Dusty shook her head. Selfish and vain as she was, she wasn’t crying for her mother, or even for Zach, at that moment. She was crying over her hair. Zach loved her hair, and she was going to lose it.
Again.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked Laurie. “This is all my fault. If I hadn’t been on Diablo, Zach wouldn’t have gotten hurt. If I were you, I’d hate me.”
Laurie touched Dusty’s shoulders, the warmth penetrating through her wrinkled blouse. “I suppose it would be easier if I had someone to blame,” she said. “The truth is, Zach didn’t blame you. Oh, he was angry, no lie, but when it came down to it, his only concern was for you, even after he got hurt. My son cares for you. Frankly, I was beginning to wonder if he’d ever care for a woman the way his father cared for me. If you were able to reach him on that level, all I can do is love you. No matter what.”
Dusty fell into Laurie’s arms and sobbed.
“There now. He’s going to be all right.”
Laurie’s motherly touch offered no solace. Dusty cried for own mother, for herself, and for Zach. Mostly for the love she would never have.
* * *
“I wish I could do something,” Angelina said to Chelsea. They sat in the waiting room, awaiting news of the outcome of Zach?
??s surgery. Dusty had disappeared with Laurie, Chad and Dallas had gone for coffee, and Angelina was thankful for the chance to speak freely.
“You’re here. That’s all that matters,” Chelsea said.
“I should be the one staying in his room with him, not her.”
“Honey, have you seen her? She looks like she’s been run over by a truck. Do you really want that?”
“No, but…” Angelina sighed. “I just wish I could help him.”
“You really care about him, don’t you?” Chelsea’s raised eyebrows indicated the other woman’s surprise.
“Of course I do,” Angelina said. “Why would I want to be with him otherwise?”
“Yes, of course,” Chelsea said.
Angelina regarded her friend. Chelsea looked perfect as usual, dressed in tailored clothing accented with a Prada handbag and shoes. Angelina enjoyed clothes as much as the next person, but having grown up on a ranch, they weren’t as important to her as they seemed to be to Chelsea. For Chelsea, appearance was paramount.
For the first time, Angelina wondered if Chelsea loved her husband. Why wouldn’t she? Dallas was gorgeous. And loaded. Slightly taller than Zach, but not quite as tall as Chad. About six-three, and his black hair streaked with silver was rugged perfection. Yet she had never seen much affection pass between him and his wife.
Dallas was removed. That was the only way Angie could think to describe him. He didn’t seem close to anyone. Not his brothers, his mother, or his wife. Part of him was shut off from everything else. What was it that kept him closeted from those he should be closest to?
“Chelsea, can I ask you a personal question?”
“Sure.”
“Are you and Dallas in love?”
Chelsea rolled her eyes. “Of course we are. We’re married, aren’t we?”
Angelina nodded, but she wasn’t convinced. Marriage didn’t equal love. No. Love wasn’t a requirement for marriage.
But it should be. It definitely should be.
“I’ve been thinking,” she said.
“About what?”
“Maybe Zach and I aren’t meant to be.”
“Are you kidding me? What have we been working toward all this time?”