Liability, page 10
"Please, don't go,” she whispered.
"Did you say something?” He stopped with his hand on the door.
"No,” she croaked gravely. She moaned dejectedly, staring at the door as it closed behind him.
"You have to sleep to dream don't you?” Maggie punched the pillow with her right hand.
How on earth would she be able to sleep?
Well, she'd wanted him to leave, hadn't she?
Sure—his going relieves the way my body aches under the bandages, she thought, taunting herself, and cures the way I miss the companionship that just walked out the door.
When he'd moved away she'd felt deserted again, totally alone again, and the intangible ache of aloneness made her head throb. She placed her hand to her eyes and massaged between them with her fingertips.
If only he would have allowed her the circle of his strength a little longer.... Selfish, that was what she was, otherwise she wouldn't be wanting him to risk his safety by being too close to her. The constant contradictions of her thoughts were a chaos she could do nicely without. It was quickly driving her crazy.
She hadn't taken any pain or sleeping medicines for a couple of days. Maggie looked over at the call light. Maybe she would call a nurse and ask for something—anything, to block out the hopelessness rioting through her.
Did he realize the state he just left me in?
"Probably not,” Maggie answered her own question. She had, after all, pulled away from him—hadn't said aloud what anxieties tugged at her mind. Maggie dropped her hand away from her eyes.
Self-pity settled over Maggie like a thundercloud as she released the well of tears in her eyes, and with them, painful uncontrollable sobs. Oh Lord, how that hurt. She was suddenly aware she couldn't do anything to make it stop. She'd cried self-pityingly only once since her family's fatal accident on a steep mountain road, and she'd vowed never to allow it to happen again. So much for vows, she couldn't do anything about it. The release she needed was turning into a dam.
"How could he do this to me?” she gasped out between shuddering sobs. He'd done nothing to her; she efficiently managed to get herself into this all by herself. She wanted to scream at the walls just to relieve tension; only she couldn't catch a breath between the sobs that racked out of control.
* * * *
Ben hesitated outside Maggie's room and listened to the pain-filled sounds of her crying. He reached out to open her door, stopped midway, and dropped his arm heavily. He leaned his shoulder against the wall and his forehead against the door jam.
No, he had to leave her alone. He would have one of the nurses check on her in a little while, but he would leave her alone. If he went back in, he would make her feel worse. They needed to talk. Maybe by tomorrow she would open up to him and allow him to understand what gnawed at her so arduously.
He had to leave. He couldn't stand listening to her; it was tearing his heart out. He pulled himself away from the wall. The persistent sound vibrating from inside the room molded a tight band around his chest, and his eyes ached with pressure.
He walked down the hall fully aware that going home wasn't going to make any difference; he would hear her all night. She filled his mind....
* * * *
The following morning he found that trying to read Maggie's chart through bloodshot eyes was fruitless. Ben couldn't see the blurred words. He wanted to know what kind of night she had before he made his rounds and spoke with Doc Clive.
Ben glanced up and saw Cheryl approaching him. There was a definite stiffness in her carriage; her glower was clearly one of disapproval.
"What did you do to poor Maggie last night?” Cheryl demanded impatiently. “She is feeling absolutely miserable this morning, and is behaving totally dejected. Also, she is running a low-grade fever, and the new lab report says her electrolytes are still imbalanced."
Ben turned toward Cheryl. Why bother to deny it? He couldn't hide the guilt that had to be written all over his face. He wasn't going to get any sympathy from Cheryl. She was madder than hell and tapping her toe impatiently. Not a good sign.
He reached in his pocket for a pen and wrote down medication orders for correcting Maggie's electrolyte problem. “Yeah,” he said gruffly, “you're right. Maggie's frame of mind this morning could have a lot to do with a visit from me last night. I stopped to see her, and she was sitting in a chair across the room. Somehow she managed to get there alone, so I've a feeling she's working toward sneaking out of here."
The expression on Cheryl's face changed swiftly to skepticism, which let Ben know she wasn't at all satisfied with his words. “Okay! Okay, I admit I jangled some of her buried emotions to the surface. Getting her mad at me seems to work very well.” Among other things—things he had no intentions of relating to Cheryl. Like, he'd fallen in love for the first time in his life and would most probably allow it to slide away from him.
"Well, it isn't ‘working’ this morning. She won't look at, or speak to, anyone, and she has such a strange look in her eyes. I don't know what's going on in her thoughts, yet I am positive that something is terribly wrong, and I'm powerless to do anything about it.” Cheryl's green eyes stabbed at him while she waited for his response. She would never let up until he made a decision.
"All right—all right, I will see her, but I'll do it last on my rounds and after I speak with Doc. I have to consider the problems thoroughly before I see her again.” He rubbed a hand on the back of his neck.
Hell. He'd been thinking about it all night.
Cheryl turned to walk away. “Wait a minute, Cheryl. I told Joe to bring in two horses this morning. You and I will go for our monthly ride today and discuss this again before I see her."
Cheryl looked at him reflectively for a moment and sighed. “Okay, what time? Or do you want to page me when you're ready?"
"I'll page you. It will be easiest that way for both of us.” Every month they took an afternoon and rode quietly for an hour and talked about difficulties in the clinic/hospital or about specific patients. It was always worth the effort.
"Cheryl, the only approach that manages to boost her enough to care about life, is to keep her provoked with me. If she would just talk to us. Something scares her, and whatever the hell it is, I believe it forces her to run. If we could—Never mind, we'll discuss it after rounds. Maybe you'll have ideas I can't come up with, and we'll present them to Doc."
She nodded and moved down the hall. “I certainly hope you're right, Doctor,” she said. “But I wish Doctor James were here. I think if anyone could get through to Maggie it would be him."
Some vote of confidence—moreover, she was probably right. James had a way with pregnant women that no one could surpass; however, they didn't have time to wait for James and his charisma. James had another week of playing at which-ever fishing hole he'd entrenched himself, and coming back early wouldn't be in his thoughts.
The continued electrolyte imbalance the lab report showed would cause some of Maggie's depression and agitation and dizziness. It was proving to be a stubborn condition, but he was getting closer to clearing it up. Even James's charisma couldn't have hurried that.
* * * *
This was getting her nowhere. She'd been thinking all morning about Doctor Ben Karr and what happened last night. Maggie tried to forget the episode, but she couldn't, and reviewing it was bruising her emotions even more.
He deserted her when she needed him. His tender caresses had pulled her from the abyss of loneliness for a few minutes, then he let her tumble back into it without a backward glance.
But why had she wanted to cling to him? Because the affection that traversed between them was so honest, so naturally real, it was as though she'd already known the texture of him, the smell of him, the spirit of him, for a lifetime.
It had become so dark and quiet in the room after he left that Maggie felt as if she were suddenly deposited on the moon—alone—forever. Even the baby's movements hadn't helped this time. The aloneness hit brutally, slicing at her heart, then became more disturbing than she could tolerate.
The nurses had helped her up a while before breakfast. Now she was back in bed, feeling dizzy and confused and expended, her chest hurt, and her self-pity was becoming disgusting. She didn't want to surrender to the feelings—couldn't allow them to reach her. Never!
With her eyes closed, Maggie rested against her pillow and pushed her fingers against her temple. Oh, God, if she could just speak with Sue. Sue had a way of lifting you up when you were flat on your face, and she could always unearth words with a humor that prevented you from thinking life was nothing but so much bird do-do on a fence post.
She sighed, closing her eyes, fatigue numbing her, claiming her....
* * * *
"I've got to get out of here,” she murmured, pushing the sheet back. The illogical but proven likelihood of causing injury to Ben because she cared about him, and the possibilities of Ken walking in any minute, were pressures she could live without.
She moved slowly off the side of the bed. Thankfully, her robe was already on her right arm, and draped over her left shoulder from being up earlier. Maggie rummaged about in the closet with her foot until she found her shoes and shoved her feet into them.
She shuffled shakily to the door and leaned on the doorframe while she caught her breath and bolstered her courage. She opened the door and peered down the corridor.
It was empty.
She pulled her robe more snugly around her, straightened and made her way across the hall and out a door marked EXIT. For a moment dizziness made the rough, adobe walls turn, but she didn't dare stop to let it pass.
Maggie expelled a long sigh of relief that she hadn't met up with anyone and pushed open the second set of doors.
Outside, shaded under a sprawling Oak tree adjacent to the building, she found two horses tethered to a long, weather-beaten hitch-rail. The largest horse ranged tall, a strong-boned, black animal, and fastened to his saddle were a bed roll and saddle bags. He arched his neck proudly, flaring his wide nostrils while gazing at her. Then he nickered to her as if he had asked a question, and stomped a foot because she didn't answer him fast enough.
Beside him stood a small, liver-chestnut mare with flowing flaxen mane. She regarded Maggie with large, soft brown eyes.
Maggie edged closer to the mare and touched her satiny muzzle. The horse rubbed gently against her hand and made a low snorting sound. “You're beautiful,” Maggie murmured, caressing her silky neck.
Maggie shivered. The chill of the early morning air filtered through her cotton hospital robe and pajamas as if she were naked.
Maggie scanned the landscape. The location of the hospital was conspicuously at the edge of the town. She could see the limits of the town clearly defined by the abrupt termination of lush, green trees, while the land beyond was nourishing shorter shrubs and tall, dried what-ever it was growing out there. She would head toward the mountains and away from this place. Away from Ken—She'd made her choice, and he had the power to block her from looking for the new life she desperately wanted. Nothing was worth subjecting herself to him.
Awkwardly, she set her left foot in the stirrup, stretched her right arm up and grasped the saddle horn. She needed to use her left arm badly. “You won't believe this, pretty lady, but I truly have ridden before,” she said as she hopped clumsily and pulled herself up into the saddle. The mare stood perfectly still as though she were familiar with ungainly riders.
Tears rolled down Maggie's heated cheeks. The strain on her shoulder and chest settled about her, sharp and excruciating. Maggie placed her hand firmly over her mouth to stifle the moan that pushed against her throat, and blinked her eyes rapidly in an attempt to take away the sudden blurring of her vision.
There wasn't any alternative; she had to sit still. Her shoulder burned so badly she could hardly breath—the world was spinning madly. I can't faint now, she bemoaned, fighting off the black-tide flowing behind her eyes. As she waited quietly, her dizziness ebbed slightly, then she turned the mare toward the mountains.
There was a warm sensation on her left shoulder. Maggie glanced sideways, groaning inwardly when she saw the dark-red stain spreading under the bandages. The sight of it brought a picture of Ben's handsome face to her mind.
She could clearly see his high-cheek boned features, supporting an angry frown; she could clearly see his straight, well-shaped nose, flaring angrily at her.
He would swear at her with his wide, seductively defined mouth.
Then he would kiss her for punishment. Only his choice of punishment delivered a pleasure she couldn't describe.
"Ben would be so furious if he could see this,” she sighed. His eyes would be flashing black as coal ... coal on fire and ready to burn her.
When I make mistakes, they are darned good ones, Maggie told herself disgustedly. She tried to estimate how long she'd been sitting on the horse; however, time seemed to have escaped her.
The scorching sun beat down harshly on Maggie's bare head. I must be approaching hell, she decided morosely, and Satan will be poking his head out from behind a boulder any second. Sweat trickled down the side of her face, and her pajama top stuck to her body.
It didn't help that her stomach tossed in rebellion while her mouth felt as dry as the sand the horse walked in. Maggie pictured a large glass of ice water floating enticingly in front of her face. Then she heard Josh's voice urgently saying, “Don't trust him, Maggie. He will harm you.” Then, Josh's voice faded, “He caused...."
She looked around trying to find Josh. “Where are you?” she called out. He'd sounded as if he were standing nearby. “Who do you mean? What did he cause?” But there was only silence, and no answers to her questions.
Then, motion stopped.
The horse stood dead still, and Maggie glanced at her surroundings, trying to straighten up and keep her balance in the saddle. The mountains still looked miles away.
"Rest. I need some rest,” she whispered. “What a day,” she sighed, experiencing a wonderful sensation of buoyancy and weightlessness as if she were a feather drifting along on a soft breeze, and the sensations made her forget Josh's warning, forget looking for him.
What the hell was she doing out here anyway? Oh, yes, getting away from Ken.
Glory, did pain take your mind and turn it to jelly? Well, she didn't feel any pain right now, and she wanted Ben. It was too bad wanting wouldn't conjure him up, and it was a little late to decide dodging Ken wasn't the answer. If she ever got out of this mess, and right now it didn't appear likely, she was through playing hide-and-seek with Ken. He wasn't going to stop her from doing what she had to do.
"I wish Ben were here,” she mumbled to the mare. The horse snorted and bobbed her head but didn't move forward. “I have to go along with you on that, little mare,” Maggie agreed huskily, brushing the hair out of her eyes. Inexplicably, her arm weighed a ton.
"I think you're right. We could use him right now,” she moaned, rubbing her fingers near her eyes. Every thing she tried to think about seemed so confused, so numb, and she couldn't understand why.
"Only problem with that is—I think I forgot to tell him I was going anywhere. It seems as though being smart hasn't been on my list of things-to-do for quite a while."
The mare murmured in response and bobbed her head again.
Smugness from a horse was a little hard to take.
"Okay. So, you're right. But what do we do now?” If only she weren't lightheaded, she might think of an answer.
The mare stepped forward slowly.
Chapter 10
It was nine-thirty when Ben got up from behind his desk and walked briskly back and forth across the chocolate-colored carpet in his office. He stopped in front of the windows, peering vacantly between the cream-colored blind slats. “I have got to snap out of this.” He shoved both hands through his hair, feeling like a damned coward because he still hadn't gone to see Maggie.
He pivoted, opened his top desk drawer, and pulled out a photo of Maggie and her sons; the wind blew their hair, and broad smiles crinkled their faces as they rode horses in a ranch setting. When he'd gone through her album, he'd taken it out. Although at the time, he had no idea why. The only reason he'd gone through it in the first place was to learn something about her. About the only thing he hadn't discovered was the reason for her being on his ranch.
"You have the finesse of a damn bull,” he grated, his tone savage, disgusted with himself for the way he'd handled things last night.
He never should have walked away. He should have gone in, comforted her, and somehow eased the heavy emotions that wrenched her so intensely. From now on, he would follow his instinct with Maggie; and to bloody hell with his persistent notion that logic was the best approach to resolve difficulties. Especially since it proved time and time again that humans and logic were not synonymous, that they were not machines, and were not about to be that easy to understand.
When he had finished rounds an hour ago, he avoided seeing her, putting it off, trying to decipher and shape up his bleary feelings. Everything was wrong, all wrong. He would have to change tactics.
Maybe if he just relaxed when he came near Maggie, she would trust him enough to talk with him.
He tried to concentrate on the cool colors in the ocean painting on the office wall. He shifted his focus to the rugged beach house in the scene. “Relax!” It was easy to relax, until he came close to Maggie. The minute he was in range of her hazel eyes, emotions mobilized within him that provoked ideas far removed from relaxation and being uninvolved. A secluded candle-lit dinner, accompanied by a crackling fire, intimate music and fine wine, all combined with naked bodies and murmured passionate words couldn't have drawn him to her with near the potency of how she could tantalize him. Tantalize him, with her gentle touch, with her soft, slightly gravelly voice, with her vital strength and determination to realize the independent mission she'd set for herself and her child. Then she could irritate him to distraction with her persistent distrust.
Ben tossed the photo back in the long, heavy drawer and slammed it shut. He would page Cheryl and they would go for their ride; then he would see Maggie.
"Did you say something?” He stopped with his hand on the door.
"No,” she croaked gravely. She moaned dejectedly, staring at the door as it closed behind him.
"You have to sleep to dream don't you?” Maggie punched the pillow with her right hand.
How on earth would she be able to sleep?
Well, she'd wanted him to leave, hadn't she?
Sure—his going relieves the way my body aches under the bandages, she thought, taunting herself, and cures the way I miss the companionship that just walked out the door.
When he'd moved away she'd felt deserted again, totally alone again, and the intangible ache of aloneness made her head throb. She placed her hand to her eyes and massaged between them with her fingertips.
If only he would have allowed her the circle of his strength a little longer.... Selfish, that was what she was, otherwise she wouldn't be wanting him to risk his safety by being too close to her. The constant contradictions of her thoughts were a chaos she could do nicely without. It was quickly driving her crazy.
She hadn't taken any pain or sleeping medicines for a couple of days. Maggie looked over at the call light. Maybe she would call a nurse and ask for something—anything, to block out the hopelessness rioting through her.
Did he realize the state he just left me in?
"Probably not,” Maggie answered her own question. She had, after all, pulled away from him—hadn't said aloud what anxieties tugged at her mind. Maggie dropped her hand away from her eyes.
Self-pity settled over Maggie like a thundercloud as she released the well of tears in her eyes, and with them, painful uncontrollable sobs. Oh Lord, how that hurt. She was suddenly aware she couldn't do anything to make it stop. She'd cried self-pityingly only once since her family's fatal accident on a steep mountain road, and she'd vowed never to allow it to happen again. So much for vows, she couldn't do anything about it. The release she needed was turning into a dam.
"How could he do this to me?” she gasped out between shuddering sobs. He'd done nothing to her; she efficiently managed to get herself into this all by herself. She wanted to scream at the walls just to relieve tension; only she couldn't catch a breath between the sobs that racked out of control.
* * * *
Ben hesitated outside Maggie's room and listened to the pain-filled sounds of her crying. He reached out to open her door, stopped midway, and dropped his arm heavily. He leaned his shoulder against the wall and his forehead against the door jam.
No, he had to leave her alone. He would have one of the nurses check on her in a little while, but he would leave her alone. If he went back in, he would make her feel worse. They needed to talk. Maybe by tomorrow she would open up to him and allow him to understand what gnawed at her so arduously.
He had to leave. He couldn't stand listening to her; it was tearing his heart out. He pulled himself away from the wall. The persistent sound vibrating from inside the room molded a tight band around his chest, and his eyes ached with pressure.
He walked down the hall fully aware that going home wasn't going to make any difference; he would hear her all night. She filled his mind....
* * * *
The following morning he found that trying to read Maggie's chart through bloodshot eyes was fruitless. Ben couldn't see the blurred words. He wanted to know what kind of night she had before he made his rounds and spoke with Doc Clive.
Ben glanced up and saw Cheryl approaching him. There was a definite stiffness in her carriage; her glower was clearly one of disapproval.
"What did you do to poor Maggie last night?” Cheryl demanded impatiently. “She is feeling absolutely miserable this morning, and is behaving totally dejected. Also, she is running a low-grade fever, and the new lab report says her electrolytes are still imbalanced."
Ben turned toward Cheryl. Why bother to deny it? He couldn't hide the guilt that had to be written all over his face. He wasn't going to get any sympathy from Cheryl. She was madder than hell and tapping her toe impatiently. Not a good sign.
He reached in his pocket for a pen and wrote down medication orders for correcting Maggie's electrolyte problem. “Yeah,” he said gruffly, “you're right. Maggie's frame of mind this morning could have a lot to do with a visit from me last night. I stopped to see her, and she was sitting in a chair across the room. Somehow she managed to get there alone, so I've a feeling she's working toward sneaking out of here."
The expression on Cheryl's face changed swiftly to skepticism, which let Ben know she wasn't at all satisfied with his words. “Okay! Okay, I admit I jangled some of her buried emotions to the surface. Getting her mad at me seems to work very well.” Among other things—things he had no intentions of relating to Cheryl. Like, he'd fallen in love for the first time in his life and would most probably allow it to slide away from him.
"Well, it isn't ‘working’ this morning. She won't look at, or speak to, anyone, and she has such a strange look in her eyes. I don't know what's going on in her thoughts, yet I am positive that something is terribly wrong, and I'm powerless to do anything about it.” Cheryl's green eyes stabbed at him while she waited for his response. She would never let up until he made a decision.
"All right—all right, I will see her, but I'll do it last on my rounds and after I speak with Doc. I have to consider the problems thoroughly before I see her again.” He rubbed a hand on the back of his neck.
Hell. He'd been thinking about it all night.
Cheryl turned to walk away. “Wait a minute, Cheryl. I told Joe to bring in two horses this morning. You and I will go for our monthly ride today and discuss this again before I see her."
Cheryl looked at him reflectively for a moment and sighed. “Okay, what time? Or do you want to page me when you're ready?"
"I'll page you. It will be easiest that way for both of us.” Every month they took an afternoon and rode quietly for an hour and talked about difficulties in the clinic/hospital or about specific patients. It was always worth the effort.
"Cheryl, the only approach that manages to boost her enough to care about life, is to keep her provoked with me. If she would just talk to us. Something scares her, and whatever the hell it is, I believe it forces her to run. If we could—Never mind, we'll discuss it after rounds. Maybe you'll have ideas I can't come up with, and we'll present them to Doc."
She nodded and moved down the hall. “I certainly hope you're right, Doctor,” she said. “But I wish Doctor James were here. I think if anyone could get through to Maggie it would be him."
Some vote of confidence—moreover, she was probably right. James had a way with pregnant women that no one could surpass; however, they didn't have time to wait for James and his charisma. James had another week of playing at which-ever fishing hole he'd entrenched himself, and coming back early wouldn't be in his thoughts.
The continued electrolyte imbalance the lab report showed would cause some of Maggie's depression and agitation and dizziness. It was proving to be a stubborn condition, but he was getting closer to clearing it up. Even James's charisma couldn't have hurried that.
* * * *
This was getting her nowhere. She'd been thinking all morning about Doctor Ben Karr and what happened last night. Maggie tried to forget the episode, but she couldn't, and reviewing it was bruising her emotions even more.
He deserted her when she needed him. His tender caresses had pulled her from the abyss of loneliness for a few minutes, then he let her tumble back into it without a backward glance.
But why had she wanted to cling to him? Because the affection that traversed between them was so honest, so naturally real, it was as though she'd already known the texture of him, the smell of him, the spirit of him, for a lifetime.
It had become so dark and quiet in the room after he left that Maggie felt as if she were suddenly deposited on the moon—alone—forever. Even the baby's movements hadn't helped this time. The aloneness hit brutally, slicing at her heart, then became more disturbing than she could tolerate.
The nurses had helped her up a while before breakfast. Now she was back in bed, feeling dizzy and confused and expended, her chest hurt, and her self-pity was becoming disgusting. She didn't want to surrender to the feelings—couldn't allow them to reach her. Never!
With her eyes closed, Maggie rested against her pillow and pushed her fingers against her temple. Oh, God, if she could just speak with Sue. Sue had a way of lifting you up when you were flat on your face, and she could always unearth words with a humor that prevented you from thinking life was nothing but so much bird do-do on a fence post.
She sighed, closing her eyes, fatigue numbing her, claiming her....
* * * *
"I've got to get out of here,” she murmured, pushing the sheet back. The illogical but proven likelihood of causing injury to Ben because she cared about him, and the possibilities of Ken walking in any minute, were pressures she could live without.
She moved slowly off the side of the bed. Thankfully, her robe was already on her right arm, and draped over her left shoulder from being up earlier. Maggie rummaged about in the closet with her foot until she found her shoes and shoved her feet into them.
She shuffled shakily to the door and leaned on the doorframe while she caught her breath and bolstered her courage. She opened the door and peered down the corridor.
It was empty.
She pulled her robe more snugly around her, straightened and made her way across the hall and out a door marked EXIT. For a moment dizziness made the rough, adobe walls turn, but she didn't dare stop to let it pass.
Maggie expelled a long sigh of relief that she hadn't met up with anyone and pushed open the second set of doors.
Outside, shaded under a sprawling Oak tree adjacent to the building, she found two horses tethered to a long, weather-beaten hitch-rail. The largest horse ranged tall, a strong-boned, black animal, and fastened to his saddle were a bed roll and saddle bags. He arched his neck proudly, flaring his wide nostrils while gazing at her. Then he nickered to her as if he had asked a question, and stomped a foot because she didn't answer him fast enough.
Beside him stood a small, liver-chestnut mare with flowing flaxen mane. She regarded Maggie with large, soft brown eyes.
Maggie edged closer to the mare and touched her satiny muzzle. The horse rubbed gently against her hand and made a low snorting sound. “You're beautiful,” Maggie murmured, caressing her silky neck.
Maggie shivered. The chill of the early morning air filtered through her cotton hospital robe and pajamas as if she were naked.
Maggie scanned the landscape. The location of the hospital was conspicuously at the edge of the town. She could see the limits of the town clearly defined by the abrupt termination of lush, green trees, while the land beyond was nourishing shorter shrubs and tall, dried what-ever it was growing out there. She would head toward the mountains and away from this place. Away from Ken—She'd made her choice, and he had the power to block her from looking for the new life she desperately wanted. Nothing was worth subjecting herself to him.
Awkwardly, she set her left foot in the stirrup, stretched her right arm up and grasped the saddle horn. She needed to use her left arm badly. “You won't believe this, pretty lady, but I truly have ridden before,” she said as she hopped clumsily and pulled herself up into the saddle. The mare stood perfectly still as though she were familiar with ungainly riders.
Tears rolled down Maggie's heated cheeks. The strain on her shoulder and chest settled about her, sharp and excruciating. Maggie placed her hand firmly over her mouth to stifle the moan that pushed against her throat, and blinked her eyes rapidly in an attempt to take away the sudden blurring of her vision.
There wasn't any alternative; she had to sit still. Her shoulder burned so badly she could hardly breath—the world was spinning madly. I can't faint now, she bemoaned, fighting off the black-tide flowing behind her eyes. As she waited quietly, her dizziness ebbed slightly, then she turned the mare toward the mountains.
There was a warm sensation on her left shoulder. Maggie glanced sideways, groaning inwardly when she saw the dark-red stain spreading under the bandages. The sight of it brought a picture of Ben's handsome face to her mind.
She could clearly see his high-cheek boned features, supporting an angry frown; she could clearly see his straight, well-shaped nose, flaring angrily at her.
He would swear at her with his wide, seductively defined mouth.
Then he would kiss her for punishment. Only his choice of punishment delivered a pleasure she couldn't describe.
"Ben would be so furious if he could see this,” she sighed. His eyes would be flashing black as coal ... coal on fire and ready to burn her.
When I make mistakes, they are darned good ones, Maggie told herself disgustedly. She tried to estimate how long she'd been sitting on the horse; however, time seemed to have escaped her.
The scorching sun beat down harshly on Maggie's bare head. I must be approaching hell, she decided morosely, and Satan will be poking his head out from behind a boulder any second. Sweat trickled down the side of her face, and her pajama top stuck to her body.
It didn't help that her stomach tossed in rebellion while her mouth felt as dry as the sand the horse walked in. Maggie pictured a large glass of ice water floating enticingly in front of her face. Then she heard Josh's voice urgently saying, “Don't trust him, Maggie. He will harm you.” Then, Josh's voice faded, “He caused...."
She looked around trying to find Josh. “Where are you?” she called out. He'd sounded as if he were standing nearby. “Who do you mean? What did he cause?” But there was only silence, and no answers to her questions.
Then, motion stopped.
The horse stood dead still, and Maggie glanced at her surroundings, trying to straighten up and keep her balance in the saddle. The mountains still looked miles away.
"Rest. I need some rest,” she whispered. “What a day,” she sighed, experiencing a wonderful sensation of buoyancy and weightlessness as if she were a feather drifting along on a soft breeze, and the sensations made her forget Josh's warning, forget looking for him.
What the hell was she doing out here anyway? Oh, yes, getting away from Ken.
Glory, did pain take your mind and turn it to jelly? Well, she didn't feel any pain right now, and she wanted Ben. It was too bad wanting wouldn't conjure him up, and it was a little late to decide dodging Ken wasn't the answer. If she ever got out of this mess, and right now it didn't appear likely, she was through playing hide-and-seek with Ken. He wasn't going to stop her from doing what she had to do.
"I wish Ben were here,” she mumbled to the mare. The horse snorted and bobbed her head but didn't move forward. “I have to go along with you on that, little mare,” Maggie agreed huskily, brushing the hair out of her eyes. Inexplicably, her arm weighed a ton.
"I think you're right. We could use him right now,” she moaned, rubbing her fingers near her eyes. Every thing she tried to think about seemed so confused, so numb, and she couldn't understand why.
"Only problem with that is—I think I forgot to tell him I was going anywhere. It seems as though being smart hasn't been on my list of things-to-do for quite a while."
The mare murmured in response and bobbed her head again.
Smugness from a horse was a little hard to take.
"Okay. So, you're right. But what do we do now?” If only she weren't lightheaded, she might think of an answer.
The mare stepped forward slowly.
Chapter 10
It was nine-thirty when Ben got up from behind his desk and walked briskly back and forth across the chocolate-colored carpet in his office. He stopped in front of the windows, peering vacantly between the cream-colored blind slats. “I have got to snap out of this.” He shoved both hands through his hair, feeling like a damned coward because he still hadn't gone to see Maggie.
He pivoted, opened his top desk drawer, and pulled out a photo of Maggie and her sons; the wind blew their hair, and broad smiles crinkled their faces as they rode horses in a ranch setting. When he'd gone through her album, he'd taken it out. Although at the time, he had no idea why. The only reason he'd gone through it in the first place was to learn something about her. About the only thing he hadn't discovered was the reason for her being on his ranch.
"You have the finesse of a damn bull,” he grated, his tone savage, disgusted with himself for the way he'd handled things last night.
He never should have walked away. He should have gone in, comforted her, and somehow eased the heavy emotions that wrenched her so intensely. From now on, he would follow his instinct with Maggie; and to bloody hell with his persistent notion that logic was the best approach to resolve difficulties. Especially since it proved time and time again that humans and logic were not synonymous, that they were not machines, and were not about to be that easy to understand.
When he had finished rounds an hour ago, he avoided seeing her, putting it off, trying to decipher and shape up his bleary feelings. Everything was wrong, all wrong. He would have to change tactics.
Maybe if he just relaxed when he came near Maggie, she would trust him enough to talk with him.
He tried to concentrate on the cool colors in the ocean painting on the office wall. He shifted his focus to the rugged beach house in the scene. “Relax!” It was easy to relax, until he came close to Maggie. The minute he was in range of her hazel eyes, emotions mobilized within him that provoked ideas far removed from relaxation and being uninvolved. A secluded candle-lit dinner, accompanied by a crackling fire, intimate music and fine wine, all combined with naked bodies and murmured passionate words couldn't have drawn him to her with near the potency of how she could tantalize him. Tantalize him, with her gentle touch, with her soft, slightly gravelly voice, with her vital strength and determination to realize the independent mission she'd set for herself and her child. Then she could irritate him to distraction with her persistent distrust.
Ben tossed the photo back in the long, heavy drawer and slammed it shut. He would page Cheryl and they would go for their ride; then he would see Maggie.
