Give Me Tonight(92)

As day after day passed by, Addie began to miss Ben acutely. She hardly ever saw him. He was busy dealing with all the problems that were brought to him, no matter how large or small. His work was unending as he supervised the building of the fence and coor­dinated the other chores done around the ranch. With the constant traffic in and around the house, there was no opportunity for him to come to Addie's room. A man had been appointed to watch over the house at night, the final guarantee that her trysts with Ben were over for a while.

Addie was consumed by frustration, emotional and physical, and it wouldn't be eased until she had Ben to herself again. She lay sprawled in her bed at night, arms and legs outflung as she thought moodily about the times he had visited her. How was it possible to want someone so much? The moments when she did see him weren't enough-there were always family members or ranch hands around, and no chance for any kind of privacy.

How long was she going to last without him? Her need of him grew stronger every minute, until she could hardly bear it when he was near. How strange it was to hunger and thirst for someone so badly, to re­sent everything that took him away from her. He had awakened needs in her, strong needs that must be as­suaged. She'd had so few nights with him, but for the rest of her life, every night without him would be cold and empty. Looking around the table, she wondered if any of them would have understood how she felt. No, none of them, not even lonely, sensitive Caroline.

I 'd go to any lengths to keep him. None of them have ever fought for each other. But they must have felt something once. They must have. Caroline and Peter acted like distant acquaintances, while May and Rus­sell were wearily affectionate at best. No passion, no tenderness. Not even anger. What do they talk about when they're alone? Or is there just silence?

Addie missed the long, cozy talks with Ben the most. In the darkest hours of the night she had told him some of the scandalously intimate things that even wives weren't supposed to tell their husbands. Conversations with Ben had been a source of endless fascination, since there was almost no subject he was unwilling to discuss, and he never bothered to spare het modesty. He seemed to enjoy making her blush, and he could always tell when he'd succeeded, even in the dark.

After a week of being apart from him, she began to notice that Ben was changing in subtle ways. His easy manner had disappeared and his sense of humor was more biting than usual. He was always tense and short ­tempered around her, and he made an effort to avoid her company. Why was he so brusque and abrupt? Why did it seem as if he were angry with her?

Every time she heard him walk into the house at dinnertime, saw him enter the room, watched him as he sat down at the table, there was an ache in the pit of her stomach. The extra time he spent in the sun was darkening his skin to a new swarthy shade, making his eyes glow like emeralds. He had never been so hand­some, so unreachable. Why was it that as she looked at him across the expanse of the dining-room table, the distance seemed to turn into miles?

Addie poker her head around Caroline's door, her brow creasing with a frown as she saw the shades pulled down over the morning light and the small bulky figure huddled underneath the covers.

"Caro?" she said softly, and her sister stirred. "You don't feel like getting up yet?"

Caroline shook her head, looking annoyed. Her face was bloated from gaining a surprising amount of weight in a short time, and her eyes were underlined with puffy bags. "No. I feel sick. I'm tired."

"Has Dr. Haskin—"

"He says there's nothin' wrong with me."

"Well, that's wonderful—"

"Oh, don't sound so cheerful."

"Why don't I get you some tea? And I'll read you the story from yesterday's newspaper about —"

"No. Thank you, but I don't feel like drinkin' any­thing or listenin' to anything."

Slowly Addie walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge, covering Caro's limp hand with her own. "What's wrong?" she asked gently.

The sympathy seemed to be Caroline's undoing. Her eyes filled with tears. "I feel so fat and awful and mean-tempered. And I'm losing my hair. Can't you see how thin and stringy it is? I used to have such pretty hair. "

"It's still pretty. If you have lost some, it's certainly not enough for anyone to notice, and it'll grow back just as soon as the baby's born."

"A-and Peter never wants to talk to me anymore, or hold me—"

"He doesn't know what you want from him. Tell him what you need."

"I want h-him to know without askin'."

"Men don't always understand what to do. Some­times you have to tell them."

Caroline gave a watery sigh and wiped her eyes with a comer of the sheet. "This momin' Leah came into my room and started bouncin' on the bed. I was sharp with her, and she doesn't understand why—"

"I'll see to her. Cade and I will take her to town.

Yesterday she wanted some material to make her doll some dresses, and we don't have enough scraps here. We'll get her a length of cotton, and maybe some candy. "

"Would you? Oh, she'll like that."

"What about you?" Addie asked, gently teasing. "Peppermint or licorice?"

"Nothing," Caro said, suddenly looking happier. Despite her pregnancy, she looked like a little girl with her tearstained face and plump cheeks. Addie felt a pang of love for her, wishing she knew how to make everything magically right for Caro.