Ride the Rainbow Home (5 page)

"No lectures, Sally. I worked at Fort Huachuca, remember?"

Sally took the offensive. "Since when were you such a proponent of Native American rights? I don't recall you waving any banners as you left here with your tail between your legs."

Meg flinched. "I guess I deserve that, but the way the locals treated the Indians is one of many things I disliked about this town. The Hopis and Navajos had it even worse than we musketeers."

Sally seemed mollified. "You're right about that, but Jim doesn't behave that way. He's been one of the foremost leaders in the nation at helping Native American art be recognized in world-class exhibitions. Maybe you heard about the Navajo rug that went for nearly half a million dollars at Sotheby's?"

"Yeah, I do remember hearing about that. It made the national news."

"International, I expect. That rug was a Clara Begay original. Jim consulted with her on the work as it was progressing, then arranged to take it to auction. When it cleared that huge price, he took a modest commission, plus his expenses for the London trip, then gave the rest to Clara. Her family bought back a hunk of former reservation land that had been sold to white farmers during the relocation."

Meg felt chastened. "I didn't realize."

"Just don't jump to conclusions. Jim's not like some exploiters you've known, and certainly not like the people you worked for at the fake ‘trading post.’" Sally brushed a fallen leaf from Serena's hair; her voice softened. "He's done wonderful things for artists in this area."

Meg wriggled an eyebrow. "Sounds like he has a fan."

"You bet he does. We musketeers stick together."

"We always did. I was thinking about it the other day. Do you remember when we first started calling ourselves the musketeers?"

"Sure, it was in freshman English, only we didn't start it."

Meg nodded. "That's right. Mr. Monroe stuck the label on us. He'd been reading the book and he thought the idea fit."

Sally leaned back with a sigh. "Those were good times, Peggy."

“The best of times and the worst of times,' " Meg quoted out of context. "But the musketeers stuck together through both."

"Probably because we had no place else to stick."

Meg nodded. "You're right about that. We were pretty much outcast. I guess that made us cling tighter."

"We really didn't start to split apart until our senior year when Frank came into the picture."

"I was so jealous," Meg confided.

"Jealous! Don't tell me you had a thing for Frank?"

"No, nothing that soap opera. I just wished I had someone like you did."

"I thought you did."

Meg looked shocked. "Me? Who?"

"Jimmy, of course. After I left the trio, I expected you two to become a pair. I never understood why you didn't go to the senior prom together."

Meg took a sharp breath. "Let's just say it didn't work out."

Sally's eyes sparkled. "Ooh, I sense a story here."

Meg leaned back wearily. "Leave it alone, Sal. Please."

Sally withdrew. "Okay, if you say so, but if you decide to talk, remember I'm dying to hear."

They spent the rest of the morning in baby-tending and idle chat. In the moist hundred-degree heat, it took all the effort they could manage to keep an eye on the splashing children and rummage up something for lunch. As the day wore on, neither of the women had the heart to demand that the children go inside for nap time.

Around four Meg made a sweep of the yard and found Tommy falling asleep on the grass in the shade beside the wading pool. "Poor baby," she whispered, suddenly feeling motherly. "I'll take him in."

Sally nodded and Meg tenderly lifted the child, her heart full of warmth toward him. Then she maneuvered her way through the sliding doors and down the hall to Tommy's room. She settled him on his bed and was just closing his door when the doorbell rang.

It was Jim, laden with take-out chicken and fixings. "Hi," he said cheerily. "It's too hot to cook. How about a picnic?"

"Sure, if you're bringing it." Meg took a package out of his hands and led him toward the kitchen. They loaded the chicken and salads into Sally's refrigerator, then stepped through to the yard where Sally started right in asking Jim about his work. With her goading every step of the way, Jim was soon delighting them with his impersonation of the Sotheby's auctioneer.

"Going, going," he mimicked in a clipped British whine. "But enough about me. Meg, tell me more about management consulting."

"Mostly I conduct training seminars," Meg began, launching into a spiel she had delivered many times, but she found herself demurring when it came to questions about how she liked her job. She hadn't yet focused the vague, nagging sensation that the work was getting old, that her presentations lacked their former zing, that her dream career just weren't as fulfilling as she'd hoped and expected it to be.

The floor finally fell to Sally, who talked about being married right out of high school with plans to start a family immediately, only to learn that she couldn't conceive. "For six years we worried that we'd never be able to make a baby," she explained, "then once we started, we couldn't stop!"

Jim and Meg both complimented Sally's beautiful family and gradually the talk turned back to old times. The comfortable conversation flowed smoothly until Sally mentioned the senior prom. Then Meg and Jim both spoke at once.

"I think I'd better check on Tommy."

"Isn't it about time for dinner?"

During the awkward moment that followed, Sally stared in fascination as Meg excused herself to go into the house and Jim started spreading a gingham tablecloth. She continued her speculative watching as they ate their way through a quiet meal, Meg and Jim speaking to each other only to pass things to the children. When Jim left shortly after cleanup, Sally could hardly manage to wave good-bye before turning to Meg.

"Okay, what gives? What happened with the prom?"

"Sally, I really don't want to talk about it."

"Tell me yourself, or I'll ask Jim."

"You're incorrigible! Look, it's not that big a deal, but if I tell you, you have to swear never to mention it to Jim."

"Oh, yeah, and it's not that big a deal."

Meg gave a superior sniff. "Sarcasm does not become you."

"So tell already!"

Meg paused, sobering. "It was the week before the senior prom and I was desperate for a date. I swear I'd have gone with some drunk from down by the railroad tracks if he'd bothered to ask me! Anyway, I couldn't believe my ears when Danny Sherwood asked me to go with him."

"
The
Danny Sherwood? The football captain, homecoming king, everyone-wanted-him Danny Sherwood you had such a crush on?"

Meg frowned. "How many Danny Sherwoods do you know, anyway? Of course I said yes--"

"You'd have been a fool not to."

"--but it was a joke." Meg paused. Even now, years after the experience, the memory still brought a lump to her throat. "Apparently the whole thing was a setup. He had five or six of his jock buddies all standing in easy earshot, and as soon as I said yes, he said, 'Dream on, Piggy! Did you think I'd really ask a loser like you?' Then they all started laughing and slapping him on the back."

"The jerks! You must have wanted to die!"

"At first," Meg admitted. "Later I just wanted to kill Danny. I used to daydream about coming back to town looking all sleek and svelte and alluring . . . I’d get Danny to approach me again, and then I’d shut him down, hard, in front of all his friends. I savored the idea of a fitting social revenge.”

“We used to call you the Queen of the Revenge Fantasy. Remember?”

“Oh yeah, I remember, and the fantasy was usually enough to take off some of the pressure—at least, until Jimmy got involved."

Sally’s look morphed quickly from teasing to compassionate concern. "How did it happen?"

"It was the next day, just five days before the prom, when Jimmy asked me. Danny was standing right behind him. All Danny's football buddies were scattered within easy earshot, the same five or six that had been there before. It was another setup, a cheap shot."

Sally shook her head. "It must have been awful."

"I couldn't believe Jimmy would do that to me! I thought we were friends."

Sally looked pensive. "I find it hard to believe. Are you sure there was no confusion?''

"No, no confusion. Of course I said no this time. I wasn't about to fall for it twice. Then the whole group started laughing and slapping Jimmy on the back. It was the same scene as before."

"I still find it hard to believe Jim would do that."

"Well, maybe Jim wouldn't, but Little Jimmy sure did. We barely spoke to each other after that. There were only a couple of weeks of school left and with you absorbed in Frank, it was easy for us to avoid each other. When I left, we didn't even say good-bye."

"I can see why you were so hurt," Sally agreed, "but it's been a long time. Maybe we can all grow beyond it now."

"That would be good," Meg agreed.

"You two are perfect, you know."

"Perfect, huh?" Meg's look was all wry amusement.

"It's not funny. I mean it."

"Well, we might have some fun for a few weeks, anyway. Until I need to go home to the Bay Area."

Sally tactfully changed the subject as Meg started into the children's bedtime routine, but Meg's thoughts were not easily dismissed. Throughout the evening, she remembered random mental images of Little Jimmy McAllister as she knew him in high school and kept trying to reconcile them with the vivid image of Jim as she had first seen him on Valley Hill, as he had looked all shiny and damp in the dunk tank, or as he had turned away from her today, shamefaced when Sally mentioned their missed senior prom.

The puzzle wasn't coming together. She doubted if it ever would.

Chapter Three

The following day dawned cooler—the sort of pleasant summer day Meg remembered in Rainbow Rock. She spent it helping Sally with the laundry and doing some cleaning, letting Sally tend the babies. She was getting more comfortable with the two older children, although Tommy was fast becoming her favorite. The toddler had accepted her instantly, and it was easy to warm to those huge, dark eyes. Tommy was developing a tender spot for her, too. When his mother announced it was time for his bath, Meg held her arms out and Tommy went straight to her. Had everything gone smoothly, it would have been the highlight of Meg's day, but in his hurry to reach her, Tommy tripped on a chair leg and fell, bruising his knee and dissolving in hopeless tears.

"Oh, Tommy, I'm so sorry!" Meg crooned, hurrying to his side.

"Mama!" Tommy sobbed, and reached for Meg. Was it possible for a human heart to melt? Tears gathered in Meg's eyes as she drew the little boy into her arms. Tommy clung to her and she held on just as tightly, cradling the child against the tender ache in her heart. He refused to let anyone else help him with bath time or read his story that evening, and the heady feeling of being needed clung as she tucked him into bed.

Closing Tommy's door, she entered the family room to find both Sammy and Serena crying at once. Stiffening her upper lip, she offered to change Sammy's diaper while Sally fed Serena.

"There, that wasn't so tough," Sally said when Meg brought her a clean, freshly changed infant.

"Then why am I shaking so hard?" Meg griped, but she felt a sense of accomplishment and even volunteered to change Serena a few minutes later. "There, that wasn't so tough," she cooed to the baby, echoing Sally's calm. She was beginning to believe it.

Thursday dawned cool and lovely, the temperature held down by a light overcast that had blown in from Flagstaff. Meg hummed her way through helping Sally strip the beds and scrub the guest bath, her spirits buoyed by the turn in the weather and her increased success with the children.

Something else was there too, lifting her spirits in a way she hadn't expected. Until now, Meg hadn't realized how tired she'd become. The drain of constantly being "up" for audiences of seminar-goers, of trying to stay on top of all the latest trends in her field, of fighting internal office politics had worn on her for years. It was a relief to deal with simple, homey tasks for a change—chores small enough to be fully within her control. As she stretched her back against the physical task of replacing bed sheets, peace washed through her.

Late in the afternoon, between folding the bath towels and starting the second batch of diapers, she answered the front door and was surprised to find a delivery addressed to Meg Taylor.

"Are you sure it's for me?" she asked, taking the long florist's box into her arms.

"Unless you ain't Meg Taylor." The delivery man touched his hat to her as he left.

Meg closed the door. "What is it?" Sally called from the front room where she was nursing Serena.

"It's—" Meg tugged at the ribbon and the box fell open. "It's roses, Sally! A half dozen long-stemmed pinks."