Shadows of Yesterday

“ ’Bout five years. I was close to retiring anyway, but I sure hated to be forced into it.”

She looked toward the kitchen where laughter told her everyone else was enjoying Sarah’s antics. “Why do you and Chad do the work you do?” She had never been able to talk with Chad about wild-well control, yet she wanted to know about it. It was like being in a scary movie and not wanting to watch but being unable to keep from it.

“It’s like nothing else, Leigh,” Stewart Dillon said, excitement in his voice. “It’s a challenge few men ever get the opportunity to meet. How many accountants are there? Or teachers? Or doctors or lawyers or engineers? And how many of us? We’re rare. I guess that kind of uniqueness gives a man a sense of pride. Maybe that’s part of the reason I loved it and why Chad does now.”

“Weren’t you ever afraid of the danger?”

He was still for a moment. Leigh could almost see the procession of oil-well fires he had fought parading behind his eyes as he examined how he had faced each one. “No. I can’t say I was ever afraid. Don’t take me wrong. I was always careful. We’re trained to be careful, never doing anything that isn’t planned, synchronized, with every other man on the team. But there’s something about facing that fire,” he said with intensity. Leigh saw his fists clench in a gesture reminding her of Chad. His voice was a hoarse whisper.

“It’s bigger than you. Mean, destructive, costly. It’s fierce, a modern-day dragon. And you defeat it. Snuff it out.” He sighed heavily, but it was a sigh of elation, and his eyes glowed with excited reminiscence. Leigh knew the instant he realized he was in his own safe living room. Sadness filled his eyes as he turned to look at her.

“I’ll always miss it,” he said wistfully.

“Hey, you two, you’re not in on the fun. Sarah’s—” Chad broke off and Leigh became aware of the tears glistening in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Stewart said, slapping his hands against his thighs as he stood up with an ease that startled Leigh. “Come on, Leigh. I thought you said you wanted another piece of that pumpkin bread.”

He extended his hand to help her off the sofa, then escorted her to Chad, who was staring at her from the archway leading into the hall. “Cut her a thick slice, Dad, and add some whipped cream. I don’t want a skinny bride.” Stewart chuckled as he went toward the kitchen. “Leigh?” Chad said gently. A worried frown wrinkled the lines across his forehead. “What’s the matter? Have you been crying? Is something wrong?”

She looked up into the eyes she loved, into the face that bespoke great strength of character. “No, nothing. It’s just that I love you so much.” She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her cheek against his heart. How could she ever be fully resigned to sending him off to such a hell? A fire. Fierce. A modern-day dragon. Where would she get the courage?

On the other hand, if she loved him, how could she ask him not to go? If he welcomed the challenge of the job as much as Stewart had, could she deny it to him? It was his work, as important and vital to him as Greg’s had been to him. Somewhere she’d find the courage to let him do the job he loved.

“Loving me is something to cry about?” he teased fondly.

She sniffed and blinked back tears. “I’m crying because I’m standing under the mistletoe with my fiancé and he hasn’t kissed me yet.”

“The cad,” he said before he took her mouth with a bone-melting kiss.

After a dinner that would have satisfied the most gluttonous horde of vandals, the fathers retired to the living room to watch a football game. Lois and Amelia stayed in the kitchen to exchange recipes and plan grandchildren. Leigh and Chad went upstairs, ostensibly to put Sarah down for her nap.

The baby was again laid on the bed in Chad’s old room. An eager Chad pulled a willing Leigh into his arms as soon as Sarah drifted off to sleep.

“Woman, how am I going to stand this another week?” he asked into her hair which, under his pillaging fingers, fell from the ivory combs that had held it in a festive knot on top of her head. “Let’s play doctor.”

“No, your mother might come up here to check on us.”

“That’s what the first girl I asked to play doctor said.”

Leigh drew back and gave him a look of much severity. “And just who was that and how long ago?”

“About twenty-five years ago. Maryjoy Clayton. She lived next door. She came over to play and I suggested ‘hospita

l.’ I was going to be a doctor,” he said with a wicked grin.

“I’ll bet.”

“Anyway, she wouldn’t,” he sighed. “That’s been the story of my life.”

“Do you honestly expect me to believe that? I’m the jealous, possessive type. I’m going to have to fight the women off.”

“No, you won’t. You’re the only one I want.” Taking her hand, he led her to a desk in the corner and, when he had sat down in the chair, pulled her onto his lap. “You look beautiful today, future wife,” he said, kissing the corner of her mouth.

“Do you like my dress?”

“I love it,” he said, never even looking at the red georgette frock with the long, cuffed sleeves, the white Peter Pan collar with the black satin bow tied beneath it. “How do I get into it?” he asked, groping at the pearl buttons down her back.

“You’re incorrigible.”