get miffed if you’re late because a horse requires attention?”

  Ryan grinned. “You could say that, yes. As in livid. It was an even nicer switch that I had a fantastic time with Bethany. She’s bright and funny and interesting. I’ve taken women out, dropped two or three hundred, and been bored to tears. I took her to the mud pulls, fed her a hot dog, and had more fun than I remember having in ages.”

  Ann laughed incredulously. “The mud pulls and a hot dog? She must be a very special young lady.”

  “Yeah, there’s just something about her, you know? I’ve got this feeling. I can’t describe it.” He flattened a hand over his chest. “This bone-deep feeling. I’d like to explore the possibilities, see if—well, you know—if we can find common ground to build a lasting relationship, but now I doubt she’ll give me the chance.”

  Ann said nothing for a long time, her gaze trailing slowly over his face in a way that had made him squirm when he was a teenager. “I see,” she finally said, her mouth twitching as she suppressed a smile. “You’re worried about the sex.”

  Ryan’s throat felt as if a cruel hand had closed over his larynx. He swiped at his nose and looked away. “Damn, Mom. Cut right to the chase, why don’t you? There are some things a man doesn’t feel right discussing with his mother.”

  Ann laughed. “Since when do we beat around the bush in this family? There are no taboo subjects.”

  “I can speak frankly with you about almost anything, but this is—well, for me it is a taboo subject.”

  She chuckled again. “So I’m right. You are worried about the sex.” She bumped him with her arm. “Come on. Loosen up. I may be your mother, but I’m also a retired nurse. You can’t hit me with anything I haven’t heard a hundred times before, and you may discover that my input is enlightening.”

  He nodded. “I don’t doubt that. It’s just that—all right, yes. I am worried about the sex.” He felt her gaze on him. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m a bastard, and I know it.”

  “I wasn’t thinking that at all.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s what I’m thinking. She’s so sweet, Mom.”

  “Good sex is a major concern to most men, and I believe you’re normal in that respect.” She took another sip of wine. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  Ryan relaxed slightly. “I have to admit, it’s right up there with oxygen when I’m considering the things I absolutely can’t live without. It’s definitely enough to make me step back and think twice before getting involved with a woman.”

  Ann laughed and leaned sideways, bumping him with her shoulder again. “Where did you get the idea paraplegics can’t have sex?”

  “That’s obvious, isn’t it? She’s paralyzed, Mom. No sensation from the waist down. Maybe some men wouldn’t care, but I like partners who enjoy that particular activity as much as I do.”

  “You’re making an idiotic assumption. A common one, but it’s dead wrong. I know about these things. Whether or not she has feeling in certain places depends on the location and severity of her injury. Some paraplegics, especially women, enjoy normal intimate relationships.”

  “Really? Are you positive?”

  Ann arched an eyebrow. “Is this young lady special enough to continue this discussion?”

  He narrowed an eye. “Yeah, you could say that.”

  “Then, yes, I’m positive. A lot of paraplegic women enjoy active sex lives, not always attaining satisfaction in the same way an able-bodied woman does,
but everything being relative, who’s to say they enjoy it less? For instance, some of those who can’t climax in the usual way experience a phenomenon called ‘phantom orgasm.’”

  “‘Phantom orgasm?’”

  “I liken it to an amputee who can still feel the missing limb. A paraplegic sometimes feels intense pleasure in another part of the body at the point of orgasm.”

  “That’s a far-out concept.”

  “Factual,” Ann corrected. “The body is a marvelous mechanism and compensates when it can. What difference does it make, honey? As long as the girl feels fireworks of some kind, do you really give a hang where they go off?”

  Ryan chuckled and rubbed beside his nose. “No. I don’t guess I do. Fireworks are fireworks. You sure about this, Mom?”

  “Absolutely. Do you think I’d say so if I weren’t? Even if normal or phantom orgasms are absent, I’ve heard that paraplegic women are usually fantastic lovers. Because they’re handicapped, they’re often more willing than an able-bodied woman to go that extra mile to please their partners.” She raised her eyebrows and smiled. “When two people care deeply for each other, they aren’t afraid to be creative if necessary, and sometimes that’s the very nicest kind of love—not perfect in the usual sense, but beautiful because it’s extraordinary.”

  “Hmm.”

  “It sounds to me as if you’re on the verge of falling hard for this young lady.”

  “Teetering,” he admitted. He took another swallow of wine. “Phantom orgasm.” He thought about it for a moment. “It’d sure be hell if it happened in her appendix, and she had to go under the knife.”

  Ann burst out laughing. “Only a man would think of that.”

  “It’s important, Mom.”

  “And you males have a corner on that?” She shook her head. “Back to your young lady. I know it’s difficult, but try to be analytical for a moment. You say she really got into it when you kissed her?”

  Ryan nodded.

  Ann smiled knowingly. “Strange, that. She must have been experiencing a strong physical reaction somewhere. In her elbow, perhaps?”

  He chuckled and then grew sober as he recalled the sweet way Bethany had melted against him and trembled with desire when he nearly touched her breast. She had been every bit as aroused as he was. He would have bet his entire financial portfolio on that. “Damn, Mom, you’re right. Fire-works were going off somewhere.”