Missouri - Show Me (Americana 25 - Missouri)

Chapter One

THE ASPHALT ROAD snaked along the ridge, writhing and slithering its way towards Dewey Bald. Here and there the trees fell away to allow a panoramic glimpse of the Ozark Mountains of Missouri. The sylvan hillsides were coloured in a myriad spring greens, from the deep hues of the cedars all the way to the pale greens of newly budding trees, an array as spectacular as autumn’s bold splashes. The burgeoning world was highlighted by the mauve shades of the redbud tree and the symbolic white blossoms of the flowering dogwood, while the rock-strewn ground burst forth with an explosion of wild spring flowers.
‘Can we stop at Sammy’s Lookout?’
The small, questioning voice drew Tanya Lassiter’s wandering gaze away from the road and scenery ahead of them. Her mouth curved into a smile as she gazed at the silently pleading blue eyes staring so earnestly back at her. Baby-fine brown hair covered his forehead, softening the effect of his pointed chin. No one else could have a little boy as beautiful and intelligent as her John, Tanya thought to herself with a warm glow of satisfaction. At seven, he was as impish and happy and curious as anyone would want their child to be. Who could remain immune to the entreaty of those trusting eyes that invariably reminded her of the clear blue colour of warm summer skies — so unlike Jake’s, his father, whose eyes held the metallic sheen of blue steel.
‘Can we?’ John repeated.
‘We can for a little while,’ Tanya agreed. Her lips had tightened fractionally and she forced them to relax. ‘But Grandmother will have supper for us, so we can’t stay too long.’
There was no enthusiastic response from John, causing Tanya to glance wonderingly at his averted head. His thoughtful pose, as he gazed out the side window of the station wagon, arched one of her delicate brows before it settled back into place. Whatever was troubling John would soon be confided to her once he had methodically thought it through on his own.
Tanya was busy locking the car doors while John waited with thinly disguised impatience a few feet away from where the wagon was parked along the road. The pullover sweater vest matched the thin maroon stripe in her slacks with the complementing background of cream yellow in her long-sleeved blouse. Sliding out from behind the wheel and closing the door, she smoothed her hair into its band and hurried to join the slender boy in his light blue windbreaker and crisp blue jeans.
Together they traversed the few hundred yards back to the big grey stone overlooking Mutton Hollow and the trail that was nobody knows how old. They made a striking pair, one tall, lithe and feminine, the other exhibiting the vitality of youth in a masculine miniature. While John made straight for the large, slate-grey rock, Tanya sought the seclusion of a small boulder farther up the hillside. It denied her the view of the valley, but it hid her from the sight of passing motorists on the road just below. The traffic was mostly local now. The tourist jam would come with the summer sun.
The boy stood on the rock, gazing out over the scenery, his legs spread apart in a proud stance with his hands on his hips. In some ways, John was like herself. On the surface he possessed an outgoing personality, gregarious, fun-loving and always curious, but he, like Tanya, had those moments when he enjoyed being alone with his own thoughts. There were times when she felt that at seven years old John was too serious, too contemplative and too much in the company of adults, but with children his own age in school, there was never any reserve or any inability to relate to his peers. So she had marked her worry off to an over-abundance of conscience.
Leaning back against the slanting hillside, Tanya watched the sun slowly settling on the western slopes. The bright plumage of a male robin darted in front of her as he flew in attendance on his chosen mate. A surging ache rose from deep inside, shooting through her limbs until she wanted to hug her arms about her to ward off the pain. This was the natural mating season and Tanya recognized the inexplicable longing inside was the same desire for a mate of her own. She was a woman, a twenty-six-year-old female of her species, in need of a male to love, the simplest and oldest truth of life.
There was no vanity in recognizing her own beauty. And Tanya was beautiful. Long hair that hesitated between light brown and blonde with occasional natural streaks of shimmering honey was brushed straight back from her smooth forehead in a leonine style that was vastly becoming to her perfect features. There was a classic lift to her cheekbones and nose, and a warm, sensuous mouth that could transform the cool, marble beauty of her face into enticing witchery with a smile. But it was her tawny, gold-flecked eyes that kept the shutters closed on the smouldering passions that lay below the surface.
Nothing remained of the haunted, slightly vengeful young girl who had come to these hills over seven years ago with a boy child in her arms. The influence and example of her mother-in-law, Julia Lassiter, had erased the schoolgirl image and replaced it with a poised, sophisticated young woman. Only one thing remained, Tanya thought with carefully nurtured bitterness, and that was her loathing of Jake Lassiter, the man whose name she bore. The only saving grace of her marriage had been that she had John. He belonged to her and could never be taken away — as long as she remained married to Jake.
‘Mother?’
The lids that had drifted down over her burnished tan eyes fluttered open. Tanya straightened to sit erectly as John settled on the ground beside her, a tanned hand plucking at the sprouting grass.
‘Yes, John?’ Tanya curled her arms around her knees and waited.
‘Do I really have a father?’
Only for a second did the shock of his question register on her face. ’Of course you do.’ Her heart thudded a little louder in her chest, but there was no other outward sign that his words had disconcerted her.
‘I mean, is he really alive?’ This time the troubled blue eyes stared into her face, earnest and searching.
‘Yes, he’s alive. You yourself have brought his letters from home from the mailbox. Whatever made you think that he wasn’t?’ Tanya tried to laugh lightly, but it came out shrill and without amusement.
‘Danny Gilbert said he must be dead or in prison or he’d come home. He isn’t in prison, is he?’
‘No, darling, he isn’t in prison. He’s somewhere in Africa right now.’ Her arm went around the slim shoulders, drawing the tense boy against her body, afraid he would see that she had no wish to talk about Jake Lassiter. ‘He works for your grandfather, remember? And there’s a big dam or bridge or something being built over there and your grandfather’s company is supervising the work. Your father is over there making sure it’s done right.’
‘But why doesn’t he ever come home? And why don’t we ever go to visit him? Doesn’t he want to see us?’ The silky brown head pulled away from the hand that was stroking it to gaze in confusion at the frown creasing Tanya’s forehead.
‘He will come home some day,’ she attempted to reassure him, but the very ambiguousness of her answer defeated her. ‘He’s very busy.’