Magnolia Sky

by Susan Crandall

  Chapter 4

  Analise and Olivia were both on their knees beside a tall, jeans-clad form who had to be Cole. The boy lay face down on the braided rug in the foyer. A shattered vase sparkled like ice crystals around him; the marble-topped table on which it used to sit had toppled onto its side.

  Luke pulled up just short of the trio.

  Neither woman looked up.

  Analise grabbed Cole by the shoulders and tried to turn him over. The kid groaned and mumbled something unintelligible into the rug, but didn’t move.

  Just as Olivia reached to help, Luke stepped in. “Here, let me.”

  Ignoring his painful knee, he knelt beside Analise and rolled the boy onto his back. The kid’s eyes were open, but far from focused. There was a bloody split on his forehead and he reeked of beer.

  Olivia let out a little moan. Then she said, “I’ll get some ice.”

  After she disappeared into the kitchen, Luke asked Analise, “He didn’t drive like this, did he?”

  She raised worried green eyes to meet his. “No. He wouldn’t.”

  Cole tried to sit up, then let his head drop back to the floor and closed his eyes.

  Analise put a hand on his shoulder to keep him still. “Dave—he’s a county deputy and an old friend of Calvin’s—found him parked out at the old Lejeune place and brought him home.”

  “He was alone?”

  She nodded.

  Luke heard the sniffle she tried to conceal and decided not to ask how she supposed Cole had planned on getting home without driving. “Was it just beer?”

  “Dave said Cole swore it was—there weren’t any other bottles around.” Rolling her lips inward, she paused. “I don’t understand it. He’s never come home like this. He was supposed to be at soccer practice.”

  Olivia returned with the ice. She stood there for a moment, just looking down at her son with a troubled expression on her face. “Shouldn’t we move him someplace?”

  “The couch,” Analise suggested. “I don’t think we can haul him all the way upstairs.” She stood up. “I’ll take his shoulders. Liv, you can get his feet.”

  Olivia started to hand the towel filled with ice to Luke, but he moved to Cole’s head. “I’ll take his shoulders.”

  Analise glanced toward Luke’s knee.

  “Come on,” he prompted before she could say something about how he shouldn’t be lifting.

  She shifted to Cole’s feet and grabbed his ankles.

  Luke said, “On three.” Then he gave the count and they lifted the boy and carried him into the living room.

  Two steps before they reached the couch, Luke thought his knee was going to buckle. Sheer determination kept him moving. Six months ago he could have picked this kid up, thrown him over his shoulder and carried him to town without so much as breaking a sweat. Now his face beaded with perspiration after doing little more than dragging him fifteen feet.

  Cole landed on the cushions a little harder than Luke had planned. The boy moaned and put his hand to his forehead.

  A fat black cat jumped up onto the back of the couch, seemingly coming from nowhere. It folded its paws beneath its chest and peered intently down at Cole.

  Olivia knelt and gently moved Cole’s hand away from the cut, dabbed the blood from his forehead with a wet cloth, then placed ice on the rapidly rising goose egg. “Well, this certainly isn’t making a very good first impression.” She said it with a wobbly smile; Luke could hear the slight quiver in her voice that said she was more upset than she was letting on.

  The cat growled deep in its throat. The unusual sound of it bothered Luke. When he looked up, the cat was staring directly at him. The message in its green-gold eyes was anything but welcoming.

  “Shush, Pandora,” Olivia whispered.

  Luke cleared his throat and said, “I should be going—let you take care of him.”

  Olivia jumped to her feet. She must have moved too fast, because she blinked and swayed a little bit, like she was dizzy. After a second, she said, “No. Please stay. Dinner’s ready. We can’t send you away hungry.”

  Cole groaned and sat up, the ice falling to the floor with a thump. He lurched to his feet, pushing Olivia aside. Luke could see where things were headed, but couldn’t maneuver out of the way quickly enough.

  Cole took two steps, then threw up all over Luke.

  “Cole really isn’t like that,” Analise said, pausing to look at Luke at the upstairs bathroom door. She handed him a pair of Calvin’s old army sweats that Cole had insisted upon keeping when they gave away the few clothes Calvin had kept at Magnolia Mile.

  “Like what?” He was close, looking steadily down at her in a way that made her want to run away and step nearer at the same time. His piercing gaze kept her nailed firmly in place.

  “Trouble.” She took a deep breath. “He’s a decent student—not great, but always manages to keep his grades up for sports. He has a sweet girlfriend. His friends aren’t troublemakers. I don’t want you to think he’s . . . wild.”

  She waited for him to make some comment, to tell her that he could see Cole was a great kid. But he just stood there looking at her. No, not at her, into her.

  Finally she said, “The towels on the racks are fresh. Just hand out your clothes once you get them off.” As she said it, her gaze ran across his chest and shoulders. It had been a long time since she’d put her hands on a set of well-muscled male shoulders, and Luke’s were extraordinarily tempting.

  She looked back into his eyes.

  Oh, God. He’d seen her thoughts. And why not? Olivia always told her she’d never make a good liar—or politician; her true feelings were always written all over her face.

  Luke wasn’t going to let her off the hook. He just stood there, looking at her with speculation.

  Her cheeks grew warm, but she held his gaze. “Really, you should get in that shower. You stink.”

  He laughed and it transformed his face. From the first moment she’d met him, his face bore the weight of solemnity, even when he smiled. Now a boyishness she’d never have guessed resided in him burst forth. “You know how to make a guy feel like one of the family.” He stepped back and closed the bathroom door.

  After a minute, the door opened a few inches and the smelly, folded shirt and slacks appeared. For a moment, she just stared at Luke’s lean arm and strong hand.

  “Hey, you still there?” he called, moving one sky-blue eye to the crack in the door.

  Quickly, she grabbed the clothes. “You army guys—always tucking and folding, never leaving a wet towel in a heap on the bathroom floor.”

  “You should thank the army. Most women train their men for years to get them this organized.”

  She grabbed the clothes, a knot of resentment forming in her throat. She hadn’t spent enough time living under the same roof with “her man” to even begin to shape his behavior. Not that anyone, or anything, could alter his course once Calvin had set his mind to it. As for thanking the army . . .

  She must have snatched the clothes more gruffly than she’d intended, because the door opened a bit farther, allowing Luke’s head and shoulders to come into full view. Thankfully, he kept the rest of himself tucked behind the door.

  He said, “You don’t need to go to any trouble. Just throw that stuff in a garbage bag.”

  Immediately she felt ashamed. “Don’t be silly. It’s no trouble.” She turned quickly and headed toward the stairs, before she lost her battle with the temptation to reach out and touch his bare shoulder.

  My God, she wasn’t normally like this.

  There was a loud thud in the bathroom before she started down the steps. She paused, listening. Had he fallen? With that knee, he never should have been carrying Cole.

  Three rapid steps thumped across the bathroom floor, followed by something brushing against the wall.

  Nope, he was definitely still on his feet. Analise went back to the bathroom door.

  “Shit!” Luke kept the curse mostly under his breat
h.

  What in the hell was he doing in there?

  “Come here, you little . . .”

  It sounded like he was wrestling something. “Lu—”

  “A-ha!” he yelled. “Got you, you little bugger!”

  “Luke! Are you all right in there?”

  He flung open the door. He stood there, buck naked, holding a wriggling towel like a sack in one hand, with an expression of victory on his face. “I got it!”

  “G-got what?” Analise tried to keep her curious gaze from traveling below his chin.

  “Rabbit! Somehow a rabbit got in here.”

  “Oh, no.” She dropped his soiled clothes on the floor and reached for the towel.

  He moved it away from her grasp. “It might bite. I’ll take it outside.”

  Unable to do more than stutter, Analise put a hand on his chest to keep him from going farther. It was a mistake; warmth shot from her hand straight to the pit of her belly.

  It also made him realize he was naked.

  He glanced down with an expression of horror on his face. “Oh!” He jerked the bunny-filled towel in front of him and stepped back into the bathroom. “Sorry. I didn’t . . .” The door closed.

  Momentarily, he returned with a towel around his waist.

  The rabbit gave two quick, powerful jerks, drawing Analise’s attention away from her embarrassment.

  “I-it’s S-Skippy.” She took the twitching towel with both hands, held it against her chest and knelt down on the floor. “It’s all right,” she said softly. The rabbit wiggled wildly, leaping from her arms the second she made an opening for it to escape. It tore down the hall and disappeared down the steps in a flash of brown fur and white tail.

  “It lives in the house?”

  “Ye—” Analise’s voice dried up when she turned her head to look up at him. His shoulders were even more appealing from this vantage point, broad over a slim waist. He put a hand out to help her stand back up.

  She was close enough to feel the heat of his breath on her cheek. To keep her gaze from locking with his—which felt much too dangerous at this proximity and his state of undress—she focused on the scar on the side of his neck. It was even pinker from his exertion and pulsed slightly with his heartbeat.

  They stood for a long moment. She felt as if she were trying to breathe in a vacuum, the closeness of his near-naked body burning away all oxygen in the atmosphere.

  Finally, she forced her eyes to meet his with a lighthearted grin and said, “Don’t worry, he’s housebroken. Liv found him when he was so tiny he fit in the palm of your hand.” She made herself stand there and converse as if she hadn’t just seen him naked—as if he weren’t still one towel away from being so again. What she felt like doing was running to her own room and locking the door, a little part of her wanting to savor the moment, while her conscience simultaneously scolded her into shame. “She fed him from an eyedropper, he grew up in the house and now he thinks he’s a cat. Has a litter box and everything.”

  Luke looked over his shoulder and perused the bathroom. “Any other critters I should know about before I traumatize more pets?”

  Stepping slightly away, Analise said, “The mockingbird stays in the carriage house, there’s a goose Olivia hatched from an abandoned egg that hangs around the back yard—that one has a nasty temperament, you might want to steer clear—we have four cats and, of course, you’ve met Rufus.”

  “No gators?” he asked with a smile. Analise noticed for the first time that he had a dimple in one cheek.

  “We don’t have gators around here,” she said smartly, and pulled the bathroom door closed. Once it was safely latched behind her, she sagged against it for a second, her heart working overtime in her chest. Her hands were trembling and parts of her she’d thought long dead had sparked to life.

  Shame on me. No better than a Peeping Tom.

  After a minute, she picked up Luke’s clothes and headed downstairs.

  Skippy had a little hutch in the laundry room, which was located in the old back porch. Analise found him with his body shoved back in the corner as far as he could manage. She knelt down and whispered to him, “Yeah, I know just how you feel.”

  The rabbit’s nose twitched and he turned around, presenting her with his tail.

  “Hey, I saved you. He was going to put you outside with the foxes!”

  She started the washer and dropped Luke’s soiled clothes in. Then she went to the stove to see if the dinner was salvageable.

  Moving, she had to keep moving, to prevent her thoughts from straying to places they had no business going.

  Carefully lifting the lid on the pan, she was relieved not to smell scorched cream sauce. Luckily, the chicken hadn’t overcooked to the point it had to be used as a rawhide for Rufus. Not that she had any appetite at the moment.

  She’d meant it when she’d told Luke that Cole was a good kid. But lately she’d begun to worry. His brother’s death weighed heavily on him, that she knew. And he seemed to be deliberately distancing himself from Olivia—more than normal teenage separation. But who could blame him? Love was risky, in ways most people his age never have to realize. His father died. His brother died. It was as if he’d decided to insulate himself from further grief by not caring.

  Analise had committed herself to making Cole understand that caring was as essential to life as breathing—and that she’d always be there for him. She supported him, careful to always give suggestions, not recrimination, to listen without judgment. She had to admit that sometimes it stung when Cole worshiped Calvin-the-Flawless, idolizing him in ways that no human could possibly live up to—certainly not the all-too-human Calvin. After all, she’d been here with Cole, day in and day out, smoothing out the rough patches, bandaging scrapes. Calvin was more legend than an actual participant in Cole’s life. His substance was that of quick visits, stories and photographs. Still, Cole felt his brother’s loss, so she’d try to make up for it in any way she could.

  Her extra efforts had seemed to be working—at least she’d thought so until today.

  Today was just a slip, she assured herself, a misstep. Something had happened to make Cole do this. She resolved to spend the day with him tomorrow and help him sort things out, to get past what was troubling him.

  A few minutes later, Luke came downstairs. From the corner of her eye, with his size and in those old sweats, she almost thought it was Calvin come back to haunt her. Then she looked at him fully and the similarity immediately vanished. She breathed out a sigh of relief and took stock of their differences. Luke was nice-looking, well built—her mind flashed the image of him nude—very well built. But Calvin had been heart-stopping, his wide smile the most arresting she’d ever seen.

  Her gaze traveled to Luke’s feet and she burst out laughing.

  He looked down. “What?”

  “I’ve never seen anyone as . . . as unnerdly as you wear sweats with black socks and dress shoes.”

  He looked down, then back up at her with his palms raised and a grin on his face. “‘Unnerdly’? Guess I’ll take that as a compliment to my masculinity.”

  “Oh, yeah.” It came out as nearly a purr. My God, she didn’t purr.

  In light of their most recent encounter, she really had to measure her tone more carefully. “Um . . . I mean . . .” God, he was going to think she was flirting with him. “Would you like more wine?” Oh, man, that was worse. She’d better just shut up before she dug herself a deeper hole.

  “I really should get out of here. I’ve imposed enough. You have your hands full tonight.” He cast a glance overhead, toward Cole’s room.

  “But your clothes aren’t done yet.” The words came out sounding a little more pleading than she’d intended. As much as she’d wanted him gone earlier today, her curiosity wanted him to stay now. Was it just because she’d seen him naked? Had she become that depraved?

  He shrugged. “I can come back tomorrow and pick them up.”

  Footfalls sounded on the stairs and
they both turned toward the hallway. Olivia’s energetic pace of just an hour ago had slowed as she entered the kitchen.

  She said, “He’s asleep. Dropped right off during one of my all-time best lectures.” She shook her head. “And I really had a head of steam worked up . . . what a waste. But tomorrow . . .” Looking at Luke, she took a deep breath, then said, “Now that you’re clean and comfy, let’s feed you.”

  “I was just telling Analise that I should leave. I can come by tomorrow for my clothes—”

  “Nonsense! We’re not wasting this delicious meal. And of course you’ll come by tomorrow, Cole owes you an apology.”

  A bit of Skippy’s trapped-rabbit look appeared in Luke’s eyes. Analise could see he wanted to be finished with his obligation here. And she couldn’t blame him. Cole’s scene had added to the awkwardness that began building the moment Luke caught her dancing in the greenhouse. Then the Skippy-and-the-naked-man incident. . . . No wonder he wanted to get out of here.

  “Dinner does smell great,” he said.

  Analise gave him points for gallantry.

  Olivia took his half-empty wine glass and topped it off. “Just have a seat and I’ll get the salad, while Ana takes up the chicken.”

  As they began dinner in the shadow of the evening’s embarrassments, Analise toyed with her salad and kept her gaze lowered. Luke opened his mouth only to compliment Analise on her cooking. He did it so often that she wanted to kick him under the table. Olivia spent the first minutes of the meal in thoughtful silence.

  Although avoidance was never Olivia’s approach, Analise had begun to think the meal might pass without touchy conversation.

  Then Olivia’s mood took an abrupt turn. She smiled and said, “Luke, we didn’t get to see much of Calvin during the year before the accident. Maybe you could fill us in on what he’d been up to.”

  In the first unguarded moment, Analise saw something like panic cross Luke’s features. His gaze quickly darted to her face, then just as quickly jerked away. He took a drink of water, then wiped his mouth with a napkin.

  Keeping his gaze on Olivia, he said, “I’m sure he would have been in closer contact if we hadn’t been deployed most of the year. No sooner did we get back from one assignment than we were ordered to a different part of the globe. We spent a good deal of time in and out of the Middle East and South America.”