She nodded and sat down at the table, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand. She once again scratched the tip of her nose as he set the cup of coffee before her. "I need about a pot of this to get me started this morning."
"Didn't sleep well?"
"Those beds aren't meant for sleeping. They're torture devices." Her brown eyes raked him irritably. "And I'd forgotten all about your snoring."
"Sorry," he replied with a shrug. He grinned at her, knowing he was a fool, but enjoying it. "You know in the past what always stopped my snoring…"
He saw the blush of memory darken her cheeks and knew she was remembering that they used to laugh because the only nights Luke didn't snore were on the nights they made love.
"Stuffing a sock in your mouth would have the same effect," she said dryly, then took another sip of her coffee.
Luke laughed, reared back in his chair and studied her. She was so familiar…and yet so different from what he remembered. She was like an old song with new harmony, different pitches and notes. "Do you like teaching?" he asked suddenly, realizing he knew next to nothing about her life, her work. "What is it? Third grade?"
"Second, and I love it." She smiled, her brown eyes softening to the color of melted caramels. "As far as I'm concerned, second-graders are the best. They're old enough to be manageable, yet young enough to truly believe that the teacher knows everything." She smiled her pleasure. Luke again noticed how pretty she looked. The morning sunshine was just beginning to streak into the window and caressed her delicate features. "It's a wonderful job, teaching children. I love my work."
She gazed at him, her eyes seeming to pierce through his skin, into his soul. "I'm surprised you didn't bring your camera equipment with you. There was a time when I thought it was permanently mounted on your hand."
Luke got up and poured himself another cup of coffee, unsure how to answer her, unsure himself why the thought of bringing the camera along on this particular trip had been abhorrent. "I just didn't feel like it," he finally replied. "I wanted this to be pure pleasure, not work."
"I always thought for you they were one and the same," she observed.
Although there was no censure in her voice, the words rankled, felt like a criticism. "Maybe you aren't the only one who's changed in the last five years," he answered curtly. He sat down at the table and stared out the window for a long moment. "It's going to be a gorgeous day. Cold, but lots of sunshine. I hope this weather keeps up for the remainder of the trip."
She nodded and he saw the tiny flicker of pain that darkened her eyes as she gazed toward the back where Danny still slept. He knew what she was thinking…how many more gorgeous mornings would Danny have to enjoy? How many more days would he feel like getting out of bed?
"He's too thin," he said gruffly. "We need to fatten him up on this trip."
"He doesn't have much of an appetite," Sherri explained. "I try to entice him with his favorite foods as often as possible."
"How is he ever going to become a world-class jet pilot if he doesn't have a little more meat on his bones?" he returned. She looked at him, her eyes bottomless pits of despair. She knew that Danny would never grow up to be a world-class jet pilot. Deep inside, Luke knew it, too.
He stood up suddenly, unable to acknowledge her pain, knowing that in doing so he would release some of the pain that he constantly shoved away. He couldn't face it, not now, not yet. "Let's get this show on the road. We want to be able to make St. Louis by tonight."
* * *
"Whew, I'm stuffed," Danny exclaimed, his mouth still exhibiting the sticky remains of several roasted marshmallows.
They had made good time all day and were now parked in a small campsite outside St. Louis, Missouri. They'd just finished a meal of hot dogs and potato chips, topped off by marshmallows blackened by the fire's flame.
The day had gone well. Luke had been on good behavior, keeping the conversation pleasant yet non-personal enough to be comfortable. They'd sung one song after another to pass the time, then played license-plate bingo for a couple of hours.
Danny's eyes had shone with happiness throughout the day, his excitement peaking when they'd stopped in a gift shop and he'd found a new model airplane he didn't have.
Sherri cleared away the last of the food and put it inside the camper, then returned to the fire's edge, where Luke and Danny's conversation had drifted to childhood memories.
"I got my first camera when I was just about your age," Luke said. "And after my first roll of film, I knew what I wanted to do with the rest of my life." Luke chuckled, a deep rich sound that filled the night. "I drove my parents crazy, posing them, sneaking up on them with my camera, taking their pictures over and over again."
"I remember you taking lots of pictures of me and Mom when I was little," Danny said.
"He was a picture-taking guerrilla soldier, lying in wait every time we turned around," Sherri exclaimed with a laugh. "It got so I was afraid to take a bath or a shower for fear he'd be lurking in the room with his infernal camera." She moved closer to the fire, enjoying the warmth that emanated from the flames.
"Ah, but I've got some great memories captured on celluloid," Luke reminded her.
"I've got lots of good memories," Danny told them.
Luke laughed indulgently and rubbed his knuckles across Danny's head. "It's easy to have memories when you're nine years old. You don't have that many years to remember."
Danny playfully punched his dad in the side, then leaned into him and sighed with contentment. "I remember lots of good things. You know what I remember most of all?"
"What's that?" Sherri asked, enjoying the picture of the little boy leaning into the man. Luke's arm was thrown around Danny's thin back and his hand rubbed against Danny's coat in the stroking motion of love.
"Sunday mornings," Danny answered.
Sherri looked at him in surprise. "Sunday mornings? What was so special about them?"
Danny smiled softly, his eyes reflecting the pleasure of his memory. "When I was little and I'd wake up on Sunday mornings, you and Dad would still be in bed. Dad would be reading the paper and drinking coffee, and you'd be sleeping next to him. I'd run to the bed and jump in between you and you'd both snuggle me under the blankets and it just felt so good, you know? I just felt all safe and warm."
Sherri nodded slowly, her son's words bringing back in vivid detail memory of those lazy Sunday mornings. The smell of Luke's coffee…the soft rustle as he turned the pages of the newspaper…Danny's little body snuggled warmly against her side…special moments frozen in time, moments she'd forgotten about until this very moment.
She looked at Luke across the fire, noting the way the flickering light illuminated the strength of his jawline, the darker shades of his five o'clock shadow, the dark hair that fell carelessly across his forehead. She remembered other things about Sunday mornings.
When Luke finished reading the paper, he'd wrestle with Danny for a few minutes, then send him into the living room to watch cartoons. After Danny left, he'd close their bedroom door and make slow languid love to her.
She stared at him across the fire's glow, remembering those moments of intimacy in the cocoon of warm sheets. Her neck tingled as she replayed the way his lips felt nibbling evocatively on her skin. Did he still utter those low sighs that had once sent chills of pleasure up her spine? Would her breasts still fit so perfectly into the warmth of his hands?
A slow burning blush crept across her cheeks and a responding grin of knowledge curved Luke's lips. She felt the blush intensifying and stifled the impulse to throw her coffee mug at his smirking face. Drat the man, anyway. Those were memories better left alone.
"Dad, tell me more about when you were a little boy," Danny urged, gazing up at his father with adoring eyes.
"Let me see…" Luke frowned, as if working hard to remember. "I rode a friendly dinosaur to school and wrote all my assignments on stone tablets."
"Dad!" Danny giggled and elbowed Luke in the sto
mach. "Tell me about when you were in Africa."
As Luke told Danny of his travels abroad, Sherri watched her son's face, loving the expressive twinkle in his eyes, so like his father's. Danny was a bundle of curiosity and loved to hear about the faraway places Luke had been, places Danny would probably never see. Sherri shivered, shoving away this thought and refocusing on their conversation.
"Now tell me about when you first met Mom," Danny said, grinning at Sherri across the dancing flames.
Luke's gaze met Sherri's across the fire's glow. He smiled, not the usual smirking grin, but the soft smile of remembrance. "Ah, yes, I was working as a freelance photographer on the local newspaper and they sent me to the local high school to take a picture of some brain kid who'd just won a full scholarship to Yale. I didn't want to go. I was twenty-one years old and full of myself and didn't want to have to spend any time at all with those immature babies at the high school."
"But you went, anyway," Danny said.
"Sure, it was my job and I had to." Luke stretched out his long, lean legs, his smile widening as his gaze stayed fixed on Sherri's face. "So there I was, taking pictures of this brainchild in the courtyard and I turned around and there was your mother peering out the window."
Sherri felt her heart expand, filled with thoughts of that moment in time. She'd stood at the window for some time, watching the sexy photographer in the tight jeans, admiring the broadness of his shoulders, his cute rear end. She could still remember that moment when he'd turned around and their gazes had locked. When that slow, sexy grin had lifted the corners of his mouth, she knew she was lost. She had fallen hard, in the space of a second, in love with Luke.
"So, what did she look like?" Danny pressed Luke to continue.
"Oh, she was so ugly! She was cross-eyed and had a wart on the end of her nose," Luke teased, earning him another punch in the side from his son.
"She could never be ugly," Danny protested. "Tell me what she looked like."
Again a soft smile curved Luke's lips, and Sherri felt a responding warmth curl inside her stomach. "She was wearing a bright red dress with blue flowers on it and her hair was pulled back in a messy bundle and I thought she was the most gorgeous little thing I'd ever seen."
"The dress was blue with red diamonds and my hair was in a ponytail," Sherri corrected. He never managed to remember it right.
"That really doesn't matter," Danny insisted. "What matters is that he saw you and he thought you were pretty. She's still pretty, isn't she, Dad?"
Luke's gaze lingered on her for a long moment, then he nodded. "Yes, she's still pretty," he agreed in a hushed voice.
"And what did you think of Dad?" Danny asked her.
"She thought I was gorgeous," Luke quipped.
"I thought he was the most obnoxious man I'd ever met," Sherri said honestly. Danny laughed as Luke groaned.
"But cute," Luke added with a grin.
Sherri hesitated, then laughed. "Yes, and cute," she admitted.
"And you dated and fell in love and got married." Danny smiled, the smile slowly shifting into a perplexed frown. "So how come you guys got divorced?" he asked, looking at them both curiously.
"He was impossible to live with."
"She was a pain to live with."
They spoke at the same time, then laughed self-consciously. "Danny, we were very young when we got married," Sherri continued, her gaze consciously focused away from Luke. "I had just turned eighteen and your dad was only twenty-two. We didn't really know what marriage was all about. We wanted different things from life, needed more than the other could give."
"But you loved each other," Danny protested, obviously trying to understand the complicated world of adults and relationships.
Luke looked helplessly at Sherri. "Sometimes love just isn't enough," she finally responded, knowing her answer was inadequate, but unable to expand any further. She stood up and set her coffee mug down. "And now, my little man, it's bedtime."
"Ah, Mom," Danny protested.
"Better hit the hay, Danny. Tomorrow we've got that stop at the Indian reservation. You don't want to be too tired," Luke reminded him. "Besides, the fire is going out and when it does, it will be too cold for us out here."
Reluctantly, Danny nodded and stood up. It took Sherri only a few minutes to tuck him in, then she went back to where Luke still sat by the fire. "He wants you to go inside and kiss him good-night," she said.
Luke stood and started to go inside, but paused at the door. "You want me to bring you more coffee when I come out?"
"Okay, thanks," she agreed, reluctant to leave the fire's edge and go in.
Luke grabbed her cup and disappeared into the motor home. When he was gone, Sherri leaned back and released a small sigh. She was grateful that the reminiscing was over for the night.
Foraying into the past, especially into her relationship with Luke always created a mingling of both pain and pleasure. She tried to do it as rarely as possible.
Over the last five years of separation, she'd focused on the pain and had forgotten many of the happy moments they had shared. Danny had made her remember some of the pleasure, and it had been distinctly uncomfortable.
She'd be smart to remember the disillusionment that had accompanied her marriage and divorce. She'd gone into their marriage a starry-eyed romantic with clear-cut ideas of love and marriage. She'd exited the marriage with her dreams shattered and her heart badly bruised. As she'd told Danny, sometimes love wasn't enough, and in their marriage that had been true. The love had somehow gotten buried beneath unfulfilled needs, and banished dreams.
"Here you are," Luke said as he came outside and handed her a fresh cup of coffee.
She murmured her thanks, slightly discomfited as he eased himself down next to her. She felt enveloped by his scent, which rang a chord of bittersweet longing with its comforting familiarity. His leg pressed against hers and she could feel the heat from his body.
"Is he settled in?" she asked, shoving aside the haunting strains of yesteryear. She shifted her position so that there was no physical contact between them.
"I think he was asleep before I finished pouring your coffee." Luke smiled, apparently not noticing her movement to put distance between them. "He's really excited about the Indian reservation visit tomorrow. He's decided for the entire day tomorrow we should call him Little Chief Flying Eagle."
Sherri laughed and shook her head. "He's something else."
Luke's smile faded and he stared reflectively into the dying flames of the fire. "If I had it in my power, I'd do whatever it took to make him capable of flying."
There was a quiet desperation in his voice, a futile need to grant Danny what he wished for most. "I know," Sherri replied softly.
Without thinking, she reached out and touched the back of his hand. Immediately, his hand turned over and warmly clasped hers.
For a long moment, they didn't speak. They sat silently, hands entwined, wordlessly communicating their mutual love for the little boy sleeping inside the motor home. Around them the night spoke in soft whispers, the hushed sound of a light breeze wafting through the trees, the fire crackling as it gasped its final light, the hum of the generator that was providing heat to the R.V.
"I'm glad he has some good memories from our marriage," Luke finally said. "I worried about that for a long time."
Sherri nodded. "That's because we knew when to say goodbye." She was all too conscious of the warmth of his hand surrounding hers. She had always loved his hands, had always felt safe when his had entwined with hers. It was strange, even after all the time that had passed, it still made her feel that way. It had frightened her just a little, how good Luke's hand felt surrounding hers. She gave it a final squeeze, then withdrew hers from his grasp. "We got out before the real fighting and recriminations and ugly scenes began," Sherri observed softly.
"Yeah, I guess that makes us two of the smart ones."
Sherri nodded, and Luke stood up. "Well, I think I'll hit th
e hay." He hesitated a moment as she remained where she was. "You coming?"
"In a minute."
He paused another moment. "Good night, Sherri."
"Night, Luke." She watched as he disappeared into the R.V. She tilted her head back and looked at the stars overhead. She could still smell the evocative scent of him. Her hand still tingled with the warmth of his. She suddenly wondered, had they really been so smart? Or had they merely been quitters?
Chapter Four
They arrived at the Indian village the next day just after three o'clock. "We'll need to leave here by five so we can make it to the next campsite by dark," Sherri said as they got out of the motor home. She looked toward the village in disappointment. "Although that shouldn't be a problem. It doesn't look like there's much here." It was obviously a commercial venture, a tourist trap to lure travelers the twelve miles off the highway. "It looks pretty deserted."
"We aren't here in the height of the tourist season," Luke reminded her. "At least there's a couple of teepees," he observed.
There were three teepees, to be exact. The bulk of the "village" was a large, low building that looked as though it sold souvenirs.
Still, Danny didn't seem to mind. He danced in front of the two adults, hurrying them along the dusty terrain. "You think there's some real Indians here? Maybe we'll see a bow and arrow. I can't wait to see a real teepee!" His excited chatter filled the air.
They entered the large building and discovered that half of it was a souvenir shop, the other half was an Indian museum. Luke paid their admittance and they entered through the turnstile and into the museum area.
"Wow, these are awesome," Danny exclaimed as he peered into a glass case that displayed a dozen arrowheads and several wooden bows.
"These are Cherokee artifacts," Luke explained to his son. "The Cherokee were one of the Five Civilized tribes." He grinned sheepishly at Sherri. "I saw a special on television not long ago."
As he explained to Danny about the Five Civilized tribes and the Trail of Tears, Sherri watched him, suddenly remembering his love of learning. His knowledge on a diverse range of topics had always astonished her. He had no formal education beyond high school, yet had never stopped wanting to learn. He read a lot, and had always loved documentaries on television.
Anything for Danny Page 4