Cassidy, Carla - Midnight Wishes

by Midnight Wishes(lit)

  to trial without a good defense plan."

  Don't worry. She nearly laughed aloud at the words as she closed and

  locked the door behind the lawyer. How could she not worry? Her

  entire life was falling apart.

  At least for the moment things were in as much control as they could

  possibly be. Colette and Hank had called earlier, raving about their

  trip and how much fun they were having. Abby hadn't told them about

  her arrest, refusing to allow her own problems to ruin their

  vacation.

  Both Belinda and Cody were asleep and the house was quiet. Abby had

  always enjoyed the peace and tranquility the house seemed to radiate

  when everyone else was in bed. As she changed into her nightgown, she

  thought of those nights long ago, when she and her sisters were little

  and they would snuggle in bed together and tell stories until their

  mother would come in and send them all to their own rooms.

  Abby had always been the best storyteller, able to make up ghost

  stories that had made her sisters squeal in terror. But nothing had

  prepared her for the horror story now taking place in her life.

  She went into the kitchen and made herself a cup of hot cocoa, then sat

  at the table and listened to the familiar settling of the house, the

  soft tick-tock of the kitchen clock, all the sounds of home that warmed

  her heart as effectively as the cocoa warmed he' insides.

  Somehow, someway she had to hang on to the ranch. If she could just

  make it through the trial, if they could survive until fall, then there

  would be cattle to sell, and hopefully beef prices would be good.

  The problem was she wasn't sure they could survive until fall.

  Earlier that afternoon she'd received two phone calls from stores in

  town who'd requested payments on her overdue accounts. What frightened

  Abby was that she had been certain she'd paid the bills. The checks

  had been missing from her checkbook, but both store managers had

  insisted they had received no payments.

  A call to the bank had only raised Abby's apprehension. She'd been

  routed to the bank vice president, who explained that he could give her

  no information on her account as the computer was down and in any case

  the police had a current printout of her account information.

  She'd asked Bert what the ranch bank account could possibly have to do

  with Greg's murder, and he'd told her he'd find out what he could.

  She'd just finished her second cup of cocoa when the phone rang.

  Immediately her heart leapt with fear. It was after midnight. Ringing

  phones this late at night never brought good news. The last late call

  she'd received had been from her dead ex-husband. As the phone rang

  again she flew into action. She opened first one cabinet drawer, then

  another, sighing in relief as she found what she sought. Cody's tape

  recorder. Praying there was a tape inside, hoping the batteries were

  still good, she clicked it on and held it to the phone earpiece as she

  answered. "Hello?"

  "It's me."

  She gasped, the familiar voice shattering her composure.

  "Greg."

  "No, it isn't," she protested. "Greg is dead. Who is this? Why are

  you doing this to me?" She recognized the hysteria in her voice at the

  same time she heard the soft click indicating that whoever it was had

  hung up.

  She replaced the receiver in the cradle, her hand violently trembling.

  She shut off the tape recorder and fought against the cold chill of

  hysteria.

  Logically, she knew it had to be some kind of prank, but how? It was

  Greg's voice. There was no doubt in her mind. And why. why would

  somebody play such a terrible trick on her?

  Suddenly the kitchen felt stifling. She walked through the living

  room, then stepped out onto the front porch. The warm night air chased

  the chill from the surface of her skin, but couldn't touch the frigid

  core of fear deep within her,

  She took a deep breath, fighting against a slight dizziness. Leaning

  against the railing, she looked up at the moon overhead, a sliver of

  overripe honeydew melon. As she watched, the moon appeared to melt and

  reshape, taking on a new form . Greg's face. He glowered down at her,

  a malevolent omnipotent being where the moon had once been.

  Fear shimmied up Abby's spine as he stared down at her, his eyes

  craters of anger, of rage.

  With a small cry of anguish, Abby left the porch, seeking a hiding

  place from his ominous glare. She raced across the lawn, passed the

  corral where the horses nickered and danced in surprise as she flew

  by.

  She ran in a frenzy, the world suddenly filled with threatening sights

  and sounds. The night air blew on the nape of her neck like the hot

  breath of a pursuing demon. A coyote howled in the distance, as if

  bidding her to run faster. faster.

  She finally collapsed beneath the dense foliage of the massive ancient

  oak she and her sisters called the dragon tree. The thick, leaf-laden

  branches effectively hid the luminous face of her dead ex-husband from

  her view. She felt safe here. She'd always felt safe within the

  shadows of the dragon tree. Growing up, she and her sisters had often

  played here, spinning fantasies of love and happily-ever-afters.

  Tears welled in her eyes as she remembered those carefree times, when

  everything seemed possible and hopes were wishes yet to be fulfilled.

  She squeezed her eyes tightly closed, focusing on those memories of

  youth.

  Slowly her fear ebbed and peace stole through her. Colors danced in

  her head and the night breeze caressed her with a lover's fingers of

  warmth. As the wind stirred the leaves on the tree, Abby knew it was

  the sound of the dragon breathing . the dragon trapped in the tree.

  "If I let the dragon go, he'll grant me a wish," sloe whispered aloud.

  "And I'll wish that he take Greg's face from the sky and bury it in the

  ground where he can't look down on me."

  She stood and stared up the massive trunk. Placing a hand on the wood,

  she could feel the vibration of life pulsing within. At the top,

  trapped in the dense leaves, lived the dragon. She could see his

  haunted eyes gazing down at her, silently pleading with her to help

  him, free him.

  She grabbed a sturdy branch, her bare feet scrambling to find leverage

  as she pulled herself up. As she looked down, the ground swam with

  swirling colors and again a wave of dizziness swept through her. She

  had to go up. The heart of the dragon was in the top of the tree. She

  stood and grabbed the branch over her head, intent on climbing up. up

  . Chapter Eight

  Luke wasn't sure what awakened him. For a moment he remained in his

  bed, unmoving, listening to the sounds of the other men in the room

  sleeping.

  He waited for sleep to overtake him once again, but restless energy

  chased further slumber away. The bunkhouse felt oppressive, hot, and

  he decided a breath of fresh air was in order.

  Silently, like a thief in the night, he slipped in/o his jeans and

  pulled on his boots, then left the bunk-house. Outside
, the moon shone

  brightly, illuminating the landscape and spilling down silvery light.

  He sat on the bench outside the bunkhouse, breathing in deeply of the

  sweet-scented, warm night air. Funny, he hadn't missed ChiCago at all

  since he'd been here. At another time, in other circumstances, he

  would have looked on his time at the ranch as the vacation he'd always

  wanted to take.

  Although various muscles ached and throbbed, the physical work felt

  good, reminding him that at one time he'd dreamed of owning or working

  on a ranch.

  He leaned his head against the rough exterior of the bunkhouse, his

  mind whirling with thoughts of

  Abby. He remembered now what had awakened him. A dream.

  In his dream he'd been with Abby in her bedroom. She'd been on the

  bed, clad in a revealing silk nightgown the color of a blush. She'd

  raised her arms, beckoning him toward her. Her eyes had been lit with

  a fire that threatened to consume him, and he'd wanted to be consumed.

  As he joined her on the bed, she pulled a branding iron from beneath

  her pillow and raised it over him. That's when he'd awakened.

  He rubbed his eyes tiredly, the dream lingering in his head. Had it

  been his subconscious attempting to show him truth, or merely his own

  doubts manifested in his dreams?

  Looking out on the brilliantly lit landscape, he tried to shove away

  the memory of his dream. It was difficult to imagine someone as

  outwardly beautiful as Abby being capable of killing a man, but Luke

  knew beauty often masked weakness and evil. Still, he'd always

  believed the adage that the eyes were the windows to the soul, and in

  the depths of Abby's blue eyes he saw nothing to indicate any hint of a

  dark core. Confusion boiled inside him, making it impossible to figure

  out exactly what he felt about Abby Connor. He couldn't decide if she

  was innocent or guilty as conflicting beliefs constantly barraged

  him.

  He sighed in frustration as he gazed toward the old oak tree standing

  on a nearby rise. He frowned, his gaze captured by something foreign

  in the branches.

  He narrowed his eyes, focused on the upper branches of the tree where a

  swatch of white material gleamed amid the greenery. "What the hell?"

  he murmured, rising from the bench. Somebody was in the tree.

  He approached stealthily, unsure who it was, what they might be doing.

  He stuck to the shadows as he worked his way to the base of the large

  oak. Once there, he realized the someone in the tree was Abby.

  She made no attempt to be quiet. He could hear her soft muttering and

  the branches and leaves shook as she advanced farther and farther up.

  "Abby?"

  She squealed in surprise and stood still, as if attempting to hide from

  him.

  "Abby, what are you doing up there?"

  "Go away. I've got to get to the dragon. If I let him go, he'll make

  Greg go away."

  Luke frowned, unable to make sense from her words. "Abby, come down

  and talk to me." He held his breath as she missed a step and

  frantically clung to the trunk. She was high enough that if she fell,

  she could be seriously harmed. Was it possible she was drunk?

  "I have to get the dragon," she replied, her voice dreamy and soft.

  "Come down and I'll help you get the dragon." Still Luke had no idea

  what she was talking about. All he knew was that she needed to get out

  of the damned tree before she fell and broke her neck. "You'll help

  me?"

  "I promise," Luke answered.

  She hesitated a long moment, remaining still. "Can you' make Greg go

  away?"

  What in the hell was going on? "Of course I will."

  He held his breath as she remained unmoving. "Come on, Abby. Come

  down and I'll take care of everything."

  "Oh, yes. Yes, I'd like that."

  As Luke watched, she began to descend. His heart filled his throat-as

  he watched, afraid that with one misstep, one false move, she'd fall.

  He didn't breathe again until her feet hit the ground. "What in the

  hell were you doing up there?" he asked, fear changing to anger now

  that she was safe.

  She leaned against the tree trunk and gazed upward. "I told you. I

  was going to get the dragon. He's trapped in the tree and if I get him

  out, he'll make Greg stop looking at me."

  Luke had heard the ranch hands refer to the misshapen oak as the dragon

  tree. He'd been told that the Connor girls had given it its name

  because of the way the foliage grew in the shape of the mythical beast.

  "Abby, there's no dragon in the tree and Greg is dead."

  She looked at him, and in her eyes he saw the haze of unreality.

  "There's no dragon?" She took a step closer to him. He smelled no

  alcohol, but she acted like a woman under the influence of something.

  Her glazed eyes shimmered with tears and her mouth trembled. "Then who

  will make Greg go away and leave me alone? He calls me on the phone

  and he's looking at me right now."

  Luke's heart thudded as he heard the singsong quality in her voice.

  "Where is he? Where's Greg now?" he asked.

  She pointed up. "He's so angry. See how he glares?"

  Luke directed his gaze to where she indicated. "Abby, that's just the

  moon."

  She looked at him in surprise, then back up to the lunar light. "Oh.

  It is. It is just the moon." She laughed, a low, throaty sound that

  instantly shot through Luke like a bolt of electricity. "Oh, Luke,

  it's just the moon." She stepped toward him and wrapped her arms

  around his neck. She laughed again, her breath warm and sweet in the

  hollow of his neck. "It's just the silly old moon."

  Despite his confusion with her mood and her actions, in spite of his

  uncertainty over her guilt or innocence, his body responded to her

  closeness. It was obvious to him she wore little or no underclothing

  beneath the light cotton nightgown. He could feel not only her body

  heat but also the press of her breasts and the length of her long legs

  against him.

  "Abby, it's the middle of the night," he said, struggling to keep his

  body's response under control.

  "Yes. I love the night, don't you?" She spun out of his arms, a

  wraith in the silvery spill of the moon. She held her arms out at her

  sides and twirled, her nightgown billowing from her slender shape.

  "I've always loved the night. I used to sneak out of the house when I

  was a little girl and sit and dream in the moonlight."

  "Abby, let's go inside." Luke didn't know what was going on with her,

  but he knew something wasn't right. The distance in her eyes, the slow

  rhythm of her speech, the almost dreamlike fluidity of her movements

  told him something definitely wasn't right.

  "No." She stopped her twirling. "It's too beautiful out here to go

  in." She approached him and placed a hand against his cheek. "Stay

  with me out here, Luke. Stay and dream with me under the moonlight."

  Before he could protest, before he even knew her intention, she leaned

  into him and placed her lips on his. Her mouth was warm and open to

  him, shooting him from confusion to full-blow
n arousal in an instant.

  She gave him no chance to catch his breath, no opportunity to swim

  against the tides of desire that engulfed him. Instead she pulled him

  in deeper, tangling her hands in his hair as she pressed herself

  intimately against him.

  "Oh, Luke..." she moaned against his mouth. "Hold me, Luke. Hold me

  close and keep me safe.

  I'm so tired of being alone. "

  "Abby"

  "Make love to me here ... now." Her hands left his hair and moved down

  his bare back, igniting fire as they caressed.

  Her words sent a frenzy of need through him. How easy it would be to

  give in to her. His body throbbed with the desire her touch, her kiss,

  stirred. Visions filled his head, erotic visions of the two of them

  making love in the soft, sweet-smelling grass beneath the dragon

  tree.

  He wanted to lose himself in her, momentarily stop his agonizing doubts

  and the more insidious pieces of grief that haunted him. He wanted to

  stop thinking and instead focus only on physical sensations of

  pleasure.

  How easy it would be to shove aside his hesitation, ignore the hazy un

  focus of her eyes, all the signs that told him she wasn't in her right

  mind. How easy it would be to do exactly what' she bid and make love

  to her despite the fact that he had a feeling she really didn't know