The Ranch

“we have something else to work out before that,” he said, pulling her toward his bedroom. “It's time for my nap.” But she suspected he wanted to see if everything was still working. It was painful to realize this was their last day together. They spent the whole afternoon in bed, while everyone else was riding. He fell asleep in her arms, and she held him for a long time, unable to believe her good fortune. And she had almost lost him two days before. It didn't bear thinking.

Hartley was very quiet that afternoon as they rode alone, he was trying to cope with the idea of losing her, if she didn't come back to him after London.

“Don't do that to yourself,” Mary Stuart said gently when he told her what he was thinking.

“I have to. What if you don't come back? What will I do then? I just found you, and I can't imagine losing you so quickly.” He didn't say it to her, but he knew he'd write about it. It wouldn't change anything, but at least it would allow him to work out the feelings. “You can't promise me you'll be back, Mary Stuart. You don't know that.”

“That's true. But we have so many losses in life. Why taste them before they happen?”

“Because the taste is too bitter when you don't. I'll miss you so much if I lose you,” he said nostalgically, and she leaned over and kissed him.

“I'll do my best to return very quickly.” And she meant to, but he surprised her with what he said next.

“Don't even come back if you can save your marriage,” he said wistfully. “Margaret and I almost divorced once. I had an affair when we'd been married for about ten years. It was very stupid of me, and I never did it any other time. I don't know what happened, we'd been having problems, we were dealing with the fact that she couldn't have children then and it was very difficult for her. She kind of went crazy for a while, and she put a lot of distance between us. I think she blamed me, as much as herself, because she couldn't get pregnant. Whatever the reason, I did it, and she found out. We were separated for six months because of it, and I continued the affair, which was even more stupid. By then I thought I was in love with her, and it was even more complicated. She was French, and I was in Paris with her. I went to New York to tell Margaret I was going to divorce her. But when I got there, I found that everything I had always loved about her was still there, and so were all the things I didn't like as well, and all the reasons why I had cheated on her in the first place. She had all the inadequacies, the neuroses, the irrationalities that made her difficult, and all the things I adored about her as well, her honesty, her loyalty, her creativity, her wonderful sense of humor, her bright mind, her discretion, her sense of fairness. There were a million things I loved about her.” He had tears in his eyes when he said it, and so did Mary Stuart. “When I went back to New York to say good-bye to Margaret, I fell in love with her all over again.” He took a breath and looked out over the mountains. “I never went back to the woman in Paris. She knew when I left that it would happen that way. She'd said so. We had worked out a code. She said she couldn't bear long explanations, and she didn't want them. Two words would do. If I'd worked it out with Margaret to leave her, all I had to do was write, ‘Bonjour, Arielle’ in a telegram. That was a long time ago,” he smiled, “before faxes. And if Margaret and I got back together, ‘Adieu, Arielle’ would do it. She was extremely down-to-earth, and very much no-nonsense. I left for New York promising her she had nothing to worry about, and met my Delilah, she chopped off my hair, won my heart, and I never left her side again… the telegram read ‘Adieu, Arielle.’ And I never saw her again. That was what she wanted. But I never forgot her.” It was a sad story and it touched Mary Stuart. “If that happens with us, Mary Stuart,” he looked into her eyes and meant every word of it, “I want you to know that I won't regret this for a moment, and I will love you forever. I will move on, and I will recover. Arielle married a very important minister, and she became a very successful writer, but I'm sure she never forgot me. I never forgot her.” He smiled wickedly then. “Margaret never forgot her either. I never quite lived that down, but I think she forgave me. It was an awful mess for a while when it first happened. But I just want you to know I won't regret this, it's been the happiest two weeks of my life here with you.” And she had finally helped him get over losing Margaret. He was feeling much better.

“It's been the happiest two weeks of my life too,” she said. “And I won't forget you either. But I don't think I'll stay with Bill, Hartley, I really don't.” And she truly meant it.

“You never know what will happen between two people. See what happens when you talk to him. If I had left Margaret then, I would have missed sixteen more years with her, and they were great ones. Be open to whatever happens. That's the fairest thing I can tell you.”

“I shall always love you,” she said softly.

“And I you. That's what you can send me in the fax then.” He had found the code they'd been seeking. “‘ Adieu, Arielle,’ or “Bonjour, Arielle,’ to let me know what happens.”

“It'll be ‘Bonjour, Arielle,’ “she said, looking certain as they rode back to the stables with the wrangler standing in for Gordon.

And as they rode, Zoe was having coffee with John Kroner. They had become fast friends in the two weeks she'd been there. She'd gone to the hospital to see him several times, and he loved coming to the ranch to see her. He had promised to visit her in San Francisco.

“There's a patient I'll want to consult you about soon,” he was saying. “I just started him and his lover on AZT. He's HIV positive, they both are, but so far they're both asymptomatic.”

“You're doing the right thing then. You don't need me,” she smiled comfortably at him. She was sure Sam would like him too, and she was anxious to introduce them. Sam had been calling her daily, more to talk about them than her practice. And she found she liked it. “You're doing a great job with your patients,” she encouraged John again, and thanked him for his help when she wasn't feeling well. “You know,” she said philosophically, “I have so much empathy for them now,” she was referring to her patients. “I used to think I understood what it was like for them, hearing that death sentence and then waiting for it to strike them. I felt it so much for them. But I still didn't really understand it.” She looked right at him so intensely. “I never knew until it happened to me,” she touched his hand then, “you don't know what it's like, John. You can't imagine.”

“Yes, I can,” he said quietly. “I'm HIV positive too. I'm the patient I just mentioned. We both are. And when we start getting sick, I want to come to you for a consultation,” he said matter-of-factly, and she looked stunned. She didn't know why she was, but she hadn't expected it. He had AIDS, and so did his lover.

“I'm so sorry.”

“It's all right,” he said philosophically, “we're all in this together.” There were tears in Zoe's eyes when she hugged him.

They all had a quiet night that night. Hartley and Mary Stuart spent hours talking, Zoe was on the phone with Sam in her room, and Tanya was at the cabin with Gordon. They were all talking about their plans, their dreams, the things that had happened at the ranch, and how much they wanted to come back here. It had been magical for all of them. And Tanya and Gordon were talking about their plans for the ranch she had just bought. They had all but forgotten the tabloids. He had talked to Charlotte that afternoon, and he was coming to see Tanya in L.A. the following weekend. This was the beginning. And they were both excited about all of it. There was so much Tanya wanted to share with him. He wanted to walk down Sunset Boulevard, see the Pacific, meet her friends, see the studio where she rehearsed and recorded, she wanted to spend the weekend with him in Malibu, walk down the beach with him, and take him to Spago. They were going to do all of it if they could, and two weeks later, she would be flying back to Wyoming to see him.

“I wish I could go with you tomorrow,” he said sadly. “I hate to think of what you have to face alone there.”

“I wish I could stay here,” she said, and meant it. She hated to leave him, this place, and the mountains.

“You'll be back,” he said, pulling her close to him, and she closed her eyes, trying to engrave it on her memory for when she left it. She knew it would never be quite like this again. They would not be in this cabin, sealed off from the world. It would never be this simple again. They would be in their own house, and they would be part of the world after this. It would own a piece of them, and grab whatever it could take from them. Right now, they were safe here, and she loved it. And she hoped that they could re-create some of that at the ranch she had just bought in the foothills.

“I want it just like this,” she said to him, and he laughed.

“Could we have it just a tad bigger, Tanny? I stub my toe every time I get out of bed here.” He was a big man and it was a small house, but he knew what she meant, and he had lots of ideas about it. He had been gathering thoughts for years about a ranch of his own and he knew just what to do now.

They talked late into the night, and made love at dawn, just as the sun came up, and then he wrapped her in a blanket and they went outside and watched the light on the mountains. It was exquisite.

“It's going to be a beautiful day,” he said, “I wish you'd be here with me.” She could hardly bear the thought of