The Nine-Month Marriage Read online

  He made a low sound in his throat.

  She went on, “With whirlpool jets.”

  She felt him turn his head on the pillow. She turned her head, too, and their eyes met.

  “Want to see it?” His straight white teeth flashed with his grin.

  She nodded.

  So he showed her his bathroom. They stayed there for quite a while, in the deep tub, enjoying those whirlpool jets.

  Eventually, they went back to the bed, turned off the lights and snuggled beneath the covers.

  Much later, Abby awoke to darkness and the warmth of her husband lying beside her. She reached out for Cash and felt him reaching for her. They made love again, in the dark, saying nothing, finding fulfillment at one and the same time.

  Late the following afternoon, they drove to the Sheridan airport and took Cash’s little Cessna to Mexico.

  They stayed for a week, in an out-of-the-way place where the beaches sparkled like white sugar in the sun and the sky was the same clear blue as Cash’s eyes. Cash had rented a small villa, with a red-tiled roof and pink walls and bougainvillea spilling over the fence that surrounded the pool and the back patio. They did nothing there but eat and sleep and swim and make love.

  Next, Cash wanted to conduct a little business with some of his buddies in Cheyenne. So he took Abby along. She’d met most of them before, over the years. And she enjoyed seeing them again, from Chandler Parks, who lived in Phoenix and had recently married an Olympic volleyball star, to Redbone Deevers, who was an expert on the grain market.

  Back in the eighties, when the FCC divided up the country for cellular phone franchises, Cash had bought the rights to a few remote areas. He was ready to unload them now. And Redbone knew a guy who knew a guy who wanted to buy areas for an independent cellular phone company that was just starting up. Abby sat in on most of their meetings, her head bent over the financial calculator she always carried with her, and kept track of the figures they threw around.

  Cash had to put up with a little teasing about robbing the cradle and marrying “the kid,” as they’d always called Abby. But it was good-natured teasing, and Abby thought he took it pretty well.

  Of course they stayed in a luxury hotel. The bathtub in their suite was as deep and inviting as the one at home. And it had whirlpool jets, too. So when Cash wasn’t making deals, they spent their time in the bathtub. Or in the king-sized bed. Every once in a while, they ate at a nice restaurant. Or went dancing at a country-and-western club.

  There in Cheyenne, they ran into one of Cash’s ex-girlfriends. Abby recognized her immediately by how casual she tried to be when she said hello to him. She was a gorgeous woman. And she seemed nice. Abby could feel the effort she exerted to be cordial and to keep things light.

  Cash, on the other hand, exerted no effort. He didn’t need to. He smiled at the woman and asked how she was doing. He was friendly and charming. And when he walked away from her, she watched him go with hungry eyes—while he never looked back.

  After meeting the ex-girlfriend, Abby couldn’t help dwelling a little on the agreement she and Cash had made. A year of marriage, and that would be it. She could end up like the ex-girlfriend, staring after him every time she saw him, with longing in her heart. Unless both of them wanted it otherwise.

  After their wedding night, after the week in Mexico, the agreement had come to seem unreal to her, something that had never actually taken place. But running into that old girlfriend brought the truth home to Abby: they had made the agreement. And it would have to be dealt with.

  Eventually.

  She was stretched out on the bed in their suite, thinking about the old girlfriend and her own foolishness in having proposed the agreement in the first place, when Cash returned from one of his meetings with the cellular phone franchise buyer.

  He came and stood over her. “Okay, what’s up?”

  She gave him a distant smile. “Hmm?”

  “What are you moping about?”

  She closed her eyes and evaded his question by teasing, “Moping? Me?”

  He dropped to his knees on the side of the bed and brought his face down to hers, so they were nose to nose. “Yes. Moping. You.”

  She wrapped her hand around the back of his neck. “I am not moping.” And she wasn’t, not anymore. She smoothed the hair at his nape.

  He brushed his lips back and forth against hers.

  “Kiss me,” she said.

  “I am.”

  “Those are just little kisses.”

  “You don’t like little kisses?”

  “I love them. But I want more. I want a long, deep, slow kiss.”

  He gave her what she wanted. And as he kissed her, he unbuttoned the blouse she wore. When all the buttons were undone, his lips left hers to burn a path over her chin and down her neck. He pushed the shirt open, out of his way. And he put his mouth on the swell of her breast, above her bra.

  Abby moaned and clutched his golden head, pushing her breasts up at him, wanting him to suck them. With his index finger, he guided one cup of her bra out of the way. And then he took her nipple in his mouth.

  She cried out. It felt so good, so right, so exactly what her body needed. What she needed: Cash. Loving her.

  He joined her on the bed, and they helped each other to undress. He guided her to ride him. She took him inside her slowly, the way they both liked it done. And by the time she was rising and falling above him, she had no thought at all of old girlfriends or foolish agreements.

  She thoroughly enjoyed the rest of their stay in Cheyenne.

  But the best time of their honeymoon came at the end. When they got home to Medicine Creek, Abby admitted how much she sometimes missed the ranch. So they went out to the Rising Sun to stay for a while.

  For four days, they rode out every morning early. It was the best time to ride, when the sun was just starting to rise, turning the sky to flame in the east. They rode side by side, their horses’ hooves making dark trails in the dewy grass, grass that was turning dusty golden now, as the summer sun baked it brown. Abby loved the feel of the wind in her face; she loved riding into the cold shadows of the coulees and draws and then up into bright daylight on the high, windy ridges. She felt right inside herself to watch the light spread across the land as the sun rose, all the way to the Big Horns, making the snow on Cloud Peak reflect back, clean and pure and blindingly white.

  Sometimes, they’d scare up an antelope or a jackrabbit. Their horses would shy, prancing sideways. And Cash and Abby would laugh together, as they had laughed together all the years of her life, and watch the spooked animal bound away, leaping with swift, sure economy through the golden grass.

  Of course they’d make their rides useful, checking the ponds where the cattle gathered, seeing if any of the ponds had dried up too much. Cattle weren’t terribly bright. They’d wade out into deep mud and get themselves stuck there, so Zach always tried to move them to a better water source before they got themselves in trouble in the mud.

  After breakfast, sometimes Cash and Abby would head out with Zach and the hands, to cut hay or poison weeds or move the cows around. And sometimes they’d take off by themselves, to a secret place they’d always known of, on the banks of Crystal Creek, which ran in a lazy meander across much of the Rising Sun. There, in the shadows of the cottonwoods and willows, with the creek gurgling along nearby, they’d spread a blanket and share a picnic. Then later, since they couldn’t keep their hands off each other, they’d make love with most of their clothes on, always ready to pull apart and button up if someone should chance to ride by.

  They talked a lot about Ty, about the way he used to drive that old pickup of his up and down the ridges and draws of the Rising Sun as if there never had been such a thing as a road. They agreed that they missed him. That something had gone out of the world when he died. But they also agreed that it was almost possible to believe he’d never left them, when the sun shone on the Big Horns and when summer lightning forked across the sky.
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  It was a beautiful, perfect time. And Abby reveled in it. Her morning sickness had completely vanished. She felt fit and strong—and bonded to Cash in the most complete kind of way. She no longer yearned for the old days, when they had been mere comrades. Because now they were so much more to each other. She dared to hope that their marriage might turn out to be a lasting thing after all.

  But then the notice about the University of Colorado’s fall semester came in the mail, addressed to the ranch because that was the address Abby had given them the year before.

  Abby tossed it in the trash basket in the front hall. And Cash retrieved it. He came out on the porch to find her, slamming the screen behind him.

  “You need this stuff, don’t you?” He waved the papers at her.

  She’d been feeling nice and comfortable, sipping lemonade, her boots up on the railing. She dropped them to the porch boards. “What stuff?”

  “This stuff from C.U. It’s got the day you’re supposed to call, a tentative schedule and your PIN number so you can reregister.”

  She frowned at him, wondering what all that mattered. “But I’m not going back—not this semester, anyway.”

  His jaw hardened. “The hell you’re not.”

  “But Cash…”

  “What?”

  “Think. It makes no sense for me to go back right now. The school’s in Boulder. And Boulder’s in Colorado.”

  He made a snorting sound. “I know where Boulder is.”

  “Well, Cash. I’m pregnant.”

  “So?”

  “So I’ll be as big as a barn in a few months. I can’t be off in Boulder—you know that.”

  “The baby isn’t due till the end of January.”

  “January 20. That’s the middle of January.”

  “Right. Fine. The semester ends before Christmas. And they always say first babies come late.”

  “Who says that?”

  “Hell if I know. I heard it somewhere. Use your head, Abby. Your education matters. And you want to get as far along as you can. You could be within a semester of a four-year degree when the baby’s born.”

  “Right. I could also end up having the baby in Boulder.”

  He frowned. Apparently, that idea gave him pause. But then he shook his head. “That’s not going to happen.”

  “Have you told that to the baby?”

  “Very funny.”

  “My doctor’s here in Medicine Creek.” She had started seeing Dr. Pruitt, at the Medicine Creek Clinic, the day after she and Cash had agreed to get married.

  Cash waved that objection away. “So you’ll have two doctors, one in Boulder and one here.”

  She stared at him, wondering what he could be thinking. Her education did mean a lot to her. But she would be very pregnant by the time finals came along; perhaps too pregnant to be going to school—let alone flying back and forth between Boulder and Medicine Creek.

  And why was he suddenly so eager to send her away? Everything seemed to be going so well between them. Did he want to get rid of her?

  Because she did not want to leave him. In fact, every day she spent with him, it became more clear to her that she actually was the marrying kind—as long as Cash was the husband in question.

  The agreement came into her mind again. Why in the world had she ever suggested it?

  She plunked her lemonade glass down on the railing. “Cash, come on. I could end up going into labor during finals.”

  “You won’t.”

  “How do you know?”

  He chuckled then. And he reached for her, wrapping an arm around her, drawing her close. She put her hands on his arms, resisting a little, refusing to meet his eyes.

  “Come on, look at me,” he coaxed. And he tipped up her chin with a finger. “Hey. Think of it another way. You just might get through the whole semester. And that would put you one semester further along than you would be if you didn’t give it a try.”

  She searched his eyes. She could see no hints of hidden agendas in them. But still, she couldn’t help reminding him, “I thought we agreed to spend the whole year together. How can we do that if I’m off in Boulder and you’re Lord knows where?”

  “Ah.” He looked smug. “You’d be lonesome without me.”

  She pushed at his arms a little. “Don’t bet on it.”

  He pulled her closer. “Come on. Admit it. You can’t stand to be away from me.”

  It was true. Too true. But she had no intention of admitting it.

  He tipped up her chin again. “Kiss me.”

  “Cash…” She squirmed some more. But she kept her mouth tipped up so he had no trouble claiming a long, sweet kiss.

  That night, back in the house in Medicine Creek after they’d made love, he promised her, “We won’t be apart that much. I’ll fly to Boulder every chance I get. And you can come home a lot. I’ll bring you home. You want to be ‘together’ with me—you will be. Wait and see. But the baby coming is not going to interfere with your education any more than it absolutely has to, and that’s that.” He pulled her close, into the crook of his arm.

  She snuggled against him and dared to whisper what was really on her mind. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

  He pulled her closer still. “Never. I swear it. I only want what’s best for you.”

  He kissed her some more and then he made love to her again. While he was loving her, she believed him.

  The next day, though, her own mother told her she was a complete fool.

  “Your place is with your husband now,” Edna said when Abby explained her plans. “You’re a fool to leave him—and in your condition, too. It’s irresponsible, totally irresponsible.”

  Abby spoke with all the patience she could muster. “Mother, Cash is the one insisting that I go.”

  They were having lunch together, in Edna’s kitchen. Edna set down the sandwich she’d been nibbling on and announced stiffly, “I’ve noticed that when you want something, Abigail, you’re not above pretending that everyone else wants it, too.”

  “Mother—”

  “Please don’t interrupt.”

  Abby sighed. “All right. What?”

  Edna pushed her plate away and folded her hands on the table. “I’m going to be frank with you. Cash is a real catch. You’re lucky you got him.”

  Abby held on to her temper by speaking with great care and precision. “I did not get him, Mother.”

  Edna waved a hand. “You know what I mean. He’s a fine man, a man who could have had just about any woman. But he’s always preferred the single life. Still, he did right by you, when another, lesser, man might not have. But he’s only human. And if you leave him…”

  “I’m not leaving him.”

  Edna sent darting glances around the bright kitchen, as if someone might be lurking nearby, listening in. Then she leaned forward and spoke low and intensely. “I’m just telling you that a woman has to look after her own interests. If she doesn’t, take my word, there will be other women who won’t hesitate to try to steal what’s hers.”

  Abby made a conscious effort not to roll her eyes. “Mother, you just said it yourself—women have always been after Cash. And if one of them was going to steal him, don’t you think she would have done it by now?”

  Edna clucked her tongue and sagely shook her head. “I’m only warning you. You could lose him.”

  Just then Tess came in from the garage, where she’d been taking care of the laundry—separating the colors from whites, humming while she worked, Abby had no doubt.

  Edna beamed at Tess. “Here’s Tess. Let’s talk about something more pleasant, why don’t we?”

  Abby was only too glad to oblige.

  Cash and Abby flew to Boulder a few days after that. He wanted to get her all set up for the fall semester. They stayed in a nice hotel and ate at the best restaurants and looked through the want ads for just the right place.

  The year before, Abby had lived with three roommates on the Hill, a few miles from ca
mpus, where most of the students who didn’t live in the dorms found housing. The Hill consisted of an eclectic assortment of older houses, many of them run-down. Most of the frat and sorority houses were on the Hill, where keg parties went on almost nightly and stereos played into the wee hours. But in spite of the distractions and the noise level, a lot of the students who lived there worked hard and earned good grades. Abby had.

  However, now she wanted her new husband to come and see her often. And Cash had grown a little beyond keg parties and Red Hot Chili Peppers playing all night long. Also, as her pregnancy progressed, Abby figured she would probably appreciate less hectic surroundings. So they chose a nice two-bedroom apartment far enough from campus that not many students lived in the area. As soon as they’d signed the rental agreement, Cash insisted that they go and buy furniture, linens and kitchenware. Then, while Abby was putting all the new things away, he went out and came back with a red Blazer.

  “Cash, it’s too much,” she told him, when he pulled her out to her carport space to admire it.

  “That Rabbit’s on its last legs. I want you to have a dependable vehicle, one that’s safe in the snow and on the mountain roads.”

  “Cash—”

  He picked her up and swung her around. “Don’t argue, Abby. Let me do this, please?”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck as he slowly let her slide to the ground. “You’ve got to stop buying me things,” she chided, rather breathlessly.

  He kissed her nose. “No, I don’t. You’re my wife.”

  You’re my wife. The words sang through her, causing such a burst of happiness that she did what he wanted, and said nothing more except, “Thank you,” for the car.

  He pressed himself against her. She felt how he wanted her, and wanted him right back.

  “Come on,” he whispered. “Let’s go inside. Did you get the bed made?”

  She shook her head.

  “Hell. Who cares?” He grabbed her hand and towed her back inside and straight to the bedroom, where they fell across the brand-new bed. The mattress plastic crackled in protest beneath them.

  They didn’t care at all.