Morning Song Read online

  He looked innocent. ‘I don’t recall making any such deal.’

  ‘We made a bargain,’ she reiterated, seething. ‘I’ve kept my part of it, and the last thing I expected was for you to go back on yours. You broke your promise!’

  ‘I don’t break promises,’ he responded mildly, and turned back to his meal, totally unconcerned. ‘Mostly because I don’t make them.’

  She opened her mouth for a scathing retort, but then closed it again. The last thing she wanted was to get into a verbal battle with him at the lunch table with Van and Marie as referees. She missed his look of guarded surprise at his easy victory.

  After lunch, she helped Marie with the few dishes, and then wandered up to her room while the others were occupied elsewhere. She picked up a paperback book she had been halfheartedly reading the past few days, but she could not get interested in it. She found it hard to concentrate on anything these days. She supposed Van was right, it would take a while to adjust to the sedentary life after having been accustomed to twelve-hour days of rehearsal and conditioning, the frantic travel, the constant excitement and challenge ... The lights, the applause, the camaraderie of the theatre, the new faces and new places, the constant adrenaline high which was part of life on the road ... God, how she missed it! Even thinking of it now caused a little knot of yearning to form in her stomach and slowly spread with despair throughout her body. She would never adjust to it. Not ever.

  She turned over on her stomach and went to sleep. The next thing she was aware of was hands gripping her shoulders and a muffled voice calling her name far away. It seemed as though she had only just closed her eyes, and she was so tired it was so pleasant to just lie there and dream nothing, she did not want to wake up yet. She mumbled something which was meant to be, ‘Go away!’ and tried to turn away from the fingers that were digging into her shoulders.

  ‘Lauren!’ Shane jerked her to a sitting position, shaking her hard, so hard that her hair tumbled over her face and she could only gasp in alarm and disorientation, fighting him off weakly. ‘Wake up, damn you! What’s the matter with you?’

  ‘Stop it!’ she managed, pushing at her hair with one hand and his shoulder with the other. ‘What are you—’ She was still too foggy with sleep to be angry, only confused. ‘Stop!’ she gasped as he shook her once more. ‘You’re hurting me!’

  He released the pressure on her shoulders only slightly, and demanded cautiously, ‘Are you awake? What the hell are you doing?’

  She simply stared at him dazedly, letting her arms drop to her side and replying stupidly, ‘Sleeping.’

  A sort of impatient fear darkened his eyes as he glared at her. ‘I couldn’t wake you up,’ he said roughly. ‘I thought you might have taken something.’ Once again his fingers tightened painfully on her shoulders and he gave her a little shake, demanding, ‘Did you?’

  ‘W-what?’ She still could not quite make sense of it all. ‘You mean—pills? N-no, why should I? Let me go!’

  He let her go so abruptly that she fell back against the headboard, and he got up and opened the curtains with two swift, angry jerks. The bright afternoon sun spilled into the room, casting him into shadow and causing Lauren to blink and shield her eyes against its painful glare. ‘So this is what you’ve been doing up here every day!’ he exclaimed, and there was an impatience and a thinly checked fury in his tone she simply did not understand. ‘I thought you were just trying to avoid me—hell, why stop with me when you can avoid the whole world, right?’

  She pushed her hair away from her face with both hands, focusing on him as her eyes adjusted to the light and her mind gradually adjusted to the indignity to which she had just been subjected. ‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded. ‘How dare you come barging into my bedroom and wake me up—’

  ‘It’s about time someone did!’ He turned abruptly away from her, and the tension and anger radiated from every line of his body. Then, as though forcibly commanding himself to relax, he ran his fingers through his hair and released a soft breath. ‘All right,’ he said in a moment, in a much calmer tone. ‘I’m sorry I was so rough with you. I know I must have scared you, but you’ve got to understand you gave me a pretty big scare too.’

  Her puzzlement overrode her anger for the moment, but before she could say anything he came and sat beside her on the bed. The lines of his face were still tight, but there was a rueful expression in his eye which allowed her to cautiously relax a little. ‘Sleep is a convenient escape,’ he said, ‘but not always a healthy one. Sometimes it’s just a sign of cowardice.’

  She glowered at him. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ She wanted to get out of bed, and she knew that would be the dignified thing to do. She was still confused and disorientated, and Shane’s presence so close to her on the rumpled bed made her uncomfortable—she did not trouble to analyse why, she just knew that it did. But she did not want to jump out of bed with her limbs still feeling so heavy and stiff, only to once again have him witness her clumsiness, so she simply moved away from him, taking a pillow and hugging it to her as though for protection. ‘You had no right to come up here and wake me up—but then you’re always doing things you had no right to do.’

  ‘I’m glad you noticed,’ he responded evenly. ‘Now you won’t be surprised at anything I do in the future.’

  She swallowed hard at that; the implication made her very nervous. But she only said, ‘I’m too tired to fight with you. Go away.’

  ‘You’re not tired, Lauren,’ he answered curtly, ‘just lazy.’ He plucked the pillow from her hands and tossed it on the floor. ‘Get up. We’re going into town.’

  She was so astounded by his behaviour that she forgot all those indignant protests she might have made and instead blurted only, ‘Why?’

  ‘For supplies,’ he told her, and, grasping both her hands, pulled her to her feet.’ We’re having company, so Marie’s too busy to do it.’

  She looked at him suspiciously, still pushing at her tangled hair with her fingers, uneasy over the invitation and the casualness with which it was issued. ‘What kind of supplies?’

  ‘No one faces a Colorado winter without some preparation,’ he answered. ‘It’s a good idea to have emergency supplies laid in early.’

  ‘Why should you care about winter supplies?’ demanded Lauren uncharitably. ‘You won’t even be here then.’

  ‘Well, it so happens there’s been a change of plans.’ he searched around and found her shoes on the floor beside the bed. ‘And even if there hadn’t been, it wouldn’t kill me to help Marie out in a pinch. Come on, put these on.’ He handed her shoes to her. ‘We’ll have to leave now if we expect to be back by dark.’

  She hesitated, then sat down on the bed to put on her shoes. She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to go with him, but the invitation, and the motive behind it, was too intriguing to refuse. ‘What kind of change of plans?’ she asked cautiously, tying her laces.

  ‘Van has talked me into hanging around and meeting that new singer. I may be here as late as the middle of October.’

  He seemed to be watching her face closely for a reaction, and she was careful not to give him one—despite the fact that, on hearing those words, she felt more awake than she had since he had entered the room, energised and ready for a challenge. Another month with Shane! It appeared her winter was not going to be as restful as she planned, after all.

  She went over to the mirror and began to brush her hair into some semblance of neatness, fastening it at the neck with a simple leather clasp. She wished he would leave the room so that she could change into something more attractive than the plain plaid shirt she was wearing over her jeans, which seemed to be too large at the shoulders and much too large in the bust. But she enquired simply, ‘So who’s the company? When are they arriving?’

  ‘Tonight,’ he answered her last question first, watching her in the mirror without much interest. ‘Just some record people. Some pretty big names, as a matter of fact. Do you think you
can control yourself, or will we have to lock you in your room to keep you from drooling all over the celebrities?’

  She whirled on him, restraining a wild impulse to throw the hairbrush at him, swift anger flaming in her cheeks and glittering in her eyes. ‘You bastard!’ she cried, ‘It really pains you to be nice, doesn’t it? And just when I think you’ve got the act down pat you go and make some dirty little comment—’

  His eyes sparkled with mild amusement. ‘I just wanted to see if you were still the same girl I met a week ago. It’s been kind of hard to tell, the way you’ve been moping about lately.’ He extended his arm to her. ‘Shall we go?’

  She was astounded, and still furious. ‘What makes you think I would go anywhere with you, you sanctimonious—’

  ‘Fine.’ He shrugged lightly, that nasty little gleam of self-assured amusement still in his eyes. ‘Rage at me, spit at me, call me every name you know—there’s nothing like a little righteous indignation to get the circulation going. But you’re also coming into town with me, so let’s get going.’

  Lauren glared at him, and her meaning was perfectly clear as she responded coldly, ‘You’re right—I am.’ Because she simply would not give him the satisfaction of having cowered her, or allow him another victory in the endless battle of wills. If this was the way he wanted it, fine; he would find he had got more than he bargained for!

  She refused his offered arm and stalked past him down the stairs.

  They took Van’s Scout, and Lauren noticed that Shane was a cautious driver—exhibiting not fear, but respect for the machine he was commanding. She knew that she, too, had become a much more responsible driver after the accident which had taken her parents, and for a moment it was hard to be angry with Shane.

  He stopped on the highway for gas, and when he returned from paying the attendant he slid behind the wheel and tossed a candy bar into her lap. She stared at it. ‘What’s this?’

  ‘Calories,’ he responded, starting the ignition. ‘Or a peace offering, however you want to look at it.’

  She glanced at him, trying to hide her amusement behind an expression of suspicious disapproval. ‘You must think I come pretty cheap.’

  ‘Every woman has her price,’ he responded, and swung out on to the highway. He reached into his pocket and brought out four more candy bars, then tossed them to her, one by one. ‘Name yours.’

  She burst into laughter as she caught the last one and scrambled for two more which had fallen on the floor. Shane glanced at her as she straightened up, smiling. ‘Do you know,’ he said, ‘that’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh. Was it really so painful?’

  She took up one of the candy bars and looked at it thoughtfully, choosing to ignore his remark. ‘It’s been years since I had one of these.’ She marvelled over how long it had really been—perhaps since she was a child. From the moment she had begun to take her dancing seriously she had resigned herself to a life of grapefruit and cottage cheese, and she had never looked back.

  ‘So live dangerously,’ he urged, his eyes upon the road. ‘After all, a whole new world is opening up to you now.’

  Yes, she thought bleakly, a whole new world ... But she opened the candy and glanced at him curiously, commenting, ‘You’re not talking like a college professor any more.’

  ‘I know,’ he answered. ‘I only do that with people I don’t ...’

  He hesitated, and she supplied, ‘Know?’

  ‘Like,’ he corrected.

  Lauren did not know quite how to take that, so she let it drop. As she bit into the rich, chewy chocolate she discovered she felt less and less like arguing with him.

  In that short afternoon she discovered a Shane Holt she had never met before. He was not like she had imagined him, and not like she knew him, but somehow a compromise between the two. He was haphazard and careless about the shopping, checking Marie’s list only after he had left the store and often returning for things he had forgotten. In the supermarket, he seemed to throw into the cart whatever struck his fancy, and they ended up with four sacks of groceries when Lauren, who had been entrusted with the grocery list, knew for a fact that Marie had requested only twelve items. He escorted Lauren into a sporting goods store and, ignoring her protests, had her fitted for a pair of hiking boots. While he was there, he picked up a Stetson hat with a colourful feather headband that had caught his eye, paid an exorbitant price for it, and only later admitted he would probably never wear it.

  ‘And they say women are bad shoppers!’ exclaimed Lauren in exasperation as they stuffed the last of the packages into the back of the Scout. ‘Look at all this junk, and only half of it—if that much—has anything at all to do with what Marie asked you to buy.’

  He shrugged it off. ‘Life is too short to spend all your time labouring over decisions. The thing to do is go with the impulse, and sort out your mistakes later.’

  ‘Like my boots,’ she decided, climbing into the passenger seat. ‘That’s one mistake you can sort out right now, because I’m not going to wear them.’

  ‘Yes, you are,’ he told her mildly, and backed out of the parking space. ‘Every day you’re going to walk until the snow drifts up over your head. That’s the only way you’re ever going to get back into condition.’

  Lauren opened her mouth to demand impertinently why he was showing such a sudden interest in her health and what business it was of his, but she decided against it. The day had been too lovely to spoil now ... in fact, for the first time in months she felt relaxed and at ease, and she realised in amazement that she had actually enjoyed herself. This must be the Shane Marie and Van knew and loved, she reflected, a man who was easy-going and pleasant, concerned and interested, energetic and stimulating. She only wished he had let her see this part of him earlier, and she wished she had never known the less admirable side of his personality, because now she would always be wondering which part of him was the real Shane Holt—or if it was a mixture of both.

  ‘Van and Marie will probably be gone when we get back,’ he told her, driving into the clear pink and green sunset. ‘She said we would have to make do for ourselves for dinner, so we may as well eat out. What would you like?’

  ‘Why didn’t I know about any of this?’ Lauren complained. ‘Marie never mentioned company to me, or anything about dinner.’

  ‘If you’d been paying attention to what was going on around you,’ he answered, ‘you would have known. We discussed it all at breakfast this morning. Van and Marie have to be at the airport at eight o’clock this evening, so what do you want for dinner?’

  Vaguely Lauren remembered something of a discussion of that sort, and some controversy about who was to meet the plane. She really hadn’t been paying much attention to anything lately. And she wondered why Shane had elected to stay at home and do shopping rather than go with Van, when it was obvious these were people he knew. She was about to ask him when he interrupted her thought with, ‘Chinese? Italian? Mexican? It’s your choice.’

  ‘Oh.’ She decided not to push her luck with too many questions and just enjoy his new, amiable mood. She smiled at him. ‘Let’s eat American. Hamburgers.’

  But, as they took a small table in a corner of one of the fast food restaurants which dotted the highway, Shane turned the tables on her by enquiring, ‘What are you going to do with yourself when Van’s hospitality wears out at the end of the winter?’

  Once again, he was clearly breaking the rules which maintained their respective privacy. She hesitated, wondering what he was up to now, and then she replied cautiously, ‘I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it.’

  ‘Don’t you think it’s something you should think about?’

  She took a sip of the thick vanilla milk shake; it was very cold and made her shiver. She replied evenly, ‘I think it’s none of your business.’

  ‘Oh-oh,’ he said softly. There was a mischievous twinkle of challenge in his eye which made it much more difficult than usual to be irritated with him. ‘Now I’ve made yo
u mad. And I was trying so hard to be nice!’

  ‘I noticed that,’ Lauren responded negligently, taking up her hamburger. ‘I’ve been wondering all day why you’re going to so much trouble.’

  He appeared to think about that. ‘I’m not really sure,’ he answered at last. ‘I think it might be because I’ve recently been reminded how much I dislike being called a bastard.’

  ‘You must be used to it,’ she answered with a sweet smile, and popped a french fry into her mouth.

  ‘That doesn’t mean I like it,’ he told her seriously, and somehow the new inflection of frankness in his voice made her more uneasy than any of his teasing or insults had done.

  She changed the subject quickly. ‘If you like Colorado enough to spend your summers here, why don’t you live here?’

  ‘I used to,’ he replied. He had finished eating while she picked at her food, pretending an appetite, and now he sat back and sipped his coffee. ‘I was raised here as a matter of fact. But I told you, I don’t like the snow.’

  ‘You ski,’ she reminded him.

  Suddenly he dropped his eyes. There was a silence, a change of mood, that completely baffled her. Then he looked at her again, and the expression on his face was no more than thoughtful. ‘I can see you and I are going to have a lot of trouble communicating. We both have too many touchy subjects in our lives, and we seem to have an uncanny knack for zeroing in on each other’s vulnerabilities.’

  Lauren had had no idea that the mention of skiing would be a vulnerable area for him, but then there were so many things—painful associations with his past—which she had no way of knowing about him. Yet for the first time he had not reacted to her stumbling upon these sensitive areas with anger or withdrawal, and she was a bit taken aback. She did not quite know how to respond, so she dropped her eyes to her half-finished hamburger and shrugged, ‘A lot of people don’t communicate.’