Part 3 (1/2)

”Stop it,” Donna said quietly. There was something in the air now that gave Tara pause, and she became attentive.

”I hate it when you laugh at me.

You think I don't know what I'm talking about, but I do.”

”I'm not laughing at you, Donna,” Tara insisted.

Donna shook back her hair and ignored her.

”Look, I know you love me, Tara, but I also know there's a part of me you don't respect. I've been married three times. I've had my share of lovers. At least I've tried to live a full life. But you haven't.” Donna had found her footing. Her dark eyes were on Tara's blue ones and they weren't about to let go.

”Donna, I don't think less of you for the way you live.”

”If I was a man, you wouldn't give me the time of day. I've watched you, Tara. You pick your lovers over until you find the cream of the crop. You quote the guy's curriculum vitae, for goodness' sake, instead of telling me what a good tush he has.”

Donna had been fingering the stem of her flute and now pulled the gla.s.s toward her.

”I loved each of my husbands,” Donna said.

”I adored belonging. The sound of Mrs. before my name was like music to my ears. My heart just filled up when I opened the closet and saw my clothes hanging next to someone else's. Sometimes I would spend hours looking at the ring on my finger.”

Donna's hand went to her nearly flat chest.

”That ring meant I was so special that someone wanted me forever. Even if we didn't make it to forever, it was still wonderful to think we tried.”

Donna put that same hand to her head and ran her fingers through her blond hair as if that helped her think. Her eyes wandered from Tara's.

”Men and women aren't meant to live the way you do.” She sighed and looked back at her friend.

”If people didn't make commitments, the human race would have died out a long time ago.”

”If the human race had to depend on me, we'd be in trouble.” Tara laughed, unsure how to continue this personal, so deeply private, conversation.

It was usually Donna who dug into her soul and bared it. Tara wasn't crazy about hers being mined.

”You might feel differently if you met the man of your dreams,” Donna suggested.

”I don't dream about men,” Tara joked.

Donna was tenacious.

”You did once.” Tara's brow furrowed as she silently pleaded a defective memory. Annoyed, Donna went on, ”Georgetown. Seventeen and you had your first drink. Probably the last time you were ever out of your mind. You told me about him then.”

”Those were the fantasies of a little girl,” Tara said testily. Ben Crawford. She didn't want to talk about him tonight. Not with Charlotte, and certainly not with Donna, who had never met him.

”You were a young woman.”

”I was a little girl, and that was a long time ago.”

Tara stood up and collected the gla.s.ses, ending the conversation. She looked down on her friend and spoke softly, more gently than was her first instinct.

”Marriage and a man aren't what I need, Donna.

So don't try to make a girl's daydream into a woman's reality. It just ain't going to happen because you want it to. I do love you for wanting to make things right. Just don't go too far.”

With a look she terminated the conversation, but Donna touched her arm, speaking in a voice that chilled Tara.

”One day soon people will stop calling you beautiful.

Instead you'll be handsome. Someday you won't be asked to give the keynote speech at a fancy conference; you'll be talking at rubber-chicken luncheons about *my career as a lawyer.” Even if your name is Limey.” Tara moved. Donna tugged at Tara's s.h.i.+rt to make her listen.

”There are fas.h.i.+ons and you won't be part of them. Your father's gone. He was a legend here and some of his aura clings to you. But it won't last forever.”

Donna dropped her hand and leaned away from her friend. Her eyes fluttered down. She'd made her p.r.o.nouncements sadly, as if even she, the teller of enchanted tales, couldn't find a happy ending for this one.

”You've walked through life cutting a straight path, guarding your privacy and your home. You didn't look at what you left behind or shoved aside to keep all this safe. You've always been headed forward to a destination only you could see. You have no great ambition because everything came so easily. You subst.i.tuted tradition and comfort for great pa.s.sion. You've never been tested, Tara.

That's why you're sad. Half your life is gone and you haven't taken the time to give someone all of yourself.” She sighed and looked straight at Tara.

”You're the last of the Linleys and it's a pity to see such a fine family end with you. Think about it. Lie awake some night and let yourself be afraid of something, for something. Find some pa.s.sion in your life, even if it's to mourn what you haven't pa.s.sed on to another generation.”

Tara listened, enraptured by this odd soliloquy, delivered with such precision and deliberation. She wanted to rebut this fantastic nonsense, yet she found herself mute and embarra.s.sed, wondering if Donna wasn't one hundred percent correct.

”Fire's a blazin', ladies.”

Slowly Tara turned to the doorway, trying to clear her head. Bill Hamilton leaned casually against the doorjamb, one jean-clad leg crossed over the other. Slender, on the right side of rangy, he seemed to belong there in her desert house.

Perhaps this was what Donna was talking about. A man to dream of. A man whose looks could steal your breath, whose smile could warm you fifty feet off. Tara was almost smiling when Donna shot out of her chair. Their moment was over and now the evening belonged to three, not two.

”Honey, that's marvelous!” Donna's hands fluttered over him as she joined her man of the moment.

She looked at Tara a minute longer but spoke to Bill.

”Girl talk's over. You've been so patient.

I think we're ready for that champagne, aren't we, Tara?”

”Absolutely,” she said and walked behind them into the living room, where she sat in the highbacked chair while Bill and Donna cuddled on the couch.

Three.

”Towels are in the front room cupboard. I've put a coffeepot in the bathroom so you don't have to come to the main house for a cup. There's shampoo and there's a hair dryer. Extra blankets in the chest. It gets cold out here.”

Tara stood back and surveyed the guest house.

It was a cozy little cottage that backed onto the Rio Grande. In the spring and summer there wasn't a more magical place on the face of the earth. The little adobe structure was shaded by the graceful arms of cottonwoods in bloom, sage sprang up around the courtyard, and the river tumbled by at a lazy pace. Unfortunately, in the winter there wasn't a chillier place. Still, it was preferable to having Bill and Donna in the guest room next to hers. They could frolic to their hearts' content out here in the frosty bungalow and she'd get a good night's sleep.