Yearning for Love Read online

  After hanging up, I throw winter clothes into my suitcase, and scrawl a note for my landlady, telling her I’ll pay my rent online. I gas up my car, then I get onto Route 54, heading to Alamogordo, New Mexico – and Ruidoso, where my mom runs her B&B. I stop in Alamogordo for a burger and fries. Just about two hours later, I arrive in Ruidoso, driving slowly out of respect for the snowy roads and ever-present black ice. I drive down Highway 70 to Sudderth Road, then take the little side roads that lead to the B&B. I pass Mom and Pop restaurants and stores. I pass the Wal-Mart. As I drive, I have to put my sunglasses on because the sunlight hitting the snow is so bright. The pine trees stretch up, seeming to touch the sky. Nestled among them are cabins, large and small. Many are homey log cabins with inviting smoke wafting from fireplaces. In the distance, I spot the ski area and the rooftops of the Inn of the Mountain Gods. Other cars pass my small Honda – tourists from other states, enjoying the winter holiday. Some of them have skis securely attached to the tops of their vehicles. On the sides of the road, I see tourists on foot, laden with bags, walking from one store to another. Everyone is warmly bundled in jackets out of respect for the freezing temperature.

  Chapter 6

  When I get to the B&B, my mom carefully picks her way to my car with her arms outstretched. A smile adorns her face.

  “Corey, how are you? Come inside, where we can have some hot tea and honey,” she says. Inside, she takes me into her arms and, now that I’m home, I break down, crying on her shoulder. After several minutes of sobbing, I dab Kleenex over my sore face as mom heats water in the tea kettle. Once she has poured the boiling water to steep the tea leaves, we sit, holding hands.

  “Talk, sweetheart. What happened?” Mom asks, in a way only anxious mothers can.I tell her the whole saga – trying to resign, getting into an argument with Na- Mr. Drummond, and, yes, our lovemaking. At that, she gives me a pointed look, tipping her head sideways. But, to her credit, she doesn’t say anything. I continue with Nate’s invitation to go with him to Germany for the holidays – our getting closer. Then I tell about the phone call with the news of his dad’s stroke, and his pulling back and becoming the remote “Mr. Drummond” all over again.

  “Mom, he had the nerve to tell me about the damned Personnel office! As if . . . as if I hadn’t just spent the past week on vacation with him! Never again! Ever,” I promise my mother and myself with a flat voice. “I meant what I said when I called – I’d like to stay here for a while, and help you out while I decide what’s next for me. Mr. Drummond” – here, I adorn his name with sarcasm – “won’t accept my resignation, but I’m more determined than ever to leave Drummond Oil,” I tell her.

  “Sure, you can stay. I have a full house, so you’ll be very busy. They’re all out, skiing, doing the tourist thing, or gambling at the Inn of the Mountain Gods,” she tells me.

  I breathe a huge sigh of relief – the last time my mom and I saw each other, we didn’t exactly part on the best of terms. She would have been completely within her rights to refuse to allow me to stay this time. I look forward to the work – it’ll allow me to be busy and wear myself out, even as I chastise myself – inside my head – for my stupidity in falling in love with Na- Mr. Drummond. I talk about mom’s current guests, so I know who likes what. I help her clean their rooms, changing sheets, and washing loads of laundry. In the kitchen, we cook that night’s meal – grilled tilapia, roasted baby potatoes in the skins, and green beans. I suggest apple crisp for dessert, and when mom agrees, I get started mixing the crisp, peeling and slicing apples. By the time everything comes out of the ovens, guests are starting to come into the house, after wiping the accumulated snow, dirt and road grit from their shoes. Mom is particular about tha,t and she’s not hesitant about reminding forgetful guests to go back out and wipe their shoes. She is a mom, after all. She introduces me to everyone, and lets them know that I’ll be helping her out.

  “If you have any questions or concerns, you can let Corey know, and she’ll let me know right away. She has lots of experience, so we’ll fix things for you,” she promises.

  That night in bed, I find sleep to be an elusive imp. It approaches, but as my eyes begin to droop, images of Nate invade my mind and heart. Then sleep, that wicked imp, retreats, laughing at me.

  Why were you so monumentally stupid, Corey? You knew he doesn’t “do” commitment, and still you allowed yourself to fall head over heels in love with him. Idiot! This is the general track of my thoughts, as I roll over yet again, punching my fluffy pillow and pulling my covers over my shoulders. Finally – finally, I manage to drift off – at 2:30 a.m. My alarm buzzes at 5:30, and I groan into my pillow, after suffering through some pretty erotic dreams of Nate and me together. Pushing my tangled hair away from my face, I sit up, swing my legs out of bed and get up. My eyes are still heavy, so I’m looking forward to several cups of my mom’s special roasted Kona coffee. I slip into a heavy sweater and snug jeans with hiking boots – I’m not sure what the day holds, and I’d rather be ready so I don’t have to tramp upstairs to change from sneakers to boots. Untangling my hair, I comb it, pulling part of it up and away from my face. Because it’s so cold, I allow most of it to cascade down my neck and back. Not feeling in the mood for cosmetics, I quickly brush on a little mascara and blush, swiping some lipstick on so I won’t look so pale. I make my bed, then go downstairs to help mom, who has just entered the kitchen herself.

  Yawning, I check the day’s breakfast menu and get started – homemade oatmeal with orange zest and dried cranberries, toast, bagels, scrambled eggs and bacon. I pull the ingredients out and get started. Once everything is cooked, Mom and I move the food to the sideboard with special slots for the food pans. I return to the kitchen gratefully, and pour myself a tall mug of coffee. We’re drinking our coffee as guests begin coming downstairs, ready to eat and tour the area once again. The cold winter air makes me hungry, so I serve myself almost everything we’ve made. We sit and eat with our guests, answering questions, and giving them suggestions for their day – more shopping, visiting local sights, skiing and tubing are high on the list. After the guests eave for the day, Mom and I get busy. She takes the top of the house, and I get the bottom. We vacuum, sweep, mop, dust, clean bathrooms, and straighten out each guest room. She was not lying about current occupancy – she’s 100 percent full, so each room needs airing out. By the time we’re done, the old house is gleaming and clean. I check the windowsills and clean them as well. Wanting to wear myself out to the point of exhaustion, I grab a duster with an extension and go after dust on the walls, the tops of ceiling fans and tall furniture. I not only go after dust, I imagine Nate’s face imprinted on the walls and windowsills as I clean. I work to eradicate his image from every single surface. By the time we start our lunch – our guests will all eat wherever they are – I’m panting.

  “What did you do to start that panting?” my mom asks me.

  “I killed the dust on surfaces, even though there was so little. Mom, I have to wear myself out. If that means your B&B will be sanitary, so be it,” I say. I’m only half-joking. We talk about that night’s dinner.

  “I’m going to make old-fashioned comfort food. If you’ll bake potatoes in their skins, I’ll mix up meatloaf. We’ll have sweet corn and mixed vegetables, and for dessert, I want to bake spice cake,” mom says.

  “That sounds delicious! Do you need me to work on ordering more food when that’s done?” I offer.

  “Would you? I’ve been so busy, I just haven’t had the time!”

  How much food do you have on hand? How long will it take for an order to be delivered?”

  “I still have enough, although I don’t want to push it. If I – you – place the order before three our time, I’ll get it delivered within 24 hours,” Mom tells me.

  “Okay, then. As soon as I’ve finished with dinner prep, I’ll go online and place an order. Just let me know what you need.”

  “You’ll find the list in the drawer next to the big refrigerat
or by the back door. It’s right on the top and it has . . . yesterday’s date, I think.”

  Once I finished washing, pricking and rubbing butter over several large baking potatoes, I wrap them in foil, ready to slide into the oven. Mom works on the meatloaf and stores that in the fridge , then we work on the dessert together. Working with her proves to be good for my spirit. I feel myself feeling calmer. After eating a large burrito and drinking some hot tea with Mom, I find the food supplies list where she said it would be, and I get started on placing the large order. I verify she has funds in the business account to pay for it, and send the payment through. Shortly after, I get a confirmation number and a delivery time for the next day. I bundle up and go for a long walk, thinking about my situation with Nate, my job and being up here in Ruidoso. I toy vaguely with the idea of moving up here after quitting my job. I test the idea out on my emotions . . . it would be good to be away from the sexual tension, and the problems we have acknowledging our feelings for each other. I would instead enjoy being with Mom and working with her here. The only downside is that it’s so . . . isolated and it would be difficult for me to find any excitement. The casino at the Inn of the Mountain Gods isn’t really my thing, so I’d have to drive to Las Cruces for a fun evening. I promise myself to give this idea more thought so that, if need be, I can discuss it with Mom.

  My walk takes me straight into Ruidoso, where I check out some of the shops. Seeing a nice purse for Mom, I ask the store owner if she would set it aside for me until the next day. I keep walking through the village, poking into other shops, and finally, when the cold air gets to me, stopping in a small gourmet coffee shop. I walk back with a large cup of mocha, sipping on it as I think.

  That night, after I go to my room, I sit on my bed thinking. I can’t go back to work for Nate, not after he treated me so coolly on that last day. I mean, for God’s sake, he said someone from Drummond Oil would call and update me about his father’s condition. We spent the week together in Germany and we made love many times. After all that intimacy, he doesn’t know how to treat a woman so she knows she’s appreciated and cherished. I really don’t want to experience that kind of shabby experience. I gave myself to Nate, and the least he can do is communicate with me at this important time. I do have a temper and, if he brushes me off again, I will let loose. Boss or not, I will let loose on Nate.

  Under the covers, I flop from side to side restlessly. Despite all my good intentions, I still miss him. I want him here, next to me in bed, warming me up. Sitting up, I grab my Kindle and begin reading, trying to make myself sleepy. Finally, my eyes start to droop, so I zip my e-reader in its case, and shut my light out without looking at the time. I will sleep, no matter how late it is. I turn my back to my bedside clock on purpose. My eyes close . . .

  Nate is in bed with me. His head is under the covers, as he laps at and kisses my clit. I am hot with wanting, so I come rapidly, rocking my hips into his mouth and chin. After, we make love sitting on the edge of the bed, both of us watching as he enters and leaves my body. The sight excites us both, and we grow even more engorged. Soon, Nate has grown to monumental proportions, as he spears himself into me, moving himself in and out. The stretching sensation makes me come, as I clench tightly around him. We both come convulsively, Nate pushing himself into me hard, and spurting into his condom. Even though we are at the B&B, he stays in my bed, pillowing my head on his chest, and wrapping his arms around me. I sigh, feeling complete.

  I spend the next week with Mom, helping her run the B&B, taking care of her guests. As the New Year approaches, two families leave, easing our workload slightly. I start putting up some decorations for the New Year, in preparation for the dinner we will have on that day – posole with red chile, white bolillos or dinner rolls, and pecan pies.

  At the end of my first week, I’m no closer to a decision about my situation with Nate/Mr. Drummond. The options haunt me, keeping me awake late into the night. More and more, I have to cover the dark circles under my eyes. Mom doesn’t miss a trick. One night, she brews up some herbal tea, and adds a generous dollop of honey.

  “Corey, drink this. You need to relax and get some rest, or you’re going to collapse,” she tells me.

  Gratefully, I sip at the hot tea. She’s right.

  “Mom, I just can’t decide what to do. When I’m in bed, I’m going back and forth between both options. I’ve done the pros and cons exercise, too,” I moan. “I’m just pissed at myself, that’s all. I allowed myself to fall in love with a man who won’t ‘do’ commitment.”

  Mom replied, “After your dad died, I refused to date for several years. Then someone I’d known for a long time asked me out. He told me he was interested in me, and had been for a long time. Yet, when it came time to start talking about ‘a future,’ suddenly, greener pastures beckoned, and he wanted to pursue other interests. But I had already fallen in love with him. Yet, despite my feelings for him, after one long discussion I told him to take a hike. It took about a year, then I found the courage to start dating again. None of my dates impressed me enough to make me feel like I could introduce them to you, so I just didn’t bother. Then, Scott came back into the picture. I was very wary, but he told me that he’d learned his lesson. We dated again, this time for about a year. One of my friends saw me falling in love with him all over again, so she took me aside and asked me what my plans were. I was still pretty gun-shy, even though I loved him. She told me that I needed to fish or cut bait – ‘You need to decide whether you’re going to introduce him to Corey and plan a life with him – or not,’ she told me. She also went and talked to Scott, and she found out that, again, he was not really willing to commit to a permanent relationship.. She told me what he’d revealed about himself, and my heart was broken again. I decided it was time for me to talk reality to Scott, and he confirmed what Millie had told me. I told him then that it was definitely over – and that I wouldn’t be available for any repeat performances, ever. He left, and I bought the B&B and moved up here. Sure, I date on occasion, but I’m happy with my life as it is. I have friends, both male and female. I have you and I have the B&B. I need nothing more, sweetheart,” my mom finishes.

  “In other words, you’re saying I need to decide what would work for me, and what I’m willing to accept from a man?” I ask.

  “Exactly. I would love to see you get married and start having children, but, if that’s not meant to be, I’ll learn to accept it,” Mom says.

  I take her hand in mine and we sit in silence, thinking. That night, in bed, my mind goes over what she has told me. I know I have a lot to think about. Rolling over, I refuse to allow thoughts of Nate to invade my mind. As my eyes drift shut, I feel a new peace spreading within my heart. I know I’ll find a solution, with or without Nate. This time it’s only 1:30 when I fall asleep. The next day, it’s Friday and the eve of New Year’s Eve. Mom and I stay busy with the house and providing for our guests. I’m checking off the items I ordered from the list the delivery man gave me. As I verify that everything has been delivered as ordered, I put it away. Mom is in the large living room, sweeping up needles from the Christmas tree. She stores the hand vacuum away, and grabs a large jug to fill the Christmas tree holder with fresh water. As she’s walking back out, the doorbell chimes.

  “I’ll get that, Corey! You keep working on the order,” Mom says.

  “Sounds good. You expecting new guests?” I ask her.

  “Not till next week. Oh! Hello, my name is Brenda Temple. How are you today?”

  I hear the low rumble of a male voice in the doorway. I can’t quite make out who it is, but shivers run up and down my spine when what I hear next makes me nearly drop a heavy package of frozen chicken breasts.

  “My name is Nate Drummond. I’m looking for Corey Temple. I believe she’s your daughter?”

  “Yes. Yes, she is. She’s occupied right now. If you’ll just sit, I’ll bring her . . .”

  No, you will not, Mom. I’m finally beginning to get closer to a dec
ision, and I don’t want that process ruined. What in the hell is he doing here anyway when his father’s in the hospital?

  “Actually, if you have a room available, I’d love to rent it. You don’t need to tell Corey I’m here,” Nate says. I can only imagine the charming smile creasing his face.

  “I do have a room available . . . You know, you’ll need to talk to her sooner or later,” says my mother. Gee, thanks . . . Mom. Fueled by anger, I check through the food order quickly and store everything away. Once that’s done, I unload the dishwasher and put the dishes away, trying not to make any noise.

  “Corey, you need to talk to him. Whatever you decide to do is fine with me. You’re an adult now,” says my mom.

  “Where is he?”

  “Upstairs, taking a shower, I believe,” my mom says.

  At that, I get disturbing memories of Nate’s well-toned, fit body. I sigh, trying to deny that the visions in my mind are wreaking havoc with my body.

  “I’m just going to stay busy. I am not talking to him. He and his company can go take a flying leap from the Taos Gorge,” I mutter to her.

  At least she agrees he’d been less than caring when he got to the hospital. And yes, I know he was really worried about his dad. Still, I let her know I won’t be talking to him, not voluntarily that is, and preferably, not at all.

  A few minutes later, Nate strides in, freshly showered and wearing well-worn, snug jeans and a lightweight long-sleeved sweater. God, he looks good! Remembering my vow, I turn away and begin working on the entree for that night – red enchiladas, beans and Spanish rice. I’m leaving the flan to my mom – hers turns out so much lighter than mine does.