by Sherry Lewis
“I know I can’t control everything,” she said weakly.
“Ah, but you wish you could, don’t you? You’ve always been just the opposite of Travis. He’s irresponsible, but you take too much responsibility. You think you should be able to prevent bad things from happening to the people you love, and when you can’t, you feel that you’ve failed.”
Her father’s voice was so gentle and understanding, tears blurred Reagan’s eyes. “Maybe.”
“Quit being so hard on yourself, honey. You’re a good woman, a wonderful mother, a dynamite daughter, and the best sister Travis could have. We’re all lucky to have you. Now, fix yourself a cup of tea—if you haven’t already—and relax. And give yourself a break. The ball’s in my court now…okay?”
Reagan gulped back a sob and managed a weak “Okay.”
“I’ll make a few calls and figure out where I can do the most good for your brother. You don’t have to worry about it now. I’ll call you when I’ve decided exactly what I’m going to do.”
“I can’t help but worry,” she protested. “But I’ll work on trying not to take the blame.”
“I can’t ask for more than that.”
When they disconnected a few minutes later, Reagan actually felt a little better. She puttered around the house and started a batch of laundry, trying not to worry. She was folding towels in the kitchen when the door banged and Danielle tossed her backpack onto the table.
The girl tossed her wet hair and her gaze swept across Reagan’s face. “What’s wrong, Mom? Are you sick?”
“No. Why?”
“You look terrible.”
Reagan added another towel to the stack in front of her. “I got caught in the rain earlier, but I’m fine otherwise. You didn’t walk home from school, did you?”
“No. Stefani’s mom gave me a ride.” Danielle crossed to the refrigerator and pulled out a soda. “Is Jamie still at practice?”
“Yes.” Reagan pulled another towel from the laundry basket. “I hope Mrs. Jordan remembers it’s her turn to drive. It’s awfully wet out there.”
Danielle dropped into a chair and took a long drink. “Where’s Travis?”
“I’m not sure. Why?”
“Just wondering.” She slanted a glance at Reagan and lowered her can to the table. “I’m kind of glad he’s not here. Is that an awful thing to say?”
Reagan’s hands stilled on the towel. “No, of course not. Is there any special reason why?”
Danielle tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I don’t know, Mom. Sometimes he kind of scares me.” She pulled her gaze back to Reagan’s. “I heard him talking to somebody on the phone the other day when you were at work, and he didn’t sound like himself at all.”
The knot of apprehension in Reagan’s stomach came back—this time fear for her children brought it on. “What did he say?”
“Nothing really, except that he swore a lot. Like, every other word.” Danielle rolled her eyes in disgust. “It was more how he sounded than what he said. He sounded…mean.”
Reagan sat beside Danielle and ignored the laundry. “What else?”
Danielle’s dark eyes roamed her face, checking to make sure she wasn’t in trouble. “Well, when I walked in on him, he yelled at me to get out. I know he’s your brother, and I know you love him and everything, but I hope he doesn’t stay very long.”
Reagan slipped an arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “I don’t think he will, sweetheart.” She didn’t know how much she should tell the girls. “I have the feeling he’ll be leaving very soon.”
Danielle’s eyes widened. “Really? Why? The way he’s been acting, I thought maybe he was going to move in forever.”
“I won’t let that happen,” Reagan assured her. “It wouldn’t be good for any of us.” Hoping to wipe the worry from Danielle’s face, she stood and started toward the kitchen. “What do you say we put a mix into the bread maker? Banana nut sounds good to me.”
“Okay.” Danielle followed and leaned against the counter to watch while she found the mix and plugged in the machine. “Mom?”
“What, sweetheart?”
“Has Jamie told you what she and Travis talk about all the time?”
Reagan turned slowly and caught Danielle winding a lock of hair around one finger—a sure sign that she was troubled. “I didn’t realize they talked so much. Is there a problem?”
“I’m not sure. But they spend a lot of time together when you’re at work.”
“Do you know what they talk about?”
Danielle’s gaze faltered. “I’m not sure.”
“But you have a guess?”
“I’m not sure,” Danielle said again. “I wouldn’t want to guess wrong.”
Reagan pulled eggs from the refrigerator and cracked one into the bread maker. “I understand why you’re reluctant. You don’t want to say anything that will get Jamie into trouble, right?”
Danielle nodded. “I don’t really know what they’re talking about, but I’m not sure Travis is giving Jamie the best advice, you know?”
Reagan measured oil and handed Danielle the bottle to put away. “Maybe I can tell you something that will help you decide what to tell me.” She waited until Danielle was looking at her again. “I found out this morning that he’s in trouble with the law and he’s hiding from the police here.”
Danielle’s step faltered as she walked back to the counter. “What kind of trouble?”
“He committed an armed robbery.” Reagan rested one hip against the counter and kept an eye on her daughter. She didn’t want to frighten her. “But don’t worry. I couldn’t find a gun in his things, and he’ll probably be in jail before the night’s over—if he’s not already.”
“So, the police know?”
“Max knows.” Reagan forced a thin smile. “And that’s another thing. I found out today that Max is a bounty hunter. He came here to find Travis and take him back.”
“Back?”
“To California so he can stand trial.”
Danielle’s eyes widened and a smile tweaked the corners of her mouth. “Max is a bounty hunter? Is that cool, or what?”
“I’m not sure what it is,” Reagan said with a weak smile.
“Well, I think it’s cool.” Danielle flicked absently at one of her fingernails. When Reagan didn’t respond right away, she looked up at her with narrowed eyes. “Are you mad at him?”
“For coming after Travis?” Reagan had to be honest—both with herself and with Danielle. “No, not for that. I’m angry that he didn’t tell me who he was, and I’m hurt.”
Danielle’s eyes clouded. “Why?”
“Because.” Reagan pushed away from the counter, disconcerted by the look in her daughter’s eyes. Danielle suddenly looked old and wise instead of young and frightened. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“You think he was using you?”
“Maybe.” Another wave of memories forced her to be honest. “No, I don’t think so.”
Danielle let out a relieved laugh. “Well, that’s good. I was worried for a minute that there was something wrong with you. I mean, anybody can see how much he likes you. It’s only obvious.”
The sudden rush of relief she felt embarrassed her. “That may be, but I still think it was wrong of him to lie to us.”
“He was just doing his job, wasn’t he? I mean, if he was after Uncle Travis, how could he tell you who he was?” Danielle tore open the bread mix and added it to the rest of the ingredients. “Maybe he wasn’t supposed to tell. There were lots of times when Daddy couldn’t tell us about stuff because of his job, and that was okay, wasn’t it?”
Reagan opened her mouth to explain the differences, but she couldn’t think of any that sounded reasonable. “Yes,” she said. “That was okay.”
“So you’re not mad at him?”
“No. I’m not mad at him.” But even if she could forgive Max for keeping silent, the sudden awareness of the similarities between his job and
Paul’s left her cold. She might be able to put the rest behind her, but she knew she could never live with that kind of uncertainty again.
THAT NIGHT, MAX WALKED aimlessly along Front Street and tried to console himself. He told himself over and over again that everything had happened for the best. Things always did. But he was fighting a losing battle.
He’d tried distracting himself with people since Reagan left his room. Dinner at the Chicken Inn had been tasteless and he hadn’t let himself get interested in the discussion about whether or not the town needed a traffic light near the post office. It wouldn’t matter to him in a day or two, anyway.
He’d stopped by the diner and managed to follow the conversation there for about five minutes before his mind began to wander through town to the little white house with green shutters. Losing himself in a crowd had always worked to keep his mind off things before. Tonight, every face reminded him of what he’d be leaving behind. No matter where he went, he came away feeling worse. But sitting in his lonely motel room wouldn’t make things better, either.
Shivering slightly, he came to a stop on a street corner and watched a blanket of light gray clouds drift across the sky to shroud the mountains. He checked his watch in the glow of a streetlight and sighed heavily when he realized how slowly time was passing. He was vaguely aware of a pickup coming to a stop at his side, but he didn’t bother to look. He wasn’t in the mood for any more pointless conversation.
“You lost?”
He looked toward the truck and found Bart grinning at him from the window. “Not lost,” Max said, trying not to look miserable. “Just at loose ends.”
“I’m on my way to pick up some fencing from Udy Simmons. If you’re not doing anything, I could use a hand. I told him I’d be there before seven, and I’m running late.”
“I’d be glad to help,” Max said without hesitation. Some good hard work might clear his mind. He climbed into the cab and held his chilled hands over the defrost vents as Bart started driving again.
Bart fished a pack of gum from his pocket and offered it to Max. “How’s the search coming?”
Max waved away the offer. “I’m just about through here. In fact, it looks like I’ll be leaving town tomorrow.”
Bart shot a glance at him. “That soon?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Did you find what you wanted?”
Max nodded slowly. His conversations with Donovan and his father had helped, however the sudden urge to talk to someone who actually knew Reagan was damn strong. But he didn’t want to make her hate him more than she already did by talking behind her back.
“Too bad you’re leaving.” Bart put a piece of gum into his mouth and accelerated at the edge of town. “Andie and I were thinkin’ about inviting the two of you to have dinner with us next week.”
Max wasn’t surprised by the pang of disappointment he felt. He’d learned more about himself in the past eight days than he had in the previous thirty-five years. “I wish I could ask for a rain check,” he told Bart, “but I don’t think I’ll be coming back.”
“Oh?” Bart flicked a glance at him from across the truck’s cab. “Oh.”
“I’m not running out on Reagan, if that’s what you think.”
“I don’t think anything.”
If Bart had pushed for an explanation, Max would have resisted giving him one. His seeming lack of interest made Max want to defend himself. How perverse was that? He clamped his mouth shut and turned his gaze out the window.
They rode for several miles before Bart finally broke the silence. “I like Reagan,” he said with a sharp glance at Max. “She’s been a great friend to Andie. But I also know that she has her own set of problems to work through. We all do,” he added with a quick smile.
“Reagan hasn’t done anything wrong,” Max said quietly.
Bart rested his elbow on the window and steered with one hand. “Look, man, have some heart. If you’re leaving and this thing between you and Reagan is over, Andie’s going to be dying of curiosity. And when she finds out I talked to you, she’ll expect me to know something. You don’t know Andie very well, but she’s persistent. If you have a heart at all, give me something I can tell her.”
The look on his face tore an unwitting laugh from Max. “How much do you need?”
“Not much. Anything that will convince her I tried to pump you for information.”
Max chuckled again and realized with a jolt of surprise that he was at ease with Bart, the same reaction he’d had to Donovan almost immediately. “Okay. I screwed up. Do you think that’s enough?”
“That’s good, but it’s only going to whet her appetite.”
Max tried to decide how to characterize his mistake. Was it really a lie, or merely an omission of the truth? Did it make a difference? Once again, he had the urge to confide in someone who knew Reagan. Bart knew her better than he did. He might actually be able to help. And if Max truly loved Reagan, shouldn’t he do whatever he could to win her back?
“I’ll make you a deal,” he said, shifting toward Bart. “I’ll trade you the whole story—in confidence—for a little advice. I’ll let you decide whether telling Andie will help Reagan or hurt her.”
Bart flicked his gaze from the road for a fraction of a second, nodded and turned back. “All right.”
Max explained as quickly as he could, leaving nothing out. Once he started, the words poured from his mouth and the relief of knowing that someone could eventually help Reagan understand that he’d meant no harm made him feel better than he’d felt in days.
Bart listened without interrupting until he’d finished, then grinned broadly. “I knew you weren’t looking for property to buy. And Andie told me I was too suspicious….” He pushed air through his teeth and changed hands on the steering wheel. “But that doesn’t help you, does it?”
“Not a whole lot.”
“You want advice?”
“If you have any.”
Bart ran a hand along his chin and thought for a few seconds. “First of all, I’d give her a chance to calm down before you try arguing your case. Nobody’s rational when they’re angry.”
“By the time she calms down, I’ll be gone.”
“There are telephones.”
Max laughed softly at himself. “You have a point.”
“Second,” Bart continued, “you’re in luck. Reagan’s a pretty sensible woman. Once she can think clearly, she’s going to realize that she wouldn’t have wanted you to tell everyone in town about Travis.”
“That’s good news.” Very good news.
“I don’t know what to tell you about the rest, though. It would have been better if you’d told her the truth when Travis got here.”
“I realize that,” Max said miserably. “But I can’t go back and undo it.”
Bart nodded as he slowed the truck and turned off the highway. “I still think time is your best bet. Don’t try to resolve this before you leave town or you’ll push too far, too fast, and you’ll lose her for good.”
Max knew he was right, but it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “With my luck, by the time she forgets to be angry with me, she’ll have forgotten all about me.”
“I doubt that,” Bart said with a scowl. “I hate to break it to you, but there aren’t many women—or men, either—who’d forget the guy who came to arrest their brother.”
“That’s not what I want her to remember about me.”
“Maybe not, but she will.” Bart pulled up in front of a brightly lit barn and turned off the engine. “I’m not saying she’s always going to hate you for it, I’m just thinking that your best bet is to get real about what’s going on here. You and Reagan are going into this thing with a lot of strikes against you. You can’t pretend they don’t exist. What you have to do is face them and deal with them.”
He was right, Max thought as he opened his door. There were a lot of things working against him and Reagan. The question was, were there too many to get past?
>
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
WHILE DANIELLE SET the table, Reagan put the finishing touches on the salad and gave Jamie last-minute instructions on serving the chicken. She tried to keep her wits about her, but her nerves were jumping. Danielle hadn’t told her what she knew about Jamie’s conversations with Travis, and she wouldn’t now that Jamie was home. And not knowing about Travis was beginning to wear Reagan down.
Would Max let her know when he had Travis in custody? Or would he leave her in the dark because of the way she’d acted earlier? He could easily arrest Travis and disappear without a word. And she wouldn’t blame him if he did.
She picked up the salad and started toward the table when the back door flew open and slammed against the wall. Reagan’s heart leapt into her throat and the salad bowl slipped from her fingers. It took less than a second to realize that Travis had come through the door, far longer for her heartbeat to slow and her hands to stop shaking.
She bent to scoop up the ruined salad and caught Danielle’s worried glance. Determined not to frighten the girls, she forced a smile. “You startled me,” she said to her brother. “I didn’t think you’d be back for supper.”
He shook droplets of water from his hair and pulled off his rain-wet jacket. “Why not? I know I was angry when I left, but I’ve been doing a lot of thinking this afternoon and I guess you’re right about a few things.”
She stood unsteadily and carried the bowl to the garbage disposal. “I’m glad to hear that.” She dumped the salad, then turned to the girls. “Would you two give Travis and me a few minutes alone before we eat?”
Travis looked from Reagan to the girls as they scrambled from the table and hurried toward Danielle’s room. Shrugging, he crossed to the table, leaving small puddles of water in his wake. “You’re still upset.”
“I’m more upset than ever,” she admitted. She gripped the edge of the counter and faced him squarely. “I know the whole story, Travis. I know you were arrested for armed robbery. I know you skipped bail.”
He waved a hand through the air between them. “Oh, come on, sis. Don’t be such a prude. It’s no big deal.”