Dale had been handsome, back in school, dark haired, blue eyed, his body lean angles as if it waited for the day when his shoulders would fill out, his torso became dense with muscle, his long legs living up to the promise of dense-thighed strength.
All of that had come true, and then some, and Pete, as he sat up and turned on the bedside light, wanted to cry at the time they’d lost together.
CHAPTER 6 - PETE
The door to the small bedroom opened, and in walked Dale, making Pete catch his breath at the way Dale filled the room, all masculine energy and smelling like woodsmoke, his dark hair a mess over his forehead, his blue eyes just the same as they’d always been, except now there were little laugh lines at the outer corners.
Pete’s quick-drawn breath turned into a raspy, chest-rattling cough.
“Don’t do that,” said Dale, his voice rumbly and warm. “Here, here.”
He sat on the bed next to Pete, his arm around Pete’s shoulders, just as would always happen back when they were boys. A gesture of camaraderie, a press of muscle and warmth, to tease, a little roughhouse, or to comfort, when needed.
“Where are the girls?” asked Pete when he could speak, a sudden worry overtaking him.
As he stood up, Dale stood up, as well, pulling a soft cherry-red wool bathrobe around him, helping him into it. Gesturing to the floor where two leather slippers, lined with sheep’s wool, waited for his bare feet.
Obediently, Pete did as Dale silently told him, then looked up.
“They’re fast asleep,” said Dale, straightening the lapels of the bathrobe that surrounded Pete with the sensation of Dale’s scent. Woodsmoke, lavender soap, a bit of cologne. “I’ll show you.”
Dale took him the two steps across the short passage to another room and slowly opened the door. Light from Pete’s room sliced into the darkness to show two little girls tucked beneath a vanilla-white duvet, their dark hair streaming across the lace edges. They were safe. Dale had rescued them all.
“How did you–” Pete waited until Dale had closed the door, then tugged the warm robe around him as a shiver ran through him. “How did you find us?”
“I was driving back from the store when I saw them walking to town,” said Dale. He was close to Pete, but he didn’t move away. “They were fully aware that they shouldn’t talk to strangers, but I managed to convince them to let me help them–and that’s when I found out they were going into town for soup and cough drops. That’s when I found out who their daddy was.”
There was no recrimination in Dale’s voice, only the slight question running through the words as to what had happened to Pete to land him where he’d ended up.
The last thing Pete wanted to do was labor Dale with all of his problems, but a bit of luck kept him from having to answer as a cough rose up in his chest, and he staggered away to keep it from waking the girls.
Dale followed him, almost guiding him from behind as they walked into the large farm kitchen.
“I got you all here, and told the girls to change into dry clothes while I got you into bed and dosed you with Theraflu,” said Dale. He filled an electric kettle with water, and turned it on, then guided Pete to sit down at the kitchen table. “When youwere in bed, I fed them, let them watch TV for a little while. Put them to bed, put their wet clothes in the washer, and watched over you.”
Dale’s voice fell on that last word. You. As if Pete was the most important among all of it. Making Pete shiver even as he lowered his face into his hands at the thought of Melanie and Rebecca deciding together that they should stride out into the danger of a growing storm to help their dad feel better.
If Dale hadn’t come along, perhaps some other person would have picked the girls up, as Wyoming tended to be a tight knit community, for all its size, and neighbors looked out for each other. But of all the people who could have stopped, Dale had been the one who’d rescued his girls, and him.
Dale deserved an answer, so when a white china mug was placed in front of him, Pete drank the hot, metallic tasting liquid, and told his story. Not all of it, not too much so as to overwhelm, but enough of it, as Dale was always clever enough to read between the lines.
“I don’t know why I trusted her,” said Pete, wincing at the bitter dregs of the medicine as he swallowed the last mouthful. “Or why I left without really saying goodbye.”
“You were doing what you thought was right.” Dale rubbed the scruff along his jaw. “You looked after your family.”
“I’ve loved Melanie as if she were my own.” Pete couldn’t take his eyes off Dale, leaning forward, his elbows on the table, sleeves of his flannel shirt rolled up to show corded forearms, the dark hair on the back of Dale’s wrists. “She is my own, just as much as Rebecca is, even when I found out she wasn’t.”
“That was cruel to do to you.”
Pete looked up from where he’d been staring at the point where the undone buttons on the flannel shirt showed a sprightly burst of dark chest hair. Looked into Dale’s eyes.
“I’ve forgiven her,” said Pete, softly. “I think.”
“You were always nicer than me,” said Dale. “I will never forgive her for what she did to you.”
The words were meant to be kind comfort, but Pete could hear the anger just below the surface. And he couldn’t blame Dale for being angry about what Raynette had done, not when that rumbly voice floated in the air to land on his shoulders like a soft, determined, protective blanket.
“I should put you back to bed before that stuff knocks you off your feet.”
