Give Me Tonight(67)

By the time the visitors were seated at the table, May and Caroline were almost too exhausted to enjoy their own dinners. Although Addie had worked just as hard as they had, she wasn't tired at all. She was filled with a nervous energy that wouldn't subside. Method­ically she ate everything on her plate, hardly tasting anything, listening while Russell involved himself in a conversation with the cowboys.

She and Ben tried to ignore each other. But a steady flame of awareness burned inside her. She was con­scious of every movement he made, every word he spoke. And when she looked up from the intent perusal of her plate and caught a wayward glance of his, she was filled with a surge of delight.

When the meal was over and they were all replete, the men remained at the table and talked while the women discreetly cleared away the dishes. After most of the work was done in the kitchen, Caroline put a hand to her lower back and sighed wearily.

"I'm too tired to wiggle. Mama, would you come upstairs with me and help me out of these things? Peter won't go to bed for a good long while, but I've got to have some rest."

"Would you like me to help you?" Addie offered. "That's all right," May said, patting her shoulder gently. "I will. After all you've done today, you should get to bed early."

"Yes, Mama."

Feeling strangely lost, Addie wandered out of the kitchen and into the hallway. The sounds of the men's voices, the flap-flap of cards and the clinking of bottles and glasses were clearly audible. For them, the eve­ning was just beginning. Addie glanced at the stairs. The thought of going up to her room and closing her­self inside four walls was unbearable. She looked at the front door, craving the freedom beyond it, and slipped outside before she had second thoughts.

The air was soft and sweet, the sky like black velvet. Hesitantly Addie walked down the front steps with no destination in mind, wandering alongside the house. On nights like this she and Leah used to sit with the windows open to catch the breeze, and they would listen to the radio for hours.

The ghost of a song went through her mind. I never knew. . . a heart could ache like this . . . I never knew . . . I'd miss your sweet embrace . . . Straining to remember the rest of it, she stopped walking and stood still. I know I won't forget you, can't accept we're through . . . Until the day you left me, dear, I never knew. . . .

Something stirred in her heart, the memories of sit­ting cross-legged in front of the radio and daydream­ing . . . walking into Leah's room and sharing gossip . . . tinting her mouth with sassy red lipstick before going on a date with Bernie . . . making Leah laugh by doing a modified Charleston in the middle of her bedroom. Strange, how difficult it was to picture Ber­nie's face, or Leah's face. How faded the image of the house at the end of Main Street was, and the rooms inside, and the hospital where she'd worked.

Absently she hummed the rest of the song. Now every night. . . I close my eyes and dream of you. . . I never knew . . . how sweet a dream could be . . . I know I can't expect you to regret we're through . . . Until the day you left me, dear, I never knew. . . .

Addie folded her arms around her middle and sighed. It was impossible to believe that the house she had grown up in was gone. Leah was gone, and Addie would never be able to go back to the Sunrise she had known. And what did she have instead? That was an interesting question. Thoughtfully Addie considered her newfound circumstances. She had a brother and a sister, a mother, a closet of pink dresses and a bad ­tempered horse, a reputation as a breaker of hearts, an ex-boyfriend, a father who loved her, and a man who wanted her. A man she wanted in return.

Don't you understand what you're doing? Stop thinking about him, stop dreaming about him, for Rus­sell's sake if not your own. You don't belong with each other.

There was the sound of booted feet on the stairs, moving with incredible quietness, and Addie froze. Her pulse drummed as the footsteps drew closer and she saw it was Ben. He stopped right next to her, his eyes translucent in the darkness. She knew, what he wanted.

Don't let it happen, she thought in panic, but there was a sense of inevitability about it all. Their coming­ together was as natural as the sun rising and falling.

Ben didn't move or speak. There was a hollow sen­sation in his stomach, a feeling he'd experienced only a few times before. He'd been aware of it as he went home to face his father the day after graduation, and once again while being chased through the county by a noose-brandishing mob. He'd never been nervous because of a woman, not even his first one. But Addie wasn't just any woman, and he wanted her as he'd never wanted anyone else. He needed her too much for his own good-he knew that, but there wasn't a damn thing he could do to stop himself.

No man could withstand the temptation of her sleek body and silky hair, and a face that was at once whole­some and sensual. And there were other things that attracted him to her just as forcefully. She was strong­ willed, forthright in expressing her opinions, a woman who would stand by a man in times of trouble. Some­times she was vulnerable, wearing an expression of loneliness that started an ache in his own heart. He wanted her to trust him, give him the right to comfort and protect her.

"How did you know I'd be here?" she asked. "Because I wanted you to be."

"The others—"

"Are concentrating on a bottle of deadshot and a deck of cards. The game didn't interest me."