Always Dakota Page 12

  “Everyone’s dying to talk to you.”

  That bolstered Calla’s ego. In six months she hadn’t managed to make one good friend in Minneapolis. Between school and her job at BurgerHaven, there hadn’t been much opportunity to cultivate friendships. All this time, she’d assumed that attending a big city high school would mean lots of advantages—interesting programs and people she’d never see in a hick town like Buffalo Valley.

  True, she had access to programs far beyond the reach of anything offered at school here. Unfortunately, participation in many of those programs required money and time, neither of which was available to her. She could go to Europe with the German class, for instance, but she had to pay her own way. Like her father was ever going to fork over any money! That was a joke. Half the time she was the one who supported him.

  Calla didn’t know why it’d taken her so long to figure it out. Her father was an irresponsible freeloader—and worse.

  “Do you want to see your mom a little later?” her grandfather asked when he stopped at his house—the only home Calla had ever known.

  “You mean she’s not here?” Calla had assumed her mother and probably Dennis would be at her grandfather’s waiting, with dinner all ready and a decorated Christmas tree with wrapped gifts beneath it. She felt more than a little hurt that they weren’t. She’d been hoping for a resumption of the family’s traditional Christmas festivities as part of her “welcome home.” She hadn’t realized until now how badly she’d wanted that.

  “Your…mother hasn’t been feeling well lately.”

  Both her grandfather and Jessica looked at Calla, waiting for a response.

  “Is she all right?” Apparently, whatever was wrong seemed to be lingering, because her mother had been at home the day she’d phoned.

  “She’s fine.”

  “Actually, everyone’s heading over for Christmas Eve service at the church later. You’ll come, won’t you?” Jessica pleaded.

  “Father McGrath is here for Christmas Eve?” Calla asked. The old priest only came into town occasionally, and never for Christmas Eve, not since the church had closed.

  “We have a new minister,” Jessica told her eagerly. “He used to live here.”

  “Larry Dawson,” her grandfather cut in. “He was a good friend of mine.”

  Calla had never heard of him.

  “He’s great, too,” Jessica continued. “There’s plans to start a teen group after the first of the year. Everyone’s excited about that.”

  “The whole family’s going tonight,” Calla’s grandfather said. “You comin’?”

  “I’ll go, I guess.”

  “Sit by me, okay?” Jessica urged.

  Another time, an earlier time, Calla would have found the request childish, but after the trouble she’d had making friends, it felt good to be wanted. “Sure.”

  “Joe Lammermann will be there.”

  Calla shrugged as though that was of little concern. Actually she was dying to see him. A year ago they’d gone to the Sweetheart Dance together, but soon afterward Joe had dumped her for some cheerleader over in Devils Lake.

  “He’s asked about you a few times,” Jessica told her, as they walked into her grandfather’s house.

  “He has?” Joe’s interest was the best news yet. She had to hear this, and she didn’t want her grandfather listening in. “I’ll put everything in my room,” she told him, then grabbed Jessica’s hand and led her back to her old bedroom.

  Everything in her room was just as she’d left it. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that—other than grateful.

  “What did Joe say?” she asked, hopping onto the bed and sitting there cross-legged.

  “He said…” Jessica bit into her lower lip. “You don’t want to know.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “All right. He said you were a fool to leave.”

  Her old boyfriend’s remark wasn’t far from the truth, and Calla had no problem accepting it.

  “But the only reason he said that was because he misses you,” Jessica added quickly.

  “He’s not dating anyone…special, is he?”

  “No.” Jessica glanced at her watch. “Listen, I’ve got to run or my mom will kill me. Meet me at the church at seven, okay?”

  “Sure.” Calla walked her friend to the door and watched as Jessica raced toward the pharmacy where she’d parked. Calla realized she hadn’t asked her about Kevin, the one true love of her friend’s life. Jess hadn’t mentioned him, which suggested that things weren’t what they had been. Kevin Betts attended art school in Chicago, and it was difficult to maintain a long-distance relationship. Not long ago, Calla had envied him the opportunity to escape Buffalo Valley.

  “Gramps,” Calla called, seeking him out. “Do you know if Kevin is still dating Jessica?”

  “Don’t have a clue,” Joshua McKenna muttered.

  For the first time Calla looked carefully around the house. Now that her mother was married and living with Dennis, the house wasn’t as homey as it used to be. Her grandfather had put up a Christmas tree, but it was a small aluminum one that sat on an end table. That was the extent of any holiday decorations. Her mother had always gone overboard with Christmas and Calla was surprised to realize how much she missed it. She missed silly things, like the two cotton-ball snowmen she’d made in sixth grade. She missed the crocheted and starched snowflakes that added a festive air to the house. Sarah had been ridiculous about the holidays—even placing lights in the windows, including an old gas lamp that had once belonged to Calla’s grandmother—and Calla knew now that she loved all the Christmas traditions as much as her mother did.

  “I’ll bet Mrs. Sinclair could tell you about Jessica and Kevin,” her grandfather said. “You’ll probably see her at church tonight.”

  But it would be awkward to ask her old teacher, especially there. Rather than wait, Calla reached for the portable phone and retreated to her bedroom.

  Mrs. Sinclair sounded pleased to hear from her. “I didn’t mean to bother you,” Calla said, getting to her point immediately, “but I need to find out about Jessica and Kevin before I say something I shouldn’t.”

  “Oh, Calla,” Lindsay Sinclair breathed, “we’ve all missed you so much.”

  “I’ve missed you, too.”

  “Are you going to stay?”

  “I—I…” Calla could see no reason to delay talking about her problems with school. “I’ve…my grades haven’t been the best. I don’t know if I can graduate this year and it’d be too embarrassing to come back and not graduate.”

  “Yes, you can,” Mrs. Sinclair insisted. “I’ve been on maternity leave and Mrs. Folsom from Devils Lake filled in for me. But I’ll be returning after the first of the year. We’ll work together and you can get caught up, but it’ll take effort on both our parts.”

  “You’d do that for me?” Calla felt like weeping. She hadn’t wanted to say anything, but not being able to graduate with her class was her biggest concern. Because she’d been tardy so often, she’d flunked two classes and her grades other than drama weren’t that good. Not the way they’d been here in Buffalo Valley.

  “We’ll do whatever is necessary to get you back on course. Don’t you worry.”

  “That’d be great.”

  “Now, listen, about Jessica and Kevin, they broke up in September. Jessica’s been dating Bert Loomis.”

  “Bert?” One of the Loomis twins. That didn’t seem possible.

  “They’re quite an item.”

  Calla was astonished and tried to hide it.

  “You’re coming to the Christmas Eve service, aren’t you?”

  “I thought I would,” she murmured, still adjusting to the thought of her friend dating Bert Loomis. Funny Jessica hadn’t said anything herself.

  “I’ll see you later, then, and if you want, we can talk some more about school right after the holidays.”

  “Sure,” Calla returned eagerly. They exchanged Christmas greetings, and Calla hung
up, feeling a great sense of relief. Her homecoming was going so well, she could see no reason to delay visiting her mother. She wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone, but she had missed her. A thousand times she’d wanted to call and beg to come home, but had resisted because of Dennis.

  “You ready to head on over to visit your mother?” her grandfather asked when she came out of her bedroom.

  “I guess.” She shrugged, as if to say she’d eventually need to confront her mother and might as well get it over with now.

  Calla donned her coat and stuffed a hat over her hair, pulling it down past her ears. They walked the few blocks over to the old Habberstad house. The place had been vacant for a couple of years and was one of the nicest in town. Calla had always liked the two-story Victorian structure, especially the wide veranda. It was the kind of house she’d always thought about living in one day, perhaps when she was married.

  Dennis opened the door and shared an enigmatic look with Joshua before greeting Calla. “Merry Christmas.”

  “You, too,” she said, stepping past him. She wasn’t actually rude, but she was well aware that her behavior bordered on it.

  “Calla!” Her mother was sitting up with her feet on the sofa, her legs covered with an afghan. She held her arms open for her daughter.

  Frowning, Calla hugged her, and briefly closed her eyes, wrapped in the warm embrace. Sarah seemed so pale and thin. “What’s wrong?” she asked as she straightened. “Did you break your leg?” Surely that was something her grandfather should have mentioned.

  “You’d better tell her,” Joshua said, nodding at Sarah and Dennis.

  “Tell me what?” She stared at her mother, who looked like she wanted to weep. Dennis came to stand by her and, placing his hand on Sarah’s shoulder, he gazed directly at Calla. “Your mother’s pregnant. There’s been some trouble with the pregnancy and the doctor’s ordered bed rest.”

  Her mother had lied.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Sarah said hastily, “but I didn’t know I was pregnant until the day before Thanksgiving—your father couldn’t have known. He lied to you.”

  “Yeah, but you knew when I phoned,” she challenged.

  “Yes, I did, but it didn’t seem the right time to tell you.”

  Calla glared at her mother. She should have realized. Sarah wasn’t any better than Willie. “In other words, you both lied to me!”

  “Do you have anything you want to say?” Gramps interrupted, coming to stand between Calla and her mother.

  “Say?” Calla repeated with a short laugh.

  “Like congratulations, I’m pleased for you,” Gramps suggested.

  “You want me to be happy about this? In your dreams.” With that, she raced out of the house. Calla could hear her mother’s frantic shouts, begging her to come back, but she ignored her, desperate to get away.

  Whatever hope there’d been of rebuilding their relationship was gone now. Completely destroyed. As soon as the new baby arrived, Calla would be old news. They wouldn’t want her around. She’d stay in Buffalo Valley, not because she wanted to but because she didn’t really have a choice anymore. Her grandfather had said she could live with him and she would until she graduated, but not a minute longer. Once she had enough money for a car and a life of her own, she was leaving Buffalo Valley.

  Next time, she wouldn’t be back.

  Margaret smiled to herself as she sat at her desk doing paperwork, thinking about her life since her marriage. It was the first full week of the new year. Matt was busy working on his truck engine. He enjoyed tinkering with cars. Margaret was fully capable of changing oil and doing other basic maintenance, but it wasn’t her favorite task. Matt, on the other hand, seemed to like it.

  In the very beginning, she hadn’t been sure what to expect from married life. Still wasn’t. However, Christmas had turned out to be a wonderful day. Since this was the first Christmas without her father, Margaret had thought the holidays would depress her. But Matt had been sensitive in unexpected ways. Instead of ignoring her father’s absence, he’d asked her questions. Before long, she was telling him about holidays from years past. Early on, some or all of her uncles had come, but eventually they’d all married and scattered throughout the country. Then it’d just been Margaret and her father. Matt had talked about his early years with his family, and she’d formed a picture of a small boy torn apart by his parents’ divorce. A couple of times she’d been tempted to shed a few tears—for both of them. Even then, her husband seemed to understand and encouraged her to vent her grief.

  They’d spent Christmas Day together, just the two of them. They’d eaten a turkey dinner Sadie had left for them—reminiscent of their Thanksgiving repast. And they’d exchanged small, simple gifts. In retrospect, she was pleased they’d been alone.

  Marriage to Matt was even better than Margaret could have anticipated. Clearing away any misconceptions regarding his feelings for her, or lack of them, had been a calculated risk. Confronting him the morning after their wedding could easily have backfired. Matt could have lied, could have tried to convince her of his undying devotion. But they both knew he didn’t love her. The lie would have oppressed them both.

  Margaret realized she should never have proposed when she did. It’d been much too soon, but she loved Matt and needed him. Mostly, she was unwilling to wait. Without her father, she was terribly lonely. Perhaps if Matt hadn’t kissed her, she would have been more patient, but he had—and the kiss had been…incredible. So she’d taken a risk and it had paid off.

  In the weeks since their wedding, their lives had fallen into a pattern of working side by side. They’d each sold off the better part of their herds rather than feed them through the winter. But that didn’t mean they could idle away their time. Most mornings they were either in the saddle or the truck, riding out to check on their breeding stock.

  Matt was an experienced cattleman, and they often became involved in lengthy conversations about ranching and cattle. Margaret could hold her own in any such discussion. Matt loved listening to stories about her father and laughed with her, bringing Bernard’s memory to life in a way that made her happy rather than sad.

  In the evenings, they talked over the events of the day during dinner, then played cribbage. It was a game she enjoyed, one her father had taught her. Almost every night she and Bernard had sat across from each other and counted out the cards, moving the pegs on a huge board he’d made one winter more than thirty years ago. Margaret had been gifted with good card sense; Matt, too, was an accomplished player and they were evenly matched.

  Cribbage didn’t occupy the entire evening. They sometimes watched television, but not often. Matt had a program or two that he liked and so did she, but for the most part the television was off.

  It seemed to her that most of their time together was spent in bed. Margaret had taken to wearing silky concoctions to entice her husband. During the day it was coveralls and flannel, but the nights were made for lace and perfume.

  The physical delights of the marriage bed had turned out to be an extraordinary bonus. Margaret supposed it was natural they’d make love often, since they were newlyweds. They were both young and healthy. Although she could have asked Maddy or even Lindsay, sex was a subject she found herself oddly shy about discussing. If what they were doing was too much or not enough—if the intensity and frequency of their love life wasn’t “normal” or “average”—she didn’t want to know, because it suited her and Matt, and they were the only ones who mattered.

  All the books and manuals she’d read about sex had page upon page of description. Although none of the so-called experts had come right out and said it, the implication was there, plain as day. The authors seemed to imply that sex was overrated. Not in Margaret’s opinion.

  Perhaps because she hadn’t had many expectations, she’d been pleasantly surprised by how much she liked it. Apparently Matt did, too, because he was as eager for her as she was for him. He often told her she was a fast learner
. Margaret was convinced she’d taught him a thing or two herself, although he probably wouldn’t admit that.

  Her husband might not have married her for love, but she was determined to win his heart. Every day she grew more and more encouraged. Eventually he would love her; she was sure of it.

  The phone pealed and Margaret automatically reached for the receiver on her desk.

  “Hello,” she said in her usual no-nonsense tone.

  Sadie picked up at the same time. “Hello.”

  “I’m calling for Matt Eilers.” The voice on the other end of the line was decidedly female. Decidedly sexy.

  “I’ve got it,” Sadie said gruffly.

  Margaret was about to replace the receiver, but hesitated, listening for a moment longer while Sadie informed the woman that Matt was out for the day. Lately, she noted, the housekeeper made a mad dash for the phone any time it rang. Now Margaret wondered if there was a reason she knew nothing about.

  “Have you given Matt my messages?” the other woman asked, her voice defiant and angry.

  “I have.” This came from Sadie.

  “But I have to talk to him!”

  “I told Mr. Eilers about your calls and he said he didn’t want to speak to you. He asked that you not phone here again.”

  “Then you tell him that either he gets in touch with me soon or he’ll live to regret it.”

  Margaret had already listened to more than she should have. Quietly putting down the receiver, she kept her hand poised over the phone. She should be pleased Matt didn’t want to talk to another woman but she wasn’t. She wanted to know more.

  Before doing anything rash, she tried to reason out her feelings, sorting through the days for any evidence that her husband had been unfaithful. She knew for a fact that he hadn’t been with anyone else since their wedding. There hadn’t been a day in which they weren’t together almost every hour.

  Jealousy burned in her. Margaret had never thought of herself as the suspicious type, but she couldn’t just ignore this. Her father had taught her to go to the source and that was exactly what she intended to do.