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Her dull glance flicked at him. "I doubt it. "
He picked up the tequila bottle. "Hair of the dog," he said, grinning.
She gave a disbelieving snort. "You expect me to get drunk as a way of dealing with my grief?"
"It always works for me. "
She almost smiled, but it was a bitter, humorless curving of the lips and no more. "It wont work for me. Its stupid and pointless. "
"So?"
"So?" She turned to him, her eyes as cold as a north wind on his face. "So let me understand your plan here. I . . . no, we . . . get drunk, and when I wake up— feeling horrible and sick—my father wont be dead?"
Mad Dogs smile faded. He stared deeply into her eyes, hoping—praying—she could see the comfort he offered. "Hell still be dead, Marian; itll still hurt like hell.
But maybe it wont hurt as bad. Maybe a good cry—"
Her eyes widened. "Alcohol can make you cry?"
"Sure. "
A small, tight frown pulled her features. He could tell she was thinking about it, really considering it.
Come on, Mariah. Take a chance. Take a—
"Well," she said slowly, "maybe just one drink. " She looked at him. "If you promise itll make me cry. " Mad Dog felt like whooping for joy. It was a start. And no one drank just one shot of tequila.
Chapter Twenty-three
Mariah couldnt believe shed said yes to tequila. In the past week shed said no to food, to sleep, to talking, to everything. And now shed said yes to tequila.
It was the possibility of crying that had trapped her.
She bowed her head, stared through burning, gritty eyes at the shadowy earth. She wanted to cry so badly, it physically hurt. Shed tried time and again to let go of the grief locked inside her heart. But she couldnt do it. The tears were a solid block of ice pressing against her lungs, riveted in place by years of rigid, desperate self-control.
She cast a surreptitious glance at Mad Dog. Matt, she reminded herself. He was walking beside her wordlessly, leading her to some secret destination in the center of the farm.
Hed tried to hold her hand, but she didnt let him. She didnt want to get that close to him again, didnt want to let him comfort her. She just wanted to go to some dark, secret place, drink a little tequila, and cry. She couldnt afford to let herself care about Mad Dog again. It didnt matter what he told her, how many pretty words he murmured, the truth was constant. Soon icd leave, and shed be alone. Not so long ago, that jadnt mattered. Or at least shed told herself it didnt natter. But then shed had Rass. She wasnt alone.
Now, when he left, shed be desperately alone, and she didnt want to send him off with any more of her heart than he already had.
He stopped suddenly and opened the bottle. "This is i good spot. "
Mariah looked around. They were in the middle of (he west pasture. Most of the snow had melted since yesterday, but the ground was hard and frozen.
Black-shadowed earth rolled away from them on all sides, melting into the star-spangled, purple sky. Down to the bft, the river was a gurgling ribbon of sterling silver, its surface illuminated by shifting strands of moonlight. Up to the right, she saw the barest outline of the old oak tee and a glimmering hint of ironwork.
She looked quickly away.
Mad Dog touched her. "Its okay. Youll be fine. "
She frowned. "Thats it . . . we just sit here and get drunk?"
"You could stand. "
Mariah reached out. "Give me the bottle. "
He handed it to her. The brown glass caught a glimmer of moonlight; the liquid inside swirled like gold. Tie sharp odor of alcohol assaulted her senses.
