SUNSET SANDSTORM
Sara glanced out the plate glass window at the Arizona desert just in time to see a horse and rider stop under a tall mesquite. In the welcoming shade, the man swept off his hat and wiped his sweating brow. His golden hair, streaked by the sun, clung to his neck and face as if caught in a rain shower. The horse, glistening from the heat, gulped the offered water in long draughts.
"Oh, perfect!" Sara exclaimed. "That's just what I needed to make the picture complete. Wait till Johnnie finds out he's been inspiration for another painting." She moved back to her easel and started painting in the resting horse and rider.
"Boy, I didn't know it was that late already. Johnnie's home from work, and I haven't even thought about supper yet." Sara took another look and saw Johnnie and his prized appaloosa cantering toward the gate separating the corral from the rest of the ten sections of ranch land they call home. Good, it'll be a little while till he finishes currying Old Speck, she thought, knowing how much he loves that horse. He takes better care of that horse than he does himself. He's grown up with him, helped him be born.
She'd only begun to get the horse on the canvas, when Johnnie was swinging through the door with a hearty, "Man, I'm hungry. What's for supper?" accompanied by the clatter of the doorknob falling to the floor again. He stopped to slip it back on, saying, "I'm going to fix that after supper." He crossed the room with three strides and gently embraced his wife, kissing her soundly as she lifted her face to his.
It didn't take you long to unsaddle and brush Old Speck." she said, a bit puzzled, giving him a hug and a welcoming smile.
“Oh, I'm going to wait till later. I've got to go over to Ken Turbell's, down the old Johnson road, after the mail gets here, if he has any. His road is blocked right now and the mailman can't get down there." Taking a look at the canvas he said, "Boy, that's great! Who's that on the horse under the tree?"
"You know who it is. Who else would I use as inspiration?" she teased as he released her to get a better look.
"You've done all this today?" he marveled. "You're really incredible."
Smiling modestly, she brushed a lock of long, black hair away from her face. Stepping back from the canvas for a better perspective she asked, "Hon, do you think the red is too red, you know, even for a sunset?"
Johnnie inwardly grimaced at the trap he could easily fall into. He hesitated before answering. "You know what you always tell me. Working on another part of the painting can always change the perspective of what's already there." He asked himself, why does she always do that? Then with his best, I know you can do it, smile he said, "Besides, you have an uncanny eye for color." He kissed her lightly and went out to the terrace.
He stood leaning against the post, surveying the view. He loved the beauty of the desert and distant mountains. He'd never tire of them. Since Sara had come into his life, she'd opened his eyes to the wonder of countless sources of inspiration. He was completely in awe of her talent. Thankfully, so were those who'd appreciated her paintings, and bought them.
He turned and picked up the watering can. "I'm sure glad you insisted we have this terrace built," he said to her as he watered the various plants arranged in such a pleasing pattern around the perimeter. "Because of the paintings you've sold of this view, we'll have it paid for in no time."
She smiled, remembering the arguments they'd had over that terrace. Money was so tight then. Yet after seeing a few breathtaking sunsets through the one small window, he'd finally relented.
"I've sold many paintings I've done through that opened up view," she replied, her eyes taking on a dreamy look. "We've had many wonderful evenings sitting out there together."
As he recalled those relaxed moments, his eyes wandered once again to the distant mountains. They stood as sentinels, keeping the desert sands from creeping to infinity.
"Looks like the wind's picking up again," he said as he noticed a few dust funnels skittering over the desert. "I'd better make sure all these plants are secure in case we get some strong gusts."
As he busied himself among the potted roses, bougainvillea, and various other flowering plants, Sara was recalling last night's sunset. It was especially beautiful the way the reds, oranges, and lavenders frosted the clouds, and transformed the landscape below into a kaleidoscope. She'd been up since dawn transcribing her memory of it onto the canvas.
Johnnie watched her now as she stood in front of the painting. Her eyes reflected the radiance of the sunset, as it unfolded beneath her brush. Lately there was a new glow about her, an additional spark in her eyes.
"Sara, do you think our baby will be an artist too?" He was leaning against the wall, just outside the door, enjoying the sight of his beautiful wife, proud of her talent. "Or maybe a cowpoke like his daddy."
That wouldn't be so bad, he mused. My dad has built a successful ranch from his beginnings as a cowboy. Johnnie's mind started wandering, thinking of the ranch and his dad's plan to retire soon. He had thought he was going to run it when the time came. But George had managed to convince his dad that he could do a better job than Johnnie, because of his business experience. He owned the most successful real estate company in the area. So Johnnie had been given ten sections of good land as a wedding gift, from his dad's spread.
His bitterness toward his older stepbrother was evident in the hardening of his eyes as he thought of all the times George had one-upped him. The rivalry had been unmistakable since they'd been young boys of three and five. Ever since his dad married George's mother, he'd felt stuck in George's shadow. That is, until the unbelievable day when Sara confessed her love for Johnnie over George. He recalled the day George told them all he was bringing his new girlfriend home to meet them. He called her his raven-haired beauty. I remember thinking how he regarded her as his prize, in keeping with everything else he touched.
Johnnie remembered the first moment he laid eyes on her. I knew I'd never love anyone else; she was exquisite. But at the same time, he knew he could never have her. She was George's woman; that was it.
As the weeks had gone by, she'd spent more and more time at the ranch. She found ways to include Johnnie in her visits. The three went horseback riding together, and shared picnic lunches. The conversations they engaged in on the veranda overlooking the valley below resulted in animated discussions between her and Johnnie. George felt increasingly left out and resentful. Finally one day, finding courage in her attention, Johnnie professed his love for her.
To his surprise, she confessed that her infatuation with George had long since cooled. She'd been struggling with her growing fondness for Johnnie. She could no longer deny her love for him. When the announcement was made to George his reaction was of disbelief. "You're a liar. She doesn't love you; she's confused by your horning in on my territory. You and your pretty face and quiet way." He spat contemptuously at Johnnie's feet. "You'll see; she'll tire of you and come running back to me."
George's eyes were icy and black. "You never have been able to outdo me. You won't this time." He stood and glared daggers into Johnnie's back as he turned and walked away. On their wedding day, George stayed away till the ceremony was over. Then he waited to open the honeymoon car door. Bending toward Johnnie he said in a voice hard as steel, "You haven't won yet."
Sara peered around the easel at Johnnie, thinking, he looks lost in thought. He gets that look in his eyes a lot now, like he's a million miles away. She knew the problem he had with going to that fertility clinic, since George owns the building. He was so paranoid about running into George there, but it is the best one in the southwest. I couldn't let his feelings of insecurity compromise our chances of having a baby. Even with George's veiled threats.
He'd been there to take care of some problem with the building. She remembered the evil in his voice as he encountered her in the corridor. "I told Johnnie the day he married you he hadn't won yet." The sinister look in his eyes sent shivers through her body.
"I know why you chose this clinic, Sara. Now I can prove to him once and for all that you and I were meant to be together. You'll see. I'll make it alright." He tried to take her in his arms. His touch repulsed her, as she pushed him away, realizing the implication of his words.
"Don't ever touch me again," she warned through clenched teeth. "Leave us alone. Johnnie and I love each other. You're wrong! Johnnie has won this time. We are going to become pregnant. Stay out of our lives." She took one more glowering look into his glazed eyes, and then hurried away, trembling with suppressed rage, and a fear she couldn't deny.
Countless times his words had intruded on her happiness after they knew the baby was coming. Each time she'd dismissed the feeling of foreboding she’d felt, convincing herself that it meant nothing. Just the normal pregnancy jitters, she'd told herself.
Coming out of her reverie, she moved toward the door, recalling his unanswered question. "Johnnie?" finally catching his attention. "Where were you just now? You asked me a question, then you seemed off in dreamland."
"Oh yeah, sorry Hon," He grinned. "Well, what do you think, artist, or cowpoke?" He was his light-hearted self again.
"She could be both," she teased with a wink. "She'll be able to do anything her little heart desires, perfectly too."
Despite their relaxed mood, she sensed an uneasiness in Johnnie. Could he have found out about George's threat that day in the clinic? She hadn't wanted to tell him. It meant nothing, what could he do? Why tell Johnnie? It would just upset him needlessly.
A lilting whistle came from the front of the house. "There's our mail. Fred's in fine pitch today." Johnnie said, as he jumped over the railing of the stone steps leading down the slope to the cactus garden she'd lovingly labored over. She'd transformed the rundown old farmhouse, and the neglected gardens, into a wonderfully landscaped and charming home. In just four short years, since he'd carried her over the threshold, she'd performed her magic.
Sara's mind started to wander again as she worked at the painting. Would the baby be artistic? Very likely, Mom is a very talented artist, Uncle Arthur too. He has sculpted pieces for all kinds of important people. They both have works of art in many fine homes and galleries.
She paused for a moment to consider the brush strokes she'd just completed, then satisfied, resumed her work, speculating maybe she'll be a scientist, a doctor, or a lawyer. Or she could be a cowpoke, as Johnnie put it. As long as she loves what she does, that's what's important.
Her hands became still, suspended in mid-air, as her dark brown eyes took on a faraway look. We're so lucky to be having this child, after all the difficult, endless procedures. After months and months of disappointment, all that effort finally paid off. She looked down at the slight curve under the soft folds of her dress, and smiled a secret smile just for the growing life inside her. She promised softly, we are going to have a very special bond, you and I and your daddy.
Suddenly she sensed someone behind her. She turned to look into the eyes of a stranger. The face and body were Johnnie's, but the eyes were wild, black, not at all the laughing blue eyes she loved. He clutched a letter in his hand, his knuckles white against his tanned skin.
"Johnnie what is it, what's the matter?" Reaching for the letter with trembling hands, she realized she still held the paintbrushes. As she set them down, the letter fluttered to the floor. He watched her, his face contorted into a painful mask, as he fought to keep his control.
She bent to pick up the paper and the words jumped out at her. Can no longer keep the truth from you.....As the baby's rightful father, must claim my right.....You did not win.....Sara will never be yours; she belongs to me now.....We share this baby. She felt her legs grow weak as the room began to close in on her.
Suddenly Johnnie's voice reverberated around the room, pushing the walls back away from her, filling the room with its fury. "What do you know about this?" he demanded, as she desperately shook her head. "The Bastard! He's really done it this time. I'd kill him, but he'd win again."
As the words she'd read hit her, she fought to keep control of her racing thoughts. George's baby, not Johnnie's.....My God, it can't be, there's a mistake. She read the words again. Always loved Sara.....We belong together.....Switched sperm in fertility bank.
"Oh my God, I never dreamed he'd do this." Her hands flew to her mouth before any more words escaped, her eyes wide with horror.
"What do you mean?" His expression changed to confused torment, and suspicion. "What are you keeping from me?"
"He threatened he'd do something; he's sick, Johnnie. I never thought he'd do anything, certainly not this." She gasped back a sob as she looked down at the soft bulge beneath her dress.
"When did you see him? You've been sneaking behind my back." Johnnie was shaking, his torment deepening "He's done it, just like he said he would. First he takes the ranch away from me, now my wife and my ba....." He choked on the word and the realization. "He was right. He has you, and he has the baby that I should have had. He has won. There's nothing more for me. It's all gone." With each new realization he seemed to sink further into himself till there was only a shadow of the once vibrant man. He was looking through her, beyond reality. All he knew was his loss. It was the culmination of all the years of George's superiority.
Sara couldn't believe what she was hearing. She tried desperately to convince him. "No Johnnie, it isn't true. It's not what you think. I love you. He saw me at the clinic; I told him to leave us alone." She was pleading with him, "You've got to believe me!"
She reached for him, as if making contact would somehow wake her from this nightmare. He recoiled from her touch, their gold bands flashing in the lowering light from the window.
"No Sara, never again. I'm all done fighting it. I give up. As long as I'm alive, he'll always win." He turned and was gone through the open door, disappearing on horseback into the late afternoon sandstorm.
How long had she stood there? The door, caught by the wind, waved its farewell long after he'd been swallowed up by the swirling mass of sand.
"I must go after him." She pushed against the wind and sand onto the porch, as the storm unleashed its wrath on her body. Sand filled her eyes and mouth. Her hair whipped about her face, blinding her to the loose timber from the porch roof, which, with the force of the wind, knocked her back into the room. A gust grabbed the door and slammed it shut, sending the loose doorknob flying to the floor.
She cleared her eyes of sand enough so that she could see, and flew to the phone for help. The line is dead. Her red and swollen eyes rested on the letter, as it lay on the table. Panic struck. "What am I going to do?" A haunting, mocking laughter filled the room, sending her reeling. Words from the letter where everywhere. George loves Sara.....Switched sperm.....Baby's father, not uncle.
Her tormented mind was going out of control; mocking her taunting her.
If it weren't for you, he'd still be here.
No!
Oh yes, it was your idea to go to that clinic. You threw brother against brother.
No, it wasn't that way.
It wasn't enough that George was destroying him; you had to get into the act too.