Texas Heartthrob

by Jean Brashear

  Even if she could force herself to accept Hal’s charity, soon she’d need to summon the will to take Gran’s .22 and hunt, no matter how she quailed at the prospect. She had to reap nature’s bounty in order to get through this winter. Gran would have shaken her head and reminded Raina that mountain folk had to be practical. Nourishment must be taken wherever it was found. Survivors couldn’t afford pride or faint hearts or weak stomachs.

  On that night she’d found herself in a stained, chipped bathtub in a seedy Baltimore motel, razor blades at the ready, Raina had made that first, stinging slice, and the pain had shocked her. Had yanked her out of the dun-gray haze in which she’d lived for so long. As she’d stared at the thin red ribbon of her own blood, she’d realized that, deserving or not, she wanted to survive.

  She glanced down at her left wrist, at the scar still pink and fresh. With one finger, she traced it, then pressed hard, seeking the pain she’d avoided for so long.

  I am a survivor. I’m making my stand.

  Quickly, she covered the plate of sandwiches with a cloth, then took Gran’s handmade willow gathering basket, long and oval and shallow, off its high shelf and hugged it to her chest. The mingled scents trapped in the ancient reeds brought Gran near once more.

  She closed her eyes and let the past wash over her, precious memories of peace and love and strength coating the ragged edges of her terror that she’d fail again.

  Raina drew in a deep, steadying breath. After a moment, she headed out the front door, sparing not one look for the man who’d invaded her refuge. Instead, she set the plate down where he could see it and tripped down the newly strong stairs, then nearly ran when she reached the corner of the house.

  She didn’t stop until she was well out of his sight.

  Liam walked out of the barn just in time to see Raina slipping into the woods. For a second, he considered whether he should follow, then caught a glimpse of the basket over her arm and shrugged. She wasn’t exactly eager for his company.

  Question was: why was he still here?

  He removed his ball cap, ran one hand through damp hair and swiped an arm over his face to stop the sweat from dripping into his eyes. He rolled his neck around and heard a satisfying pop.

  He was tired enough to drop to the ground and sleep where he fell.

  Then he spied something on the porch railing, covered with a faded cloth. What looked like the edge of a plate poked from beneath, and he moved closer to investigate. Pulling one corner of the cloth to peer under it, he saw two sandwiches resting on one of the cracked, scarred plates they’d used last night.

  PB&J. His favorite, though the sheer number of them he’d consumed in his early acting years should have cured him forever. He opened the cloth wide and grabbed one, then took a big bite. Making quick work of the sandwich, he picked up the plate and walked inside, then spotted the supplies he’d purchased still sitting on the kitchen table and floor.

  And swore. She hadn’t touched any of them, not one item.

  Pride, pure and simple. The blasted woman was not going to accept any help he didn’t force upon her, yet she’d dipped into her small store to feed him. Liam was too hungry and sick of junk food to refuse her offering, but as he gobbled up the sandwiches, he began to place the items he’d brought on the shelves, mixing them in with hers.

  Just then, the tiny cell phone in his jeans pocket chirped. Liam jolted and fumbled to retrieve what had only a day ago been as natural an extension of him as his own arm but now seemed a beacon from a foreign world.

  “Hello?”

  Garbled sounds, mostly static. He’d tried a call when he’d reached his car, but the reception down there had been nonexistent. Same thing at the store.

  He moved to flip the lid shut just as a voice crackled through.

  “Where the hell are you?” his agent, Sal, asked. “I’ve been try­ing…reach…yester­day—”

  Liam was more tempted than ever to simply hit the Power button and turn the damn thing off.

  “Upped their offer…won’t wait long—”

  “Sal, you’re cutting out. I’m in a bad area. I’ll call you tomorrow from the next stop.”

  “Wait…director wants to start casting…have to—”

  “Can’t hear you, Sal. Later.” Liam disconnected the call and turned his phone off. He could have put the pieces together, even with the static, but he didn’t want to hear more about how his last release had outperformed even the high expectations of the studio or their eagerness to have him do two sequels of the same schlock.

  They were offering a hell of a lot of money, and he ought to have his head examined for not jumping on the deal with both feet. The funds could buy him the chance to make a little film he’d been thinking about for quite a while, something poles apart from his leading-man image. Risky as the devil, but the only thing that had gotten his juices going in a long time. A movie he and Kelly had talked about producing together during one of her good stretches, one of those increasingly rare blue-sky spans when she was the woman who’d first attracted him, fresh and sweet and whip-smart.

  Now the film would be her memorial, and he just didn’t know if he had the heart to continue.

  Restless again, Liam cast off thoughts of the woman he hadn’t been able to save and concentrated on what had given him major sore muscles but distracted him from counting his sins.

  The porch looked good. Ditto the steps. He’d chopped half a cord of wood already today and, longing for shade, had decided to inspect the barn.

  The roof he’d save for tomorrow.

  Tomorrow? What was he thinking, staying another day with a woman who longed to see him gone? And what would he do through another night on that floor?

  The roof needed fixing, and that was that. Once he cut another couple of cords and patched the tin roof with scrap salvaged from the barn and shed, he’d leave for sure. Two days, three tops, then he’d be on his way home.

  Home. On impulse, Liam walked to an open spot outside, flipped open his phone and hit On. He ignored the message waiting from Sal in favor of dialing a number he knew by heart, hoping it would connect.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, brat,” he said.

  “Liam! Mom, it’s Liam,” his sister, Jilly, shrieked. “When are you getting here? Alex’s coming for a visit next week, and he was psyched to hear you’d be home, too.”

  Liam smiled at the irrepressible cheer in his sister’s voice. Six years younger than him, she’d been alternately doted on and driven crazy by four elder brothers even more determined than their father to guard her from life just as vigorously as she fought to experience it. Man, he missed her.

  “That’s great, kiddo, but I might not be there for a few days.”

  “Why not?” she demanded. “Must be a woman.” She fell silent. “Sorry, I didn’t mean Kelly—”

  “Forget it. And yes, there’s a woman, but it’s not what you think.” Running one hand through his hair, he exhaled an exasperated sigh. “Listen, my reception is iffy here. Let me talk to Mom before I lose it again, okay?”

  “Okay, but you’d better get here soon. You’ve been all over the gossip shows and in the tabloids. You know how Mom feels about protecting her chicks. Plus Alex just finished a bad case. And Rafe…”

  “Is he okay?”

  “He’s…better. He’s started riding again. Here’s Mom.”

  The riding was a good sign. His eldest brother had been a gifted horseman, but he’d nearly died while serving his country. He had fought his way back to a life forever changed by his injuries. He’d become a curandero, following in Abuelita’s footsteps, His big brother had been though hell, and if he needed help, Liam wanted to be there for him.

  And here he was, risking missing time with his family for the sake of a woman who wanted, more than anything, to see him gone.

  “Liam, darling, how close are you?”

  He cleared his throat. “Not that near, Mom. Thing is—” He frowned. “I’m still in North C
arolina. There’s this woman who’s in real trouble. I’m going to stay a few days to help her back on her feet.”

  Silence. Then chuckles, fond and soft. “Oh, sweetheart, how like you to be riding to the rescue. Always one to drag home strays, human or animal, since you could barely walk. So who is she?”

  “She’s not—there’s nothing between us, just—” He paused. “I’m not sure why I’m here. She doesn’t want me, has tried everything possible to make me leave, but—”

  “She needs you.”

  “Not me, really, just…someone. She’s all alone in this wreck of a cabin with no lights or running water—”

  “How did you find her?”

  He shook his head. “A guy was heckling her, and then she fainted on the side of the road and—”

  “I love you so much, Liam.” He could hear his mother’s smile in her voice. “It’s certainly not the first time you ever defended the weak. What does she think about having a movie star as her Prince Charming?”

  “Well, see, she…actually, Mom, she doesn’t realize who I am.”

  Outright laughter. “You’ve only got one of the most recognizable faces in the world. How has this come about?”

  “To dodge the press, I dyed my hair, which is still shaggy after the last film, plus I grew a mustache and I haven’t shaved in a week.”

  “You look that different?”

  “I sure tried. Anyway, she doesn’t seem to be someone who’s up on the news. She’s—Mom, she’s hurting. A lot. I don’t understand why, but there’s a desperation about her, and she’s too proud to ask anyone for assistance. But the cabin—she’s never lived like this, I’d bet the farm, and winter’s coming and—” He broke off. “I can’t leave yet, Mom. I’m sorry. I want to see Rafe and Alex while he’s there, but—”

  “Rafe will understand better than anyone. After all the people he’s helped, he’s not going to be angry. Alex sounds weary to his soul, but we’ll take care of him.”

  “But you love having us all together.”

  “Should you be bringing her here? Could we do something for her?”

  He smiled. He wasn’t the only one in the family who took in lost lambs. Rafael came by the penchant from both sides. “Problem is, first I’d have to tell her who I am. I don’t think she’d be favorably inclined.”

  “Oh, dear. You’ve really boxed yourself in, haven’t you? Who does she think you are?”

  “Some guy named Hal. Short for Harold, of course.”

  Celeste Sullivan clucked her tongue. “You’re skirting a fine line, Liam Harold Sullivan. But your father will love the tribute.”

  “How is he?” As he asked, Liam fought a pang of homesickness. He wanted to hang out and work horses with his dad and Rafe. Drink a beer with Alex. He couldn’t waste much more time here or he’d miss out altogether.

  “He’s just great. Eager to have his boys home and take everyone fishing.”

  Liam smiled. His dad thought there was nothing a little fishing time couldn’t cure.

  “Give him a hug for me. Tell him not to catch all the big ones before I get a chance, okay?” Liam paused, glancing around at the darkening skies. He cleared a thickened throat. “I want to be there with all of you, Mom. I was looking forward to—”

  “I know, sweetheart. Please stop blaming yourself for Kelly. You did everything anyone could, but some people just can’t be helped.”

  “Blasted drugs.”

  “I’m proud of you for rescuing this woman. What’s her name?”

  “Raina. Raina Donovan.”

  “Well, I hope Raina Donovan is aware of how lucky she is.”

  “I don’t think she’d agree, Mom, but thanks. She’ll probably tell me again tonight to get lost.”

  “But you won’t, will you, darling? Not until she’s safe.”

  He sighed. “She’d be safest if she’d leave this mountain. The people here don’t like her, and she seems to be hanging on by her fingernails. I could give her the money to take care of everything, but—”

  “Money can’t solve some things, can it?”

  He thought of everything he’d given Kelly, all the money he’d spent on doctors and rehab and shrinks and she’d still—

  “No.”

  “I’ll call you when Alex gets here if you haven’t made it by then.”

  Thunder rumbled in the distance. He shuffled his feet. “Thing is, I don’t think I can let her know I have this phone. Sal’s trying to reach me, and if she hears—” He faltered.

  “Darling, secrets can be damaging. How is she going to feel when she discovers who you are?”

  “She won’t. I’m going to finish up here and be on my way with her none the wiser. She’s so skittish she’d probably believe that I did it to embarrass her, so—”

  “All right. But stay in touch, will you? Keep me posted on how you are?”

  “You bet. I love you, Mom. I’m sorry, but—”

  “Sh-h, sweetheart. I understand. You’re doing a good thing, and I’m proud of you. But you get home as soon as you can, you hear? I want all my chicks together, including my wandering superstar. Bye, darling.”

  “Mom—wait. This whole star thing—it might be the reason Kelly—” He hesitated. “I’m just wondering…maybe I shouldn’t…maybe this isn’t—”

  “You stop blaming yourself for Kelly. If you enjoy your career, then continue. If not, you’d better remember that we all adored you long before fame rode your way. Surely you’re not going to insult us by suggesting we were less proud of you then than we are now.” He could hear her gearing up. Celeste Sullivan in high dudgeon was not for the faint of heart.

  “No, ma’am. Can’t imagine what I was thinking.”

  She laughed. “You’re our beloved Liam, ditch digger or movie star. And you’d be helping that woman, no matter what your circumstances. Now, you get finished there and come home.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Mom.”

  He flipped the lid closed and held the phone tight and warm in his hand for a long time.

  Then he stowed it in his car and went for his shirt, studying the gunmetal-gray clouds to the north. Raina had been gone a long time. He’d better check on her.

  Chapter Five

  Thunder cracked in the rapidly darkening sky, its impact muffled by the canopy of trees, the verdant growth that tumbled and crept over the path Raina had once traveled with ease.

  Drops of rain began to fall, fat and chilly on her uncovered head. She should turn back, she knew that, but she wanted to find the swing she and Gran had tied to the magnificent old oak that once served as her playhouse and shelter, refuge, just as Gran had been, from a childhood spent nursing her mother’s hangovers and dodging the hands of the men who paraded through her mother’s life.

  The swing had to be here. With an urgency that increased by the minute, Raina tuned out the whip of the wind, the drops now a downpour. She couldn’t be lost; once she’d been able to find her way to it with her eyes closed. She wanted badly to touch it, to sit on the rough wooden seat she’d cut herself with Gran’s handsaw, to feel the rasp of the thick rope she’d shinnied up the trunk to tie far above.

  She’d dreamed on that swing. Talked to the trees on that swing. Spent hours watching the kaleidoscope of bare branches and spring green, torpid summer heat and blazing fall glory.

  Rain slid in runnels down her face. Her clothing stuck to her body, but still Raina searched, hoping to connect with the girl she’d once been, the one who’d dared to believe she’d escape becoming her mother.

  That she had not was her deepest shame.

  One tiny voice inside Raina had endured, however faint. Had stopped that gleaming blade, had shouted through the fog of drugs and despair until it was hoarse. Until finally, she had heard.

  She would never go back to that existence. She must make it here. This was, in the most real way possible, Raina’s last chance. If she couldn’t survive and u
ncover the woman Gran had believed she could be, she would die as she had been dying by inches for years.

  Now or never. Somehow, the swing held a key to finding her way back to the girl of hope.

  “Raina—”

  She shrugged off the voice as she would a pesky fly.

  “What the hell are you doing out here?” Suddenly, there Hal was, big and soaking wet and furious. “I’ve been calling you for five minutes. Look at you—” He grabbed her arm.

  She glanced down and saw that her white blouse was plastered to her body, her jeans gone darkest navy. Her breasts, small enough that she seldom bothered with a bra, were clearly visible, aureoles dark and nipples erect from the cold.

  But none of that mattered. It couldn’t. “Let me go.” She turned away, trying to see through the downpour.

  “Are you crazy?”

  Slippery wet, she escaped him and plunged into the brush. “Go back. I’m not through here.”

  “There’s nothing you need that can’t wait.” He grasped the tail of her shirt as she shouldered past. She heard stitches pop.

  They both stopped in shock.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—” He frowned. “Can’t you feel how the temperature’s dropping?” He got a new hold on her and reeled her in.

  She fought him. “You don’t understand—”

  His eyes betrayed his confusion. “I don’t want to hurt you, but you can’t—” He grunted as her elbow connected with his rock-solid gut.

  But for a second, his grip wavered.

  She jerked loose, threw her basket at him and ran.

  Wet branches slapped at her; vines whipped and slashed. Slick ground cost her balance; she landed hard. White bolts of pain shot up her arm.

  But still she scrambled to her feet and ran, terror ratcheting as she heard his heavy steps behind her. Just as she feared he would catch her and glanced back to check, something hard smacked her shoulder. She whirled—

  Barely missing the board careening toward her face.