The Kissing Stars Page 17

  Tess arched her hips, moved with him, and gave herself up to the pleasure of loving her husband.

  CHAPTER 10

  GABE WANTED TO STAY in Eagle Gulch another day or ten and stretch their “tonight” into a few tomorrows. Tess refused, albeit reluctantly, because of an event due to happen that very afternoon.

  “Today is a holiday at Aurora Springs,” she told him as they dressed to leave the hotel. “We’ll have a celebration this afternoon. I can’t miss it, and you won’t want to.”

  “Want to bet?” he responded, giving the bed a significant glance.

  She grinned and playfully batted his shoulder. Her flirtatiousness stirred him, and Gabe surrendered to the desire to swoop down and steal another interlude of bliss with his wife. Her protest didn’t last past the first kiss, and when they rose to dress again forty-five minutes later, he felt smug and deliciously sated.

  The day was bright, filled with sunshine and the promise of pleasant temperatures. Texas and October were a good fit, and Gabe’s mood was high as he escorted his wife toward the livery at the edge of town. Then he had to go and open his mouth. “What do you mean you didn’t bring a buggy?”

  “I rode Pollux.”

  He stopped short. “No, you didn’t. Tell me you didn’t ride a camel to town.”

  She fiddled with the bow on her sunbonnet. “I could tell you that but it wouldn’t be the truth.”

  “I don’t believe this.” Gabe removed his hat and rubbed his brow. “Why in the world would you do something like that?”

  “I happen to like riding Pollux. Her gait is gentle and she’s sweet as can be. And since she hasn’t been away from Aurora Springs for a while, I thought she’d enjoy the exercise.” She shot him a quizzical look. “Why does it matter to you what I ride?”

  He ducked his head and grimaced. “How much cash do you have with you?”

  “Less than five dollars.”

  His stomach sank. “I was afraid of that,” he muttered. “How about the bank? Do you have an account at the bank?”

  “No, I don’t. Gabe, what is going on?”

  He lifted his hat from his head and raked his fingers through his hair. “When I left home the other night, I wasn’t exactly thinking straight I didn’t bring any cash with me.” He drew a deep breath, then blew out a sigh. “I sold my horse to buy my room and booze.”

  “Not very smart of you.”

  “Nope. I only have three dollars left.”

  Tess’s eyes twinkled. “Can’t buy a horse for three dollars. Guess you’ll have to hitch a ride with me.”

  “This is terrible, just awful,” Gabe lamented. He figured he must look miserable as hell because at that point, Tess burst into unbridled laughter. He shot her a scowl, then closed his eyes and groaned when she led the dromedary from the livery wearing the strangest looking saddle Gabe had ever seen. “I can’t do this, Tess. Texan men do not ride camels. It’s not dignified.”

  Damned if the woman didn’t just giggle harder. “Don’t be afraid, Gabe. I know camels are often ill-tempered, but Pollux is an exception. She is well trained and cooperative. And, she’s accustomed to riding double.”

  “I’m not afraid.” But I’d rather share tea and crumpets with Jimmy Wayne Bodine in his jail cell than fork this particular saddle.

  He eyed the ugly animal with distaste. The split upper lip brought to mind the devil’s cloven hooves. “Honestly, I’d rather ride a mule than ride that shaggy beast. Hell, I’d rather ride Rosie.”

  Tess rolled her eyes. “Rosie isn’t here, Gabe, so you might as well climb aboard.” She directed the camel to kneel down, then gracefully mounted. Pinning him with an expectant gaze, she waited.

  Gabe folded his arms and walked in a wide circle around the animal. This old gal had a bad case of the uglies.

  “Jefferson Davis imported camels to Texas as pack animals, not mounts. Why would you go and train them for riding?”

  “In the heat of the summer, the water between here and Aurora Springs dries up. Castor and Pollux can make the trip to town without needing water, so it makes perfect sense to use them instead of the horses.”

  Gabe thought of the trip into town the day before yesterday. “Tell me these animals don’t pull a stage.”

  “No, we don’t ask that of them, although I do think Pollux would do it for me. Castor can be more cantankerous. He is a male, after all.”

  Gabe just shook his head. He took another circle around the camel, stopping at its head to look past the long, double-fringe of interlocking eyelashes and into its eyes. She blinked twice and moved her mouth, revealing her teeth. Gabe snickered. She looked like she was flirting with him.

  Then, before he realized what was happening, Pollux let fly a wad of spit that struck him right in the face.

  Sonofabitch! He’d have shouted the word aloud except that he was afraid the camel spit would dribble into his mouth. Yanking his handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped his face. “You sorry, hump-back, stinking piece of—”

  “Gabe,” Tess warned “Don’t. It’s her way of saying hello.”

  “—sand-loving ugly, I’m gonna—”

  “Gabe! I’m sick to death of you insulting my animals. Now, unless you want to walk home, get on up here. If you don’t like it, well, you have no one but yourself to blame. You’re the one who stomped off in a fit, and you’re the one who sold your horse for whiskey money.”

  “A spit and a scolding,” he grumbled, hitching up his pants as he prepared to climb into the so-called saddle. “Not exactly an auspicious start to the trip home.”

  A smile as pretty as sunshine lit Tess’s face. When he settled in behind her, she twisted around and planted a pucker on him hot enough to make him see stars. Now those are the kind of Kissing Stars I want to see. “What’s that for?” he asked. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

  “You said ‘the trip home.’ You called Aurora Springs home.”

  So he had. Uncertain how he felt about that, Gabe chose not to respond. Instead, he held on for dear life as his wife commanded the camel to rise.

  And so, Gabe rode out of Eagle Gulch for the second time in as many days. This time, literally, on a spit and a prayer.

  TESS SPENT the first half of the ride home in an exuberant mood. Gabe kept her laughing with his carrying on about the indignity of riding Pollux. Really, from the way he talked one would think a man’s entire masculinity was wrapped up in the kind of horse he rode.

  “Nah,” he replied when she made that observation. “If that were true we’d all ride stallions and not a man jack among us would get within a mile of a gelding.”

  Eventually, conversation lagged and Tess took to thinking. That, in turn, dampened her mood. She needed to confess her secrets.

  Half a dozen times she attempted to bring the subject up. Half a dozen times she couldn’t get the words past her lips. It was a relief when Gabe asked about the Aurorians’ holiday she’d mentioned earlier.

  “Ah, yes. Today is a special day.”

  “No kidding,” her husband drawled. “It’s not every day I parade around on the back of a dirty dromedary.”

  She elbowed him in the ribs and continued, “We are due to have a partial solar eclipse this afternoon. We always try to make days like this a little extra special.”

  Gabe was pleased to hear of the pending event. He told her of witnessing the total solar eclipse while in central Texas back in 1878. Out of the country at the time and never having witnessed such a phenomena first-hand, Tess listened to his descriptions with rapt fascination, and truth be told, a twinge of jealousy.

  “About a minute before the total eclipse began, I got to see Baily’s Beads.”

  Tess knew he referred to the necklace of brilliant points caused by mountain peaks along the moon’s edge, the phenomenon named for the English astronomer, Francis Baily, who first described the spectacle in the mid-seventies.

  “During the last fifteen seconds or so,” Gabe continued enthusiastically,
“one bead shone more brightly than the other—the diamond ring effect—and after that, the western sky went dark. It was amazing, Tess. The moon completely masked the Sun, and it was twilight in the big middle of the day. You could see bright stars and planets.”

  “You looked?”

  He nodded, the expression in his eyes conveying the rueful acknowledgment of this deviation from what had become his norm. “I did then. Guess my idiosyncracy doesn’t extend to daytime stars.”

  “So how long did this last?”

  “The totality?” At her nod, he said, “Over five minutes. I could see the sun’s corona. A white halo of light. It was fascinating to watch.”

  “What about the chromosphere? Could you see the red layer?”

  “Yep. Saw prominences, too, the red flame-like extensions. Then came the flash of diamond ring and Baily’s Beads and the total eclipse was over.”

  Envious, Tess said, “That must have been the most exciting sight of your life.”

  “Nah,” he replied, shaking his head. “Seeing you naked last night in my bed was infinitely more thrilling.”

  “Oh, Gabe.” She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t stop the small smile of pleasure. She asked how the people and animals around him reacted to the unusual event. The discussion carried them to the very edge of Aurora Springs, and Tess realized she had been granted yet another reprieve.

  They arrived home to find the Aurorians all prepared for the coming celestial event. Twinkle wore her brightest, sunflower yellow robe and orange turban. The colonel brought out his dress uniform, including all his medals and ribbons, and his dress sword. Upon seeing the display, Gabe expressed admiring surprise that the man could walk upright.

  “Strong abdominals,” the elderly man replied.

  They had set the long table from the dining hall outside, taking advantage of the moderate fall weather to have an outdoor community picnic. “We’ll have a taffy pull later,” Tess told him. “Will just loves it, and we started doing the pull for him.”

  “Oh?” Gabe glanced around curiously. “So he’s home? The boy and your Doc returned while I was away?”

  Tess shook her head and wished she’d never brought up Will’s name. There wasn’t time to get into everything now. “No, I doubt they’ll be home for weeks yet. We’ll pull the taffy because it’s become tradition and because it’s our way of including Will even though he’s not with us today.”

  “I’ll bet Twinkle misses having him around.” Gabe gave Tess a sidelong look and asked, “Whatever happened to his parents? How did he come to live with his grandmother?”

  Her stomach took a dive. “Family troubles,” she vaguely replied. “Twinkle loves him. Everyone here in Aurora Springs loves him. This is a good place for him.”

  “How old is the boy? What do you do for schooling?”

  “I teach him. Oh, look, Amy has made her chocolate cake. You’ll think you’ve died and gone to heaven when you get a taste of this, Gabe.” She flashed him a smile, then melted with relief when Jack waved her over to ask where in her star shed he should look for the heavy white paper they would use to safely observe the eclipse.

  Excitement swelled as the time for the event approached. Even Rosie sensed the party atmosphere, reacting by dashing around the picnic table in circles reminiscent of her racing days. Gabe’s dry observation that the ham was trying to knock the baked beans off the table drew a scolding finger-shake from Twinkle. He laughed and kissed her cheek which set Twinkle to blushing, an event almost as rare as a total solar eclipse.

  Obviously caught up in the anticipation, Gabe entertained the Aurorians with his total eclipse story as he pitched in to help with last minute preparations. The animation on his face drew Tess’s gaze time and time again. The man was so darned handsome. Too handsome for her own good. Her gaze drifted over the thick waves of doeskin-colored hair, past his gleaming, flint gray eyes, sculpted cheekbones, and strong chin to those shoulders as broad and as wide as the West Texas plain. She recalled how arms like steel had held her so gently. How his big hands had swept across her skin in a path that sparkled and burned like a comet’s tail.

  As if he felt her stare, Gabe looked up. He slashed her a grin, that quick, infectious, just-a-little-bit wicked smile. At this moment, he reminded her of the Gabe she’d married, and the memory of the love she’d felt for him swelled in her heart.

  Then, like the flash of a shooting star, came the knowledge that this was not the memory of love, but the here-and-now variety.

  She loved him.

  Tess’s throat tightened, and she was filled with a sense of bittersweet. It was true. She couldn’t deny it any longer. She had fallen in love with him as a young girl, and that love had never died. Not when they lost Billy. Not during those desperate months that followed. Not over the course of the years that came after, when she’d picked herself up and put herself back together. She’d loved him then and she loved him now. She’d probably love him always.

  And, oh God, it would hurt if he left her.

  I knew this would happen if we made love.

  So wrapped up was she in her musings that she didn’t even notice the onset of the eclipse. “What are you doing, woman?” Gabe demanded, shoving a square of paper into her hands. “You’re gonna miss it. Here, you and I can share. I already poked a pinhole, a real tiny, sharp one, I’m proud to say. I’ll hold the second sheet a couple of feet away.”

  As the sky over them slowly darkened, Tess stared at the small, inverted image of the Sun’s disk projected onto the card Gabe held in his hand. All in all, she’d have felt just as involved had he held a poker hand rather than an eclipse viewing sheet. Her mind was occupied with more earthly problems at the moment.

  I realize I love him just as the sun goes dark. Is there a message in there somewhere?

  Moments later the eclipse ended and the celebration began. After the oohing and ahhing was done, Andrew brought out his accordion and the colonel tuned up his trumpet. When Gabe asked if anyone had a guitar, she looked at him in surprise. “Mack taught me,” he told her. “Nothing much else to do when you’re cabin-bound during a Montana blizzard.”

  “Want me to get him Will’s, Tess?” Jack asked.

  She nodded, wondering how Will would react if he knew. The boy was awfully particular about the guitar Doc had given him for Christmas a year ago. But Tess wanted to hear Gabe play. She wanted to watch his fingers pick out the chords. She wanted him to do it with that specific instrument. It just felt right.

  For the next hour, the Aurorians ate and drank and danced. Even the animals got into the spirit of the day, Castor and Pollux having wandered out of the barn and plopped down just outside the kitchen— downwind, thank goodness. Rosie for some reason chose to sit at Gabe’s feet and wouldn’t move. As a result, he strummed the guitar and sang a song he tided “Pickled Pig’s Feet in a Mason Jar.”

  Amy Baker chucked a roll at him. Rosie went for the bread then returned to her position at Gabe’s feet, only this time she managed to lie on his feet which amused everyone but Gabe.

  Soon the colonel leaned back and patted his stomach, declaring himself full near to busting. At that point Amy glanced at Jack and he nodded Tess’s instincts went on alert. Something was definitely up.

  The young man excused himself, then returned a few moments later carrying his humidor. The box containing Jack’s favorite smokes. The one thing he refused to share with the community. “What’s up, Jack?” Andrew asked.

  Tess knew. She could tell by the look on Amy’s face.

  Jack said, “I’ve been saving these for a special occasion and this is as special as they come. I have an announcement to make. Our efforts have met with success. My wife is expecting a child.”

  A baby. Tess listened to the news with mixed emotions. Fierce gladness rushed through her like water through a bursting dam. But wrenching regret rode as driftwood beneath the surface, battering both her heart and her soul.

  Summoning her grit, Tess did her best to l
ock any sad thoughts firmly away as she joined her friends in offering the happy couple their congratulations. “Amy,” she said, giving the beaming young woman a hug. “I am so thrilled for you. Are you feeling all right?”

  “Thank you, Tess.” Amy’s hand drifted down to hover over her womb. “It’s such a grand thought. And I know she’s a girl. I sense it. We’ll have a beautiful little girl and she’ll grow up to make a grand scientific discovery one day. I just know it.”

  “A girl?” Tess repeated. “Do you really think you’ll have a girl?”

  Jack slipped his arm around his wife and beamed. “A bright-eyed little girl just as pretty as her mama.”

  Instinctively, Tess’s gaze sought Gabe. He was busy selecting a smoke from the box and didn’t catch her look. “Congratulations, Jack,” she told him. “This is truly wonderful news.”

  The lump in her throat prevented Tess from speaking any more, so she wrapped her arms around Amy and gave her another hug. When she pulled away, Andrew stood at her back. He wrapped his arms around her and leaned down to whisper in her ear, “You’re a good friend, Tess, and you’re a strong woman.”

  “Thank you, Andrew.”

  Along with Doc and Twinkle, he was the only other resident of Aurora Springs who knew all the relevant details about her past. She allowed herself a moment of rest in the comfort of his embrace, and said a quick prayer of thanks for friends like Amy and Andrew.

  Then, she pasted on a smile and called, “Colonel, if your accordion is handy, how about a waltz? I think Jack should dance with the mother-to-be, don’t you?”

  And so the dancing resumed and merrymaking recommenced Tess tried, she tried hard, but the past had charged in and caught her unaware. Knocked her flat. Grief welled up inside her.

  Needing some time to herself, she watched for a chance to slip away unobtrusively. Her opportunity came a short time later when Gabe asked Twinkle for a dance. Tess gave no conscious thought to where she was going, but her feet carried her home and into her bedroom where she retrieved a key from her jewelry box. She climbed the stairs to the loft and made her way toward the farthest, darkest, dustiest comer where a trunk sat against a rafter. Tess sank to her knees, inserted the key, and unlocked her past.