Welcome to Paradise Page 19

  “Nope. You’re going to be on TV, looking like the smart, strong woman you are. Believe me, when you dump his sorry hind end, people are going to be standing up and cheering. And rooting for you to get with the good man who’s been carrying that torch for you since we got here.”

  “Gabe? You think he . . . he means it?”

  “I know he does. And in case you haven’t figured it out yet, that’s what a good man looks like. A man who deserves a woman as good as you.”

  “I think,” she said, her voice catching, “I think I know what a good man looks like. Because I think a good man looks an awful lot like you.” She stopped and turned to him. Put her arms around him as he held her close, the powerful arms cradling her gently, his warmth and strength bringing tears to her eyes again.

  She pulled back at last. “Thank you. Thank you for opening your heart to me, sharing something so special. And for everything you said.”

  “We’d better get on back,” he said, turning around. “It’ll be dark soon. But you remember what I said, you hear? It’s time to let that spirit of yours shine out. Time to show it to the world.”

  Square Dance

  “So what’s it like, being a twin?”

  Gabe looked down at Mira, walking beside him towards their unknown barn dance destination. “You need some distraction, take your mind off tonight?” he asked. “Not sure my fascinating life story will do it.”

  “It’s about all I’ve got, though,” she smiled back. “So tell me, if you don’t mind. I’m sure you’ve been asked that question a lot, but I’d really like to know.”

  “It’s good,” he began lamely. “Well, good and bad, I suppose. It just . . . is. Alec was always there. That’s what it’s like. My mom says we reached for each other in our crib as soon as we could reach for anything. That we were each other’s toy and comfort object all in one. And when we got older, every time we moved, it didn’t matter so much, because I was never walking into that new classroom alone.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” Mira said with obvious envy. “What could be bad about that?”

  “If you’re the follower twin,” Gabe said wryly, “that’s a lot of following.”

  He paused, thinking about it. Being five or six, and Alec directing their make-believe adventures, his fertile imagination always providing something fascinating to do. Following Alec onto the swings, the slide at the park. Alec the one who talked in class, his lightning mind and stubborn self-assurance sometimes getting him in trouble, but always getting him noticed. Gabe sitting back, watching, listening, taking everything in from his spot in his more outgoing brother’s shadow. Always shorter, too, not as good-looking, never the one the girls whispered about, the one whose name they wrote in their notebooks. Never scoring quite as high on the tests. He’d been bright, but Alec had been brilliant.

  And then the wonder of starting to fill out, once he’d turned fifteen. Going out for JV football and making the team. Finally having something Alec couldn’t do. Football had given him a separate identity at last, a separate life, and he’d thrown himself into it body and soul. And when Alec had been a National Merit Scholar and Gabe had been only a Commended Student, it hadn’t hurt as much. Because there was that football scholarship to make it up.

  He didn’t know how to explain all that to Mira, though. This walk wasn’t nearly long enough to bare his soul. Instead he just said, “It changed some in high school, once I went out for football. Alec doesn’t like organized sports much. He’d rather make up his own game, play by his own rules. And he doesn’t go much for the whole team thing. Never been big on anybody telling him what to do.”

  “That would make this experience a little challenging,” Mira suggested.

  Gabe laughed. “Yeah. Bet it has. Luckily, Hank’s enough older that Alec will listen to him. You couldn’t grow up in our house and not have respect for your elders. That will have kept him in line some. But Alec and Scott . . . major Antler Lock.”

  He could feel her stiffen beside him, was sorry he’d mentioned Scott’s name. But she merely paused a moment, then went on. “I thought you said you stopped playing football, though. That you were injured in college. That must have been hard, because it sounds like it was awfully important to you.”

  Had he told her that? Or had she just figured it out? “It was horrible,” he said bluntly. “When they said my knee would keep me out for a year, towards the end of my junior season. That was my whole football career gone right there, wasn’t it? Of course, what was I thinking? I had to know I wouldn’t make it to the NFL, but I must have had some pipe dream about it anyway, because I thought my life was over.”

  “So what happened?” she prompted.

  “The trainer talked to me. I’d got to know him pretty well, had always asked him a bunch of questions. I was a Bio major, but that was mostly because I liked animals. I had some vague idea about becoming a vet. But he said I could be a doctor, encouraged me to try. I’d never considered it.”

  “Why not?” she asked.

  “Being a doctor was for smart people, I thought. People like Alec.”

  She looked up at him, startled. “I guess I’ve just seen the downside of the twin thing,” she said slowly. “I never thought of that. It was my major fantasy, growing up. Almost like an imaginary friend, except I had it for a long, long time. A twin sister who’d be with me everywhere we went. Move into my new bedroom with me, go into that classroom like you said. A friend I would always have, no matter where I was. I’d love her best of all, and she’d love me the same way.”

  She broke off. “And that sounds like some kind of sappy commercial,” she said with a little laugh. “Sorry. I thought about this a lot, in case you can’t tell. I spent a lot of time alone as a kid.”

  Why did she always pull back as soon as she revealed anything personal? Was she so afraid that he’d judge her? “I guess you moved a few times too,” he said.

  “When your mother gets married and divorced as often as mine does,” she answered, “you move. And she didn’t always marry them, either.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t live with your dad, then.”

  “Ah. Well. He had a new wife too, you see, and she wasn’t all that maternal. You could hardly expect it. She wasn’t even twenty-five, I don’t think, when they got married. Surgeons tend to go through wives, you probably know that. And my dad’s had a few. He’s got a pretty new one now.” She laughed a bit at her choice of words. “Pretty, and pretty new. I like her, though.”

  Gabe smiled, but pressed a little more all the same. “Even if she wasn’t excited about the idea, though, didn’t your dad want you with him?”

  “Not so much. I’m not . . .” She paused, then seemed to force herself to go on. “I’m not really his type. Too shy, not confident enough. He’d have liked Alec better. He’d have liked Scott better. He loves Scott.”

  “Wow. That’s some bad taste he’s got there. And what do you mean, his type? You don’t have a type when it comes to your kids.”

  “Maybe your parents don’t,” she said shortly.

  Gabe wanted to say more, though he wasn’t sure how you even responded to something like that. But he couldn’t anyway, because here they were.

  “Well, I’d say my chances of hooking up at this dance are right about nil,” Kevin said resignedly as they walked through the big rolling door into the brightly lit space.

  “What?” he protested as Zara looked at him in amusement. “It could happen. You saw Brokeback Mountain.”

  “Well, I know better than to judge by appearances,” Zara said. “But I’d agree that nobody here looks too promising.”

  Wrenching her mind back from the unexpectedly intense conversation to take in the old barn that had been transformed for tonight’s dance, Mira was forced to agree with Zara. The huge space was scattered with groups of hay bales for seating, some stacked two-high. A fiddler stood on a raised wooden platform that formed a small stage, tuning his instrument, and another man with an
accordion now jumped up to join him. A third man, middle-aged like the others, and dressed like them in jeans, white button-down shirt, and string tie, with cowboy boots and hat completing the Western regalia, was leaning down to talk to a member of the production crew, who already had their lights and camera equipment set up around the dance floor. A dozen or more strangers in period costume milled about near the stage, chatting with their neighbors and eyeing the Paradise homestead in clear speculation.

  “Locals,” Kevin said. “Making it festive, making some numbers for the dancing. They could at least have got some young ones.”

  “Nobody younger than forty-five out there, I’d say,” Mira decided.

  “They wouldn’t have known how to square dance,” Stanley said. “And looks like that’s what we’ll be doing tonight.”

  “To accordion music,” Kevin said glumly. “Whoopee.”

  “How can you tell?” Maria-Elena asked. “That we’ll be . . . square dancing?”

  “The instruments,” Zara said. “And that guy,” she motioned with her chin at the obvious leader of the musicians, “he’ll be the caller.”

  “Did you used to do this?” Maria-Elena asked.

  Zara laughed. “I’m not that old. No, but I’ve seen it done. How about you, Stanley?”

  “Even done it a time or two myself,” he admitted. “My wife loved to dance.”

  “Althea,” Mira said. “And you loved to make her happy.”

  “That’s right,” he said, putting his arm around her and giving her a quick squeeze. “Thanks for using her name. People don’t do that too often.”

  “You OK?” he asked more quietly, seeing the Arcadia homestead entering the wide doorway, the big door rolled back to admit the low rays of evening sunlight.

  “Yeah,” she said, as firmly as she could manage, even though her heart sank at the sight of Scott.

  “I’m right here with you,” Stanley promised. “You need me, you just holler.”

  She nodded briefly, grateful for his support as Scott approached. Her gaze kept wanting to skitter away from him, and she willed herself into resolution. She was breaking up with him tonight, no matter what. She’d ask him to walk outside with her, she decided, once the dancing was in full swing and the focus was off the two of them. Hopefully, the cameramen would be busy enough filming the festivities that they wouldn’t notice.

  Right now, though, Danny’s camera was trained on her as the two groups converged, the original teams pairing off as always.

  “What happened to you?” Scott asked, after giving her a kiss that actually repelled her. His light brown beard, even longer and wispier than the week before, felt foreign, and his lips felt . . . wrong. If she’d needed proof that she needed to break up with him, that was it.

  “What?” Could he tell what she was thinking?

  “Your hair,” he gestured impatiently. “Why in the world would you cut your hair out here? And why didn’t you ask me first? I like it long. You know that.”

  Her new hairstyle had garnered a little attention from the rest of Arcadia as well, others turning to check it out.

  “I burned it off,” she explained. “I had an accident with the stove. And Maria-Elena cut it for me. I think she did a really good job. And I love it,” she added boldly. She’d left it down tonight to show off her new waves. Zara had prepared a vinegar rinse to add shine, about the only beauty treatment they could manage out here, and Maria-Elena had twisted and pulled it back at the sides so it wouldn’t fall in her face while she danced. All three of the Paradise men had complimented her on her new look when she’d appeared downstairs tonight, dressed in her meager best.

  “You look modern now, not so old-fashioned,” Maria-Elena had said.

  “You look hot,” Kevin had corrected. “Doesn’t she, Gabe? Oh, wait. She always looks hot to you.”

  Gabe had just laughed. “Yep. She does. But Kevin’s right. You look especially hot tonight.” His warm smile and the look in his eyes had convinced Mira of his sincerity even as they flustered her.

  “And ready to take on the world,” he’d added, giving her hand a quick, secret squeeze.

  “Well,” Scott said begrudgingly now, “I guess you can always grow it out again.”

  “I’m not going to grow it out again,” she retorted. “I like it like this. It feels light, and young, and . . . fun. Maybe I’ll go all the way, cut it all off when I get home,” she said recklessly. “Who knows? Whatever I want.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Zara murmured beside her. “You go, girl.”

  “Aren’t you even going to ask if she was hurt?” Stanley demanded of Scott. “She just told you she burned her hair off, that she had an accident. Doesn’t that concern you?”

  “It’s obvious she isn’t hurt,” Scott snapped. “Just another dramatic near miss, I take it.”

  “She was lucky,” Stanley countered, outrage evident in every line of his broad face. “She was hurt, not that you care, and she’s lucky it wasn’t worse. You sound like you’re sorry about that. What kind of a man are you?”

  “Never mind,” he finished in disgust. “I already know the answer to that.”

  Whatever Scott would have said in response was lost to posterity, to Mira’s immense relief. A loud note from the accordion drew their attention to the stage, where the leader of the group of musicians was beginning to speak. There was obviously some sort of microphone hidden somewhere, because his voice was clearly audible through the huge space.

  “Welcome, folks,” he began. “I’m Gus Brickman, and the boys and I are going to be helping you out with a little entertainment tonight. I understand you’ve all been working pretty hard, could use a break. Well, we’ve got some good old-fashioned dancing for you here. Let’s have some of our local experts show you how it’s done, then you can have a try.”

  Eight members of the little crowd came forward to form a square, one couple on each side, as the fiddle player launched into an upbeat tune.

  “I knew it,” Kevin groaned. “Square dancing.”

  “Well, you’ve gotta bow to your partner, bow to the left,” Gus began in a singsong chant as the fiddle continued its lively accompaniment. “Circle to the left, go round. Everybody run on up in the middle and back.”

  Mira watched the couples perform the movements seamlessly as Gus called them out. “I hope I can do it,” she murmured to Zara, standing beside her.

  “Don’t worry,” Zara assured her. “Just have a good time. That’s what I’m planning to do.”

  Mira looked around, saw that Scott had walked off, was standing apart from the others. Then turned her attention back to the dancers. Zara and Gus were both right. She’d earned a break, and this was her chance to have fun. It didn’t matter what Scott was doing, or that Maria-Elena was already muttering “laaaame” and rolling her eyes. It didn’t look lame to her, it looked fun. And maybe, she thought hopefully, Gabe would ask her to dance.

  Seven or eight lively dances later, she was flushed and laughing, finishing up yet another outing, this time with Kevin next to her. Scott still hadn’t joined any of the squares, even though there were plenty of partners to go around, but she hadn’t let that bother her. Instead, she’d swung, turned, twirled with the others. Had gone the wrong way more than once, been turned back again by a friendly hand. And, whether she’d started out that dance with him or not, had always encountered Gabe at some point. Always in her square, always looking out for her. And giving her the same little thrill every time his hand touched hers, his arm swung her around.

  “We’re going to take a break now,” Gus announced at last, mopping his brow. “Give all of you a chance to catch your breath. But we’ll be back again to do a few more numbers before we call it a night.”

  And here was Gabe again, turning her from Kevin with a light hand on her arm.

  “Well, it may be lame,” he said with a grin, “but I’m enjoying myself. How about you?”

  “Big-time. I guess it’s all about the availabl
e alternatives,” she smiled back. She nodded in Maria-Elena’s direction. The girl was laughing up at Alec, tossing her head as he said something that was clearly flirtatious. “I’d say everybody’s having a pretty good time.”

  “They’ve even got some beer,” Gabe said. “Want to get real daring with me?”

  “I’d love a beer.” She was thirsty, and a cold beer sounded terrific. A number of other people had had the same idea, she saw as Gabe took himself toward a barrel in the corner of the barn, where much of the crowd was now congregating. He came back with two opened bottles, and she took a cautious sip, then a larger swallow.

  “Wow,” she decided. “That is just absolutely fantastic. Square dancing and beer.”

  “Pretty sophisticated,” he agreed. “Well, you said you were a cheap date. A walk and a picnic,” he reminded her. “My kind of girl.”

  “And it’s going straight to my head,” she smiled back, “it’s been so long since I had any alcohol. You may have to carry me home.”

  “I’d do that,” he promised, the look in his eyes sending a shiver of desire through her. “I’d do that in a heartbeat.”

  She’d almost forgotten Scott in the fun and excitement of the evening. But she spotted him now, catching her eye, then getting up from the out-of-the-way hay bale where he’d been perched. The three empty bottles next to him gave evidence of how he’d spent his time while she’d been dancing, and the look on his face told her that whatever he was coming over to say, she wasn’t going to enjoy hearing it.

  But three beers weren’t enough to make a man drunk, she assured herself. And in any case, it wasn’t her problem. He wasn’t her problem, not anymore. She handed her bottle to Gabe and prepared herself to take Scott outside and tell him so. This was it, what she’d come to do. Showtime.

  Scott made his way across the sawdust-covered floor to where she stood, walking a little too deliberately, each step hitting the ground a little too hard. Mira stepped away from Gabe’s side, went to meet him.